17. Sienna
SIENNA
I’m in the backroom of the salon, folding towels while waiting for the next load in the washing machine to finish, so I can throw it in the dryer when a loud banging starts out front.
“Shit,” I hiss, shifting out of the doorway in case whoever it is can see me.
I love being here, but I’d be lying if I said being here alone after dark didn’t sometimes give me the heebie-jeebies.
It goes silent for a few seconds, but it quickly starts up again.
I pull my cell from my pocket. No one has messaged to say they’ve forgotten anything and come back, unable to get through the deadlock I flicked when Bea walked out earlier.
My heart pounds and my hands begin to tremble as the knocking starts again.
“Just go away; we’re closed,” I hiss.
But my almost silent warning surprisingly does nothing, and the knocking continues.
I continue folding in the hope they get bored and give up, but—“Sienna?”
My heart lurches as the familiar deep voice echoes around the silent salon.
“Calvin?” Without thinking, I take off toward the front door with two towels thrown over my arm.
It’s raining outside, and he’s soaked.
His hair is dripping, and he has rivulets running down his cheeks.
As I undo the locks, I’m struck with an image from that Friends episode where Rachel unlocks the cafe’s door and the second Ross gets inside, he sweeps her off her feet and—
“What the hell are you doing?” I cry the second the door is open, a rush of cold, wet air hitting me in the face, thankfully dousing any desire that previous image stirred within me.
“Well, I don’t fucking moonlight as a pizza delivery guy,” he states as he rushes inside, dripping water all over the floor.
“You’re soaked.”
“Yeah, well, if someone had opened the door sooner…”
“I was hiding in back, assuming it was a crazy person wanting to murder me.”
He stares at me, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“Had I known it was a hockey player with a pizza, I might have moved my ass a little faster.”
“Wonderful,” he mutters before lowering the bag he’s carrying to the floor, reaching behind his head, and smoothly peeling his soaked hoodie from his body, leaving him standing there with nothing but inches of toned skin on display.
“Uh…” My eyes are everywhere.
Sure, I’ve seen this man shirtless before.
I’ve been known to stare at him wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs once or twice in the advertising campaign he was in last year.
But nothing, and I literally mean nothing, could have prepared me for standing this close to him while he’s half-dressed.
And he doesn’t just look good—he smells phenomenal.
My chin nearly hits the floor when he then proceeds to push his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and lets them drop to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek for the second time in the space of five minutes.
“I’m soaked through. You’ve got a dryer, right?”
“Y-yeah, sure, but—”
I stand there stunned as he manages to bend over, balancing on one leg as he swipes his sopping wet clothes from the floor and bundles them to his chest before retrieving the bag.
“Lead the way then.”
“Uh…yeah. Sure. It’s…uh…this way,” I stutter as I begin walking back to where I came from.
He shuffles behind me, but as much as I want to turn around and look at him, I force my eyes to the front.
There is a hot, almost-naked hockey player following me to the back room.
There is a hot, almost-naked hockey player following me to the back room.
This is like my favorite filthy fantasy and my worst nightmare all rolled into one.
“What are you actually doing here?” I ask as Calvin pushes his clothes into the dryer I was emptying. There are still ten minutes on the washing machine, and we all know that ten minutes in washing machine terms is like three hours, so I let it slide when he presses start.
“Well,” he says, turning toward me and crossing his arms over his sculpted chest. His hair is still dripping, sending rivers of water racing over his shoulders.
I watch one race all the way to his nipple, and the second it gets there, I realize what I’m doing and snap my eyes back up to his.
“I thought to myself, I haven’t had a walk in the rain for a while and—”
“You’re not funny,” I say, cutting him off.
“Sometimes I am,” he counters with his signature smirk.
I roll my eyes and finish up folding the towels that are still in my arms while he makes himself at home on our small couch.
When I turn back around, I swear the entire room has shrunk in size. I know for a fact the couch has, because we can usually fit three of us on there. But right now, with the way Calvin is manspreading, I’m not sure there’s enough space for me.
“You really have no shame, do you?”
He looks down at himself, his eyes all doe-like and innocent. “Who, me?”
“I don’t see anyone else. I’m not sure I’ve got anything around here that’ll fit you. Maybe one of Lessy’s gowns?”
“What’s wrong? Too distracting?”
“Something like that,” I mutter under my breath. But despite the words coming out as quiet as a mouse, his growing smirk tells me that he heard them.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, reaching for the bag at his feet, pulling out more containers, and placing them beside the huge pizza box I abandoned on the coffee table.
My stomach growls on cue.
He flips open the box to reveal a fully loaded chicken and veggie pizza, and then he begins revealing the sides.
