Chapter 5 Sienna
FIVE
SIENNA
As the door closes with a loud snick behind the attendant, I blow out a relieved breath.
Finally.
I take my time examining my home for the next few days, exhausted but also excited and beyond ready to check out the minibar and relax.
The villa is decorated in colors fitting for a tropical location.
White walls, turquoise rug, white bedding with turquoise stitching on the pillows, white couch, and turquoise vases stacked on the minibar.
The highlight of the space, though, is the enormous set of double doors leading to the expansive deck that looks out over the turquoise waters.
The vibe here is perfect. Well, almost perfect. A little music will fix that.
I power on my phone, set it to do not disturb, and tap the Spotify icon.
As I scan my playlists, I make my way to the bar, where the attendant left an open bottle of champagne sitting inside a—yes, you guessed it—turquoise ice bucket.
Once I settle on a little Lana Del Rey mix, I set my phone down and pour myself a glass.
The bubbles cause the liquid to foam to the top, but because I’ve mastered the art of drinking champagne, it doesn’t spill over.
After a sip of the crisp liquid, I head for my suitcase, already feeling lighter, and pull out the first bathing suit I find.
It’s a cherry-red set of strings. Thank god my brothers aren’t here.
If they were, I’d have hideous tan lines from the one-pieces I would have been forced to wear.
Once I discovered I’d be on my own, I gladly packed several more indecent options.
The deck is private, but I pluck out a sheer black wrap skirt as well. If someone shows up at the door, at least it will cover my ass. Then I strip off my travel clothes and get comfortable.
Within minutes of settling on the chaise lounge, with my head tilted toward the sun, I’m bored out of my mind.
What do people do on vacation? Is there a trick to turning off an overactive mind?
What I want to do is take out a sketchpad and get lost in designing, but Cat’s insistence that I not work this week is valid. I haven’t slowed down since I started my fashion line. For the last two years, my brain and my body have been in high gear, always working, always pushing.
And in Paris, there will be cameras and a film crew following my every move. I’ll barely have time for bathroom breaks, let alone free afternoons to lie in the sun and relax.
Eyes closed, I tap my red-painted toes to the beat of the music. I can do this. I can lie here and clear my mind. This is enjoyable. This is fine.
I count to ten, and when that doesn’t work, I hum along with the song, focusing on the lyrics.
Oh, fuck this shit.
Two songs in, I heave myself up and storm through the open double doors, causing the sheer turquoise curtains to fan dramatically. I snag the book on the coffee table and dig my journal out of my suitcase, then head back outside.
With a mission in mind, relief washes over me. I’ll peruse the activities the resort offers, check out the room service menu, and make plans for the weekend. If I sit here any longer, staring at the ocean, I’ll lose my mind.
And when I’m done with all that, I’m going to draw.
Just as the sky is turning a vibrant red, room service knocks on my door with the bottle of Sirah and the cheese platter I ordered. “Where would you like it?” he asks, as if there’s any question of what my answer will be.
The view outside my villa is incredible. The sight of it from here causes design idea after design idea to spark to life in my mind. I guide him outside to the table and two chairs. Yes, two. Because who stays in a place like this alone?
Life is meant to be spent in twos. Or so the world tells us.
There’s never been a person to occupy that second chair in my life. Not a person I wanted there anyway.
Though right now, I don’t need anyone. I’ve got my sketchpad, some sustenance, and a gorgeous view to keep me company.
Once I’ve tipped the man and he’s gone, I cut a piece of the creamy white cheese and smear it onto a cracker. As I’m adding a little apricot spread, the doors to the villa beside mine open.
Two male voices discuss where to put the food one must be delivering. After a thank you and a farewell greeting, I’m blanketed in silence again.
Nosy, I pop the first bite of my dinner into my mouth and shift in my seat to get a look at my new neighbor. When I realize it’s him, I practically choke on the cracker.
Familiar black glasses and light brown hair. It’s messy, like he just woke from a nap. His face is shadowed in a way it wasn’t this morning, reminding me that he’s at least a few years older than I am.
And the man is shirtless. Damn. Every inch of muscle I imagined when he first walked onto that plane is on full display.
But my imagination has nothing on the real thing.
It hits me as I soak in the sight of all his bare skin, covered in a few tattoos, just how underdressed I am myself.
