missed seeing u today.
Her cheeks warmed at Dash’s text message. It’s OK.
Something came up.
No worries.
“Is that Dash?” Ma asked.
Sienna looked up to see her mother peering curiously at the phone. She slid it off the table and back into her pocket. “Yeah. He was gonna stop by and see the kids this afternoon.”
“That’s nice.” Her mother took one look at the table and jumped to her feet. “I’m going to pack some of this up. There’s too much here, and none of us have much of an appetite tonight. Take it over to him, would you?”
“To Dash? I don’t think—”
“Sienna. That poor man lives alone. You said yourself he doesn’t have much of anything there. The least we can do is share some home-cooked food with him.” She looked around and tapped one finger to her chin. “You know what, I have that extra set of blankets and towels I’ve been meaning to wrap as a gift. Take those too.”
“I don’t think he really needs—” Sienna stopped. Actually, she had no idea what Dash needed. That little house on the opposite side of town was bleak at best. A domestic touch might help, whether he stayed there or decided to sell it. She had promised to help him spruce it up. “Okay. I will.” One thing she’d learned long ago, there was no sense in arguing with her mother. “Let me help you pack everything up.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dash dropped onto the couch, a beer dangling from one hand. He still couldn’t believe Al Halloran had showed up. Out of prison. Here in Whispering Pines. His mouth held a bitter aftertaste, a mix of remorse and regret and downright anger, too. He’d come home to escape his life out west and every reminder of it. California was three thousand miles away. He kept in touch with no one out there. He hadn’t thought his past would catch up with him, but then again, why would he blame Al for coming home and thinking the same?
He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the couch. He’d brought home food from the diner, but it was probably cold by now, and he didn’t feel like heating it up. Didn’t feel like doing anything except getting rip-roaring drunk. He tipped the bottle and emptied the rest of the beer down his throat. He had four left in the fridge, which would probably be just enough to carry him into dreamland. He’d deal with Al tomorrow. Or the next day. Or never.
Headlights swept across the front window and stopped. He sat up. Here at the end of the road, anyone who pulled up to his house was either lost or turning around. He waited for the lights to swing toward town, but inside they turned off. A moment later, someone knocked at his front door.
Dash wiped his mouth and set the empty bottle on the floor. He waited, just in case it was a mistake, but the knock came again. Then a familiar voice. “Dash?”
Just like that, his bad mood vanished. He jumped up and smoothed two hands down his wrinkled t-shirt. He’d sent that text as an apology; he’d never expected Sienna to actually come over. Yet here she stood on his doorstep, loaded down with two giant shopping bags.
“Hope this isn’t a bad time.”
He stared, trying to make sense of her and the bags. “Not at all. Come on in.” He took one bag from her. “Can I ask...”
“Long story.” She walked into the kitchen and set the other bag on the table. “Well, actually it’s not. My brother got into trouble at school, no one felt like eating tonight, so my mom packed this all up and said I should bring it over.” She started unloading the bag, and just like the other night, delicious aromas hit him fast and hard. Garlic. Tomato. Butter and spices.
Dash’s mouth started watering. “You’re kidding. You shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t have.”
Sienna lifted out the last container and set it on the table. “You don’t understand. My mom cooks. That’s what she loves to do. Food going to waste is worse than death in her mind.” She looked at the bag he still held. “And that’s just some extra blankets and towels she had lying around.” Her cheeks flashed red. “I hope you’re not offended. I mean, I know you have blankets and towels. She just always has extras that she saves for gifts. And she was in a mood tonight, so she