Chapter 4
Sienna
“It’s six thirty.”
Looking down at Briggs’s smug, smiling face, filling the screen on my phone, I roll my eyes. “Remind me why I called you bitches again?” I ask, straightening the front of my green strapless maxi dress before I begin pacing in front of my bed again. “I should kill Tessa.”
“Don’t do that,” Kelsie chimes in, shoving her way into the screen. “You’d never pull off an orange jumpsuit, honey. It’ll clash with your skin tone.”
Since murder, even justifiable homicide, is a crime infinitely worse than assaulting a police officer’s crotch, and heaving a gallon of booze all over his boots, the old broad is safe. For now. Besides, Kelsie is right; orange isn’t my color. Looking myself over in the mirror for the tenth time in the last half hour, I inwardly kick myself for even caring at all. “This is stupid. I don’t need a date for an apology. I need a Hallmark card and a basket of peanut butter and banana muffins.”
“Did you know Tessa made a Hunk P.D. hashtag?” Briggs laughs, taking command of the conversation. “God, I love that woman.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at the two of them while they giggle “She’s probably stashed cameras in my house so she can watch the live feed.”
It turns out, while I was dealing with Officer Matt Hudson and the other customers coming into the bakery, Tessa was busy spreading the gossip on social media. With pictures. It didn’t take long before Kelsie and Briggs were busting through the door, demanding the three of them sit down and compare notes on Mr. Hunk P.D. himself.
“Hmmm,” Kelsie sighs. “I wonder if you’ll be Satt or Mienna.”
“Mienna,” Briggs replies immediately. “It sounds more exotic.”
“I’m hanging up,” I warn right as the doorbell rings. “Oh shit,” I whisper, pressing my back to the wall. “He’s early.”
Kelsie and Briggs shove in close, their faces filling the screen. “Why are we whispering?” Kelsie asks, scrunching her nose. “Does he have supersonic hearing?”
“I hate you.”
“Jesus doesn’t like a liar, Sienna!” Briggs scolds, blowing me a kiss. “Now, go downstairs and stick us on the bookshelf. We can pretend to be a photo or some shit while we watch.”
“I brought snacks!” Kelsie sings.
“Yeah, that’s a no.” Ending the call, I toss the phone to my bed and head downstairs.
The moment I open the door, I instantly regret not checking the damn peep hole first. “Babe,” he purrs, the sound making me groan. “You’re looking good.”
“What do you want, Jimmy?” I ask, narrowing my eyes when I see the flowers in his hand. “I’m busy.”
“Don’t be like that.” Reaching out, he runs the tips of his fingers up the inside of my forearm. Obviously mistaking my shudder of disgust for a good thing, he steps closer. “You miss me?”
“Of course I have,” I admit, yanking my hand away when he attempts to lace our fingers. “I’ll be honest, though, you standing this close is bound to improve my aim.”
Holding up his hands, he takes a step back. “I didn’t come to fight, Sienna. I want to talk.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about?” I ask, arching a brow. “I know you’re not here to tell me I knocked you up.”
“You always could make me laugh,” he says, reaching out for me again. “I’ve missed that. Missed you.”
“Goodnight, Jimmy.”
Right as I start to slam the door in his face, Jimmy throws down the flowers and charges. Shouldering the wood, he sends the door flying back into the wall so hard the knob lodges in the drywall. “What the hell are you doing?” I shriek. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“I wasn’t done,” he grunts.
“Funny,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Wasn’t that usually my line?” Stepping forward, I press my hands to his chest. “You need to leave. Now.”
His fingers wrap around my wrists, holding me to him when I try to step back. “No,” he bites out and I start to panic. “Not until you hear me out.”
“Let her go and walk away, pal!”
Looking over, I spot Matt storming down the sidewalk toward us, his jaw ticking angrily. “Mind your own goddamn business,” Jimmy barks, not taking his eyes from me.
“Matt,” I breathe, relieved to see him.
Jimmy’s eyes narrow. “Who the fuck is Matt?” he seethes, his nostrils flaring.
