“I like silly,” I tell her. “Tell me.”
Another chuckle as she shakes her head, although she answers: “I was just thinking that it reminds me of Grandmother Willow from Pocahontas.”
“The greatest willow that ever were,” I intone, and we both crack up at that.
Seconds later, the maître d’ takes us to our table. Meanwhile, my thoughts return to our car ride.
Sierra Hill.
Goddamn is she something. The sway of those hips, the smile on her lips when I say something funny.
I could do with more of that—a lot more.
Sweet with just the right amount of sass. Lips I’d like to taste.
“Wow,” she’s saying now. “How did you land this spot, anyway?” She takes a look around, admiring the view from the table we’ve just been seated at, the only one on the top floor, overlooking the willow and the rest of the restaurant as well.
“Threatened the life of the owner’s firstborn child if he didn’t comply,” I joke.
Her chuckle at my joke buzzes through me. Every smile on those lips is another beckon closer… and closer…
“Honestly?” I say. “The owner was friends with my dad, so I called in a favor.”
She nods, sipping at the one of the waters that were here when we arrived.
Putting it down, she says, “So, he was…”
“Colin Storm, yeah.”
I spread my arms so they’re on the back of my seat. Under the table, her feet don’t seem to be in footsie distance.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says, eyeing me with a bit of confusion.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that I probably don’t look like a guy who lost his father recently.
“Thanks. It hit hard at first, but he lived a full life. Was a pretty happy guy. He made all of us around him happy, too.”
Before she can say anything, I add: “And not just because he was ridiculously rich, mind you.”
She throws up both hands. “I didn’t dream of it. There’s more to life than money, for sure. Though money does tend to make life easier.”
“In some ways,” I agree. “In others, not so much. I lost track of the number of women who claimed he fathered children with them and tried to demand staggering amounts of child support—I think it was six or seven over the years. All turned out to be bogus, though apparently my dad had found other ways to piss these women off enough to have them lie to try taking him down.” I wave a hand. “Not to play poor little rich boy.” I pick up my own water and down the rest in one gulp. “Facts are facts. While Dad and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, especially when I was a teen, he was a good dad.”
I frown.
All this reminded me of the shitshow that’s in Dad’s will.
“Anyway, enough about me,” I tell her. “What about you, what are your parents like?”
“My mom’s the only one in the picture,” she says. “We don’t see eye to eye on everything either, but yeah, she’s a killer mom.”
“Mad respect for single moms,” I say, actually meaning it. “Hardest thing on earth to do.”
“Agreed,” Sierra says. “Although… isn’t it just as hard for single dads? I mean the ones who have to go it alone, at least.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Just—the way I see it, usually when something goes to shit in the kid, the first one you blame is the mom. So there’s more responsibility on her shoulders, in a way.”
At least that’s what my mom said, the week before she disappeared. Unless that was just more bullshit…
“I hear you on that,” Sierra says with a chuckled nod. “When my older sister used to steal other kids’ Lunchables, their moms would call up mine screaming about her being a trash parent and stuff like that. Even though in actuality, Mom was trying everything she could to set Peyton straight: time-outs, punishments, positive reinforcement…”
“What ended up working?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Sierra chuckles. “She’s still a pretty shitty person, but I’m a bit biased.” She frowns. “What about you?”
I smile wide. “How did I end up the stellar success that I am?”
She giggles, shaking her head. “No—siblings?”
“A bunch,” I say. “Greyson’s the oldest. Then there’s Landon and me, we’re twins. Emerson is the youngest.”
“A twin. That must’ve been…” She trails off, clearly unsure what ‘that must’ve been’.
“Fun? Yes.” A smile quirks on one side of my face. “Annoying? Also yes.”
“I was known as the fuck-up, awkward twin,” I add with a cutesy smile. “In case you were wondering. At least in high school, that is.”
She manages a slight smile as she shakes her head. “I can’t see you being awkward.”
“I had a stutter.” I frown. Sometimes, even just thinking about it brings me back. Tonight’s chock-full of things pulling me back to the past, the last place I want to go. “It really messed with my head, had me smoking, hanging out with a pretty rough crowd. Cue: Dad having the bright idea to send me into the military. Well, I say bright idea, but it actually was a bright idea. Even helped me get rid of my stutter.”