Chapter Nine
Vivian had liked Trina. Her country accent had felt soft and tangy.
Her personality shone like the sun. And she’d had a habit of calling everyone darlin’, which reminded Vivian of how her grandmother used to talk after watching an episode of Walker, Texas Ranger.
She was good for the cameras. Her hair was redder than the blood moon.
Her skin was alabaster-pale. She was an animal lover and a veterinarian, which, when paired together, always ended up as the fan favorite.
Unfortunately, Sienna didn’t seem to think there was any connection between them, and Trina was left without a rose.
Elise was probably pissed.
“A drink?” the bartender asked, lifting up a silver shaker that gleamed under the golden lanterns hanging from the ceiling on braided rope. “I call this the Bushveld Bloom.”
Vivian was about to shake her head—her mind was crystal clear, and she had every intention of staying as sober as a nun—but then he poured out something ridiculously pink into a coupe glass, garnished it with a sprig of rosemary and a dehydrated slice of grapefruit, and offered it up to her. One sip wouldn’t hurt.
“Thank you,” she said. It was sweet and strong. The type of drink that knocked you flat before you even realized there was alcohol in it. She sipped it slowly.
Ahead of her, the contestants were standing in three distinct little circles. The biggest circle had Sienna at its center, with Holly, Dani, Lara, and Carla gathered close. They were laughing, and the sound bubbled above the low hum of The Cranberries’ “Zombie”.
Dani swapped her drink to her left hand and said, “My specialty is bird photography.”
Carla snorted into her drink. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” Dani said, shaking her head, looking entirely unbothered by Carla’s clearly judgmental expression. “I’m not. I’m passionate about birds. I once spent six hours crouched behind a boulder in the Andes waiting for an Andean cock-of-the-rock to land.”
“That’s dedication,” Sienna said, looking impressed.
Was she really impressed? Or was she just pretending? Vivian had a feeling Sienna wasn’t into birds the same way Dani was, but then again, were there that many birders in the world?
Holly cleared her throat. “I once saw an eagle swoop down and pick up a squirrel.”
Carla pulled a face.
The other two circles were made up of the remainder of the contestants.
They were far less lively. Vivian could tell they were just pretending to chat, when actually they were stealing glances toward Sienna, hoping she’d catch their eye.
Vivian felt sorry for them. But then she had to remind herself that she was basically doing the same thing and snapped her head away toward the right-hand corner of the main lodge’s dining room where a life-sized elephant skeleton—an actual one, from the lodge’s collection—had been draped in cascading strings of morning glory.
“Can I get you another?” the bartender asked.
Vivian hadn’t even noticed her drink was empty until she glanced down at the glass in her hand. “No, thank you,” she said, leaning back against the bar countertop. “I shouldn’t.”
The bartender nodded, giving up too easily in Vivian’s opinion, though she was glad for it.
He retreated to organizing the shelf of vodka bottles.
Vivian’s eyes followed a server who was weaving through the room.
The woman was young, probably in her early twenties, with long, thick braids spilling over her back.
She balanced pink-colored drinks in tumblers, each topped with a tiny umbrella.
Sienna took one, kicked it back, and then grabbed another.
The second glass went down just as fast.
Vivian’s brow lifted.
Then she noticed Sienna’s laugh turned a little louder, her gestures a little looser. She even swayed a little on the spot. It was barely perceptible unless you were watching closely. And Vivian was watching closely.
A few seconds later, Sienna broke free from the circle and headed toward the exit sign.
The restrooms were located just beyond that door, so Vivian assumed she was just making a bathroom run.
She watched her go, perhaps a little too obviously.
At least the camera was angled toward the contestants and not her. She could stare in peace.
And she did. She couldn’t help herself. Sienna was a flame, and Vivian, despite knowing better, was the moth.
Vivian was completely drawn to her, with her wings practically singeing.
Especially after that conversation earlier, when Sienna had assumed she was straight and then looked utterly flabbergasted when Vivian had said she wasn’t.
And then there was that nervous look on her face, the way her voice had wobbled like a fragile egg.
Did it mean something? Maybe.
