A kiss. A touch. Or more.
Huh, this is strange—I’d expect jealousy to hit first, but it doesn’t. What I feel instead is curiosity.
Is that better? Or worse?
In any case, it’s how it is, and regardless of why, I am definitely curious about the two of them. What are things between them like? Where did that bond come from? And how did she earn Talon’s trust so quickly? He doesn’t open up to people easily. He might have a softer spot for women, but as a rule, he doesn’t like anyone invading his space.
He didn’t want to let her go yesterday.
If he really does have feelings for her…
Tal’s always struck me as the type who falls once, but falls hard. It’s none of my business, of course, but I wonder if Sierra’s ready for something like that.
The door opens, and Sierra steps out, her swimsuit hidden beneath a long button-up shirt.
Damn.
The hem cuts high on her thigh, showing off long, pale legs that look soft enough to kiss, supple enough to bite.
She blushes under my gaze and starts walking, her flip-flops squeaking against the floor.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“Roger that,” I reply, falling into step behind her, letting the silence stretch a beat.
“So,” I say casually, “Talon’s a bit of an odd character, isn’t he?”
She shoots me a look. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true. Everyone says it. You met him this morning—I figured you got a taste of his winning personality.”
Her lips press together, cheeks pinking.
Interesting.
I wait. Her answer matters—how she sees Tal, and what that says about her.
I’ve learned people’s reactions to Tal tell you everything. Some dismiss him outright, turn their noses up at a guy wholives in the mountains and works with his hands. Those people are an instant no for me, no matter how attractive they are.
Others try, even if they’re a little uncomfortable. That’s what I expect from her.
“I mean, I know how Talon can be?—”
“He’s fine,” she cuts in, sharp and certain. “There’s nothing wrong with him. Not everyone has to be a chatterbox.”
Ah. Defensive.
Well, that just made things a lot more interesting.
“Is that a dig at me?” I ask.
“No.” She looks genuinely surprised. “No, I didn’t mean— God, I’m messing everything up today, aren’t I? I just didn’t like how you were talking about him. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say easily. “I’m just messing with you and trying to figure out where your head’s at.”
She gives me a dry look. “Feels like you’re always doing that.”
“Guilty,” I admit, still turning over her reaction. “So you weren’t uncomfortable around him?”