Sierra had produced two spoons when Willow returned, Gopher squirming under her arm.
Sierra came over, flopped the puppy’s ears, pressed a kiss to his snout. “Hey there, big guy.”
Willow put Gopher down, and the dog sat and started to whine.
“Shh,” she said, taking the carton to the table. She set it in the middle and opened it while Sierra sat down opposite her.
Sierra dipped her spoon right into the carton. “Yum.”
Willow did the same, then scooped gelato from her spoon onto her finger, reached down, and let Gopher lick it off.
“Willow—that’s not good for him.”
“Aw, it’s just a little treat. Look at those eyes. How can I say no?”
Gopher licked his lips.
“You are too much of a softie,” Sierra said.
Silence, except for the music drifting down from the bathroom remodel upstairs.
“Are we going to tell Jess about seeing Pete with Tallie?” Willow said, her voice low as she reached for another spoonful.
“I could murder Pete Brooks. Especially after he nearly kissed Jess.”
“Nearly being the important word,” Willow said. “Besides, sometimes a kiss doesn’t mean anything. It can be an accident.”
“Are you kidding me? A kiss always means something.” Sierra shook her head. “That’s the problem.”
Willow froze. The problem?
Sierra was staring at her empty spoon.
“I think Sam is going to break up with me,” Sierra said. “And I’m going to let him.”
“What? No. Sam is a great guy, so worth fighting for.”
The words seared a little coming out, but when Sierra sighed as if in disbelief, Willow pressed on. “Why would you break up with him?”
A knock sounded at the front door, and Sierra put her spoon down as Gopher raced toward the sound, yipping.
Willow heard Jess coming down the stairs.
Shoot—what if it was Pete? This wouldn’t be pretty. Willow got up to follow, intercept, maybe call 911.
Where was Sam when she needed him?
Sierra reached the door first and opened it.
Froze.
Ian Shaw, billionaire and Sierra’s former boss, stood at the door. Six foot two of dangerous playboy charm, honed muscles that photographed well in the tabloids, and tonight, looking way too devastating in a starched white dress shirt and a leather jacket, the light on the porch picking up the gold threads of his tousled short brown hair.
As if that tootsie he’d been dancing with might have run her fingers through it.
Willow wanted to slam the door.
“Hello, Ian,” Sierra said, way too much warmth in her voice for Willow’s taste.
“Hey,” he said, and Willow had the crazy urge to search for his Vanquish, see if Tootsie might be hanging out in the front seat.
“What are you doing here?” Willow said instead, and Sierra glanced at her, frowned.
Oops. But Willow gave her an “are you serious?” expression.
Which Sierra ignored. “Come in, Ian.”
Ian the Destroyer stepped foot over the threshold.
Sic ’em, Gopher.
But Ian only crouched and ran his manicured hands over the pup, picking the animal up, laughing as Gopher gave him a slurp.
Apparently, Willow would have to teach Gopher some discernment.
“I didn’t know you got a dog,” Ian said, looking at Sierra with those dangerous, hypnotizing eyes.
“It’s my dad’s dog,” Willow said and swooped the animal out of his embrace.
Sierra shot her another frown, but Willow lifted a shoulder.
Ian got up. “I was hoping Sam might be here.”
If he’d driven a knife into Sierra’s heart, it would have probably hurt her sister less. Maybe only Willow knew it, but Sierra was only dating Sam in a desperate attempt to rid herself of her feelings for Ian—feelings that clearly Ian didn’t share, for him to so casually accept her dating his close friend, Sam.
As if he didn’t care that Sierra had loved him during every minute of his journey through suffering and back, had sacrificed her social life during the last three tense years helping him search for his missing niece, holding his life together as his executive assistant for Shaw Holdings.
And after he’d fired her, she’d managed to land on her feet and put her life back together, thank you.
Sierra, the consummate peacemaker, however, kept her smile. “Sam’s not here. Why?”
“Oh, I saw you two leave together from the Gray Pony tonight, and, well, I wanted to talk to him about—”
And Willow could have stepped in, filled in the words for him.
“The hunt for Esme.”
Yep. Willow glanced at Sierra, testing her expression.
It stayed sweet, soft, even willing to help. Because that’s who Sierra was, even when someone betrayed her.