Page 44 of Kissing for Keeps
I glance at the map on my phone. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of telling him I’m heading to a craft store. Not because I worry what he’ll think of me. I just don’t want him to invite himself inside because he guesses Siena’s there. She’s not wearing a cardigan today, which means it’s anyone’s guess what flimsy excuses he’ll find to touch her. He’ll probably tuck her hair behind her ear or pretend there’s a snowflake on her eyelash despite the fact that it’s July.
“Just here,” I say, pointing to my GPS.
He nods. “Where is Siena?”
None of your business. “She had to do some errands.” Now he’s probably wondering why I didn’t just go with her.Keep on wonderin’, Phil.Some people might think I should tell him she’s stuck in the parking lot right now, but if I do that, he’s going to swoop in and woo her. He doesn’t even need metaphorical armor. He has an actual medieval set in his pretty little chateau.
“Jack,” he says, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel, “you’ve known Siena for a long time. Do you think she would say yes if I asked her on a date?”
All of my muscles clench. I want to say no. Siena would expect me to, honestly. But even though I’ve been riding this line, trying to shut down Philippe’s game and making fun of him in front of Siena, telling him not to ask her out definitely falls on the other side of the line. The wrong side. It should be Siena’s choice, and if she really wants to go out with Philippe, who am I to stop her?
“I mean, she’s pretty busy with the wedding stuff,” I say, “but maybe.” Okay, I know it’s not the most encouraging response I could’ve given him, but I’m a work in progress.
I honestly don’t know if she’d say yes or no to Philippe, and it shouldn’t matter to me. I’m taking this brotherly protectiveness too seriously.
I text Siena to let her know what time I’ll be there. As much as I don’t like Philippe, I’m grateful to him for getting me to her more quickly. I have him drop me off just in front of the grocery store, and I pretend to walk in that direction until his car has driven out of sight.
When it disappears around the corner, I make a beeline for the parking lot. Siena’s waiting for me just at the bottom of the entrance. She’s not crying now, but her cheeks are a little pink and so are her eyes. Those subtle colors are vestiges of the vulnerability she showed in calling me, and they make me feel unbrotherly things. It’s pretty hard to think of someone like a sister when you kissed her the first night you met. I don’t know that you really come back from that.
I smile, and she laughs, softly shaking her head and turning it away like she’s embarrassed. “You really didn’t have to come, Jack. I could’ve called a tow truck.”
“Who needs a tow truck when you’ve got a man with mad parking skills?” Realizing thatyou’ve got a manmakes it sound like I’mherman, I glance at her, but she’s got a cocked brow and the hint of a smile.
“Like your expert crafting skills?”
“I’m a man of many talents. Now”—I rub my hands together—“show me what we’re working with.”
“You’ve got a lot of confidence for a man who has no idea what he’s getting into.” She glances at me as we walk farther into the dimly lit lot. “It’s bad, Jack. Like,bad.”
I wave away her words as the van comes into view, even though inside, I’m getting nervous that Iwon’tbe able to get her out of this tight spot. If we end up having to call a tow truck or, heaven forbid, Philippe, my pride will never recover.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you th—”
I freeze as a long, dark scratch across the driver’s side comes into view. There’s white paint on the edges. It’s not pretty, and I’m genuinely curious how it got to be that long. But I’m not about to get into that right now. Not when Siena’s shaken and humiliated.
“Itisthat bad,” she says, swallowing.
“What, that little scratch?” I cross my arms and shake my head. “Nah. Plus, I’m ninety percent sure I did that at Sarlat when I was trying to park.”
“No, you didn’t, Jack. It was me. The sound of the scraping is ingrained in my memory forever.”
“Was it like this?” I make a sound I never knew myself capable of. It’s like ten shrieking witches being burned at the stake. “Yup. That was me. Kind of surprised you didn’t hear it. You must have been too busy backseat driving.”
She laughs, but the smile disappears quickly as she examines the damage again. She swallows hard. “The rental company is going to charge me an arm and a leg to fix it.” She shuts her eyes, and the way she takes in a deep breath that trembles slightly tells me her emotions are still hovering just below the surface.
“Hey.” I grab her hand. “It’ll be fine. I promise.” I’m half-expecting her to jerk her hand away, but she doesn’t.
She sniffs and shakes her head, not meeting my gaze. “How will it be okay? I don’t even have a job, Jack, in case you missed the whole debacle of an election I was in charge of.” She turns her head even more, but it’s not quickly enough that I miss the tear that slips out.
Siena’s a proud woman, and it’s got to be killing her to cry in front of me. So, I do what any gentleman would do. I give her a way to hide her face.
“Come here,” I say, and I pull her into my arms.
Her resistance lasts all of a split second, and then she surrenders. She tucks her head into the nook between my neck and shoulder. Siena Sheppard is letting me hold her.
“I was so proud of myself for managing to park in the small space. For doing it better than you.” She’s half-laughing, half-crying.
I smile into her hair—hey, stop judging. It smells good, and I can’t really avoid it—and say, “The moral of the story is…”
