“I didn’t say that. Come on, Sage, show me how it’s done without signing a check.”
****
There were a million and one things Dom could be doing today. Working out how to make the Booker deal work without Johnson’s money. Even organizing a suit for his wedding. The cake as well. He could be relaxing in his apartment, working on his business plan for the next five years. Once he was married to Sage and had control of the Boyle empire, he’d be able to take his own company out of the red and to make it thrive. Once he was done, he had no intention of taking any more funds from the Boyles, and he could find some way to divorce her and to give her a life without him. From everything he’d seen, Sage didn’t need him.
He watched her go from stall to stall, tagging along. She showed him what to do, from serving up beverages, placing hot dogs in buns, and even handing out little hoops. She was totally into helping others.
He’d known that about her. From the schedule her father had given him, he saw she spent a great deal of time helping others. This wasn’t on the list. He wondered if her father even knew.
“Sage, Sage, Sage!” A kid practically screamed her name as she came toward the booth, nearly knocking all the beverages off the stand.
“What is it, Molly?” she asked.
“The cake face. We’re missing two people, and it’s getting crowded over there.”
“I thought Pierce and Lionel had promised?”
“They’ve been no-shows again,” Molly said.
“Great.” Sage bit her lip and turned her attention to him. “How much do you like your pretty face?”
“You think I have a pretty face?”
She rolled her eyes. “Get your head in the game.”
“Which one?” He winked at her and couldn’t believe as her face turned a delightful shade of pink. She looked so cute and adorable, he wanted to keep on teasing her.
“Come on, flirt boy. Let’s hope they are sucky shots.”
“Sucky shots?”
“You know you keep repeating everything I’m saying? It’s kind of distracting.”
He didn’t put up a fight as he was pulled across the fairground. He was having a lot of fun. When Billy had arrived at the fair, he had thought it was some kind of trick, but hanging out with Sage, seeing her in her domain, it was an eye-opening experience. It also made him very much aware that she wasn’t one for business. She wouldn’t understand why he had to marry her and for all of those reasons that he’d messed up on.
“Right, the idea is you stand in one place, and they throw pies at you.”
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Seriously. It doesn’t hurt.”
“You’ve had this done before?”
“Yep. I help out wherever I can. This was supposed to be the year I took off, but it looks like that is not happening.” She stood beside him, taking hold of his hand. “Okay, just stand completely still. It’s what I do.”
“This is crazy. You know that.”
“It’ll be a lot of fun. Watch.”
He didn’t see in his lifetime or any lifetime how standing and waiting to get a pie thrown in his face was a good idea.
“Who are the other prisoners?” he asked, seeing four more people lined up for this humiliation.
“The teachers.”
“So the students get to throw pies at the teachers?”
“Yes. It kind of makes for a good start to the next year. No hard feelings, nothing. It’s all good.”
For five minutes the first two students threw pies at their teachers. Each person got three pies, which they had to throw at the people’s faces. They didn’t look hard as the pies disintegrated on impact.
“Where did you get the pies from?”
“A bakery downtown. It’s not too far. It’s actually delicious.”
“If my staff could see me now,” he said.
“Would you be the kind of boss that got a pie in the face?” she asked.
“No. I’m a good boss.”
“I don’t know. I think there is a certain hatred for all bosses, don’t you think?” She cried out as a pie hit the board. Their faces and some of their neck was visible. “James, really?” she asked, bursting out laughing. Some of the pie had landed on her neck.
“You know the drill, Sage,” James said, arms outstretched looking all innocent.
“Then shoot some at my fiancé,” she said.
“Hey!”
“You got it.”
Sage was laughing as James threw a pie. It hit the board, but it was close.
The third always missed.
“Maybe next time, sweetie.”
James gave her a thumbs up.
“Really?” he asked.
“He’s a sweet kid. He’s trying out for baseball and is working on his throw.”
“He’s got a long way to go.”
“You got to try and be encouraging to the kids.”
“They’re not my kids,” he said.
“So you’ll only be nice to your own?”
“Yeah, I will. Do you want kids?” he asked.
“One day, I think.”
There was something there, and he made a note to approach the subject again.