Page 40 of Desert Rain
I looked over. “What?”
He took another drag from his cigarette. “You keep watching her.”
“No, I don’t.”
Bullshit.
I did.
Couldn’t help it.
Not because I trusted her. Because I didn’t. That was what I told myself, and there was enough truth in it to make the lie comfortable. The real problem was I didn’t like the way she got under my skin that fast. Didn’t like the way she looked at me either. Straight on. No flinch. No flutter. She clocked every rough edge and didn’t scare easy.
Most women either leaned in or backed off.
Sienna squared up.
Mouth sharp. Eyes sharper. Brain working behind them so quick I could almost hear the gears. She was road-filthy and exhausted when Regan dragged her in, but she still had the presence of a woman who’d read the room, built a map, found the exits, and prepared three arguments before anyone else finished a sentence.
And when I took that damn cat crate from her, her hand brushed mine.
Warm. Soft. Dusty knuckles. A faint scratch across the back. She smelled like road heat, gas station soap, and something clean underneath it. Rosewater maybe. Apples too, but not sweet. Green apple. Sharp. Weird combination.
Shouldn’t have noticed.
Did.
Her hair had caught me off guard. Dark and messy from the road, falling over one shoulder like she’d been fighting wind for two days and the wind only half-won. Her body wasn’t polished bar-girl bullshit either. Curvy. Real. Hips filling denim right. Waist made for a man’s hands if that man had a death wish and a complete lack of self-preservation. Mouth too smart for peace. Chin tilted like she’d had to defend herself in rooms where men smiled while underestimating her.
And her eyes.
Not fear.
Fight.
That part hit hardest.
I understood fight. Understood it better than softness. Better than love. Better than whatever the hell Regan kept trying to plant around this club like tomatoes and second chances.
Regan snapped her fingers near my face. “Mason.”
I looked back at her.
“She is not your enemy.”
“She isn’t anything to me.”
“Then stop acting like she is.”
“I’m making sure nobody gets hurt.”
“No,” Regan said, quiet enough that it cut cleaner. “You’re making sure nobody gets close.”
I didn’t answer.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “You know what it’s like to hit bottom.”
My jaw tightened.
