All thoughts of inviting myself inside the house extinguished.
“I’m sorry, Jethro,” Dave was saying. “I heard something out here, I should have flipped the light on. That’s my bad. Sorry for interrupting.”
I stared at him for a long moment, where he was sprawled on the ground holding his nose. Adrenaline was leaving my system, leaving me cold and tired and feeling bad for punching him in the face.
“No, look, I’m sorry.” I reached forward and offered him my hand. “Keep your head back, but you should sit up. And you,” I gestured to the shorter of the two guards still standing, “go get some tissues or a napkin, something to stop the bleeding.”
Sienna appeared just as the shorter man disappeared to follow my instructions.
“Are you okay, Dave?” she asked, worry plain in her voice and features.
“I’m fine.”
I took the bag of ice from her and placed it gently on Dave’s nose. “Okay?”
“Yes. Thanks, man.”
I didn’t acknowledge his thanks because I was the reason he was sitting on the floor in the first place. Instead I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to Luke Thurstan. He was a year from retiring but still made house calls.
“I have Doc Thurstan’s number, let me shoot him a text. You’re going to need to get that set.”
Dave chuckled. “I know. I’ve been punched in the nose before.”
“Yeah. I figured you had.” I smiled a little despite myself.
“That’s Henry,” Dave indicated behind him, in the direction of the man who’d left to get the napkins, then lifted his hand toward the taller fella still present. “And this guy is Tim.”
I offered Tim a handshake and he accepted it, saying, “Sorry about . . . earlier.”
“You were just doing your job.”
A moment of silence passed, and my attention drifted back to Sienna. She stood in the entryway twisting her fingers, her eyes wide and watchful. She seemed to be biting the inside of her cheek again.
“Well . . .” Scratching the back of my neck, I tried to hide my frustration under a wry grin. I’m afraid it may have resembled a grimace.
“Do you want to come in?” She stepped over Dave’s legs and came out to the porch.
“No, thank you,” I answered honestly, because I couldn’t wait to leave.
It wasn’t because the guys were her bodyguards, or that she was so famous she made my neighbors lose their minds. The chances of us having any alone time were now zero. More than anything after the night’s events, I didn’t want any more audiences.
My momma always told me that men, to a much greater degree than women, have difficulty dealing with derailed plans. She was right. And I was no exception. I’d had plenty of plans for the evening. I really liked this girl. She’d felt like the beginning of something new: a reward, a gift for five years of levelheaded decisions.
But nothing since we’d entered the restaurant had gone right. Not only that, it had all gone terribly wrong in the most bewildering of ways. The evening was over. I’d planned to end it with a goodnight kiss. But for how I planned on kissing her, I wasn’t keen on an audience. And I refused to end the night with a chaste peck on the cheek.
Hell. No.
She stared at me for a protracted moment, like she wanted to say something, but then she glanced at the two guys loitering in the doorway, one standing, one on the floor. Sienna closed her eyes and released a laugh devoid of humor.
“I am so sorry.”
I hated that she kept saying sorry.
“Stop apologizing.” I reached to take hold of her then stopped myself. We were still being watched.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, leaning close; her lovely dark eyes turned down at the corners communicating her regret.
“Nothing to say.” This time I smiled and made sure it looked sincere. “Go get some rest, and make sure this guy’s nose stops bleeding.”
“The bleeding stopped,” Dave said, reminding us—just in case we’d forgotten—that he and Tim were still there.
I pressed my lips together and turned, slowly descending the steps. Disappointment a cold weight in the pit of my stomach.
I wished . . .
My mind was a mess of contradictions.
I wished I’d known how famous she was earlier, because then we would’ve never gone to The Front Porch. I would’ve taken her someplace truly private. Not to take advantage but to talk and just be.
But then again, if I’d known how famous she was from the beginning, I never would have allowed myself any interest. Her celebrity likely made anything between us a dead-end road, and I wasn’t interested in dead-ends, not anymore.