Her head snaps toward me, eyes bright and wide awake now. Nothing like the girl who looked ready to fall asleep standing up twenty minutes ago.
“I want to see it.”
I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
“The bakery.” She says it fast, as if she hesitates, I’ll shoot her down. “I want to see it tonight.”
I set the plate down on her dresser. “No.”
Her lips part, eyebrows pulling tight. “No?”
“You’re tired.” I nod at the sandwich. “Eat. Rest. You can see it tomorrow.”
She crosses her arms, hip cocking out.
Jesus.
Dangerous stance.
“I’m fine now.”
“You were about to pass out in my living room.”
“I showered. I’m awake.”
“That’s not the same as being fine.”
She huffs, tilting her chin up at me. That stubborn streak in her just itching for a fight.
To fightme.
And, fuck me, this woman turns me on.
“I don’t want to wait until tomorrow,” she says. “What if I hate it? What if you wasted your money? Shouldn’t I at least?—”
“Sienna.” My voice comes out lower than I mean it to. Not sharp, just final. “Tomorrow.”
Her mouth presses flat. I can see the way she shifts her weight, the flicker of something like… calculation in her eyes.
And then she does it.
Her version of softening.
She steps closer, looking up at me through her lashes like she’s not aware of the effect. Like she doesn’t know I’ve been keyed up over her since the second she walked back into my life.
It’s not much. Barely anything. But it’s enough to stir heat low in my gut.
She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Or maybe she does. Maybe she thinks that if she pushes that button, she’ll get her way.
Then she looks up at me with this sharp little smirk and says, “I’ll behave.”
Just that one casual and offhanded line, and it sets every nerve in me on fire.
Behave.
The word’s innocent enough, but coming from her, it’s loaded.
There’s defiance under it, a tiny bit of challenge, and God, I want to see just how far that goes.
