Chapter 6 #3
Despite myself, I smiled.
Her eyes snapped back to me. “Don’t.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“You smiled aggressively.”
“Didn’t know that was possible.”
“You make many things possible through sheer irritation.”
Regan lifted one hand. “Gunner can bring Bandit and the essentials in the SUV after we get everything sorted. Or Savannah can. Your apartment keys are the priority, right?”
Sienna hesitated.
There it was. The trap closing. Not mine. Reality’s.
She hated it.
I hated that I liked watching her think. You could see it happen behind her eyes, every variable lining up, every objection getting measured against the same ugly answer.
Her truck was dead.
She had to get to Santa Fe.
I had the fastest way there.
She looked at me like I was the final exam in a subject she resented.
“I don’t ride motorcycles.”
“You will today.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Trust physics.”
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Amber made a delighted noise. “Oh, I like that.”
Sienna pointed at her. “Do not encourage him.”
Regan was already in motion. “I’ll pack you water, sunscreen, and something for the road.”
“I’m not going on a wilderness expedition,” Sienna said.
“You’re going with Mason. Same thing emotionally.”
I looked at Regan. “Cute.”
She smiled sweetly. “Thank you.”
Sienna dragged both hands down her face, then stopped when she remembered the bandage. “This is ridiculous.”
“No,” I said. “Ridiculous was trying to drive Dolores another five hours.”
She glared. “Do not use her name like you care about her.”
“I care that she doesn’t kill you.”
That shut her up for one second.
Only one.
Then her chin lifted. “Fine.”
Regan clapped once. “Good.”
Sienna stabbed a finger toward me. “But there are rules.”
“Of course there are.”
“I am not cuddling you.”
“It’s a motorcycle, not a loveseat.”
“I’m not clinging.”
“You’ll hold on.”
“I’ll maintain necessary contact for balance.”
“You’ll hold on,” I repeated.
Her eyes narrowed. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m getting there.”
I stepped closer, close enough to drop my voice so only she heard. “Good. Hold onto that. Might keep you from overthinking where your hands go.”
Color touched her cheeks again.
Not much.
Enough.
She looked furious about it.
I turned away before I did something stupid like enjoy that too much. “Finish your coffee, scientist. We leave in twenty.”
“Don’t call me scientist like it’s an insult.”
“It’s not.”
“Then why does it sound like one?”
I looked back at her over my shoulder.
Because if I said it soft, we’d both be in trouble.
I didn’t say that.
Instead, I said, “Because you annoy me.”
Her smile came quick, sharp, unwilling.
“Good,” she said. “Mutual.”
But she didn’t walk away.
Neither did I.
For one hot, stupid second, we stood there beside her dead truck under the shade of the carport, my shirt off, her coffee cooling on the fender, the desert climbing toward noon, and all that anger between us sparking like dry brush waiting for a match.
Then Bandit screamed from the cab and ruined the moment.
Sienna closed her eyes. “I’m going to sedate him with bacon.”
Amber called from the porch, “Honestly, same.”
I grabbed my Henley from the truck seat and shook it out. Grease had gotten on it anyway. Figures.
Sienna looked at the shirt, then at my chest, then away.
Fast.
Too fast.
Still caught it.
I leaned closer as I passed her. “You staring?”
She didn’t miss a beat.
“I’m assessing structural integrity.”
I stopped inches from her shoulder.
Her breath caught. Quiet. Controlled. Barely there.
I lowered my voice. “And?”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“Unfortunately sound,” she said.
Damn.
This woman was going to be a problem.
Not because she was a risk.
Because every time she pushed, some ruined part of me wanted to push back until we both found out what broke first.
Sienna’s glare could’ve stripped paint off the truck.
I almost respected it.
Almost.
She stood beside Dolores with her arms folded, hair coming loose around her face, that damn white T-shirt still stuck to her in places I was trying not to inventory like a starving man at a buffet.
Her eyes kept cutting from my bike to the truck bed, then to Bandit’s crate, then back to me like she was building a case for murder and just needed one more exhibit.
“No,” she said.
Regan sighed from the porch. “We already did this part.”
“No, we did the part where everyone decided my life for me while I was standing right here.” Sienna pointed toward the truck bed. “That is everything I own.”
Amber, wrapped in sunglasses and judgment, leaned against the porch post. “Honestly, it’s impressive how much anxiety you packed under one tarp.”
“I have field equipment in there.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Regan said.
“My laptop.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
“My clothes.”
“Also covered.”
“My cat.”
Bandit screamed from the cab like he’d heard his name and wished to enter a formal objection into the record.
Sienna threw a hand toward him. “See?”
