Chapter 27 Sierra
TWENTY-SEVEN
SIERRA
It’s been two days since I’ve last seen Crane.
I’m planning the bachelorette party, and I know I have a modest budget to work with, but I also want Lorena to laugh harder than she’s ever laughed before while still saying goodbye to her single years in style.
Where better than Miami?
Armed with brochures from the travel agency, I march into Starbucks to grab a coffee, intent on picking out some potential hotels.
There are about ten of us in total, and we’ve all agreed to keep it a surprise from Lorena.
Her mother is from Miami originally, so of course she’s on hand to help me with anything I needed.
In the meantime though, it’s down to me.
The barista calls out my name, pointing at the steaming mug she’s just placed on the counter.
Without looking up from my brochure, I grab the coffee, heading back to my table.
Via a human obstacle.
“Shit!” I whisper as hot coffee sloshes over the top of my mug.
The woman before me steadies my hand, a wide grin on her face.
“Hey, it’s cool. We need coffee to function, right?”
I want to reply but I'm stunned by her beauty. Waves of caramel and chocolate frame her beautiful face, her wide blue eyes searching mine as she chuckles.
“Girl, go drink your nectar.”
I apologise, moving past her gratefully before grabbing napkins to mop up my wet brochure.
Then I hear him.
At first, I’m not sure it’s him, but his voice is unmistakable.
Crane.
He’s wearing jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal heavily tattooed arms. His hair looks like it’s still wet from a shower, but his eyes fall onto the beauty I’d just collided with.
“Samara.” He smiles, and a jolt of jealousy ripples through me when she kisses him on both cheeks.
“Hey, gorgeous. Espresso?”
I tune out, forcing myself to look away from the pair of them.
They’re too pretty, and I’m barely able to open my eyes.
I slump lower into my seat when they pass me, sitting further back to my relief.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it sounds flirty.
Memories of sitting with Crane in the restaurant flood my brain, and I gulp at the hot coffee, praying it burns away the pain.
“Crane? Samara?” the barista calls out, and I hear a chair scrape from behind me.
“I’ll grab it.”
Samara.
This time, I watch her with jealous interest, the way her jeans cling to her perfect ass and toned stomach; tanned, of course; the way her hair teases the curve of her back and the sway of her hips as she moves.
I hate her, yet it’s entirely ridiculous.
I bet Crane is watching her.
My mouth dries up as Samara laughs with the barista, turning back to her table.
Perfect lips.
Great tits.
Shame washes over me as I remember brushing Crane off, when he probably just felt sorry for me.
Here I am, stuck in the same town, with a jock we all used to hate as my boyfriend.
So fucking what, Sierra?
I focus on the glossy images before me, forcing myself to scribble notes in the margins of the page.
One hotel in particular catches my eye, and I grimace at the price tag.
It’s a little over budget, but I know it will be Lorena’s style.
Maybe Lorena’s mom will know somewhere similar for less.
Colourful cabanas by a crystal-blue pool command my attention, and I lean on my hand as I read the description.
An oceanfront oasis in the heart of Miami, situated steps away from the white shores of Miami Beach.
Laughter floats over to me from Samara, and I close my eyes, wishing they’d leave already.
Why aren’t they in the bedroom fucking?
That’s what I’d be doing if I was with him.
I slap a hand to my mouth, gasping at my filthy thoughts.
Don’t think about fucking Crane.
You’re with Declan.
Clamping my legs together, I ignore the rush of warmth to my core at the memory of that one time.
“Hey.”
I jolt once more, my hand knocking my coffee cup almost off the table when Crane reaches out, stopping it in time.
His eyes twinkle with amusement as he chuckles.
I’ve forgotten how beautiful he is.
I can smell him from here, that fucking scent he owns.
“Hi.”
Samara joins him, her eyes moving between us with surprise.
“Oh, you guys know each other?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Yes,” Crane says at the same time.
Damn.
Crane and I lock eyes, and Samara nods, stepping back with her hands in the air.
