Page 23 of Scorching Sienna

“I can’t come to work tonight,” I answer with this instead, turning around quickly. He is standing so close, and to create some distance, I step back, hitting my lower back on the table.

“Ow.” The wince accompanying the outcry of pain is shoved down too late, Damon's eyes zoning in and noticing everything.

“I would say I don’t bite, but that’s a lie. Get inside and tell me what's going on.” He steps past me, not waiting for an invitation, while I stand gaping at the back of him.

This day was turning into something from a movie.

Clamping my mouth shut, I close the door behind him and make my way to the kitchen, where Damon is helping himself to a cup of coffee, the percolator one of my best investments.

“So, about tonight…Can I swap out with Talia?”

“Done. Why? What's wrong?” Damon leans against my counter, casually sipping his coffee while my eyes follow every movement. How did he manage to fit in everywhere? Even in my soon-to-be-ex quirky kitchen, against bright multicolored tiles that James hated and which are such a contrast to the man eyeing me like an eagle would its next meal.

Should I lie or tell him the truth? Lying might earn me a spanking, which sends a shiver down my spine, but it wouldn’t help me with the situation at hand. Sighing, I resort to the least sexy option, the truth.

“Ralph.” I point to the front door as if that helps explain who Ralph is. “Ralph told me I must be packed up and out by tomorrow morning, so I can’t do that if I am at work.”

Damon stares at me, and I smile, not sure exactly what else to do. We stand so long staring at each other that my cheeks start to ache from holding my smile.

All the while, Damon leans, and sips, and leans, while his dark gazeremains glued to my face.

Then, slowly, his hand disappears into his jacket pocket, reappearing with his phone. Without even looking at it, he dials a number, the phone slowly being brought up to his ear, eyes still locked with mine.

While the actions are slow and lazy, it is like watching a panther stretch out—deadly even in a restful state.

Someone answers on the other side, though I cannot hear what they say.

“Two.” Pause.

“Eight.” Pause.

“138 Terrace View.” Pause.

“Today.” End conversation.

“Now that that’s sorted, we have somewhere to be. Ready?”

The smile on my face has dropped, fallen to the floor, and shattered.

“What just happened?” I’m so confused, following behind him like a mutt while I wait for an answer.

He gets to the front door, hands me my bag, then opens my front door.

Two Ren’s moving vans pull up in front of the house as if perfectly timed.

The drivers exit the vehicles and open the back, where three men from each climb out—armed with boxes, bubble wrap, and stern expressions.

“Um, what’s going on?”

“We have somewhere we have to be while these guys pack up your stuff.” Damon grabs my hand and pulls me forward, shock making me compliant.

The men dip their heads in acknowledgment as they pass Damon, my head on a lollipop as I watch them disappear inside.

Damon leads us to his car, opening the passenger side door of hisSUV before helping me in.

“Wait.” This one word stops him in his tracks, surprisingly. His hand remains poised on the door frame, ready to shut me in. His blank expression waits for me to elaborate.

“Everything is happening too fast. What's going on? Where is all my stuff going? And how did these guys get here so fast? I can’t just leave now. I have to find a place to stay. And what about my plants? They are…special to me.”

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