“The guy who’s about two seconds away from ripping off your goddamn arms if you don’t let her go.” Stepping up onto the porch, Matt clamps his hand down on Jimmy’s shoulder. “You ask him to leave, babe?” he asks, his blue eyes softening when they find mine.
“Yes,” I reply, yanking my hands free.
“Go inside, Sienna,” Matt says calmly, though I see the anger simmering in his eyes. “Get your keys and lock up so we can go, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nod, backing away slowly. “Okay.” Heading back into the house, I take a minute to catch my breath before grabbing my phone, purse, and keys from my bedroom. I don’t understand what the hell just happened. I haven’t seen Jimmy since the night we broke up, right after Kelsie, Briggs, and I threw all of his shit out on the front lawn. He hasn’t called, sent a single text, or even tried to see me here, or at the shop. To be honest, I hadn’t expected him to try.
Not that I wanted him to either.
Flicking on the hall light, I head for the front door. I hear Jimmy shouting something, followed by tires squealing. When I hit the bottom of the steps, I find a raging Matt standing in the doorway. “Does he have a key?” he asks, flexing the fingers on his right hand as he glares out at the street.
“No.” I shake my head. “I changed the locks after we broke up.”
“Good girl,” he replies, turning to face me.
“You hit him,” I mutter, stepping forward.
“He swung, I took him down,” he explains. “If he’s dumb enough to come back, he learns exactly how much I held back before.” Yanking the door free from the hole it has now put in my wall, he pushes it closed. Matt moves toward me slowly, his expression changing from enraged to concerned, almost immediately. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His brows pull together as he studies me. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Are we going somewhere?” I ask, wanting to talk about something else, anything, other than fucking Jimmy Anderson and the fact that him putting his hands on me made me want to vomit. That topic is simply too heavy for me to take on right now.
“Yeah,” he sighs, brushing the hair over my shoulder. “You ready to go?”
“Where are we going?” I ask, my eyes dropping to his fingers as they make a trail over my shoulder and down my arm.
Snatching my hand, his lips curl up into a devilish grin. “I’d rather show, than tell.”
Matt isn’t satisfied until he goes through my house himself, making sure every single window and door is secure. After taking my keys and locking my front door himself, Matt leads me to where his truck is parked on the street. Stopping at the edge of the sidewalk, I stare up at the damn thing, wondering why the hell someone pays good money to lift something so far off the ground that most people would need a ladder to get into. Opening the door, he takes a step back, then gestures for me to climb inside.
Looking down at my feet, I almost regret the black wedges I decided to wear. That is, until I realize the extra height they give me is going to help get my ass up into this beast of a truck. Reaching out, I grab onto the handle attached to the door, placing one foot on the running board as Matt presses his hand to my ass. “Got it?” he asks, flexing his fingers while giving me a push. “Can’t have you falling, can I?”
“Thanks.” Shifting my body, I settle in the seat; the fact that his little attempt to be helpful has just evened the score a little hasn’t gone unnoticed by me.
Closing the door, he makes his way around the front of the truck. Unable to help myself, I watch him out of the corner of my eye, while fumbling with my seatbelt, as he effortlessly climbs behind the wheel. His arms and shoulders flex, tightly stretching the fabric of his navy-blue t-shirt, making it incredibly hard not to drool like a complete idiot. Matt’s large body, this close to mine, though he isn’t touching me, makes the cab of the truck seem so much smaller than it is.
“My life isn’t always so crazy. I promise,” I blurt after a few minutes of unbearable silence.
“Oh yeah?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Yeah, just like I don’t make a habit of getting hammered on tequila and groping strange men like cheap prom dates.” Glancing down at my hands, I begin twisting them nervously in my lap.
“Is that right?” he asks, taking the road that leads downtown. “Though, I’d like to think I’m more special than strange.” I look to him in shock, not knowing how to respond to that. Matt pulls up in front of a little Italian restaurant that opened a few weeks ago. Looking over at me, he laughs. “You’re cute as hell, you know that?”
I blink at him, unable to respond. He has officially stunned me stupid. Flashing a panty melting smile that has my stomach fluttering, Matt shuts off the engine and hops out of the truck. Before I can get my seatbelt undone, he is around to my side and opening the passenger side door.
