by Penny Reid
“Don’t get up,” I ordered, feeling behind me to make sure Sienna was okay. I had a knife in my boot, and I was just reaching for it when the man spoke.
“It’s me. It’s Dave,” he said, and it was a voice I recognized though I couldn’t immediately place. He groaned, “I think you broke my nose.”
“Oh no!” Sienna rushed around me and knelt next to this Dave. “Should you sit up? I’ll go get ice.”
“Who is Dave?” I asked stupidly, irrationally irritated that this Dave person had opened the door and gotten himself punched in the face. Admittedly, I was also irritated that a man was in the cabin at all. The fact that I’d done the punching was irrelevant.
“Dave. You met him earlier. He walked me to your car?” she rushed to explain, standing again and jogging into the house, presumably to get ice.
Two more big fellas appeared in the doorway, both holding weapons and both pointing them at me.
“What the fuck is this?” I muttered, having just reached my limit.
“Put your hands up, sir,” the taller of the two ordered.
“Like hell I will.”
My response did not make the man happy. He started forward as though he were going to force my hands up, when Dave—still on the ground—grabbed the guy’s pant leg.
“Wait, no. This is Jethro, the park ranger. The one I mentioned earlier. He’s just bringing Sienna home.”
I split my glare between the three men, quickly understanding that when she’d said “co-worker” earlier, Sienna meant Dave and company were her security detail. She was a woman who had three personal bodyguards. Three.
All thoughts of inviting myself inside the house extinguished.
“I’m sorry, Jethro,” Dave was saying. “I heard something out here, I should have flipped the light on. That’s my bad. Sorry for interrupting.”
I stared at him for a long moment, where he was sprawled on the ground holding his nose. Adrenaline was leaving my system, leaving me cold and tired and feeling bad for punching him in the face.
“No, look, I’m sorry.” I reached forward and offered him my hand. “Keep your head back, but you should sit up. And you,” I gestured to the shorter of the two guards still standing, “go get some tissues or a napkin, something to stop the bleeding.”
Sienna appeared just as the shorter man disappeared to follow my instructions.
“Are you okay, Dave?” she asked, worry plain in her voice and features.
“I’m fine.”
I took the bag of ice from her and placed it gently on Dave’s nose. “Okay?”
“Yes. Thanks, man.”
I didn’t acknowledge his thanks because I was the reason he was sitting on the floor in the first place. Instead I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to Luke Thurstan. He was a year from retiring but still made house calls.
“I have Doc Thurstan’s number, let me shoot him a text. You’re going to need to get that set.”
Dave chuckled. “I know. I’ve been punched in the nose before.”
“Yeah. I figured you had.” I smiled a little despite myself.
“That’s Henry,” Dave indicated behind him, in the direction of the man who’d left to get the napkins, then lifted his hand toward the taller fella still present. “And this guy is Tim.”
I offered Tim a handshake and he accepted it, saying, “Sorry about . . . earlier.”
“You were just doing your job.”
A moment of silence passed, and my attention drifted back to Sienna. She stood in the entryway twisting her fingers, her eyes wide and watchful. She seemed to be biting the inside of her cheek again.
“Well . . .” Scratching the back of my neck, I tried to hide my frustration under a wry grin. I’m afraid it may have resembled a grimace.
“Do you want to come in?” She stepped over Dave’s legs and came out to the porch.
“No, thank you,” I answered honestly, because I couldn’t wait to leave.
It wasn’t because the guys were her bodyguards, or that she was so famous she made my neighbors lose their minds. The chances of us having any alone time were now zero. More than anything after the night’s events, I didn’t want any more audiences.
My momma always told me that men, to a much greater degree than women, have difficulty dealing with derailed plans. She was right. And I was no exception. I’d had plenty of plans for the evening. I really liked this girl. She’d felt like the beginning of something new: a reward, a gift for five years of levelheaded decisions.
But nothing since we’d entered the restaurant had gone right. Not only that, it had all gone terribly wrong in the most bewildering of ways. The evening was over. I’d planned to end it with a goodnight kiss. But for how I planned on kissing her, I wasn’t keen on an audience. And I refused to end the night with a chaste peck on the cheek.
Hell. No.
She stared at me for a protracted moment, like she wanted to say something, but then she glanced at the two guys loitering in the doorway, one standing, one on the floor. Sienna closed her eyes and released a laugh devoid of humor.
“I am so sorry.”
I hated that she kept saying sorry.
“Stop apologizing.” I reached to take hold of her then stopped myself. We were still being watched.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, leaning close; her lovely dark eyes turned down at the corners communicating her regret.
“Nothing to say.” This time I smiled and made sure it looked sincere. “Go get some rest, and make sure this guy’s nose stops bleeding.”
“The bleeding stopped,” Dave said, reminding us—just in case we’d forgotten—that he and Tim were still there.
I pressed my lips together and turned, slowly descending the steps. Disappointment a cold weight in the pit of my stomach.
I wished . . .
My mind was a mess of contradictions.
I wished I’d known how famous she was earlier, because then we would’ve never gone to The Front Porch. I would’ve taken her someplace truly private. Not to take advantage but to talk and just be.
