She pushed open the door, ignoring the way her stomach growled at the mouthwatering scent of yeasty dough and sugar that enveloped her.
A woman from behind the counter called out a greeting, but Sienna ignored her. She stalked toward the table at the far side, where a man sat, his caramel-colored hair tousled. His shoulders were so broad under his sheriff’s uniform, they made him look almost out of place at one of the small café tables in the cheery space.
“You did this to me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Cole looked up like he didn’t have a care in the world, arched a brow. “There are a lot of things I’d like to do to you, sweetheart. Care to elaborate on what you’re talking about at the moment?”
Butterflies zipped through her stomach at the intensity in his gaze, and she hated him even more for being able to so casually defuse her righteous anger. Now she was distracted by him—his brown eyes studying her, the shadow of stubble that covered his jaw, his big hand holding tight to a thin ballpoint pen. He looked strong and sure, and Sienna craved that like she imagined her father still wanted a drink, despite his sobriety.
It made her feel weak and unsteady, one more reminder that the mask of confidence and poise she’d worn all these years was nothing but her pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
“You told them I was coming.” She lifted a hand, jabbed a finger at him. “Youwarnedthem.”
He wrapped his giant hand around hers, folding her fingers into her palm, then gently tugged her into the seat across from him.
She didn’t fight because she was suddenly weary to the bone and grateful for the chair. The other customers had turned to stare, obviously curious about the crazy woman who’d go toe to toe with the hulking sheriff.
Cole pasted on a casual, good ol’ boy type of smile, although his eyes told a different story. “Katie, would you mind sending over one of those amazing chicken salad sandwiches and a couple of lemonades?” He turned toward the counter. “Looks like I’m here for lunch after all.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” the pretty brunette at the cash register answered. “Chips or pasta salad on the side?”
Cole tossed a questioning gaze at Sienna. “Pasta salad,” she mumbled after a moment and Cole put in the request.
“But I don’t want anything,” Sienna insisted, even though she could feel her hands trembling due to hunger. “I can handle myself just fine without your help.”
“Marlene,” Cole began conversationally. “She’s my office manager and pretty much runs everything at the department. I might have mentioned her before?”
Sienna narrowed her eyes.
“Right.” Cole sat back and studied her for a long moment. “Marlene is an undisputed genius and normally easy as pie to get along with. But if she gets too hungry... Well, she has a term for it. She calls it hangry.” He inclined his head. “It’s a mix of hungry and angr—”
“I know what hangry is,” Sienna said, irritated that her snappish tone made her sound even hangrier than she was. “I had oatmeal for breakfast. I’m fine.”
“What time did you eat breakfast?”
“Seven.”
“That’s five hours ago.”
“A lawman and a mathematician. You really are all that and a bag of chips.”
“Chips are good, but you made the right choice with pasta salad. It’s homemade, along with the chicken salad. This place only recently started serving lunch. Katie Crawford, the owner, bakes all the bread herself. The fact that she’s serving lunch has been kind of a game changer around here.”
Cole Bennett was the biggest game changer Sienna had ever met. She’d come into the bakery to tell him off and somehow now they were having a casual conversation about food and hunger. She crossed her arms over her chest, unwilling to allow herself to be distracted any longer. She had business in Crimson, and she was done with the town’s hottie sheriff inserting himself into it.
“I don’t know—”
“Here’s your sandwich. Hope you enjoy.”
Sienna glanced up at the woman who’d approached the table, ready to snap out a scathing reprimand for being interrupted. One of the first things Craig Pierce had drilled into her was that good waitstaff should know their place. And interrupting a customer’s conversation was tantamount to spitting in the food as far as her stepfather was concerned.
Sienna had never bought into the idea and had always been polite to everyone she met. Even though she’d been a “have” for over half her life, she never forgot what it felt like to be a “have not.” But her temper was practically boiling over, and she didn’t much care who bore the brunt of it.
Except all she could do when she turned to Katie Crawford was offer a small smile and a muttered “thank you.”
Cole chuckled, as if he knew what she’d intended and was amused that she couldn’t lash out at the bakery owner. But to unleash her temper on Katie would have been like kicking a week-old puppy. Maybe it was because she’d grown up in a big city, but Sienna didn’t think she’d ever seen someone who oozed sweetness and inner goodness the way Katie did. It was a wonder she didn’t have tiny bluebirds flitting around her head chirping a merry tune and anointing Katie with a crown of woven flowers.
“What’s so funny about my chicken salad?” the woman asked Cole, hands on hips.
