Chapter 10
“You’re fidgeting.”
I look up from where I’ve been adjusting my necklace for the third time. Macy stands in my bedroom doorway, arms crossed, grinning.
“I’m not fidgeting.” It’s a lie. I’m absolutely fidgeting. I can’t help it. I’ve been able to stay confined to my apartment and the bookstore since news got around that I’m Sienna Saguaro. Tonight will be the first night I’m going out in public.
Around people.
Lots of people.
“You’ve changed your shirt twice, and you’re currently strangling that necklace.” She comes in and gently takes my hands. “It’s just Sips & Stars. You’ve been a dozen times.”
Sips & Stars was Mateo’s idea. He’d suggested it yesterday morning. When Macy showed up at my door instead of him, she shrugged and said he was running behind. He’ll meet us there.
I sigh. “That was before everyone knew I wrote smut about their town.”
“You wrote romance, not smut. There’s a difference.”
“Tell that to Judith Ashford.”
Macy’s grin fades. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried about running into her?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I sink onto my bed. “She hasn’t said anything directly to me yet. Just those passive-aggressive Facebook comments. But at a public event? With wine?”
“Judith doesn’t drink.”
“But other people do. People who agree with her. All it takes is one comment for the entire night to crash down. People are going to be watching my every move. Judging me and my ways.”
Macy laughs. “And what ways are those?”
“My smut—“
“Romance.”
”—writing ways.“ I plop onto my bed with a dramatic flair that will make Macy proud. “What if she says something to me?”
“So what if she does?” Macy sits beside me. “You have people who support you, Sadie. Me, Isabel, Mateo—“
“Mateo,” I say his name without meaning to.
“Yeah, Mateo.” Macy’s eyebrow arches. “Who stayed on your couch last night. Again. And who has been at the shop every single morning this week. He’s literally been your personal security guard most days.”
“He’s a good friend.”
“Sure, that’s what we’ll call him for now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that he’s a really good friend who looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. A good friend who drops everything to rescue you from your toxic ex last night, and he would have, too, if you hadn’t gotten rid of Owen yourself. A good—“
“Okay, I get it.” My cheeks flush. “Can we not do this right now?”
“Fine. But for the record? If a man that hot looked at me the way Mateo looks at you, I would not be calling him a good friend. I’d be screaming his name in bed while he rammed into me without a degree of gentleness or mercy.
” She stands, pulling me with her. “Now come on. We’re going to Sips & Stars.
We’re going to drink wine, look at the sky, and if Judith says one word to you, I’m going to accidentally spill Cabernet on her white blazer. ”
I laugh. “She loves that fuckin’ blazer.”
“Yeah, well, I hate it.” Macy pulls me toward the door. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
We hop in her car and drive to Sunset Mesa Winery. It feels weird, though, being in her car and not Mateo’s truck.
The winery is beautiful at night. String lights crisscross the outdoor courtyard where round tables are scattered beneath a wooden pergola draped with grapevines.
The air has that desert evening warmth that lingers even after sunset, and overhead, the first stars are appearing in the darkening sky above the Red Rock Cliffs.
I spot Isabel first. She waves from a table near the edge of the courtyard, two wine glasses already waiting.
“Sadie! Macy! Over here!”
We weave through the crowd. I recognize most of the faces—some smile and wave, others pretend not to see me. Mrs. Patterson from the other day walks past without acknowledgment, her lips spread flat in a disapproving line.
I force myself to keep walking.
“Ignore them,” Macy mutters.
When we reach the table, Isabel pulls me into a quick hug. “You made it! I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“But you did. That’s what matters.” She pushes a glass of wine toward me. “Drink. It’ll help.”
I take a sip. It’s smooth and warm.
“Where’s Mateo?” Macy asks, scanning the courtyard.
“He texted. Said he’d be here soon. He said he had to get something before coming—“ Isabel stops mid-sentence, her eyes going wide. “Oh.”
I turn to follow her gaze.
Mateo is making his way through the crowd toward our table.
And beside him, pulling a small carry-on suitcase, is Jess.
My body hums with joy.
“Surprise,” Jess says when they reach us. She’s grinning and slightly rumpled from the flight, like she threw herself on a plane without thinking twice.
I’m out of my chair before I can think, pulling her into a hug so tight she laughs.
“You’re here. You’re actually here.”