But then again, if I’d known how famous she was from the beginning, I never would have allowed myself any interest. Her celebrity likely made anything between us a dead-end road, and I wasn’t interested in dead-ends, not anymore.
Sienna stopped me with a soft, “Jethro?”
I turned and met her searching gaze; she was at the top of the steps. Behind her, Tim was helping Dave stand.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, right? In the morning? You’re picking me up?”
“Yes. Of course,” I responded immediately. I was thrown, frustrated, and overwhelmed, but I wasn’t dumb enough to miss out on a chance to spend alone time with her. She may have been named Sienna instead of Sarah, and was apparently a celebrity of huge proportions, but she was still dimples and eyelashes to me.
“Goodnight, Sienna.” I mustered a soft grin.
“Goodnight, Jethro.” She did not manage a grin, nor did she meet my eyes as she said the words. Her tone and expression made me think she was close to crying. That had me gritting my teeth and my heart jumping to my throat.
Before I could re-mount the steps and take her in my arms, curious guards be damned, she turned, walked back into the house, shut the door, and locked it. This left me ten feet away, staring at Hank Weller’s closed door.
Well . . . “Fuck.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t assault an oak tree or blackberry bush on my short walk back to the truck. Once in the driver’s seat, ignition on, seatbelt fastened, hands on the steering wheel, I debated my options.
“What a fucking mess.”
I left, careful to keep my foot light on the gas so I wouldn’t inadvertently peel out of the drive. Suddenly too hot, I tugged my sweater off and made a right out of the Bandit Lake graveled circle.
I knew what I had to do next. I needed to get to The Pink Pony and get the lowdown from
Hank Weller. Then I needed to do a Google search for Sienna Diaz and find out what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
***
“Jethro.”
“Hank.” I glanced over his shoulder, eyeballing the wall of whiskey behind him. The Pink Pony may have been a strip club, but Hank had the best stock of Tennessee Rye anywhere. “I’ll take the George Dickel, neat.”
“Sure thing.” Hank eyeballed me, likely because I wasn’t much of a drinker these days.
“So, what’s going on, Jet?” he asked, placing the shot of amber in front of me. “Why’re you here?”
His question was a fair one. I didn’t typically stop in unscheduled, and never at night when the place was open.
“I need to talk to you about your house guest.”
Hank grew still, but his expression became guarded and cagey. “What about her?”
If I wanted Hank to share information, I assumed I’d have to be willing to share the entire story. This approach was not in my nature, discussing my personal business with anyone aside from what was strictly necessary, need-to-know. However, I wasn’t ready to let go of Sarah.
Sienna.
So I set aside my reservation and said, “I know who she is, though it took her until tonight to tell me, when we were on a date.”
His eyes widened. “You? You and Sienna? Went on a date?”
“Yep.”
“You? On a date? Not just fucking around. Like, getting dinner?”
I clenched my teeth. “Yes.”
“Jet, you haven’t—”
“Over five years. Yes, I know.”
“Longer than that for taking a woman out, I was going to say. Since high school? Senior prom?”
Was everyone in this town suddenly a goddamn gossip?
“I dropped out the end of my junior year, but I guess you’re right. High school was the last time I took a girl out, if you want to be technical about it.” I wished, not for the first time, I didn’t live in such a small place.
“Plenty of women since then,” he stated.
“But none at all for a while,” I corrected.
Hank gave me the side-eye. “Sorry for beating a dead horse, but are you sure it was a date? ’Cause she has a habit of going on dates with guys, but not considering them dates.”
The hint of bitterness in Hank’s tone gave me pause. I studied my business partner, noticed the derisive curve of his lips. He wasn’t an unhappy person. He was shrewd—similar in many ways to Cletus—but generally affable.
So I guessed and asked at the same time, “You and Sienna?”
My stomach dropped when he nodded.
I decided to take a seat. “Make the next one a double.”
He gave me a small smile. “If it makes you feel better, it was a long time ago, and we never made it past first base, despite all my best efforts.” He added this last part under his breath.
“I don’t know if that makes me feel better.” I shook my head, staring at the bar. “I don’t know that I want to feel better.”
Hank poured my double shot and set it next to the single. “Have you googled her yet?”
I shook my head.
“Don’t. Just know she’s at the top of the A-list, world famous levels of celebrity. She’s got a new boyfriend every week, all of them Hollywood pretty boys. But she was the same in college, before she dropped out to become Sienna Diaz. She’s whip smart, funny as hell, beautiful, talented as fuck, could charm the collar off a priest. She’s amazing. But she’s career-focused. I’ve known her six years and have never seen her as serious about anyone like she is about her job. I just asked her last week whether anything had changed, whether she was inclined to settle down any time soon.”
“What’d she say?” I couldn’t help my perverse curiosity.
“She said settling down was the same thing as settling, and she had no plans to settle.” He gave me a flat smile.
I nodded, absorbing these details, forcing myself to believe them despite how I wished they weren’t so.
“Are you upset because she’s had so many relationships or that one of them was with me?” he asked, dry humor permeating the words.
