I woke before things could get even more fucked up. Dream interpretation is a crock of shit…or so I thought. Figuring out exactly what that messed-up dream means requires me to think about it, and I don’t want to. It’s just a dream. A stupid dream.
Feeling groggy, I take my time getting up and dressed. I’m out of food again so I grab my keys and head out. I make it to my car when I suddenly stop.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I mumble aloud. I’ve never been one to back off when the odds are stacked against me. I like a challenge. Change has never fazed me.
But Sierra…Sierra is a force to be reckoned with.
Chapter 11
Sierra
I yawn for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. I reach for my water and regret sleeping in the extra twenty minutes after my alarm went off. I’m still just as tired as I would have been if I’d gotten up, and I didn’t have time to run to Suzy’s for a coffee. Time is crawling by, and business has been slow as well. I have an hour to go until my lunch break, and I’m honestly unsure if I can keep my eyes open for much longer.
Nothing makes you feel old like a hangover, right? I roll my neck—yawn—and try to wake myself up by stretching my arms above my head. That doesn’t work. Getting up and moving might, but that requires energy, which I don’t have.
The bell above the door rings, and I lazily turn my head, questioning my decision to work in retail and having to deal with the public.
“Hey, Sierra,” Chase says with his famous grin.
“Chase. Hi.” I blink, mind going to the lack of makeup and messy bun sitting like a rat’s nest on the top of my head. Wait, what? Why do I care? “What are you doing here?”
He holds up a bag of takeout from The Mill House in one hand and a drink holder with two iced coffees in the other. “I finished The Fake Wife and need something else to read. And I figured you could use this.”
He sets the coffees down on the counter. Still in a bit of shock, it takes me a few seconds to realize he got my usual.
“That’s what you like, right? I can get something else if not.”
“Yeah. It is. How…?”
“You said you get coffee from Suzy’s Cafe almost daily. So I asked them what you get.”
I stick a straw in my cup and bring it to my lips, closing my eyes as soon as the cold liquid hits my tongue. “French vanilla is my favorite. And I didn’t have time to get one this morning. Thank you, Chase.”
Our eyes meet, and I get hit with the strangest feeling: I miss him, and he’s standing right in front of me.
“And I don’t know about you, but after a night of drinking too much, junk food for some reason makes me feel better.” He gets a box of fries out of the bag, along with poppers and wings. A little plastic tub of cheese dip is inside the French fry box, taking place of the ketchup. “You said you like cheese.”
“I do.” I bring my coffee to my lips and push books out of the way. The man brought me coffee and bar food. Why is it making me so emotional? “Thanks, Chase,” I say and realize that I’ve thanked him already. “Want to stay and help me eat this? It’s too much for me to eat on my own.”
“I can do that. For the food.”
I wave him around the counter and pull out another stool. He smells good and looks even better. His jeans and T-shirt cover up the scars but don’t hide the tattoos that decorate the skin on his arm.
“Did you get much sleep?” I ask. “After I left, I mean.”
“About four hours. Which is probably more than you, I’m guessing.”
“I showered as soon as I got home and slept until about ten-thirty. I think I slept more than you did, but I still feel tired,” I say with a small smile and dip a fry into the warm cheese. “What about you?”
“I’m okay,” he says. “I went for a run after we unloaded that truck, which helped. Though I wasn’t the one who drank enough to kill a whale last night.” He playfully nudges me with his elbow.
“It wasn’t that much.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Don’t make me remind you of the threesome that almost happened.”
“You just did.”
He laughs and I shake my head, smiling. “Maybe I should say sorry for intervening. Those two looked like they’d be a good time.”
I shudder and laugh. “Ew. No way.” The door opens again, and I turn to see Wyatt walking in. He smiles when he sees me.
“Good afternoon, Sierra.” His eyes go to Chase and his face falls a bit. “And, uh, Chase, right?”
“Right,” Chase says. “And you’re Wyatt, from the bank where my sister-in-law works.”
“Isn’t she your half-sister-in-law? Josh is your half-brother, right?”
I stare at Wyatt, wide-eyed, and then slowly turn my head to see Chase. He looks amused, not offended, and doesn’t bother responding. He grabs a fry and dips it in the cheese.
“Are you looking for a book?” I ask Wyatt and wipe my hands.
“Uh,” he starts, still staring at Chase. He wanted to offend him, and I have no idea why. Chase’s non-response is irritating Wyatt. “Yeah. I need to get my grandma something for her birthday. You remember her, don’t you, Sierra?”
“Yeah,” I respond, giving Wyatt a look. I know most people in this town. Why is he acting so weird? “We just got some new cozy-mystery novels in this week. I ordered a few from indie authors too so she wouldn’t be able to get them just anywhere.”
Wyatt leans in and gives me a forced smile. “It’s sweet you remember what she likes to read. I guess she made an impression on you like you did on her.”
“She’s nice,” I say and walk to the display of new books right in front of the counter. “And she’s a regular customer.”
“She talks about you, you know, and still brings up how nice it was to have you around the house.”
“Aww, that’s nice. I always enjoyed talking to her. She had such an interesting past.” I grab the book and give it to Wyatt. “Make sure you tell her I said ‘happy birthday’ then.”
“You can say it yourself. How ‘bout you come to her party tonight?”
“Uh,” I start, mind blanking on a way to politely make up an excuse not to go. “Tonight isn’t good.” Each word comes out slowly, obviously a lie.
“You got plans?”
“Yeah. I do. I have a, uh, a thing…”
“I’m taking her on a date,” Chase says, sitting up straight. He brushes salt off his fingers and meets my eye. “I have a very romantic evening planned for us. If Sierra didn’t go, I’d have to cancel the helicopter and I won’t get my deposit back.”
How he says everything with such sincerity and a straight face, I’ll never know. I blink, look away from Chase and back to Wyatt. “Right. So, uh, sorry.”
Wyatt nods, gives Chase a quick glare and then pays for the book and leaves. Standing behind the counter next to Chase, I turn, hands on my hips, and inspect him.
“What?” he asks, taking another popper and putting it in his mouth.