Page 35 of Hiss and Make Up
“Why do I have to be afraid of anything? Maybe it’s just not my thing?”
She raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Fine,” he said. “All of those.”
A hint of a smile crept up at the corner of her mouth. She was laughing at him—only a little, but still—and he didn’t even care. That partial smile made him happier than anything he could remember in a long time. Comfortable. Like she’d never left. Like they were still sitting on that porch swing instead of on the hood of his car in an empty stadium parking lot.
“This is weird.”
“What is? The snakes or the dead car? There’s a lot to pick from.”
“All of that.” He laughed a little. A nervous laugh. “But I mean you. Us. Sitting here. Together. It’s weird, right?”
Us. What the hell was he thinking aboutusfor anyway? There was nous. And there sure as hell wasn’t anytogether.
There was him. And there was Sierra. This new, grownup Sierra who probably didn’t want anything to do with him. Especially since he’d had a front-row seat to her childhood and knew exactly how she felt about second chances.
Second chances were for things with feathers, fur, and scales. Not people.
At least not in Sierra’s book.
Marc knew full well that once she decided a door was closed, for any reason, that was it. He wasn’t getting back in.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.
Sierra looked down at her shoes, hefty gray hiking boots, and cleared her throat. “So does Denise always take the kids to ArtWalk?”
He wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed that she’d changed the subject. “They try to go every month. When they can.”
“That’s awesome.” She was still looking at her shoes, tapping her toes together. “I mean, that she takes them.”
“They like walking around, listening to music, seeing the exhibits. She’s always taking them to cultural or artsy stuff. Park concerts, plays, exhibits. The kids mostly like that they get to stay up late and eat gelato once a month.”
Sierra smiled. A full-blown, full-mouthed smile this time. “That’s still great. We should go some time.”
His heart dropped a beat, and it took him a second or two to start breathing again.
She flinched, her eyes wide. “Luna! I mean, I should take Luna some time. She’d love it.”
He tried not to look disappointed. “Who’s Luna? Your daughter?”
It hadn’t occurred to him to ask about kids. Or a boyfriend. Or…
He glanced down at her hand. No ring. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not that a lack of a ring meant anything. Sierra would no doubt consider a wedding ring some kind of branding.
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. Then she chuckled. “It’s like you and the tattoo. It’s just not me. But my best friend Liz has a daughter. She’s great. I love her to pieces.”
Her whole face lit up when she said that. She wasn’t looking at her shoes anymore.
He bumped her arm, and his skin tingled at the connection. “See, you do have social skills.”
She bumped him back. “Maybe just with certain people.”
When she turned her head to face him, her gaze was soft and open. For once, she wasn’t prepped for a fight.
Before he could stop himself—before he could worry about what people would think or if he would change his mind or if it would hurt—Marc leaned sideways and inched toward her face. She didn’t move, didn’t say anything, so he kept inching until his mouth reached hers.
Her lips were as soft as they looked. He moved his hand up to her face, and he pressed his mouth harder against hers. He’d kissed her once before. But that goodbye peck—the one that had left his heart lurching and swirling with confusion—had been nothing like this. Confusing, yes, but exciting and overwhelming and a rush of fifty other emotions overpowering him. Her lips parted when he took her bottom lip in his mouth. She pulled back, and he followed her with another soft kiss before braving to open his eyes and meet hers.
