“Gray cat? Bell collar?” I asked a couple walking their dog.
They stared at my bare chest and tattoos like I was the threat, not the missing cat. Sienna pushed past them anyway, calling louder, voice raw now.
We kept going—three more alleys, four, five. Sweat ran down my back. My knuckles still ached from the bar fight. Every time she yelled for the cat her voice got smaller, more desperate, and every time I felt like more of an asshole for opening that balcony door.
Then the alley spit us out onto a brighter street lined with upscale bars. Neon signs glowed soft pink and gold. A martini bar called The Silver Leaf sat on the corner, valet stand out front.
Sienna slowed for half a second, scanning the sidewalk. I almost told her we should head back?—
And then I saw them.
Rylee and the dentist husband.
Stepping out of the martini bar on the arm of the same clean-cut dentist I’d seen her with earlier. Her husband. The guy who’d replaced me with a six-figure car and a country-club life. The valet was already jogging off to fetch their Mercedes.
Rylee’s eyes landed on me first. Shirtless. Jeans low on my hips. Boots. Ink covering half my torso and both arms. Her gaze dragged over every inch of me like she was remembering exactly what I used to feel like under her hands.
Her husband noticed me a second later. His lip curled in a sneer. He looked me up and down—took in the blood on my knuckles, the sweat, the lack of shirt—and waved at the bouncer standing by the door.
“Hey—security. Attend to that, would you?” He jerked his chin in my direction like I was trash that needed hauling off.
The bouncer started toward us.
Before I could even open my mouth, Sienna moved.
She walked straight up to me, hips swaying like she had all the time in the world, and slid her arms around my bare torso. Her palms pressed flat against my back, warm and possessive, pulling me close until her body was flush with mine.
“Hey, babe,” she said loud enough for the whole sidewalk to hear, voice sweet as sugar and sharp as a blade. “I feel like a drink.”
She tilted her head up at me, eyes locked on mine for a beat, then cut a deliberate glance sideways at Rylee.
I felt Rylee’s stare like a brand. Her perfect smile slipped. Envy flashed across her face—quick, ugly, impossible to miss—before she could hide it.
Sienna’s arms tightened around me, fingers tracing the edge of one of my scars like she was staking a claim right there in front of God, the valet, and my ex. Her cheek brushed my chest. She smelled like lime and chocolate and pure satisfaction.
The bouncer stopped mid-step, confused.
Rylee’s husband looked like he’d swallowed something sour.
Sienna smiled up at me again, soft and wicked all at once. “Looks like I wasn’t the only rescue operation tonight.”
“That was my ex, Rylee.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Well I’m sure she already regrets things the way she was looking at you. I can tell he’s pinkie-sized, trust me.”
Just turned us both around, still wrapped around my waist like she belonged there, and started walking me down the sidewalk.
I let her.
My arm came around her shoulders on pure instinct, bare skin against her thin shirt, the heat of her body chasing away every ounce of the night’s bullshit.
Behind us I heard Rylee’s husband start arguing with the bouncer about something, but I didn’t look back.
Neither did Sienna.
For the first time since the fairy lights and the champagne toasts and the damn ring in my closet, the knot in my chest felt a little looser.
And the woman pressed against my side was the reason why.