“Of course I’m here.” She pulls back, hands on my shoulders. “You think I’d let you face down small-town judgment without best friend backup?”
“But I told you not to worry about it.”
“I love you, and normally I’d listen to your every request, but someone else was a little more convincing.” She glances at Mateo. “He’s very persuasive, and when he called me yesterday and said I needed to get on a plane immediately at his expense, I couldn’t say no.”
I look at Mateo. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching me with that steady gaze.
“You flew her here?”
“I picked her up from the airport.” He shrugs. “The plane flew her here.”
“After he bought my ticket,” Jess adds. “And wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
My whole body feels light and tingly. “And that’s why you were running late.”
“Yeah.” His mouth quirks. “That’s why I was running late, tesoro.”
Macy’s already pulling out a chair for Jess. “Sit! You must be exhausted.”
“I’m getting there.” Jess settles into the seat, and Isabel immediately slides a wine glass toward her.
“Red or white? We have both.”
“Actually, just water for me.” Jess smiles. “I had wine on the plane. Trying to pace myself.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Jess doesn’t pace herself. Ever. She’s the one who convinced me to try tequila shots at a Tuesday happy hour.
“Smart.” Isabel pours her a glass of sparkling water from the carafe on the table.
Dean appears then, carrying two wine bottles and wearing his usual quiet smirk. He sets them on the table and nods at everyone.
“Sadie. Good to see you out.” His eyes flick to Jess. “And you must be the famous best friend.”
“Jess.” She extends her hand. “And you are?”
“Dean. Mateo’s friend.”
“Like a brother,” Mateo adds, settling into the chair beside me. His arm wraps around the back of my seat. The heat from the other night sparks between us again.
I take another sip of wine.
Dean glances at Isabel. “No Ryan tonight?”
“He had plans with his friends.”
“His loss,” Dean says, settling into a chair across from her. “Tell me about your mural.”
Isabel relaxes, her shoulders dropping as she talks about the mural. Jess mentions something about a guy she met on Halloween. Macy launches into a story about a customer who tried to return a book because “the hero was too attractive and it made her husband jealous.”
Everyone laughs at that one.
Mateo’s arm stays draped across the back of my chair. Every few minutes, his fingers brush my shoulder—casual, barely there, but I’m hyperaware of every touch.
Jess notices. Of course she does. She has the eyes of a hawk. She catches my gaze and raises a brow, her expression saying we’re definitely talking about this later.
I take another sip of wine.
Emmy Corbin, the winery owner, makes a short speech about the month’s selection—a blend from local grapes, notes of cherry, and something earthy I can’t quite place.
Servers circulate with small plates of cheese and bread.
The twinkly lights around the pergola dim, showing the stars are fully shining overhead, bright against the dark desert sky.
The wine is good. Better than good. It’s exactly what I needed. The kind of warmth that starts in your chest and loosens everything—shoulders, jaw, the knot that’s been living behind my ribs for days.
Jess is telling a story about a guy she went on a date with over the summer, who brought his mother.
Not as a joke. Not as a power move. He genuinely thought it was normal.
Isabel is laughing so hard she’s wiping her eyes.
Dean is shaking his head with the quiet disbelief of a man who has never once brought his mother on a date.
The conversation splinters the way group conversations do—half the table still laughing about the mother, the other half drifting into something new.
Macy is debating Isabel about whether enemies-to-lovers or friends-to-lovers is the superior romance trope. Macy says enemies. Isabel says friends. They both look at me for the tiebreaker.
“Friends,” I say without thinking. Then I feel Mateo’s fingers brush my shoulder, and my face burns. “I mean, I guess it really depends on the book.”
“Sure it does,” Isabel says, grinning.
Mateo leans close. “Friends to lovers, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. Interesting choice.”
“I will pour this wine on you.”
“Worth it.” His breath is warm against my ear, and I forget, just for a second, why I was afraid to come tonight.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like. Friends around a table. Wine and laughter and stars overhead. The kind of evening I love to write about in my books, because I wanted it so badly and didn’t think I was allowed to have it.
I have it now. Sitting right here, with Mateo’s arm around my chair, Jess making everyone laugh, and the desert sky doing that thing it does, where the stars come out so bright they make you feel like the whole universe is paying attention.
For a moment, I almost forget why I was nervous about coming.
Then I hear it.
“Sadie Pierce.” The voice cuts through the ambient noise like a knife.
I turn.