6. Sienna

SIX

SIENNA

“Finally, you’re here!” Genevieve has a flare for the dramatics. I called her the minute I knew I’d be late. I even shot her a text telling her I’m making another pit stop to grab us food and coffee.

“I’m here, and I come bearing gifts. Two turkey sandwiches with bacon, might I add, curly fries, sweet tea, and coffee. I mean, what more could a girl ask for?” I show her the fruits of my labor as much as I can with what I’m working with.

“A tall dark and handsome cowboy would be nice,” Genny jokes. She’s been hard at work this morning, and by the looks of it, for hours now. Amos and Trey may have their little deal going on. As do Genny and me. One that allows my creativity to flow, and I can disconnect from everything, not think my life to death .

“Well, take your pick, honey. There’s Amos, Ryland, and what about that new guy at the feed store?” Even I have enough sense to tell he’s a tall glass of water on a hot summer day. I make my way toward Genny where she’s painting the latest pieces I’ve glazed. The likelihood of her eating right now is slim to none. Which is why I got food that would somewhat keep without being totally disgusting when she takes a break.

“I see you now have taken Trey off the list. Interesting development.” She smiles. I roll my eyes.

“That’s a discussion for a later time. Sweet tea or coffee, food or no food?” I change the subject, mainly because my arms are tired, and with me making more behind the pottery wheel today, I’ll need to preserve any energy I can.

“Coffee. Food later. Now tell me what Trey did to get in your good graces this time?” Ugh, sometimes I really do not like my friend and business partner. She knows everything, held my hand when I felt like my world would fall apart, picked me up off the ground, dusted me off, and told me to buck up, buttercup. And even when she tells me stuff I don’t necessarily want to hear but need to hear, Genny does it with love. Kind of like the girls have been doing, too—Birdie, Tully, Juni, and Maeve. The next time we have a girls' night, Genevieve is being introduced into the fold. When we had one last month, Genny begged off, saying she couldn’t handle taking a day off work with the deadline. My friend is amazing, and she’s also a liar. I didn’t call her bluff. I’ll ease her in and see how she does, maybe suggest she bring her own car in case she needs to make an excuse and leave. Did I mention my best friend battles with debilitating social anxiety? I love her regardless and will do anything and everything to make her comfortable, and maybe I’m being selfish, but I truly think she’ll find her footing with the girls, see how easy-going it is, and hopefully realize that there’s a place for her with us.

“I found a pup on the side of the road, and he helped me rescue him,” I say as fast as possible, sliding my words together without so much as taking a breath. What does my friend do? She remains quiet, but the arch of both eyebrows and the pursing of her lips while trying to hide her smile from me are answer enough. Therefore, I move to the counter where there isn’t clay, paint, or shipping supplies to place the food and drinks on, then move the sandwiches into the small refrigerator. Having the diner put our collective fries in a different container will help when we’re ready to eat later. After a quick toss in the small air fryer we also have in the warehouse, they’ll be nice and crisp.

“And?” Genny finally graces me with her next question. I take a moment to clear my head. Learning how to navigate being near Trey and not jump his firm muscular body has been hard, so damn hard. Then I remember the feeling of loneliness, how consuming my thoughts of Trey were, and a piece of me still blames him. The worst part of this whole equation is he has no freaking idea what has me so upset about how things ended.

“Ugh, I don’t know.” I turn around, my hands wrapping around the to-go cups of coffee, iced for me and hot for Genny.

“Sienna Ellison, who are you lying to more, me or yourself?” Here she goes, giving me cold hard truths again.

“Okay, fine, I know. Can I cop out and say I don’t want to talk about it?” Genevieve puts her brush down, wipes her hands on the apron she has wrapped around her waist, and gives me another look.

“Nothing will ever change if you don’t talk to him, you realize that, right?” I hand her the drink, then take a sip before diving into this particular subject. Genevieve is going to find her a man one day who will worship the absolute ground she walks on. He’ll help and guide her in a way that I’m unable to do. Plus, let’s be honest, I’m not going to push her when she’s at her most vulnerable. Right now, everything is falling into place. We both get to do what we love, and I’m not going to rock the boat ever when it comes to Genevieve. Not only is she my best friend, she’s also the master mind in the grand scheme of our business.

