Chapter 9 Sienna
NINE
SIENNA
The sun takes a swan dive into the ocean, turning the water a shimmery pink and gold as the sky shifts from a teal that nearly matches the water to a deep red. Is the sky a reflection of the sea or the opposite? I can’t remember.
Either way, the way they meet in a soft dance reminds me of silky fabric, and suddenly, a design creates itself in my mind and I’m itching for a sketchpad so I can get it down before the details evaporate.
I grab my phone from my clutch and power it on.
Ignoring the slew of texts that flood in, I tap on the app I use when I don’t have a pad handy.
Quickly, but with precision, I bring the image in my mind to life.
School was never easy for me. Even peopling takes effort, since I’ve always had a role to play. But this—drawing, envisioning, designing—is second nature. I can’t imagine what I’d do without it.
Feeling lighter than I have all day, I take a screenshot, then send the image to Cat.
This way, I can all but guarantee she’ll have the fabric in Paris when I arrive.
A design like this is too beautiful not to be shown off by a woman like her.
No, it should be shown off by Cat and Cat alone.
There isn’t another woman in the world like her. She’s it. And she loves my designs.
I’m still pinching myself over that.
My phone buzzes almost immediately, so I slide my finger over the screen and accept the FaceTime request, expecting her to tease me about working while I’m on vacation.
When my brothers appear on the screen, I shift, ensuring they’ll see the sunset behind me rather than the hotel.
“Settle a debate for us,” Aiden, the youngest of my brothers, says. No Hi, no How are you?
Maybe I don’t have to bother hiding where I am. At least not with Aiden. He’s barely paying attention.
At twenty-six, he’s still got a boyish look about him. I’m not sure he’ll ever grow out of it, honestly. It might be the way his hair curls at the ends or the permanent sparkle in his eyes and the smile he’s always wearing.
For a second, I find myself wondering what it’s like to always be that happy.
I envy him for the way he can make even the worst days enjoyable.
If I’m tired, he’ll break into a song about how it’s a bright sunshiny day, though he usually changes the lyrics to make them more fitting for the occasion.
If I’m sad, I can always count on him to tell a joke or force me to my feet to dance.
“What’s the debate?” I find myself smiling. It’s hard not to with my happy-go-lucky brother.
“That doesn’t match, correct?”
He squints at the screen, and a second later, the camera is flipped, and I’m looking at another man from the waist down. Like this, I can’t tell who it is. I almost don’t want to know anyway. All the men my brothers hang out with play hockey, and I’ve always kept myself far, far away from them.
Mostly because my brothers would kill me. But also because if I dated a man affiliated with the Bolts or the Revs, I’d never know whether he was interested in me or the connections he could make because of me.
Noah mentioned playing hockey. Does that mean he plays professionally? If so, that’s one more huge reason to avoid telling him my last name.
Though why would I even have the opportunity? The man has made it abundantly clear he’s not interested in me.
After the room swap today, I probably won’t see him again anyway.
Aiden appears on the screen again, wearing a frown. “Well? It’s awful, right?”
I chuckle. “I only saw the bottom half, as in black pants.”
“It’s the sandals!” he yells as he flips his phone again and zeros in on a pair of very white, very large feet in blue slip-on sandals.
I make a face. I can’t help it. That’s just…no.
“Ha,” my brother says, loud and obnoxious. “Told you.”
“She didn’t see the whole thing,” the man in the sandals complains. “Show her everything.”
“No, because if she sees all your War hotness, it will negate the sandals issue.”
I snort. “I assure you, no one is hot enough to negate those sandals.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Show her my face,” the man taunts.
Oh, he’s a cocky one.
“Not happening.” Aiden gives him a death glare that, on him, doesn’t look even remotely threatening. “All right, beautiful Sienna, what are you doing?”
His refusal to let me see his friend sparks a hint of curiosity inside me. Now I want to know what the cocky guy looks like.
The thought has just entered my mind when the image on my phone screen goes blurry, then dark.
A second later, a thump echoes through the speaker.
The device lights up again quickly, though all I can make out are snapshots of black pants, then the floor, then what could be a wall, like I’m being run around the room.
My brother shrieks, and then a gorgeous man appears and winks at me.
