Grin and Beard It(41)

I gritted my teeth, tightening my arm around her shoulders. “Sienna. I meant Sienna. Now y’all need to go sit down, ’cause she’s signing no more napkins.”

The crowd began to grumble, as though they’d been disenfranchised, but then Sienna lifted her sweet voice over their grousing. “Thank you for your kind welcome and exuberance. I’m so honored. But before I sign any more autographs or take any more pictures, I have to admit I’m famished.”

“Say that line from the movie,” someone called, rudely interrupting her and making my blood pressure spike.

I glanced down at her, saw she was flashing her dimples, working the crowd. I realized with no small amount of discomfort that the same smile she’d used to make me feel twenty-five feet tall earlier was being shared with these people. She was charming them, working the room, much like she’d charmed me every time we were together.

“I promise I’ll stay and sign all the napkins,” she said, winking at Kip and making the grown man blush. “But for now I’m going to have that steak I’ve been hearing so much about.”

She held them captivated as she continued making promises, all the while towing me after her to the hostess stand and eventually to the kitchen where a table had been set up. I recognized our waiter as Devron Stokes. We’d gone to high school together and he was a frequent visitor to The Pink Pony. He pulled out her chair before I could, offered Sienna her napkin, and placed his hand on the back of her chair as he recited the specials.

That is, he had his hand on the back of her chair until he caught my eye, then he promptly removed his hand. Likely because I was silently communicating my desire to remove it if he came anywhere close to touching her again.

Clearing his throat nervously, Devron gave me a stiff smile. “Haven’t seen you out with a woman in years, Jethro. Not since Kitty Carlisle our junior year of high school.”

Ignoring his gossipy comment, I ground out, “How about you get us the wine list, Devron? And some privacy.”

“Uh, sure thing. I’ll be back quick.”

“Take your time.” My mind swam as I stared at my date.

She, too, looked like a stranger.

I watched her swallow, studying me, biting the inside of her cheek. “How are you holding up?” she asked, like I’d been the one mobbed by my neighbors.

“I’m real sorry about all that.” I gestured to the main restaurant. “I wouldn’t have expected them to—”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to being swarmed. It happens all the time.”

“It happens all the time?”

She seemed to regret her words as soon as I echoed them, because her face fell and she swallowed again. “Well, not all the time. Just when I go out in public.”

“Oh,” I said stupidly, horrified.

“Except by you. You’ve never swarmed me.” Sienna gave me a sweet, hopeful smile and reached her hand across the table, palm up, an invitation for me to take it.

Before I could, Devron was back with bread, but without the wine list.

“I promised myself I would be cool and wouldn’t say anything—”

“Then you should keep your promise,” I grumbled.

He ignored me, continuing, “But I have to tell you how much I love your films. And you are amazing. And so much more beautiful in person.”

Sienna pulled her hand away, and I watched a mask slip over her features as she dealt with Devron, giving him a warmly polite smile and thanking him for his kind words.

While she was thanking him, all I could think about was getting him alone so I could beat the shit out of his presumptuous and rude ass. I clenched my jaw, knowing the violence of my thoughts was directly related to how unexpected and disorienting the events of the last few minutes had been.

I’d been blindsided.

Here we were, wanting to have a quiet dinner, like any two normal people. Ten minutes ago I was making long-term plans, thinking about coming home to her every night.

And now . . .

Now I realized, I had no idea who she was.





CHAPTER 10


“It's so much darker when a light is lost than it would have been if it had never shone.”

―John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent



~Jethro~

Our evening did not improve.

We didn’t get a chance to speak again. Even though they’d put us in the kitchen—so, great ambiance—we had no peace. The cooks came over, the manager, all the waiters and waitresses. Everyone had their picture taken and their stuff signed. Three hours into dinner and she’d had only three bites.

I didn’t know where I fit. Sienna seemed at ease, talking to everyone like it was her job, making them feel special. I supposed it was her job. Regardless, she was a natural.