As if he can sense my scrutiny, he turns in my direction. Clearly he’s noticing just how little I’m wearing as well. Though I’m still wearing the sheer skirt, I suddenly feel naked. My skin heats as he takes me in, his eyes scanning every inch of me as if I’m a mirage and he’s worried I’ll vanish.
Emboldened by the desire in his gaze, I clear my throat and put on my proverbial big-girl pants. “Third time’s a charm, right?” I stand and sidle over to the white metal railing separating his deck from mine. “I’m Sienna. It seems the universe really wanted me to tell you that.”
That does it. The man’s lips tip up into a half smile, and my stomach swoops. “The universe, eh?” He holds out a hand in greeting.
The moment our fingers touch, electricity zaps through me. He feels it too, if the way his eyes drop to our hands and his jaw hangs open are any indication.
His palms are rough, his calluses brushing against my soft, smooth skin, sending a shiver through me.
“Canadian?” I ask as I let go.
He scans my face, his brows pulling together. “Uh, no, but I play hockey with a few of them.”
Amusement flares inside me and a snort escapes before I can stop it. Of course he’s a hockey player.
My reaction has the lines on his forehead deepening.
Cringing, I shake my head. “Sorry. It’s just that the second I saw you, I clocked you as an athlete.”
This makes him smirk. “Oh yeah, and what was it about me that screamed athlete?” He folds his arms across his broad chest.
It’s impossible not to ogle him. Damn, he’s gorgeous. “Muscular arms. Abs for days.” I lift my chin, gesturing to his face. “Scar above your eye, though you must have had good plastics, because I’m just now noticing it.”
His lip curls in a hint of a smile, and those blue eyes practically sparkle, but he doesn’t say a word.
So I go on, dragging my focus to where his thighs are covered by a pair of gray shorts. “Incredible thighs and…” I press my teeth into my bottom lip. “Fuck, could you turn around for a sec?”
He chuckles, his brows arching high, but he does what I ask.
Heat gathers low in my belly as I take in the view. I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yup. Calf muscles that pop and an ass. God, you’ve got a good one.”
“I’m not sure if I should say thank you or ask you to return the favor.” He’s smiling as he turns back around.
“Oh, I’ve got an excellent ass. You can ogle it whenever you want.” I peek over my shoulder at my bum and give it a little wiggle.
He licks his lips, that grin still in place. “I’ll take your word for it, sweet cheeks. I’m Noah.”
“Oh, we’re already at the nickname stage. Love it,” I tease with a shimmy of my shoulders.
We both fall silent, though before it gets awkward, the plate on the table behind him catches my eye.
The steak in the center is massive, and it’s surrounded by a salad and vegetables.
It’s definitely the meal of a man who’s working to stay in shape.
“Your dinner looks a little healthier than mine,” I tease, thumbing at my cheese platter.
He scoffs. “That’s all you’re having?”
I shrug. “I didn’t want to go to the buffet by myself.”
Lips twisting, he nods. “I get that.” He takes half a step back and scratches at his nape. “I’ll, uh, let you get back to your meal.”
My heart sinks a little. I’m not ready to walk away from this conversation. From him. “It’d be kind of weird for us both to sit out here and not talk, wouldn’t it?”
He shrugs. “I’m sure plenty of others have done it.”
That makes my stomach drop right along with my heart.
Shit. He’s trying to politely get out of this conversation, and I’m only now catching the signs, I guess.
“Shit, right. Sorry. Enjoy your dinner.” I give him a stupid little finger wave and turn away.
The moment my back is to him, I close my eyes and blow out a frustrated breath.
“Wait, Sienna—”
I whip back around without thinking it through, blinking like an idiot, trying to act totally normal. “Yeah?”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple working. “That didn’t come out right. What I said. Yes, I’m sure many guests have sat out here without talking to their neighbor. But I’d like to not do that with you.”
My embarrassment morphs into confusion. “Huh?”
Eyes closing, he shakes his head. “Sorry, you’re just really fucking beautiful, and I’m not making any sense.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I flush in response to the unexpected compliment.
His nostrils flare like he’s trying to get control of himself, and then he breaks into a smile that’s somehow both boyish and devastating. “Will you have dinner with me?”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Yes.” Another deep breath. “Please.”
Heart flipping, I beam at him. “Sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”
I rush inside to tidy up quickly, kicking the black thong on the floor under the bed.