“Gotcha.”
“He’s my brother's best friend.”
“Oh! Kai?”
I purse my lips together as she grins at me.
“Okay, well, it was good meeting you; I have to go. Crane, call me?” Samara leans up on her tiptoes, brushing her lips against Crane’s cheek as he nods stiffly.
Samara flashes me a smile and heads toward the exit.
“She seems nice,” I mutter, folding the page over.
“Yeah. So, you don’t know me now?” Crane rubs his neck, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to let me explain?”
Before I can stop him, he’s sitting across from me, his silver eyes holding me prisoner.
I want to stroke him, that’s how beautiful he is.
“Look, it doesn’t matter. We’ve all moved on—”
“My mother nearly killed my father,” Crane interrupts, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “We had to run.”
My heart slams in my chest, my vision blurring as he continues.
“I didn’t want to leave, Sierra.”
My heart shatters into pieces at the thought of Crane having to leave everything to save his mother.
His expression hardens, his jaw tightening.
“Say something.”
I’m trying, but nothing is happening.
Nothing is coming out.
“Jesus, Sierra.”
He’s annoyed, but I pull myself together, reaching for his hand that’s tucked into the crevice of his arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Crane rolls his eyes.
It’s so fucking sexy.
“I know, but did you think I’d have left you for any other reason?”
Left me?
We were going to be fuck buddies.
Nothing more.
“We weren’t serious,” I remind him, swallowing down the lies as they die in my throat.
“I adored you, Sierra.”
Four words.
Four words are all it takes to shatter my entire world.
“Me too,” I whisper, our eyes locking. “But why didn't you call? Even once?” The question I’ve buried for five years finally surfaces.
His face crumples. “Because I was afraid you'd moved on.”
Something inside me breaks at the pain in his voice. Five years of anger start to crumble.
He nods, unable to meet my eyes.
“Is your mom okay?”
Crane nods, his eyes lighting up.
“She’s good, thanks. Doing better than she ever did in this shithole, that’s for sure.”
“I still live in this shithole,” I scoff, staring back at the brochure like it’s going to help me. “Some things never change.”
Crane smirks, allowing his gaze to ruin me.
I feel like tiny fires are starting all over me when he leans forward, his eyes on the brochure.
“Miami?”
“For the bachelorette party,” I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away from his mouth that’s curving into a devilish smile.
“Oh? I’m planning one for your brother. Maybe we could get together to compare ideas?”
Is he serious?
“Probably best that we don’t get together,” I say, closing the brochure.
His gaze is setting me alight, and I can’t stop staring at his fucking mouth.
“Why? Don’t you trust yourself with me?”
Blood pounds in my ears as I laugh nervously.
Five years.
He did it for his mother.
This changes things, right?
“You’re overthinking,” Crane observes, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Stop thinking and go with your gut. Come over tonight. Your brother and Lorena are out, so they won’t hear us.”
“Hear us?” I squeak out, my eyes bulging.
The nerve of this guy—
“Making plans. For their parties,” Crane explains slowly, sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. “What else would they hear us doing?”
I’m flirting. He’s flirting.
Wait, are we flirting?
“Um, I guess I can do tonight. Is seven okay?”
Crane nods, tugging his phone out.
“Put your number in my phone. I’ll text you, so if you come up with a good excuse for not coming, you can let me know.”
My cheeks flame at his words, and I shake my head.
“You never contacted me. Not once. In five years, Crane.”
The humour dies in his eyes as he nods.
“I know. I didn’t want to drag you into a murder case.”
I tap at the screen on his phone, my mind buzzing with thoughts.
“Your dad didn’t die; I’ve seen him around town.”
Crane shrugs.
“He better hope I don’t see him around town, or there will be a murder.”
Yikes.
“See you at seven.”
He rises out of his seat, winking at me as he makes his way to the door.
I can’t help but watch him until he disappears, my body screaming at me to run after him.
My phone beeps, and I stare down at the text from the unknown number.
You’re still so fucking beautiful.