And hot damn, he wasn’t kidding. I could actually forgive him for the crime he’s committing with those sandals. He’s insanely hot. And the way his blue eyes dance with mirth, like he knows I think he’s gorgeous, somehow only makes him hotter.
But he’s not my type.
Once again, images of Noah, the man with the glasses and sweet disposition, infiltrate my brain.
I bite my lip. I’ve never been so infatuated with seeking out the attention of another person.
I’ve never had to work for it, if I’m honest. Because if a guy isn’t really in it for me, he’s still in it for my money or connections or to gain notoriety. So really, men are never not after me.
I affect the most unimpressed expression and shake my head. “Change the sandals. Oh, and take your arm off my brother’s neck. I assume you play hockey with him, so I’d think you’d know that you need him breathing in order to win this season.”
“Aw, she doesn’t remember me.” He pushes out his lips in a big pout. “Tyler Warren.” His eyes dance like he knows I’ll remember that name. And I do. He played hockey with Brooks long before they went pro. “Little Langfield grew up hot,” he tells my brother as he releases him.
“She’s off-limits,” Aiden coughs. When he appears on the screen again, his face is red. “You having fun?”
I giggle. “Yes, I’m having a good time.”
“You dancing?”
My heart thumps a little at the question. “You know, I haven’t yet. But I’m about to do just that.”
With a boyish grin, he says, “Good. Have fun. I’ll see you in a few days.”
The screen goes dark, and when I get a glimpse of my reflection looking back at me, I see the big smile I’m wearing. And then I remember the promise I just made.
I’m going dancing. I’m going to have fun, whether I’m on my own or not. It’s what Aiden would do.
An hour later, I’ve found Eddy and a drink, and I’m swaying to the music from the live band on stage.
Eddy mentioned it was a white party when he asked me to come, and though I was pretty sure I hadn’t brought anything acceptable, it was like fate intervened.
Because as I headed to my room after talking to Aiden, I passed by the resort boutique and discovered a white tube top and a long, white gauzy skirt in the window.
The turquoise bib-style necklace I brought works perfectly with it, the combination making the white even crisper and the turquoise brighter.
After a day in the sun, my cheeks are pink and my skin is glowing, so I put the tiniest swipe of mascara on my lashes and a clear gloss on my lips, then headed out.
I didn’t bring a hair tie, since my hair is barely long enough to pull up, so within minutes of stepping onto the dance floor, it clings to the sheen of sweat collecting on my brow.
Since he’s working the party, Eddy checks on me periodically but spends most of his time bouncing around, entertaining the crowd and encouraging people to dance.
I don’t mind being on my own. The night sky, lit up by millions of stars, is beautiful, and the warm air against my skin is soothing.
I push my hair out of my face and tip my head back as the band begins to play “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke.
As the chorus starts, I sway my hips and close my eyes, losing myself to the beat.
Though my heart is thumping and the music is loud, the slightest tickle rolls down my spine and an awareness needles at me. It’s the sound of magic, like the strum of tiny wind chimes floating through the air, announcing his presence.
So when a warm body slides in close, I’m not the least bit surprised.
He doesn’t touch me. Of course he doesn’t.
He’s a gentleman. But he stays close, choosing to be in my presence, like that alone could ever be enough for us.
I open my eyes and tilt my head slightly so I can look behind me.
When Noah’s lips lift shyly, like he’s not quite sure how I’ll react, my heart does a little tap dance I worry is detrimental to my health.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, but I step back and drape my arm around his neck, pulling him closer.
His hands find my waist, his touch tentative.
Hell no. He sought me out. He approached me. There’s no room for uncertainty anymore. I push back into him. At first, his body stiffens, but after a breath, he loosens up and tugs me flush against him, one hand now splayed over my abdomen.
With the first roll of my hips to the beat, he lets out a grunt. It’s guttural. Deep in his throat. Animalistic.
Intrigue and desire spark to life in my veins. So this sweet, respectful man does have another side.
A smile finds its way to my face as I hum to the music, my fingers tugging at the hair at his nape.
He tips his head, his cheek brushing against mine, and a shiver runs through me.
No sensation has ever felt so good. The slight roughness on my sun-kissed skin reminds me of the itch I really need to scratch.
An itch that, surely, he can take care of far better than any of the toys I brought.
One song turns into three, and when my drink is empty and I’m a sweaty mess, I turn to him. “Can we get a drink?”