Read Online The Ties That Bind by Andi Marquette - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andi Marquette
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need me to do?" I asked, feeling a little prickle of anxiety on the back of my neck. I almost turned around to see if somebody was watching from the front porch.
Sage pulled her hand out of mine and cupped my cheek. "You're already doing it."
I leaned into her palm. "So we're just...waiting."
She nodded. "Something's out of balance. But I expect we'll know more soon." She studied my face.
I clenched my teeth. I suck at waiting. My impatient, rational self seeks answers. Needs them. I turned my head and kissed her palm.
"I know," she whispered. "But waiting, too, is a form of action."
I offered a wry smile. "If I'm not doing or saying what you'd like or want, you'll tell me?"
Sage leaned in and kissed me. "Yes." She pulled back, studying my eyes in a way that undressed my soul. She stood. "I'm going to call River." She started to pick up our plates.
"I'll get this." I took the plates from her and her fingers brushed mine, sending a strange, hot jolt up my arm. Surprised, I remained standing in front of her, plates in both hands. "Did you--" I started, but the look on her face stopped me. Intense but relieved. For the first time in over two days, she visibly relaxed. "Tell you what," I said, pleasantly rattled. "I'll finish up with this while you call River. Then how about I open K.C.'s awesome massage clinic?"
She giggled. "Do I need to make an appointment?"
"Hell, no. It's Sage-specific. Open all day, every day for you."
"What are your rates?"
"For you, we work somethin' out, eh?" I answered in an imitation of my paternal grandfather, whose gruff Italian accent ran right up to the edge of stereotype.
Sage laughed. "An offer I can't refuse. I'll try to hurry." She grinned and headed to the office. I watched her, still holding the damn plates, wishing I could will her shorts right off her hips. Dishes first. I took the plates into the kitchen.
I JERKED AWAKE. Disoriented, I glanced around the bedroom, trying to figure out what woke me up. I remained lying on my side, spooning Sage, and listened, trying to sort through the usual night noises. A lone car driving past. A dog barking two blocks over. And a soft knocking and rattling at the front security door. I slowly pulled my arm off Sage and sat up, automatically glancing at the clock on my bedside table. 2:47 in the morning. Sage sat up as well.
"You heard that too?" she whispered.
"Yeah." I pushed the sheet aside and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I put my glasses on, then retrieved my T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head. Another soft knock, like on a window. "What the fuck?" I whispered even as I heard Sage rummaging in her dresser and knew she was in the process of removing her handgun. I hated that she had it, especially since my run-in with neo-Nazis two years ago. But she'd grown up with guns and she practiced regularly, so at least she knew how to use it. I heard her snap the magazine into place but I kept my mouth shut and retrieved my own weapon--a Louisville Slugger--from under the bed. Thus armed, we both left the bedroom and crept into the living room. Light from the streetlamp out front filtered through the curtains over the front windows, creating dim pools of light near the heavy oak door.
I licked my lips, thinking I heard something moving around on the front porch. But I wasn't sure. Sage glided to the front window to the left of the door, gun in her right hand. Are we that jumpy about her dad that it's come to this? A showdown at the OK Corral? She started to push the curtain aside and then she stopped and motioned me to go to the window on the other side of the door. She put her finger to her lips and we stood, half-naked statues, listening. This time, I did hear something on the wooden porch floor. A series of clicks, like someone typing on a keyboard. I turned to look at Sage and her eyes seemed like dark stones in her head.
She reached with her left hand toward the light
Sage pulled her hand out of mine and cupped my cheek. "You're already doing it."
I leaned into her palm. "So we're just...waiting."
She nodded. "Something's out of balance. But I expect we'll know more soon." She studied my face.
I clenched my teeth. I suck at waiting. My impatient, rational self seeks answers. Needs them. I turned my head and kissed her palm.
"I know," she whispered. "But waiting, too, is a form of action."
I offered a wry smile. "If I'm not doing or saying what you'd like or want, you'll tell me?"
Sage leaned in and kissed me. "Yes." She pulled back, studying my eyes in a way that undressed my soul. She stood. "I'm going to call River." She started to pick up our plates.
"I'll get this." I took the plates from her and her fingers brushed mine, sending a strange, hot jolt up my arm. Surprised, I remained standing in front of her, plates in both hands. "Did you--" I started, but the look on her face stopped me. Intense but relieved. For the first time in over two days, she visibly relaxed. "Tell you what," I said, pleasantly rattled. "I'll finish up with this while you call River. Then how about I open K.C.'s awesome massage clinic?"
She giggled. "Do I need to make an appointment?"
"Hell, no. It's Sage-specific. Open all day, every day for you."
"What are your rates?"
"For you, we work somethin' out, eh?" I answered in an imitation of my paternal grandfather, whose gruff Italian accent ran right up to the edge of stereotype.
Sage laughed. "An offer I can't refuse. I'll try to hurry." She grinned and headed to the office. I watched her, still holding the damn plates, wishing I could will her shorts right off her hips. Dishes first. I took the plates into the kitchen.
I JERKED AWAKE. Disoriented, I glanced around the bedroom, trying to figure out what woke me up. I remained lying on my side, spooning Sage, and listened, trying to sort through the usual night noises. A lone car driving past. A dog barking two blocks over. And a soft knocking and rattling at the front security door. I slowly pulled my arm off Sage and sat up, automatically glancing at the clock on my bedside table. 2:47 in the morning. Sage sat up as well.
"You heard that too?" she whispered.
"Yeah." I pushed the sheet aside and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I put my glasses on, then retrieved my T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head. Another soft knock, like on a window. "What the fuck?" I whispered even as I heard Sage rummaging in her dresser and knew she was in the process of removing her handgun. I hated that she had it, especially since my run-in with neo-Nazis two years ago. But she'd grown up with guns and she practiced regularly, so at least she knew how to use it. I heard her snap the magazine into place but I kept my mouth shut and retrieved my own weapon--a Louisville Slugger--from under the bed. Thus armed, we both left the bedroom and crept into the living room. Light from the streetlamp out front filtered through the curtains over the front windows, creating dim pools of light near the heavy oak door.
I licked my lips, thinking I heard something moving around on the front porch. But I wasn't sure. Sage glided to the front window to the left of the door, gun in her right hand. Are we that jumpy about her dad that it's come to this? A showdown at the OK Corral? She started to push the curtain aside and then she stopped and motioned me to go to the window on the other side of the door. She put her finger to her lips and we stood, half-naked statues, listening. This time, I did hear something on the wooden porch floor. A series of clicks, like someone typing on a keyboard. I turned to look at Sage and her eyes seemed like dark stones in her head.
She reached with her left hand toward the light
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