Regan came down the porch steps with that look on her face. The one that made grown men suddenly remember errands in other counties. Barefoot, coffee in hand, messy hair piled on top of her head, she still somehow moved like the whole desert had agreed she was in charge.
“I’ve got you,” Regan said.
Sienna’s mouth opened.
Regan lifted one finger. “Don’t argue yet. Save your strength for Mason. He’s more annoying.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You’re welcome.” Regan looked back at Sienna. “We’re here two more days. When we head back to Santa Fe, we’ll tow your truck in. Properly. Not with a prayer and a shoelace, which seems to be your current maintenance plan.”
Sienna’s chin lifted. “Dolores has gotten me very far.”
“Dolores has trauma,” Amber said.
“She’s a warrior.”
“She’s a liability,” I said.
Sienna’s eyes snapped to me. “No one asked you, shirtless Triple-A.”
Savannah made a sound behind her coffee. Amber grinned. Regan looked like she was trying very hard not to encourage this because she had pretend morals before breakfast.
I glanced down at myself, then back at Sienna. “You complaining?”
Her cheeks colored.
Not much.
Enough.
“No,” she said too fast. “I’m documenting.”
“Yeah?” I stepped closer before I thought better of it. “What’s the report say?”
Her eyes flicked over my chest. Fast. Angry. Hungry, if I let myself believe what I shouldn’t. Then she looked me dead in the face.
“Excessive structural confidence. Probable ego-related instability.”
Amber cackled.
I leaned in just enough for her to catch the words. “Keep assessing me like that, scientist, and you’re gonna hurt your own feelings.”
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
That shut her up for maybe three seconds, which might’ve been a record.
Regan cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway. While you two do whatever deeply irritating foreplay this is—”
“It is not foreplay,” Sienna snapped.
I said nothing.
Which was smarter than usual.
Regan continued like Sienna hadn’t spoken. “I’ll watch Bandit.”
Sienna froze.
That did it. The sharpness shifted. Not gone, exactly, but rearranged around something more vulnerable.
“You’ll watch him?”
Regan shrugged. “He’s a cat.”
“He’s not a cat. He’s a felony with whiskers.”
“I’ve handled worse.”
Amber lifted her hand. “She has.”
Evie called from inside, “Emotionally and legally.”
Regan ignored them. “I’ll feed him, water him, keep him in the mudroom, and make sure he doesn’t eat anyone important.”
Bandit hissed from the truck.
I looked toward the cab. “He heard the loophole.”
Sienna didn’t smile. She was watching Regan like she wanted to believe her but had learned belief was expensive and usually came with hidden fees.
“He needs shots,” Sienna said quietly. “I don’t know if he’s ever had any. He was just outside my apartment, and I couldn’t leave him, and then everything happened fast, and I—”
She stopped herself.
Too late.
I heard the crack in it.
So did Regan.
Regan’s face softened, but she was smart enough not to make a thing of it. “Then we’ll get him a rabies shot at the very least. Probably deworm him too. Maybe have someone check that ear.”
Sienna swallowed. “He won’t let you touch him.”
Regan looked toward the truck, where Bandit was currently chewing the corner of his crate like a demon trying to escape a church. “Then I won’t touch him until he lets me.”
Sienna blinked.
There was something on her face then I didn’t like. Not because it was ugly. Because it wasn’t. It was too open for half a second. Like Regan had just handed her proof that care didn’t have to come with force.
Then Sienna ruined it by stepping back and folding her arms harder.
“I’m not a charity case.”
There she was.
Armor back on.
I knew armor. Knew the sound of it clicking into place. Hers had sarcasm welded all over it, but it worked the same as mine.
Regan stared at her for one beat.
Then she looked down at her nails.
Casual as hell.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Regan said. “You’ll make it up to me.”
Sienna narrowed her eyes. “That sounds ominous.”
“It should.”
“What does that mean?”
Regan inspected one nail like she was bored. She wasn’t. Woman was never bored. She was plotting. “Means I own a coffee shop, I’m planning a wedding-adjacent disaster weekend, I have a garden that never stops producing zucchini, and I’m always short on smart women who know how to show up on time.”
Sienna stared. “You’re going to make me work off cat-sitting with zucchini?”
“Among other things.”
“That’s not a payment plan. That’s community service.”
Regan smiled. “Exactly.”
Amber pointed her coffee toward Sienna. “You’re better off agreeing now. She gets worse when challenged.”
“I heard that,” Regan said.
“You were meant to.”
Sienna looked at the truck again. The tarps. The rope. The dead engine. The cat glaring through the windshield. Every piece of her life sitting there in the morning heat, and no amount of stubbornness could make it move.
I saw the moment reality caught her.
She hated it.
I hated that I saw it.