Page 4 of Falling for Sierra

“What makes you say so?” He pinched the front of his t-shirt and tugged it downward.

Her smile spread. “That’s the third time you’ve tugged at your shirt since you sat down. Which says you’re not comfortable in it, as if you don’t normally wear one, at least not as outerwear. But that wasn’t what gave you away.”

“What was it then?”

“Your hat.”

“My hat?” He couldn’t help but frown. It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

“Mhm.” Sierra nodded as she took a sip from the fresh drink Anna had brought. She tilted her head to one side. “The brim is too straight, like it’s brand new.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Look around. You’re not wearing one of those useless fashion hats with the board straight brim, but it’s still in the factory curve. No one else in the place has a hat like that.”

Blake took his hat off and looked at the brim then looked around. There were several other men wearing caps like his, but they weren’t the same. Now that she’d pointed it out, he could see the difference.

“Why do they bend it like that?” He didn’t see the purpose.

Sierra blinked and stared at him for a moment. “Why do you wear a hat?” she asked instead of answering him. After a moment of silence, she spoke again, “Why you’re wearing it doesn’t matter. Why do these guys wear their hats?” She pointed around the room with one manicured finger.

Blake took a moment to think about it. He wore it as a disguise, but he knew that wasn’t why most people wore them.

“To shade their face.”

“Or keep the sun out of your eyes.” She smiled as bright and blinding as his last girl friend had when he’d given her a diamond tennis bracelet. “Curling the sides makes it shade your eyes a bit better.” She used her hands on either side of her face to demonstrate.

Blake frowned and looked back down at his hat.

“Now, that I can see your hair. I’ll double down on more comfortable in a suit than the jeans.”

He couldn’t erase his frown as he looked over at her. “Why?”

“Because even after having had the hat on, your hair is perfect. Impeccably cut and styled.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” He frowned and fought the urge to reach up and smooth any stray hair into place.

“No. Not at all. But it doesn’t fit in with the look you were trying for.”

Blake blinked and glanced at the hat in his hand again. Setting the hat on the table between them, he made a mental note to fix the brim before he wore it again.

“Thanks.” He turned his attention back to her. “You said you’re here often, do your friends hang out here?”

“It’s noisy, but not my noise.” She picked up the pen from her notebook and smoothed the paper before resting her hand on the page. “It’s too quiet at my place.”

“Too quiet for what?” Now he was intrigued. Too quiet? He wasn’t sure he’d heard that before.

“Well, maybe too quiet’s not exactly right. But at home there are other distractions. I need to do the laundry, clean the bathroom, find a snack, rearrange the bookshelf, whatever it is today that keeps me from sitting down and writing, I will find it. Here, that’s not a problem.”

“Writing? What do you write?” The animated way she spoke about writing called to him. He didn’t think she was aware of it, but her eyes lit. Even after what little she’d said, he could tell it was something she was passionate about.

Sierra hesitated a moment, glanced down at the table then back up to meet his gaze. “I write romance.”

“That’s great.” Blake read when he had time, not that it was much. He spent too much time working. He admired anyone who had the creativity to create a full story. He’d long since wondered how anyone managed to think of all the small details and work them together so seamlessly to make a good story.

“You think so? Really?” She tilted her head to one side.

“I do. I’ve never been able to write more than a term paper. I’m envious of anyone who can tell a complete story, not to mention come up with the entire thing out of nothing.” Blake could do a lot of things, but dreaming up a good tale had never been one of them. Give him a string of numbers to figure, and that he could do. Writing reports about things he knew or could research, he could do that too, though not as well. Manage people or turn a failing company into a success, those he had no problem with.

Her smile grew and her face flushed.

“What’s wrong?” Blake couldn’t help but ask.

---