“Yes, happy helper person, I’m aware. He shortens my brain circuits whenever he’s within a five-foot radius. How am I supposed to talk to him when he’s busy making me drop my towel or doing something so damn sweet like helping me save a dog? To top it off, his stupid self takes his shirt off in front of me. Then I’m the dog in heat, and my tongue is too tangled and twisted I can’t tell if I’m coming or going.” Wow, I must have really needed to get that off my chest. Talk about a verbal word vomit. I follow it up by taking a healthy gulp of my caramel vanilla iced cold brew and allow Genevieve to digest all of that. Maybe she’ll do me a solid and pick me apart and guide me on where to go from here.

She crosses one arm over her chest, props her cup on her arm, and settles back in her chair. There’s never a rhyme or reason where Genny is concerned when it comes to painting. I’ve seen her paint every which way—in a chair, standing up, sitting on the ground, and even while she’s lying on her back with a piece of pottery held up above with one hand. The first time I walked in on that, I about shit my pants. The worry running so deep in my stomach over a piece of clay, but we had preorders for that set, and there were no extras.

“First of all, tell me about the dog, then we’ll dive deeper.” God, I love her. She must realize I’m still coming to terms with Trey.

“Bucket is his name.” Genevieve scrunches up her face in disgust. “Right, who would name their Border Collie that awful name? Anyways, Tallulah has to do the normal rigmarole. He’s malnourished, needs a bath, bloodwork, and an X-ray. Still, he’ll be held for three days no matter what. And get this: Tully asked if I’d be paying for the services since I told her I wanted him. Then she proceeded to tell me it’s a good thing because if Dean found out, I’d have competition. He’d pay, and the Border Collie who will not be named Bucket would go to them. We both know that won’t be happening and I told Tully that.” Tallulah smiled brightly, I returned the sentiment, and it was then I knew she wouldn’t tell Dean about the dog. Apparently, I’ve got a lot to say today. I'm usually quiet while Genny keeps the conversation going. Oh, how the tides have turned.

“Agreed, the name has got to go, and Tallulah totally knew what she was doing. I also can’t blame her. Imagine how many pets and animals they’d have with Dean and Mrs. Johnson combined.” I nod. They do run quite the menagerie of a farm. Obviously, the Ellisons are going to be one-upping them with the way animals of all kinds like to follow me wherever I go .

“Well, now I get to break the news to Amos. Adding another dog will give him full ammunition to tell me I should start an animal shelter.” I roll my eyes. Amos wouldn’t pass up a dog on the side of the road either. He just loves to give me shit.

“Maybe I could sweet-talk him,” Genny tosses out like it’s no big deal.

“Excuse me, ma’am, is there something I should know or we should talk about?” I smile big and proud, not caring what I look like. My best friend might have the hots for my brother.

“No, nothing like that. I mean, it was you who brought him up as an eligible bachelor.” Damn, she’s not wrong. There go my hopes and dreams of us being sisters, not that I had the thought before today, and she mentioned Amos.

“Fine, fine. You’re right.” I drain the dregs of my coffee. It went down entirely too well. Maybe I should have opted for the large instead of the medium.

“I know I am. So, back to Trey. Text him if you’re too chicken shit to call him or have an in-person conversation.” Genny swirls her cup of coffee. My eyes are on it the entire time, waiting for it to slosh out of her hands and drop to the ground. Damn, had I done something like that, my shit would be all over the place.

“I’m going to have to. He’s not going away, and neither is my damn love for the fine-as-hell cowboy. I guess I should consider myself lucky he didn’t wear his cowboy hat today. I’d have left a pile of drool in my wake,” I admit. She lets out a snort of laughter.

“Sienna, hate to tell you this, but you’re drooling now talking about him. Now quit being a weenie and text him.” Twice now Genny has called me on my drama.

“I will, later. After I design some pieces.” My thoughts go haywire yet again, thinking about every little thing that could go wrong.

“Absolutely not. Do it right now while I’m watching. I love you, and I also know you won’t do it later. Another excuse will come up, and then it’ll be another day wasted.” She means business—one leg is propped outward, tapping away.

“Fine, drill sergeant, I’ll text him now.” I pull out my phone, unlock the device, pull up the text messages app, and type his name in as the recipient. I haven’t texted him in so long, it would take me days of scrolling to find him.

Me: Hey, do you have a few minutes to talk later tonight?

“Look, it’s done. Can we get to work now?” I give her a quick flash of my lit-up screen. Trey hasn’t responded, and I don’t expect him to right away. Yet, my heart does a little thump that he may not respond at all.

“Yes, let’s get to work.” Genny drops her cup to the table and claps her hands together. An excited little grin crosses her face. I shake my head. At least now we can get to work. One thing is for sure: I’m going to keep my phone far away, or I’ll be tempted to check it every minute of every hour.