Vivian remembered a younger version of herself acting just like that.
It was almost fifteen years ago, but the memory felt recent.
She’d been hopelessly infatuated with Laurel Meyer, who used to teach yoga at the little studio just two blocks from Vivian’s apartment.
One day, Laurel’s sexuality had come up in conversation.
This was before Vivian was even out. When Laurel had mentioned her ex-girlfriend, Vivian’s entire body had seized up.
She’d completely forgotten how to speak.
Her skin had turned a blazing red, which had crept up her neck and burned across her cheeks as if the sun itself had decided to tattoo her shame in living color.
Because yes, Vivian had felt shame. She’d imagined Laurel naked several times.
A sharp metallic clang suddenly sliced through the room.
Vivian blinked back to the present just in time to see Sienna midway through clipping one of the cocktail tables with her hip.
A few empty coupe glasses left by the smaller of the two circles had trembled, but thankfully none fell over.
Sienna barely even noticed. She just carried on walking, or more like stumbled, toward the exit and disappeared behind the beaded curtain.
Shit. The bachelorette was drunk. Which, frankly, was a surprise.
Vivian’s first impression of Sienna was clearly off the mark.
But Vivian’s opinion of her barely mattered compared with saving her image.
A drunk bachelorette was a sloppy bachelorette, and the viewers did not like sloppy.
Vivian had to do something. In fact, she was obliged to do something.
And she did. She walked over to the edge of the room where Elise was sitting behind a folding monitor screen, clicking through camera feeds. “I think we need to call it a night.”
“Why?” Elise asked without looking up.
She continued clicking the mouse, and Vivian very nearly yanked it from her hand. This was serious. Why wasn’t Elise paying any attention to what was going on right in front of her face?
Vivian huffed. “Because our bachelorette looks like she’s had too much to drink.”
They both glanced at Sienna as she walked back into the room.
She was still swaying slightly. Her face was flushed.
The hair at her temples was wet and plastered against her skin, and her makeup was smudged under her eyes as if she’d splashed water on her face without realizing she still had to appear on camera.
Elise pulled a face. “Fine,” she said, looking as unpleased as someone whose bank card had been sucked up by the ATM. “Take her back to her tent, will you?”
“Me?” Vivian asked, shocked. Surely there was some capable PA who could escort the bachelorette to her tent.
But then her stomach roiled at the thought of someone else with their arm wrapped around Sienna’s waist, her alcohol breath on their shoulder, and before she could ask herself why she was feeling so strongly about it, she said, “Fine.”
Vivian left Elise and marched over to intercept Sienna before she could rejoin the circle.
“Walk with me,” she said, and expected Sienna to put up a fight, even yank her arm back like those drunkards who insisted they were fine right before they face-planted into the bushes in the parking lot.
But she didn’t. She just nodded and allowed Vivian to lead her out into the fresh air.
Tonight, the stars were barely visible under a blanket of cloud. The air was noticeably cooler. The contestants had probably noticed by now that Sienna had left, but that was Elise’s problem to deal with.
“How many of those drinks did you have?” Vivian asked, leading the way down the stairwell to the wooden walkway. She kept an arm around Sienna’s waist. There were lights fixed to the beams, but still, it would be easy to lose their footing in the darkness.
“Will you judge me if I said I lost count?” Sienna muttered.
“Probably,” Vivian replied.
“The world is spinning,” Sienna said, leaning into Vivian. The bachelorette’s body was warm and pleasantly heavy against hers. The way she rested her head against Vivian’s shoulder, her face turned toward Vivian’s chest, made her painfully aware of just how inappropriate this was.
Sienna was drunk and Vivian had selfishly accepted the role to escort her back to her tent. There was nothing appropriate about this.
Which was why, when Vivian caught herself imagining what it would feel like to kiss Sienna—if her breath tasted like tequila, if her hands would reach up to tangle in Vivian’s hair or slide down to squeeze her ass—the walk to Sienna’s tent felt endless.
When they finally reached the tent, Sienna detached herself from Vivian, dug into her pocket, and swiped the door open with a keycard. She muttered something that sounded like thank you and then headed inside.
