Sienna
Why, Tristan? Who are you meeting?
Whit
Do you actually *gasp* like someone?
Itake the stairs to Katie’s apartment Friday night two at a time. The bottle of Old Kingdom dangles from my fingers. Aiden and I were supposed to taste it today, but with him not drinking, there’s very little fanfare to opening new bottles, even a special one. We distilled this one on our own, eighteen years ago. Aiden was thirteen and I was eleven, and Dad watched us do it but didn’t interfere.
Katie will help me finish it. There’s a jump in my stomach as I think about Katie and the practicing. I want more. I have high hopes for tonight.
I knock on the door and wait, tapping my foot. There’s a thump from inside, but no answer.
“Bailey,” I shout. “Come on. What are you doing?”
“Getting ready,” she calls back, her voice muffled by the thick wood.
Getting ready? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Katie doesn’t primp. I’ve never even seen her wear makeup, except that one time she wore lipstick when we sparred and it looked like she was bleeding when Siennaclocked her in the face. She’s probably wearing one of those suits with running—
She yanks open the door, and my thoughts stutter to a stop. She’s wearing a dress. The shortest dress I’ve ever seen on her.
My pulse stumbles. It’s black and silky and flutters just at the top of her thighs. She has a velvet choker around her neck, and I curl my fingers into my palm to keep from touching the material.
I realize a heartbeat too late that I’m staring.
“Sienna lent it to me. Do you think he’ll hate it?”
My gaze lifts to hers and the breath empties from my lungs in one unsteady gust. The eyes. The fucking eyes. It’s like this every time now. I tripped on a rock during our run three days ago because the sunlight caught the golden brown of her left iris.
“Who?”
“Seth Dawson.”
I scowl. Her eyes go wide.
“You hate it. Shit.” She spins on her heel and marches inside, and I lunge for her wrist.
“Katie, wait. I was just—surprised.” She lets me turn her and glares at me from under her thick lashes. “I didn’t know you had a date.”
She folds her arms over her stomach. “The dress is too much. I’m changing.”
“It’s perfect.”
It’s sexy. Short and fluttery and daring. Seth will be thinking about her thighs and licking that velvet choker around her neck.
I drop her wrist.
“Perfect?”
I lift my gaze to see a sheepish, uncertain expression onher face. It’s quickly chased by determination, a lifting of her chin, a steeling of her spine. She’s wearing makeup and,damn, it looks good on her. But under the smoky black shadow and the thick lashes, she looksnervous.
I think back to her words last night, how hard-fought her confidence is. Something gentles inside of me. She’s vulnerable and she’s trusting me, and I cherish that trust.
“If I hated it any less, I’d ask to borrow it,” I say with a wink.
She barks a laugh, her nerves disappearing. “Somehow, I don’t think it would fit.”
