Page 21 of Hiss and Make Up
She shrugged. “Maybe you can try to talk to her again tomorrow.”
He looked up from his phone and found her looking at him, her eyes soft and sincere. That’s when he realized she hadn’t taken the opportunity to make a single snarky comment about his sister. She was being pleasant and downright encouraging.
Who the hell was this woman?
“Lunch?” Sierra asked.
He tucked his phone in his back pocket. “Why don’t you ride with me. I’ll drop you back here later,” he said, opting for an improvised Plan B. If he couldn’t have her up against him, he’d settle for having her in the car with him.
She eyed him for a moment, considering the offer. “Okay. Hang on.”
She walked to her car and grabbed her bag from under the front seat. Then she paused to look around the area.
“Lost something?” Marc asked.
“No. There’s this dog…” She squinted at an empty campsite. “Never mind. Looks like they’re gone.”
The sun was out now, and even though the park was shaded, it was still getting pretty warm. Sierra slipped off her olive green, long-sleeved flannel shirt and tied it around her waist. Now with only a navy tank top above her jeans, he got a full view of what he’d only had a hint of the day before.
“Nice tattoo.”
She looked down at her arm, completely covered from shoulder to elbow in ink, and smiled. “Thanks.”
It was beautiful, lots of blues and greens with intertwined leaves and branches. It took every bit of willpower he had not to reach out and trace the lines with his finger. A black fleur-de-lis sat in the middle with a pissed off pelican. On her outer arm, he spotted some sort of lizard climbing her skin.
No, not a lizard.
A skink.
“So are we going or what?”
Marc broke his stare and looked back up at her face. It was softer than he remembered. She still had her edges, but life had worn them. The focus in her eyes was even more laser-sharp than he remembered, but somehow there was still light in those eyes. Still hope.
Or maybe they were only reflecting his own hope back at him.
5
The three-foot wooden pelican sign inside the diner said, “Please Seat Yourself.” Marc slid into a booth along the windows across from Sierra. The table was far too wide. Every cell in his body wanted to be closer to Sierra, afraid she might slip away and out of his life again.
He glanced at the blue plate special board hanging from the ceiling nearby. Red beans and rice, his favorite, with the vegetable of the day. But the beer and bacon burger he had with Freddy was still taking residency in his stomach.
Sierra spent a full five minutes studying the two-page menu in silent concentration. Marc asked the server for a few extra minutes, but he looked at the time on his phone and teased Sierra anyway. “I have to be at the stadium in four hours. You think you’ll be ready?”
He couldn’t help himself. Being this close to her, all he wanted to do was pick at her the way they used to pick at each other. Like they hadn’t lost all those years.
When she glared over her menu at him, he laughed and held his hands up in defense. “Kidding. I’m kidding.”
The server arrived a moment later to save him from any potential wrath.
“I’ll have the atomic q’s,” Sierra said. “And a Coke.”
“Just a Coke.” Marc handed over his menu, while the server took Sierra’s and left. “Atomic q’s, huh? That’s a long way from all those curries and salads your dad used to fix for us.”
“Those are still on the home menu.”
“How is your dad?”
She shrugged. “Good I guess. Still lives in town.”
