Chapter 6
SIX
Sienna
The moment I woke up this morning, I was already thinking about him.
Kye.
I rolled over in bed, my heart doing that ridiculous fluttery thing it always does whenever I think about him. Which, lately, is all the time.
He asked me out. On a real date. Not a "hey, let's grab a bite while we work" thing. Not a "we’re already together, so might as well eat" kind of moment. A real, proper, nervous-grin-on-his-face date .
I don’t know how I managed to stay calm when he asked yesterday. The second he said, “As just me… Kye,” I nearly melted into a puddle on his kitchen floor.
I’ve been floating ever since.
Now it’s almost five, and I’m standing in front of the mirror in my tiny apartment, twisting back and forth to study the dress I finally settled on. It's a deep navy blue, fitted through the bodice with a little swing in the skirt. My hair is curled lightly at the ends, and I even put on some lipstick—a soft pink I never wear because it makes me feel too noticeable. Tonight, though, I want to feel seen. By him.
There’s a knock at the door, and my heart does a little somersault. I grab my purse, do one last check in the mirror, and take a deep breath before opening the door.
And there he is.
Kye Lightfield is standing in the hallway of my apartment building in a dark button-up and jeans, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice low and a little rough.
I blink, my throat catching. “You got me flowers?”
His ears go a little pink as he hands them to me. “I wasn’t sure if that was too much.”
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, and I mean it. God, this man.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, and he steps aside so I can lock up, then guides me toward his SUV. Like always, he opens the door for me, his hand brushing mine as I climb in. It’s a small thing, but it sends a shiver up my spine.
Palmer’s Steakhouse is about ten minutes from my place, tucked off the main street in town. I’ve passed it a few times on walks, always wondering what it was like inside. It looks a bit fancier than most places in Wolf Valley, all warm wood, golden lights, and thick windows that glow invitingly as the sun sets.
Kye pulls into the lot and comes around to open my door again. I can’t help but smile.
“You’re a gentleman.”
He shrugs. “Only for you.”
Okay, that’s not fair. He can’t say things like that and expect me to keep functioning like a regular human.
Inside, the hostess greets us with a knowing smile and leads us to a small booth tucked in the back. It’s quiet and private— cozy even, with a view of the fireplace and enough space between tables that I feel like we’re in our own little world.
“This place is great,” I say as we settle in. “It’s so fancy.”
“They have the best steaks in town,” Kye says. “And the desserts are pretty decent, too.”
The way he says it—simple, slightly awkward like he’s doing his best to impress me without sounding like he’s trying too hard—makes me want to reach across the table and grab his hand.
Instead, I sip water and ask, “Do you come here often?”
He shakes his head. “No. I came a few months ago when Camden returned to town, but I think my high school graduation was the last time before that. I haven’t had anyone I wanted to bring… until now.”
My cheeks heat, but I hold his gaze. “I’m glad you did.”
The server comes and takes our orders—Kye gets a steak, medium rare, and I go with grilled salmon and roasted vegetables. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time, even as I pretend to be totally chill and scroll through the wine menu like I’m not internally screaming.
Once the server leaves, we fall into conversation again, and I’m delighted by how easy it is to talk to him. Kye isn’t a big talker by nature, but when he does open up, everything he says is intentional. Real.
We talk about Wolf Valley and what drew us here. I tell him more about my childhood and how I always felt like the odd one out. He talks about his late grandparents, the inheritance they left him, and how he spent years figuring out what he wanted to do with it.
“You don’t miss your old life?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I never really had a life before this. Not one I wanted. I was coasting. This… starting the business with you, working on the furniture… it feels like something real.”
“You just started the business,” I say quietly. It’s not a question.
Kye hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. I didn’t even know what to call it until I met you.”
“What are you calling it?”
He looks down at the table, then back at me. “Sunlight & Timber.”
I suck in a breath. “That’s… beautiful.”
He shrugs again like it’s nothing, but I can tell he’s nervous about it. “It reminded me of you. Your smile. The way you light everything up. You’re the sunlight, Sienna. I’m just the guy trying to hold onto it.”
I don’t know what to say to that. My heart feels too full for words. So I reach across the table and take his hand.
His fingers curl around mine, warm and strong, and everything else fades away.
The food comes, and it’s incredible—he wasn’t lying about the bread—but the real highlight of the night is just being with him. The way he listens. The way he remembers every little thing I say. The way he looks at me like I’m something special.
By the time we leave the restaurant, I’m completely and hopelessly smitten.
Outside, the air is crisp and cool. Kye walks me to the car, his hand brushing the small of my back. I feel his hesitation as he opens the door for me, like he wants to say something more but isn’t sure if he should.
I glance up at him. “Thank you. For tonight.”
“I’m glad you said yes.”
“Me too.”
There’s a moment. One of those charged, hold-your-breath moments when you think maybe— maybe —he’ll lean in.
But he doesn’t.
And neither do I.
Instead, he closes the door gently, rounds the SUV, and climbs in silently. He drives me home in comfortable silence, his hand resting on the gearshift, occasionally brushing close to my knee. Every time it does, my pulse skitters.
When we reach my apartment, he parks and walks me to the door.
“I had a good time,” I say, voice soft.
He nods. “I did, too.”
Another pause. I know he wants to kiss me. I want him to. But something in his eyes tells me he’s holding back—like he’s still scared of pushing too far, too fast.
I decide to help him out.
I lean in and kiss his cheek, close enough to the corner of his mouth that my lips brush the edge of it.
“Goodnight, Kye,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move for a second. Then he clears his throat, the tips of his ears going red. “Goodnight, Sienna.”
I slip inside, shut the door, and lean against it with a smile so wide it hurts.
This crush? It’s not going away.
And after tonight, I don’t think I want it to.