The contact was enough to break the spell between them. Sienna stepped back, away from his grasp, her fingertips pressing against her swollen lips.
“Why did you do that?” She seemed more confused than angry, which was a small victory in Cole’s mind.
“I needed to know if your mouth was as soft as it looks.”
She gathered her long blond hair and flipped it over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been described as soft.”
“You’re soft,” he assured her. “At least when you’re not being disagreeable and argumentative.”
“I don’t argue and I can be agreeable when I want to.” She no longer looked dazed. Instead the spark had returned to her gaze. He liked it there. “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
He shrugged. “Except maybe yourself.”
“You shouldn’t kiss me again.”
“Do you want to argue about it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Good night, Sheriff.”
“Call me Cole,” he said, unable to stop himself from making the request.
She stared at him so long he wasn’t sure she’d answer, then whispered, “Good night, Cole,” and turned for the house.
He watched her walk away until the front door clicked shut behind her. Crickets chirped from the bushes and an owl in a tree at the edge of the forest gave a mournful hoot.
Cole had come to Colorado as an escape, running from the scandal and tragedy that surrounded his parents’ deaths.
He’d found refuge in small-town life and in serving and protecting the people who made this town their home. But he wasn’t a part of the fabric of Crimson’s community in the same way as Jase. Growing up an army brat, Cole had become an expert at making connections without truly allowing himself to bond to anyone or anything. Hell, he’d never even owned a dog, which was practically a requirement in Colorado.
Sienna made him feel different. Maybe because she was also so obviously alone. He could allow himself this connection with her—but whether it was real or imagined he couldn’t quite say.
Did it really matter? Cole knew that along with emotional ties came the very real possibility of someone getting hurt. He’d had a ringside seat to watch his mom unravel after his father’s death until her heart had literally given out. He didn’t want any part of that kind of pain, either for himself or anyone around him.
Marlene down at the department liked to tease him about the parade of women who made excuses to stop in. But Cole wasn’t interested in getting close to a woman, even to an almost irresistible blonde who took his breath away every time he looked at her.
At least that’s what he tried to convince himself of as he climbed in his truck and drove through the quiet streets of the town he’d made his home. Attraction was one thing, but he wouldn’t let it go any further.
Sienna couldn’t have said how long she’d been sitting in her rental car outside the tiny brick duplex the next morning, but her backside was numb and her throat had gone dry from the air conditioner blowing through the vents in the dash.
She’d turned the car on and off at least a dozen times, psyching herself up for approaching the modest home. Within those walls lived a man she hadn’t seen in two decades but who was never far from her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget him.
A knock on the driver’s side window made her jerk around so fast she banged her forehead into the glass. She let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a groan, blinking away tears of fear, frustration and pain. Her gaze focused on the gray-haired man standing next to the car, and her stomach dipped.
The years hadn’t been kind to Declan Crenshaw, but Sienna knew the signs of age had as much to do with the choices he’d made as the passage of time.
She looked at him through the glass, half tempted to throw the car into Drive and speed away from everything this moment represented.
For his part, her dad looked like he could wait all day for her to decide whether to acknowledge him. It was that air of serene patience that made her punch down the window button.
“I thought you might run out of gas idling at the curb so long,” he said conversationally.
“It seemed like a good idea to sneak up on me?” she shot back, pressing her fingers to the goose egg quickly rising on her forehead.
He ran a hand over his face, where at least a day of salt-and-pepper whiskers shadowed his jaw. “Figured you’d drive off if I came at you through the front door.”
She wouldn’t tell him he’d been right. There was no way she’d admit that he had any sort of insight into her behavior. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“Jase called yesterday.” He inclined his head. “Damn, you look like your mother.”
“So I’m told.”
“You have softer features, though. And straighter hair.”
Sienna huffed out a small laugh. It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours she’d been described as soft, after a lifetime becoming reconciled to her hard edges.
“How’s your mother doing?”
“You can’t expect me to answer that,” she said, not bothering to hide the snap in her tone. No matter the issues Sienna had with her mom, Dana was the one who’d chosen her at least. She owed her mother some loyalty.
Declan stared, as if weighing her answer...as if weighing her. Then he asked, “How are you?”
He had no right to know anything about her life after all these years. Except she was the one who’d sought him out.
Sienna and her mother had left Crimson years ago, and not once had her father contacted her. He hadn’t so much as sent a birthday card. How was she ever supposed to put aside the pain of rejection that was woven into every inch of the woman she’d become?
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, glancing up at him.
Something flashed in his blue eyes, but he didn’t argue. There was no fight, no begging her to stay. He simply stepped back from the car as she rolled up the window, and watched her drive away.
Tears streamed down her face as she turned the corner. Had she really expected him to fight for her? Did her arrival in town mean anything to him? Jase had told him she’d come to Crimson, but neither man had sought her out. They had their lives here, and Sienna had stopped being a part of them a long time ago.
Why should that change now? Growing up without a real father might have defined her, but it clearly had very little impact on the man who’d let her go.
When her vision blurred to the point she couldn’t see the road in front of her, she pulled off to the side, jolting as the car’s tire scraped the edge of the curb. Where had these tears come from? Declan Crenshaw wasn’t worth crying over—that’s what her mother would say.
She took several deep breaths, took a wad of napkins from the glove compartment and wiped her face. Grabbing her cell phone from the passenger side seat, she punched in a number and hit the speaker button.
“You’ve been avoiding my calls.” Her mother’s crisp tone fairly dripped with censure.
“I have bad service up here,” Sienna lied and heard Dana’s disapproving tsk across the miles. Felt the subtle reprimand to