Page 4 of Scorching Sienna

I sit quietly, sipping my Coke, while Gloria and Ken Barbie head to the dance floor. I can’t watch. The gyrations on her leg earlier have evolved into a full body hump now that they have more room. It’s like watching a slug violate a stick.

Gloria, on the other hand, loves it. He was exactly her type- good-looking and obsessed with her.

I never had to think of what my type was. There was always James.

But thinking about my type right now doesn’t conjure up thoughts of my deceased love as it usually would. Instead, a tall, mysterious stranger with a gentle touch and a smell that reminds me of my childhood takes up residence.

There was an edge of danger to him that I usually wasn’t attracted to, but sometimes I think the old me died with James. This new me didn’t know what she wanted or even liked. Perhaps I was drawn to him because he seemed as out of place here as I did.

My eyes close briefly, the sensation of his hand cupping the back of my neck lingering like a ghost. When I touch the same spot, I expect to find the skin raised. Seared with his handprint. The disappointment that there isn’t a branding mark there is almost laughable. What the hell was I thinking?

My eyes fly open with the sensation of being watched, but no one's gaze meets mine.

My eyes skim the club, hopping from hoodie wearer to hoodie wearer, none meeting the height or clothing description of the man who cradled me so tenderly. Perhaps we would meet again. In another life, when I wasn’t so broken.

Chapter 2

Light

“Just one more round.” My lungs are on fire, and my muscles scream in protest. But adrenaline pumps through my body, making me feel alive and spurring my desire to continue.

“You’ve had enough,” Ria laughs, her one glove already unwrapped as she tosses it on the floor. The other soon follows, signaling the end of our session.

She pats me on the back before climbing out of the ring. By the time I have pulled my gloves off, she is back with our water bottles.

“You’ve progressed quickly. If you think about how weak you were three months ago, this is an achievement.” Ria beams with pride, making me blush as I exit the ring.

Three months ago, I was so weak she told me her cousin's baby, who accidentally hit her in the eye when rolling over, hit harder than I did.

“You’re a good teacher.” I deflect, uncomfortable with compliments, while I wipe the beads from my brow with the towel I grab next to my bag. Unlike her, my body has pores that actually secrete sweat.She must be a robot.

“A good teacher is only as good as the student. You have a natural agility, making this sport a good fit for you. We will start working on more complex moves from next week.” She bobs on her heels while swinging her towel over her shoulders and around her neck, her hand clasping the ends in the center. She gives me a look I know well.

“Now, I have a date, so I should get going. When are you going to let me set you up with someone? Brian has a ton of male friends I could hook you up with.” Her eyebrows raise questioningly as she walks backward toward the changing room. Just the thought of dating sends my stomach into spasm, let alone someone in her age range.

“Sure.” I drag the word out, rolling my eyes as I do.

“I’m sure they are lining up to date a woman old enough to enjoy a mixed tape and whose idea of the perfect night in is me, in my pajamas, reading a book.”

She laughs, and I dismiss her with a swipe of my hand and a big smile. Her shoulders hunch up as always when I brush aside this suggestion. Maybe one day, I would surprise us both with a yes. Today, however, was not that day.

Besides, I already had someone. Though I didn’t know who he was.

He was actually the reason I found Mike's Gym, this slightly run-down place I didn’t even know existed within walking distance from my house.

A few days after the club incident—the night I met the stranger in the hoodie—I was on the brink of another breakdown. The tenderness he had shown me in my moment of weakness lingered, leaving me feeling lonelier than ever. It made me long for a time when I didn’t feel so empty and sad.

As I sat on the cold tile floor of my kitchen, contemplating what to do and how to get out of the rut I was in, through my teary eyes,something white caught my attention—slipped right under my front door without a sound.

The first envelope. It contained a crumpled Mike’s Gym pamphlet and a handwritten note folded to hold some seeds.

It was a man’s handwriting. I just knew. The long slant of the letters and the bold, determined strokes of each one conjured up a hand holding a pen. A tattooed hand that was rough and gentle all at once. Shaking my head at the absurdity of the thought, I reread the sentence.

Daffodils, the flower for new beginnings and rebirth. It’s time x

Sniffing, I opened the door, scanning my front garden and the street in front of my house, but nothing.

While a little red flag was being raised somewhere in the back of my mind, telling me I should be afraid, that feeling seemed missing from my repertoire of emotions.

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