Worthy of the Harmony (Mountains & Men Book 2) (8 page)

“Oh, shit,” I mutter, spinning around on the stool I occupy behind the counter. I face Brandon, who has a pad of paper in his hands where he’s scribbling something down as he takes inventory of what supplies we’ve got at the bar. I probably shouldn’t bug him, but considering the topic I’ve got on my mind, I’m sure he won’t be bothered. “I haven’t asked about Sarah’s parents. How are they?”

Just as I suspected, he stops what he’s doing to address my inquiry. “They’re a little better,” he says, sliding his pen behind his ear. “They moved her dad out of the ICU this morning. Hopefully it’s not too long before they’ll both be released from the hospital.”

“That’s good. Any idea when she’ll be back?”

“No,” he answers simply, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m sure it’ll be a few weeks, at least.”

“That’s rough.”

I’ll admit, I feel for the guy. He’s got it bad for that girl. I’m talking head-over-heels-pussy-whipped in love. I know it’s only been a couple days since he’s seen her, but I can tell he misses her.

“Yeah. You’re telling me,” he says with a halfhearted chuckle. “But she’s where she needs to be. I’ll go down and see her Saturday night.” He draws in a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the reality of the next four days. “What about you? What’s going on with you and Millie?”

I can feel it as a grin spreads across my face and I can’t even try and play it cool. No matter; Millie’s definitely worth a smile. “Actually, I’m taking her out on a date tomorrow. A
real
one. Just the two of us.”

“Nice. Where are you taking her?”

I open my mouth to respond and then frown when I realize I have no idea. We didn’t talk about it. Granted, I could pick a place and call it good—but what if she doesn’t like the restaurant I choose? I definitely don’t want our first date to be a dud.

“Good thing I asked,” Brandon says with a laugh, interrupting my thoughts.

“Damn. You’re right. I don’t usually do the dating thing. Feeding them isn’t really my M.O., if you know what I mean.”

“
Yeeeaah
,” he replies with an amused scowl. “Look, it’s not rocket science. What does she like?”

“Uh…” I reach up to scratch the back of my head. “Grilled cheese.”

“Seriously?”

“What? It’s true!” I say with a shrug.

“Right. Well, if you want a second date, I wouldn’t advise taking her out for grilled cheese.”

“No shit. Any recommendations?”

“Honestly, with the foodies around this town, you could go anywhere. Just find out what she likes. You won’t lose your man-card for asking.”

I nod at him, grateful for his advice. “Good call.”

“Got your back, young blood,” he says, clapping his hand on my shoulder before he heads to his office.

I pull out my phone with every intention of shooting Millie a text, but then I see the time. Noting that I’m off in twenty minutes, I wonder if it would be better if I called her. I haven’t heard her voice since Sunday. I’m not too proud to admit that I miss it. Just like I miss her face. Her lips…

I slide my phone back into my pocket, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. I just got an even better idea. At two o’clock on the dot, I bag up two cinnamon swirl coffee cakes, baked this morning by Brandon himself, and then head around to the opposite side of the counter so that Rachael can ring me up.

“Two, huh?” she asks, taking my cash. “Either someone’s feeling hungry, or…” She let’s her sentence hang unfinished, clearly seeking for me to finish it for her.

“Yup,” I say with a wink.

“That’s for a girl, isn’t it?”

“I’ll see you later, Rach,” I reply, backing my way through the lobby.

“Sage!”

I offer her a wave, chuckling as I make my exit.

“MILLIE, WAIT UP!”

I stop walking, adjusting the straps of my tote over my shoulder at the sound of her voice. Lindsey Clark is a fellow math professor. Her office is located just across the hall from mine. As I look back at her while she hurries to catch up, I assume we’re both headed for the same place.

I'm the youngest professor in the entire math department, but Lindsey isn’t too much older than I am. At thirty-two, she exudes both maturity and youth—or, at least, the
glow
of youth. Much like my roommate, Sarah, there’s something bright and timeless about the woman. Today, her rich brunette locks are contained in a chignon at the nape of her neck—a few curls hanging loose around her face. The purple dress she has on seems to make her brown eyes even darker, while the cut accentuates her admirable bust, thin waist, and curvy hips. She’s taller than me, even when I’m in heels and she’s in flats; so today, as we’re both in heels, she towers over me.

It’s her smile that makes her so eye catching. It lights up her whole face. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend on campus and when she stops me, always genuinely happy to see me, I’m not bothered in the slightest.

“Good afternoon,” I greet her as she closes the distance between us.

“Hey. Heading to your office?” she asks, pointing to the building just across the way.

“Yeah. You?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums. We both resume walking at once. “I didn’t really get a chance to chat with you yesterday. How was your weekend?”

Immediately, my mind is filled with thoughts of Sage. Up until now, I’d had a pretty good handle on my craving for him. Other than a few texts here and there, I haven’t had any significant interaction with him since Sunday. I embraced the distance, knowing it was necessary; but, truth be told, a part of me…
dislikes
it. Now, it’s as if the floodgates have opened and my entire body yearns for him. His touch. His kiss. His voice.

“Um, it was good,” I finally manage. “Yours?”

“Totally boring,” she says with a groan and a laugh. “Errands. Chores. Work. I haven’t been on a date in weeks, which is really starting to kill me. I’m going to need to fix that soon, before I become a cat lady or something. Tell me your
good
weekend was more eventful than mine.”

“I went out,” I reply evasively. I haven’t told her about Sage. In fact, I haven’t mentioned him to a single soul that he doesn’t know. I can’t really explain why, but it doesn’t seem like a very safe idea.

“Oh, yeah? Where’d you go?”

“Uh,” I stall as we make our way through the doors of our building.

