Page 18 of Made for You
“Fine,” I managed, forcing myself to take a bite of my slow-roasted salmon. The fish was probably delicious, but it might as well have been cardboard for all I could taste it. “Just tired.”
It was a lie. I was many things right now—mortified, aroused, terrified—but tired wasn’t one of them. Every nerve in my body felt like it was humming with electricity, hyperaware of the man sitting twenty feet away who knew exactly how I sounded when I came.
“Those Mercer boys seem nice enough,” Dad continued conversationally, though I didn’t miss the speculative gleam in his eyes as he studied me over the rim of his wine glass. “Though it’s clear there’s some sort of tension between you and Gage.”
As if my eyes had a mind of their own, I chanced another glance across the room. And experienced another jolt of awareness when I found Gage’s attention fixed on me like a homing beacon. This time, he didn’t look away when our eyes met, and I could see the questions burning there.
Questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“Siena.”
I jerked my attention back to my father. “I’m sorry, what?”
My father’s expression shifted from casual curiosity to something sharper. “I asked you what’s going on.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy with me, sweetheart. The way you two were looking at each other. The way you can’t stop looking at each other.” He set his glass down and rearranged his cutlery so that it was perfectly aligned with his plate. “Has that man been bothering you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I set my own glass down with trembling fingers. “It’s … well, just really complicated.”
“Most worthwhile things are.” He gave me a wistful smile, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his relationship with my mother. Unlike his first marriage, theirs had been a true love match, and when she passed five years ago, it had gutted him. He was fond of telling me he hoped one day I’d let down my guard enough to find that kind of love. “I know this is the part where a daughter wants her mother’s advice, but you can talk to me, too, you know.”
Before I could figure out how to explain the unexplainable—how I could tell my father I’d had a one-night stand with a cowboy who’d rocked my world and then dismissed him because I was terrified of wanting something I couldn't have—movement from across the room caught my eye.
Gage was pushing back from his table.
My pulse spiked as he excused himself from his companions, his intention clear as his gaze found mine across the crowded restaurant. He was coming over here.
Oh god. No. Absolutely not.
“Excuse me,” I said quickly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor as I stood. “I need to …” I didn’t finish my sentence before I gestured toward the hallway and pivoted on my heel, heading straight toward the coat check.
“Siena!” I heard my dad call out softly.
I hesitated for half a second, my steps faltering as I fought the urge to turn back and apologize, but the thought of Gage reaching our table … of having this conversation in front of my father?
No. That couldn’t happen.
I kept walking with my head down, my legs unsteady, hyperaware of every step, every breath, every beat of my racing heart.
The hallway leading to the coat room was dimly lit and thankfully empty, but I could hear footsteps behind me. I stopped suddenly, turning and pressing my back against the wall and closing my eyes, bracing myself for the confrontation I’d been dreading since the moment I’d seen Gage sitting at that table looking like every fantasy I’d ever had about what my future husband should look like.
I listened to him approaching, the click of dress shoes on the hardwood floor so different from the thunk of cowboy boots I expected, until the sound stopped directly in front of me. He cleared his throat softly.
I opened my eyes and lifted my chin to find him scowling down at me.
“Bellrose?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrow. “Can’t say I saw that coming.”
I let out a shaky breath, my chest deflating as if I were a balloon someone had let the air out of. “Yeah, well. I knew you’d recognize the name immediately.”
His thick brows furrowed. “So you what? Figured you’d keep it a secret.”
“I planned on telling you,” I said, then caught myself with a sharp shake of my head. “Actually, no. That’s not true. I wasn’t going to tell you anything about me.”
He broke our stare, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like he needed to release the tension coiled there. When he brought his eyes back to mine, they weren’t blazing with fury anymore. His gaze was clouded with confusion, and that hit me harder than his temper ever could.
“Why?”
