Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Sienna?”
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the older man. Oh, he had aged. She obviously wasn’t going to say it, but she noticed, and it broke her heart because it reminded her how many years she’d missed. She squeezed him tightly. I’m sorry, Argus. So sorry I let so much time slip away.
No matter when I leave Reno, no matter what happens with my life and my career, I will never lose touch again, she swore silently. She let go of him and he stepped back, holding on to her upper arms as he studied her, his gaze filled with the same love and tenderness that had always been there. “Well, now, you look just fine, Siennoulla. But still too skinny.” She laughed, her heart squeezing at the endearment. His hair was more gray than black, though it was still thick and shiny, and his mustache was dotted salt and pepper too. Wrinkles fanned out around his eyes, creasing his olive-toned skin, but he was still tall and broad shouldered. And he still had the same sparkle in his eye, the same warmth in his laughter, and the same strength in that booming voice of his.
“That’s why I’m here,” she said. “So you can fatten me up.”
“Ah! Good then. It will take lots of time and many meals, so I am happy!” He reached up, making a familiar gesture as he brushed over the edge of her ear, pulled his hand back, and opened his palm. In it sat a shiny silver dollar, and Sienna’s heart constricted tightly at the trick that had always delighted her as a child. “For my girl. I held on to it all this time because I knew you’d be back,” he said softly.
Sienna swiped at the tears gathering in her eyes but laughed, hugging Argus again. She wanted to cry because she’d been troubled and sleepless ever since she’d arrived in Reno, and she suddenly realized that part of the reason was because she’d had no safe outlet, no people of her own to turn her mind toward, ones who provided both strength and comfort and allowed her to digest and deal with the myriad horrors her job brought forth. It had only been ten minutes since she’d walked in the front door, but it was a ten-minute reprieve to turn her mind away from brutal crime and unpaid punishment, and she already felt more centered.
Gavin came up next to them and handed her a glass of red, smiling as she took it. Their fingers brushed, and she felt the small charge between them and turned away as she took a sip, telling herself it was the wine that was causing the heated flush.
“Please tell me you two are still performing,” Sienna said to Argus and Mirabelle.
“No more,” Argus said. “Mira retired five years ago and me last year. I hired another assistant after her, but, eh”—he shrugged, his expression less than impressed—“she did not have the personality nor the grace of my Mira. And she was no good with the cards.”
“He hired her for her other assets,” Mirabelle said, cupping her palms over her apron-covered breasts.
“Pshaw. I have no need of assets other than yours,” he said, winking at her.
“Oh, please,” Mirabelle said as she stirred something that looked like gravy on the stovetop, rolling her eyes but pairing it with an obviously pleased smile. “And I’m not good with cards.”
“Ah, but you are. Stop denying it.”
Sienna smiled, sipping her wine. Something had always given Sienna the impression that Mirabelle didn’t like cards. Or rather, she didn’t like the idea of gambling with them. Sienna wondered if it was because she’d known someone who had a gambling problem—maybe that abusive husband she’d mentioned . . . maybe a parent. She’d always get a thin-lipped, disapproving look on her face when Gavin and Argus played for matchsticks or pennies, Gavin showing off by shuffling effortlessly and dramatically and winning every hand. It was why, Sienna supposed, they’d kept their little online racket a secret.
And no wonder—Mirabelle had gone ballistic when Gavin had told her he wanted to play cards for a living . . . or attempt to. She figured it was another reason he’d been so stressed right before their wedding-that-wasn’t.
“Argus, help me turn this roast, will you?” Mirabelle said, breaking her from her memories.
Sienna set her wine on the counter. “I can help, Mirabelle.”
“No, no, you relax. It’s been too many ages since I’ve cooked for more than these two knuckleheads, who’d eat a pile of dirt if I presented it to them.”
“That’s because you’d make dirt taste good,” Argus said, kissing her on the cheek.
“I can show Sienna the backyard,” Gavin offered.
“Yes, yes,” Mirabelle said, opening the oven door. A waft of savory deliciousness hit Sienna’s nose, making her mouth water. “I think you’ll like it, Si. And you’ll have to bring a swimsuit next time you come over. For now, talk; drink a glass of wine. This still needs twenty minutes. Argus will help me finish setting the table, and then you will sit across from me and answer all of my million and one questions.”