“Was there anything on the menu that you didn’t order?”
“Yeah, actually. Ice cream. I wasn’t sure if you had a freezer here, and I didn’t want to waste it.”
“Right.”
“If you want some, we can stop on our way home.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Why are you here?” I ask bluntly.
“To keep you company. To feed you.”
“I’m capable of feeding myself. I actually have a salad in the fridge.”
“That’s nice. You can have it tomorrow instead. Come and sit down.”
“I also don’t need company. I’m working,” I sulk, internally debating whether to get my salad out and eat that anyway.
After a bad week, I’m trying to get back on the healthy-eating wagon. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good takeout or meal at a restaurant, but they’re an indulgence I can’t allow myself to have all that often if I want to stay in shape.
But then, Calvin pulls a slice of pizza out, and the sight of the melted cheese draws me in.
Telling myself that there are veggies on top, I also reach for a slice.
“Come and sit down,” he says, making a show of shuffling over, but clearly not moving a freaking inch.
“My ass won’t fit in that gap.”
His eyes widen before he looks at the space on the couch and then at my hips.
“Of course it will. You’re tiny.”
Not true, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same.
“I’m fine here. I’ll just have a slice, then I’ve got work to do.”
“What time did you start this morning?”
“I was in at seven, why?”
“It’s almost eight o’clock. Have you even had a break today?”
Jesus. Do I look that rough?
I glance at the small mirror on the wall beside me and balk. Yes, I do look that rough.
Fucking hell.
“I had a coffee break earlier.”
“Wonderful. Now sit the fuck down.”
Unable to argue, I shuffle over.
He barely closes his legs as I drop onto the couch beside him.
My arm presses against his, and my thigh does exactly the same when he stretches back out, sending a wave of heat through my body. His scent surrounds me, leaving me unable to think about anything but the almost-naked man beside me.
How long has it been since I’ve been this close to an almost-naked man?
My heart begins to race just thinking about it.
“Do I make you nervous, darlin’?”
“What? No,” I say, suspiciously fast. He chuckles, and it makes me want to smack him, but I keep my free hand resting in my lap, scared that if I touch him, I might not stop.
He’s like a work of art. I want to trace the lines of his muscles with my fingertips, explore every inch.
I might have very limited experience when it comes to men, but I can say hands down that no other one I’ve been close to has looked anything like Calvin.
Silence falls between us as we eat, but despite finishing my slice, I barely taste it. I’m too distracted.
And it only gets worse when he leans forward to snag the tray of wedges. The muscles in his back and arm pull and twist in the most delicious way, and his movement makes his boxer briefs ride up, exposing his muscular thigh and—
“You’ve got a tattoo,” I blurt.
My eyes are glued to the piece of art. It’s a sunset over rolling fields. And in the sky, stars. But not just any stars—a constellation. The only one I know.
“That’s Scorpius,” I blurt out a beat before he tugs the fabric down his thigh, covering it up.
“Yeah,” he rasps, turning to look at me.
Our eyes connect, and my breathing fractures.
Memories come flooding back to me of lazy, humid summer evenings lying in fields, staring up at the sky.
That summer. It was the best of my life. It was before I started middle school, a time I’d rather forget. But that summer…It’s always lived rent-free in my head. I can’t remember a time since then that I’ve been so relaxed.
“Are you okay?” Calvin asks softly.
When I come back to myself, I find his eyes bouncing between mine as if he’s trying to see what has me so lost.
“Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
My breath catches as he reaches out, the pad of his thumb dragging across my bottom lip.
“Sauce,” he says simply before pulling the digit back and licking it clean. All the while, his gaze never moves from my lips.
My already racing heart begins to beat even faster, my hands trembling in my lap.
He can’t want to kiss me.
He’s…he’s Calvin Keller, and I’m…I’m no one.
He leans forward, his warmth spreading farther across my body. My hands clench into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms.
Don’t let him do this, Sienna.
He’s only in it for the high of the ride.
You have no interest in being a throwaway puck bunny he won’t think of again.
One second, I’m waiting for the inevitable collision of our lips, and the next, I’m on my feet, blurting, “Right, I should carry on. Thanks for bringing pizza. That was really thoughtful of you. You can let yourself out, right?” And then I’m gone, bursting through the door, leaving him sitting there, stunned.
“Fucking hell,” I whimper the second I’m in our nail tech room, hiding in the corner.
He was going to kiss me.
Calvin Keller was going to kiss me. And my head was such a mess with memories of when things were easier that I almost let him.
Get it together, Sienna.
Focus on what you want, not the easy option that’s standing right in front of you.
“Sienna?”
I shriek at the sound of his voice. But the second I look in his direction and find his concerned eyes, I relax.