“Neither,” I said, grabbing the double and downing it with one swallow. It burned, but the hurt felt good.
I wasn’t upset she’d dated Hank. Nor was I twisted up about her having a battalion of suitors. My despondency was borne from already feeling invested in a girl who had a history of not investing.
Because I had invested. Maybe I didn’t realize how much until that very moment, but I’d been making plans and calling them wishes. Not only did she not invest, apparently she was opposed to the idea.
“Don’t let me have any more after this one.” I pointed to the single still on the bar. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Fine. I won’t.” Hank crossed his arms, uncertainty casting a shadow over his features. “She’s not a bad person, Jet. She’s good people. She makes a great friend. She’s just a flirt, can’t help it.” He was quiet for a beat, then added, “She kind of reminds me of you that way.”
I lifted my eyes to him. “What do you mean?”
“Not how you are now, though you still flirt without meaning to, but you have better control over it. Whereas before you were breaking hearts without knowing, leaving a trail of frustrated hopes. You and Sienna have that in common, except you’ve moved beyond it—”
“And she hasn’t,” I finished for him.
Hank gave me a sympathetic nod. “No. She hasn’t. I doubt she realizes it either. Like I said, she’s a good person. She’s got a big heart, but I suppose that’s part of the issue. People gravitate to her big heart, her big charisma,” he shrugged, adding with a grin, “and her big other things.”
Now I wanted to punch him in the face.
But that wasn’t my place.
And I was just as bad as he was because I’d been admiring her big other things most of the night. I’d already been imagining what it would be like to have her, what she’d taste like, and the sounds she’d make. Now it would all remain a fantasy, an unknown . . . a frustration.
I twisted the small glass on the bar, staring at the gold liquid, debating my options. But after a minute I realized I didn’t have any options. I’d been building castles out of clouds because Sienna clearly saw me as a short-term diversion.
How could she not? World-famous, gorgeous, sexy, can-have-anyone-she-wants Sienna Diaz and wildlife park ranger Jethro Winston from Nowhere Tennessee?
Nope. Not going to happen.
Yep. I was a temporary distraction.
“Sorry, Jet. But the dog won’t hunt.”
Leaving the shot where it was, I reached for my wallet and set a twenty on the bar. “Thanks for the information.”
“You don’t want your drink?”
“No. You have it. I need all my wits about me tomorrow if I’m going to make it through the day without acting like an asshole.”
“Your asshole days are behind you.” His tone was both concerned and encouraging.
“Don’t worry about me.”
But I could see Hank was worried, especially when he pressed, “Jethro, you’re not special. She has this effect on everyone. You’re just one of many. Don’t beat yourself up; you couldn’t have known.”
If he was trying to cheer me up his words had the opposite effect. My mood turned from cloudy to dark. But that was okay. One could argue I had this coming, given my misspent youth.
Karma was a shithead.
Yet, it could have been worse. I hadn’t traveled too far down the road with Sienna. I could still make a U-turn. And I would. And then I’d be just fine.
CHAPTER 11
“The true paradises are the paradises that we have lost.”
― Marcel Proust
~Sienna~
Everything was different.
I felt a shift the moment I saw him the next morning, leading me to suspect the dynamic between Jethro and me had completely changed over
night. I hesitated a half second, my stomach falling, then stepped off the porch and crossed to where he waited by his truck.
He opened the door for me, as usual. And his smile was still just as easy as it had been previously, just less open and considerably less interested. He’d erected a wall. I felt like crying.
“Morning, Sienna,” he said, sounding just as he always had and offering me his hand like he usually did. But instead of allowing our fingers to tangle, he withdrew immediately and shut the door once I’d climbed up.
I watched his unhurried strides as he crossed in front of the truck, admiring how he walked, how he carried himself with unaffected self-possession. I decided—meaning, I desperately hoped—that perhaps I was overreacting. Maybe I was allowing my worries and insecurities to color my perception.
Because I hadn’t erected a wall last night. I’d collapsed on my bed and cried after the doctor left. And no, I wasn’t being overly dramatic. Perhaps some of the tears were caused by mental exhaustion. Sleeping less than six hours a night and working every waking moment for the last four years would do that to a person.
But, I liked this guy. A lot. More than I’d liked anyone. He was already special to me because our brief moments together thus far left me feeling invigorated and energized. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone made me feel this way. Maybe never. He was like a battery charger for my heart and brain. I wasn’t ready to let go of that, of him.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” he said, slipping to his seat with the grace of a man who used his body daily. “I think two of the high school teachers from last night were trailing me this morning. I had to lose them.” He chuckled and it didn’t sound at all forced.
And that—the real amusement, the joke about losing his neighbors on an early morning car chase, more than any other physical cue thus far—felt like a coffin being nailed shut on the possibility of us.
I stared at his profile as he started his truck, aware I’d said nothing thus far. I was being weird, but I didn’t care.
Jethro cleared his throat, his eyes darting to mine then away. He motioned to the cup holder between us with his chin, his tone conversational. “You keep leaving your thermos in my truck. I stopped by Daisy’s and filled it up. I, uh, also grabbed a doughnut for you.”