Good. Sienna was safe. Vivian’s job was done.
Except… the door had been left open. Given where they were, that was just asking for trouble.
Any animal could march right in there and attack Sienna while she slept. The right thing to do would be to close the door. But then again, she also had an obligation to make sure Sienna was safe. Drunk people often needed help getting into bed.
Vivian followed her in. “Let me get you something to drink,” she said. “You’re going to need it.” She crossed to the mini-fridge, pulled out a small bottle of cranberry juice, and twisted the cap. “Do you have any Tylenol you can take?”
Sienna didn’t respond, and Vivian suddenly had a mental image of Sienna drowning in her own vomit. She spun around so quickly that she nearly lost her balance.
But Sienna wasn’t on her bed. She wasn’t drowning in her own vomit.
Instead, she was standing right in front of Vivian, naked. Her dress was puddled at her ankles. Her hair was no longer styled halfway up; it was loose around her shoulders. Her small and perky breasts swayed as she stepped closer.
Every rational thought fled the room. Vivian blinked. Once. Twice. This had to be some sort of mirage. Maybe that pink drink had some sort of hallucinogen in it, and she was tripping. That was the only explanation.
But then Sienna took another step closer, and Vivian could see the faint freckles scattered across her chest, the rise and fall of her breath, the gleam of her eyes as she looked at Vivian.
“What… what are you—” Vivian started, but the rest of the words never made it out of her mouth because Sienna was suddenly right there.
She threw her arms around Vivian’s neck, pressed her mouth to Vivian’s, and slipped her tongue between her lips.
She tugged at the lapels of Vivian’s blazer, fumbled at the buttons, and then gave up when none came loose.
She did all this in a matter of seconds.
So quickly, Vivian barely had time to process what the hell was going on.
And when she did, when her mind finally made sense of this, her first coherent thought was that it was time to leave.
Yes, Vivian should definitely leave.
And she would’ve. But her feet weren’t listening, and neither were her hands. Her fingers somehow found their way to Sienna’s hips. “This,” she said, all breathy and hot, but she cut herself off. The only thing she should say out loud was goodbye.
Instead, her hands moved to cup Sienna’s breasts.
She let her thumbs swipe over her hardened nipples.
Then she rolled them between her fingers.
She imagined sucking them between her teeth, but the logistics of it would mean she would have to guide Sienna toward the bed first, and as much as she wanted to do that, she knew she shouldn’t.
She couldn’t. This was a big, fat mistake, and she had to stop it.
She was going to stop it… but then Sienna kissed her neck again.
And moved her lips lower until she reached Vivian’s shoulder, and Vivian couldn’t help herself.
She moved her hands further down, skimming over Sienna’s bare stomach.
Then her hips. And even lower. She told herself to stop, commanded it even, but it seemed Vivian was incapable of listening to that little voice in her head.
When she found Sienna’s center, it was deliciously wet.
Sienna spread her legs a little wider, and of course Vivian couldn’t stop then.
It would be unfair of her. Rude even. She dragged two fingers through Sienna’s slick folds and considered whether or not to lift Sienna onto the small kitchen counter and bury her head between her legs or take her to the bed and do the same thing.
But then Sienna moaned so loudly when Vivian’s fingers hit her clit, it felt like the tent shook. And that was all it took for Vivian’s senses to snap back like an elastic band.
She stepped back so quickly that the change from hot to cold was like stepping out of a sauna straight into a walk-in freezer.
Sienna looked confused. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re drunk,” Vivian said. But that wasn’t a good enough reason. “And even if you weren’t drunk, this is a mistake.”
“It’s not.”
“It is,” Vivian said, backing away. She was ready to get the hell out of there and forget this ever happened. The smell of Sienna’s shampoo seemed to have stuck to the tiny hairs in her nose. “I have to go.”
But she didn’t, because leaving Sienna now, in this state, felt just as irresponsible as it had felt before. She exhaled sharply and pressed her palms to her thighs.
Fine. She’d stay.
But just long enough to convince Sienna to put on her pajamas, get into bed, and go to sleep. It wasn’t like she would remember anything tomorrow anyway.