“Italian good with you?” he asks, offering me his hand. Nodding my response, I slide my hand into his, and carefully maneuver my footing on the running board before hopping down. When I don’t move, he releases his hold on me long enough to wrap his arm around my waist. Pulling me into his body, he pushes the door closed with his other hand.
Holy shit.
His body pressed tightly against mine feels good. Too fucking good. The exact type of good that will have me doing more monumentally stupid things. The problem is, I won’t be able to blame tequila this time. Running the fingers of his other hand along my jaw, Matt tips up my chin, meeting my eyes for a split second before his gaze drops to my mouth. His eyes heat, causing me to suck in a breath. Oh God. Motherfucking shit fucking damn. Everything about him has me so off-kilter that, if he kisses me right now, I have no doubt I will spontaneously combust on the spot.
“Would you look at this…” The unmistakable voice of Dilbert Harrison, better known as Sway by everyone in town, echoes through the parking lot. Regaining my senses, I push away from Matt just in time to see Sway and his husband, Davey, headed our way. Sway, dressed in a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a flared floral print tank, struts like a runway model in a pair of ridiculously high gold stilettos, that shimmer almost as bright as the smile spreading across his face. His cheekbones are highlighted with an iridescent gold glitter, perfectly framing his brown eyes while also setting off his mocha skin. It is subtle, but so very, very Sway.
“Hi, Sway,” I wave, flashing him a smile. “You look fabulous, as always.”
“As always,” he repeats, gesturing up and down his body. “It’s all about floral prints and gold shimmer, darling girl.”
“Of course.”
“Let’s talk about you, Sienna. You little fireball.” Holding his arms out, he grabs my hands, his eyes shifting between Matt and me. “That hunky Liam Beckett told Sway such a story when he came in for a haircut this afternoon.”
“He what?” I blurt, mortified that my most embarrassing moments now seem to be topics for public discussion.
Giving my hands a squeeze, Sway winks. “Well, he was actually talking to Dani, but that’s not the point, is it?”
“Is there a point?” Davey asks, smirking at Sway.
“The point is, I want to know,” Sway huffs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind him,” he says, winking at me. “The hostess, mouse of a little thing too, by the way, told us there’s at least a ninety-minute wait for a table.” Arching a perfectly sculpted brow, he glances over at his man, playfulness filling his eyes. “Someone had a tantrum.”
“There was no tantrum,” Davey chuckles. “And sadly, there was no tortellini either.”
“Don’t worry, handsome.” Releasing his hold on my hands, Sway turns and hooks his arm with Davey’s. “There’s always Heavy’s.” Reaching out, he pats my arm. “You come let Sway get his hands on your gorgeous head of hair this week. I demand all the juicy details on Hunk P.D. here.” He sighs loudly. “Oh, all of these men around here. It’s like this town demands bulging muscles and chiseled jawlines on every male specimen.”
“Hunk what?” Matt blurts, his eyes shooting between Sway and me.
“Lord above!” Sway exclaims, holding up his free hand. “Like you don’t know you look like that.” Looking at Davey, he rolls his eyes as they head for the sidewalk. “Some men are so dense, love. I mean, at least we know we’re keeping Georgia hot.”
“I can’t tell if that was an insult or a compliment.” Looking to me, Matt’s brows knit together. “And what the hell is Hunk P.D.?”
The tension from earlier fading, I laugh. Matt’s eyes soften, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s not a what. It’s a who. You can thank Tessa and the girls for that.”
“Me?”
“You,” I nod. Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, Matt clears his throat, an unmistakable blush filling his cheeks. “Are you blushing?” I ask, taking a step closer.
“No.”
I laugh again, happy as hell that someone other than me is embarrassed. “Want to check on that wait time?” he asks, jerking his chin in the direction of the restaurant. “Maybe if we bribe the wait staff we can be out of here by midnight.”
Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “I’ve got a better idea,” I inform him, holding out my hand. “Do you trust me, Matt?”
“Sure.” Taking my hand, he laces our fingers and gives me one sexy as hell smirk. “Unless it involves tequila.”