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She felt Cal’s eyes on her the whole way. In the mirror, their gazes locked. Sage bit her lip. Cal clenched his jaw and looked away. A small, satisfied smile tugged at her mouth.

She was wearing the fitted dark burgundy diner dress Mary Sue had found for her—snug in all the places Isabelle had declared “perfect”—with the white apron tied at her waist. Her dark hair was up in its usual space buns, faded lavender streaks framing her face, piercings catching the warm light. She’d filled out these past weeks on good food and real sleep, and she was newly aware of it… especially when Cal stared.

She dropped the check at table two, smiled at Bobby Callahan senior as he tipped his hat, then turned and walked back toward the counter.

Cal was still watching when she got there.

Sage held his gaze for one heated beat.

Then she casually rolled her shoulders forward as she leaned over the counter, letting physics do its glorious work—pressing her E-cups together and deepening the already impressive valley of her cleavage.

The reward was immediate: Cal did that thing with his jaw where he looked like he was having very naughty thoughts. She felt like cheering.

Instead, she raised a single teasing eyebrow.

Cal looked back down at the legal pad, his neck turning red. Sage hid her victorious little smile in the next set of silverware.

Suddenly Cal stood up from the corner booth. Isabelle said something to him as he rose. He shook his head slightly. Michael looked up from his laptop, looked at Cal, looked at Sage, and then looked back at his laptop. Cal crossed the diner in that steady, powerful way of his. Bobby Callahan looked up. The Halverson sisters stopped mid-sentence about the church fundraiser, coffee mugs halfway to their mouths.

The remaining patrons went quiet, like the opening credits of a show everyone had been waiting for.

It’s about time, Sage thought breathlessly.

He stopped at the counter.

Sage kept rolling silverware, refusing to look up right away.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and warm.

She kept her face carefully neutral. “Hey yourself.” Napkin. Fork. Knife.

“Legal pad emergency?”

She felt him shift his weight. “What?”

“The legal pad.” She gestured toward the corner booth without looking. “Very casual dinner conversation energy you’ve got going on over there.”

A beat. “Umm, yeah… it’s a surprise.”

“Mm.” Napkin. Fork. Knife… fuck, he is so damn hot.

“The mysterious surprise.”

“It’s not—” He stopped, started again. “I was wondering…”

Sage looked up then, meeting those steel-gray eyes directly. Dangerous, but she was helpless against it.

“You were wondering?”

Cal said nothing. The tips of his ears had gone to that delicious shade of pink she loved.

Sage set the silverware down and leaned her elbows on the counter, bringing her closer to him—and fully aware of how the movement pressed her breasts together in the fitted burgundy dress.

Tough. You’re mine, Cal Meridian.

His eyes stayed on her face. Mostly.

“So,” she said, tilting her head with playful patience, “this surprise…”