Page 66 of Savagely Scarred

Sage brushes his lips across mine. “Try me.”

He kisses me with urgency, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. It’s filled with desperation, desire, and a hint of relief. When we break apart, we are both breathless. Sage sits back in his seat and fastens his seatbelt.

When he pulls back onto the road, I check my makeup in the mirror. The eyeliner is slightly smudged from crying, and I rub underneath my lashes to fix it. I want to make a good first impression, not look like I just made out with their son in his car.

At the next intersection he turns right and then pulls into a driveway of a red brick, colonial style house. Trimmed bushes and colorful flowers line both sides of the house and wrap around the centered front porch. The bright yellow door adds a warm pop of color and is framed with ornate windows. We couldn’t have gone more than a couple hundred feet.

“Wait, we’re here already?”

The corner of his lip tips up. “Told you I would make you walk.”

“I don’t think you would have.”

“And why is that?”

A sly grin spreads across my face, glancing towards the covered porch. “Because your mother would kick your ass.”

Sage follows my line of sight to the woman standing there with a huge smile on her face.

“Hmm, you’re right. She can be scary. She’d probably disown me for abandoning you along the road.” He gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek before exiting the car.

I take a deep breath and open my door. Sage is already waiting with one hand reaching for mine, the other holding our suitcase. I grab it and he helps me out of the car like a gentleman. One might assume it’s to impress his mother, but he does this shit all the time. He’d probably buckle my seatbelt too if I let him.

His mother’s smile reaches her eyes, crinkling at the corners and gleaming with pure joy. She’s wearing a yellow sundress with pink flowers. Gold jewelry adorning her neck, wrists and fingers. Her dark auburn hair caresses her shoulders in the breeze. She looks ready for church or afternoon tea with the Queen.

And now I feel underdressed. I’m wearing jean shorts and a plain black tank top with flip flops. Sage has on athletic shorts and a band shirt with sneakers. You can barely see the outline of the gun shoved into the back of his shorts while he pulls me along the sidewalk.

We ascend the steps and I’m mesmerized by the same green eyes I stare into every day. He looks just like his mother.

“Olivia!” She welcomes me in an embrace, and I’m taken aback by the slight Irish accent. “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.” She grabs the sides of my face when she steps back. “Oh let me look at ya. You’re gorgeous, my dear. Those eyes! My word! Sage told me you were beautiful, but he did a shite job of describing ya.”

“Hard to describe perfection.”

She lets go of me and pulls him into a hug. “Kissin' arse is what you’re good at.”

I snicker. “He definitely gets a gold star in that department.”

“Good, or I’m the one that did a shite job at raising him.”

“You did a great job, Mrs. Murphy,” I say, patting his shoulder.

“Please. Call me Kara.” She opens the door and shoos us inside. “John! They’re here!” she yells as we enter.

Sage sets our suitcase by the door after he closes it. His shirt rises a little when he bends over, and the metal of his gun peaks out.

“Boy, what did I tell you about that gun?” Kara scolds him, placing her hands on her hips. I’m preparing for the anti-gun lecture when she continues, “Put that thing in a damn holster before you shoot your arse off.”

I stifle a laugh. Sage sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m fine, Mom.” He waves a hand to the side and she glares at him.

“Mm-hmm. Til' yer walking around with one ass cheek and sittin’ crooked at Thanksgiving and Aunt Maureen keeps asking you to sit up straight. But you can’t. Cause your dumbass shot himself in the arse.”

The laugh that rolls out of me is loud and morphs into a cackle, followed by a snort. I cover my mouth when Sage shoots daggers at me.

He pulls his gun out and holds it up in a showcase fashion before sitting it on the shelf above the entryway bench. Kara nods in approval and then retreats down the hall while calling out for John, her brown sandals clicking on the stone floor.

“I like her.” I smile gleefully.