The sound of our heels echo through the quiet halls, amplifying instead of drowning out my silence. I take a breath and decide that telling her about Mountains & Men is not the same as telling her about Sage. I can share at least that much.

“I went to a concert, actually. A bunch of local bands were playing at The Moxi in Greeley.”

“See? Now
that
sounds like a good time. Look at you, living it up! I’m impressed, Millie.”

I laugh, not because what she’s said is particularly funny, but because she has every right to be impressed. Me at a concert on a Saturday night is definitely a new, recently developed, and reoccurring habit.

“Millie, aren’t your office hours in the morning?” she asks as we round the corner to our destination.

“Yes. Why?”

She smiles at me as she points in the direction of my door. There, sitting with his knees propped up and his focus glued to his phone, is Sage. As per usual, he’s wearing a pair of jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a pair of Chucks. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. Or maybe my sudden inability to breathe correctly has more to do with the erratic beat of my heart?

“Student of yours?” Lindsey whispers softly as we approach.

Before I can answer, Sage looks our way. When his eyes meet mine, his signature smirk curls his lips and he winks at me.

“Or an admirer?” Lindsey hums, elbowing me.

I look up at her, unsure what to say, and then back at Sage. He’s standing now, looking devilishly handsome. I swear, I don’t know how he manages to make
jeans
and a
t-shirt
so incredibly sexy. And don’t even get me started on those glasses.

Lindsey giggles, pulling me from my thoughts and beckoning my attention. “Whoever he is, he’s freaking hot! I expect an explanation later. Details, my friend.
Lots
of details.” I say nothing in reply, which she seems not to mind. She waves at me and then slips into her office.

“Hey, doll face,” Sage murmurs, leaning against the wall just beside my door.

“Hi. What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I ask as I unlock my office and step inside. He follows me in, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m a pretty smart guy, Millicent.” I discard my things on the floor beside my desk and turn to face him. He’s right behind me, holding open a small paper bag. “Take a whiff, baby doll.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, feeling slightly suspicious, and he encourages me with a nod. I lean closer to him and then draw in a deep breath through my nose. I smell cinnamon and sugar and I know whatever is inside must be delicious. “What is it?” I ask, bringing my eyes up to meet his icy blue stare.

“Brandon’s cinnamon swirl coffee cake. It’s my favorite. He only makes it on Tuesdays. I thought you might like one.”

“That was thoughtful,” I murmur with a small smile.

“I have my moments,” he says before tossing the pastries onto my desk. I blink and then his hands are cradling my head, titling my face up so that he might reach my lips. I stifle a moan when his mouth meets mine, my body leaning into his instinctively. Without thinking, I open up for him. When his tongue grazes mine,
he
moans, dropping a hand to the small of my back to draw me even closer.

Somewhere, in the back of my head, I remember that there is a narrow window just beside my door—a window anyone could look through and see us right now as we suck, lick,
taste.
Somewhere, in the back of my head, I know that this isn’t professional in the slightest—but I don’t care. I
can’t
care. I’ve missed him.

Fuck. I’ve missed him?

When I reach up and circle my arms around his neck, I accept the fact that he’s managed to steal another fraction of my heart. Him being here, going out of his way to search for me and find me, to bring me his favorite pastry, it's the kindest thing any man has done for me in a very long time.

And this kiss—
Jesus
, this kiss!

The small voice in the back of my head reminds me that I’m not allowed to fall for him—not anymore than I already have. I can’t keep him. He won’t stay. When he finally leaves, I have to be able to keep my shit together, which means he can’t have my heart.

With all my might, I latch onto that truth and force myself to pull my face away from his. I gasp, surprised by how breathless I feel, and watch as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he attempts to catch his own breath.

“Have I told you, yet, how fucking hot you look right now?” he murmurs, his hands sliding down until they rest against the top of my backside. “I wouldn’t learn shit in your class.” I grin at him as I shake my head. “Do you always wear pants to work, doll face?”

“No,” I mutter, scrunching my brow in confusion. “Why?”

“Because,” he speaks softly, dipping his head to kiss my neck. “Your pants make it kind of hard to do what I wish to do to you right now. Maybe next time I drop by, I’ll be in luck.” He licks his way to my ear and then nibbles on my earlobe, making me shutter. Laughter rumbles from his chest as he gives my ass a squeeze and then pulls away from me completely.

I clear my throat, running my fingers through my hair as I try and get control of my damn pussy. I can’t believe he just said that. Now I’m wet and wanting and he’s—he’s sitting on my desk, eating a cinnamon swirl coffee cake. He smirks at me when I look over at him and holds out the bag with the remaining treat inside. I snatch it away from him and plop down in my chair. Reaching inside, I pinch off a bite and drop it on my tongue as I look back over at him.

This time, I don’t even try holding back my moan. It tastes even better than it smells.

“Good, huh?” I nod, breaking off another bite. “I knew you’d like it. And—speaking of food, I thought I’d let you pick where you wanted me to take you to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he says with a cool shrug. “I don’t really know what you like. What’s your favorite restaurant?”

I pause for only a moment, but it doesn't take me long to come up with my answer. “Giuseppe’s.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he chokes on his bite of cake at the sound of my answer.

“What? You have something against Italian cuisine?”

He pounds his chest and clears his throat as he shakes his head at me. “Italian blood runs in my veins, baby. I practically grew up on Italian cuisine. I just—I don’t know. I didn’t expect for you to say that.”

“I grew up in Jersey. There was this one Italian restaurant I would go to a lot. It’s one thing I actually miss about home. Giuseppe’s is a close second.”

The words are out before I can think through my admission. I don’t know why I told him that. I don’t talk about my life back in Jersey—not with anyone.

“Alright,” he says with another shrug. “You sure that’s your favorite place?”