I Crave You - C.C. Wood Page 0,35

both utilitarian cotton and flesh-toned, and rolled my eyes. I'd managed to talk myself out of the push-up bra Sierra bought me for Christmas one year. The one advertised to add an extra cup size to any woman's bust.

Same for the halter top I'd bought on a whim one summer because said push-up bra made my modest B-cup look more like a D when I wore it.

I needed help. My eyes darted over to the clock on my nightstand and I sighed. I couldn't bring myself to wake Sierra up for advice when she still had a few more hours before she had to wake up and go to the shop.

I was on my own.

Feeling utterly ridiculous, I ignored the tortured moans of my vanity and grabbed a light blue t-shirt that I favored when I wanted to be comfortable and cool and a pair of cut-offs that made my butt look fantastic. They were also soft and broken in so I could pretend that was the reason I picked them.

I scowled at my reflection in the mirror. Why was I agonizing over my outfit? I hadn't been this bad since I was thirteen and I knew that Brody was coming over to spend the night with J.J.

Enough!

I slipped my feet into a pair of plain black flip flops with a three-inch thick sole and brushed my hair back into a ponytail. I went with the light make-up I usually wore in the summer, which consisted of loose translucent powder, a little blush, mascara, and a generous sweep of peach-flavored lip balm.

I looked exactly like I did nearly every Sunday during the summer. Mom had been aware of my painful crush on Brody when I was a teenager and I didn't want her to think that it was rearing its head once again. Even if it was true.

I emerged from my bedroom and nearly screamed when the guest room door flew open and Sierra stomped out, looking half-asleep and more than a little homicidal. Her hair was also smooshed against one side of her head and standing around three inches high on the other side of her scalp.

"Uh..."

"How long until we have to leave?" she mumbled.

"Forty-five minutes. But I thought you weren't coming?" I stood very still because a half-asleep Sierra was a dangerous Sierra. She was like a honey badger that way.

"Perfect." She yawned and stretched her arms over her head, which drew my attention to what she was wearing. "I changed my mind. I woke up because my stomach was growling. I'll get yummy food made for me and I won't have to do the dishes afterward."

Her t-shirt was faded and holey and a baggy pair of men's boxers drooped over her hips. She was also wearing socks, but one was long, just about knee-high, and the other was an ankle sock. I almost laughed at her, but managed to hold it in.

"I'd kill for a cup of coffee," she grumbled as she disappeared back into the bedroom. As the door shut behind her, I heard a series of ominous thumps. "I'm good. I'm good," Sierra called through the door. "Just tripped on my shoes."

I bit back a laugh and went into the kitchen to make her a cup of coffee. I knew she didn't expect it, but it would definitely help her wake up a little more before we left.

I knocked on her bedroom door five minutes later with a mug in my hand. When she didn't answer, I eased it open and heard the shower running in the ensuite bath. I walked over, stuck my arm through the partially open door, and left the cup on the counter where she would see it when she came out of the shower.

Then I went back into the living room and surveyed the mess on the coffee table. Typically, I would ask Sierra to clean it up, but I knew she wouldn't have time and it would drive me crazy if I had to look at it when I was trying to relax on my day off.

So I picked up all the trash and dumped it in the trashcan in the kitchen. Then I wiped down the coffee table with a furniture wipe to clean the sticky residue off the surface. What in the heck had she been eating last night?

I carried her laptop over to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living area and plugged it into her charger. Then I grabbed the hand-held vacuum out