Chapter Nine
Sienna
The next morning, I sprinted into Buttercup Java like it was a shelter during a tornado warning. Which, honestly, wasn’t far off. My lifewasa tornado, spinning violently around one tall, quiet, ridiculously outdoorsy man who had reorganized the equipment shed and my emotional equilibrium in the same week.
Violet and Fiona were already inside, drinking lattes and looking altogether too cheerful for people who’d already taken care of most things at the lodge before the sun was even up.
Abby perked up the second I walked in.
“There she is. Little Miss Hot-and-Bothered.”
“I am not hot-and-bothered,” I snapped. “I’m normal-and-cold. It’s winter.”
Fifi snorted so hard she choked on foam. “Technically, it’s spring.”
“Tell that to Wisconsin.”
Violet stood and pointed me to the booth like she was escorting me into an interrogation chamber. “Sit. You need medical-level caffeine.”
I collapsed into the booth. “I need a lobotomy.”
“Same thing,” Fiona said brightly. “Abby! Triple shot for our sister! She’s lovesick.”
I threw a napkin at her. “I amnotlovesick.”
Violet arched an eyebrow at me. “You’re definitely something-sick. You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I saw worse,” I hissed. “I saw Carson.”
Fiona gasped dramatically. “What did he do? Breathe?”
“Yes!”
Both sisters cackled.
Yes, cackled.
“I swear,” I groaned, rubbing my temples, “every time he breathes, I lose one IQ point. That man is a walking, talking intelligence eraser.”
“He does have strong main-character energy,” Violet mused.
“He reorganized the shed,” I said. “Like some kind of… sexy equipment wizard.”
Fiona leaned her chin on her hand. “So you’re into him.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
They stared at me.
I sighed. “Fine. Maybe.”
Violet smirked. “Wow. She admitted it. Mark this day in the Harper family calendar.”
“It’s not my fault,” I insisted. “He has arms. And quiet, broody energy. And he, ugh, he listens when I talk.”
