Finding the Dream (For the Love of Music #1.5) (4 page)

Van just waved dismissively. “This is great. I’ll…um…see you later.”

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, one hand stuffed in a cooking mitt, and watched as Donovan practically ran out the door.

Letting out a sigh, she slipped her phone from her apron pocket to send Lindsey another text.

Not even a second glance. And I made my special apple pie muffins and didn’t get to watch him enjoy. I’m in my tiniest shorts and biggest heels, and… Maybe I’m overdoing it. I’m an idiot.

Lindsey wrote back immediately.

In the middle of econ. Give it another few days, See. He’ll come around. Or it’ll be the sign that you need to move on

Sierra didn’t want a sign that she should move on. She wanted a sign that she should move in. Maybe Lindsey was right and she just needed to keep at it for another day or two. Some Pilates after he got home that night couldn’t hurt. Or maybe she’d do a new yoga workout? Maybe she should jump on twitter to see what workouts guys might be most turned on by.

Her fingers were so tight on her phone that her knuckles were white. Sierra stared at them for a moment. Okay. She released a breath. Maybe she was over plotting. A little.

“Stay the course, See,” she said to herself. “Make a killer dinner tonight and pick up food for a wicked lunch tomorrow. And stay in the heels. No matter what.”

There. Pep talk. Much better.

Donovan moaned as he took the first bite of a muffin. Crumbs fell onto his desk and the scattered receipts, but he ignored the mess and took another large bite, moaning again.

“You alone in here, or should I be worried?” Alyson asked as she stepped through the old wooden door into his office.

She already had her “Great Outdoors” t-shirt on.

“I thought we were taking a break,” he said stupidly, which would mean that he could be moaning over whatever he wanted in his small office.
Maybe his plan to handle this situation with her in a way that didn’t remind him of his ass of a father wasn’t working. Maybe genetics were more powerful than he wanted them to be.

Alyson frowned. “And I thought you were not at all happy about it, and now I see you fooling around with…
muffins
?” she asked arching a brow.

Donovan tugged the paper bag closer to him.

Why, after begging Alyson to reconsider their separation, was he the one bringing it up?

Her dark eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you?”

“Just hungry. Stayed out too late last night.”

“You and Chuck and the same old bar and playing pool?” she asked with her impatient voice.
The same voice she’d used when she claimed Donovan wasn’t doing anything interesting anymore. The same voice that told him she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay together.

“That’s the one.”

And it’s not like Donovan was looking for his forever in Alyson, it was that her words had come out of nowhere and made him feel like a loser in a dead end job. Ironic considering she worked for him, though that argument had been slammed down with the fact that she’d be graduating in December. Also ironic since he
owned
half of Great Outdoors with Hanson—the guy who was practically his brother. Making Sierra practically his sister. Making the fact that he was moaning over one of her muffins maybe not a good thing.

“Want a muffin?” he asked as he held the bag between him and Alyson.

She reached into the bag without even an “are you sure” look.

Alyson sat sideways on his desk, reminding him of all the other naughty ways she’d been on his desk. He shoved another bite of muffin into his mouth. Whoever said that food could replace sex was an ignorant asshole who had probably never had great sex, but when it was the only option available…

Donovan took another too-large bite.

“Damn.” Alyson’s turn to moan, which wasn’t helping his wound up body any. “Who made these? Because I’d tap that for more.”

“Sierra,” he managed. The girl with the big smile, new-found confidence, miles-long legs. Maybe coffee would help. Or maybe a run. Or a bike ride. Or a cold shower.

“Your sister?”

“She’s not my sister,” he blurted.

Alyson leaned back and studied Donovan so closely he felt his insides squirm. “I thought Sierra was your sister.”

He shook his head and turned for his laptop, tapping into email. “I just stayed with her and Hanson’s family for my last two years of high school. That’s all.”

“Huh,” Alyson said and her eyes slowly narrowed.

But it wasn’t really just a “huh.” It was a “huh” that said Alyson was going to be pondering this puzzle while she worked that day. She’d almost definitely have questions later. Questions from Alyson were always loaded—something he knew from experience.

Dammit.

The last thing Donovan needed was someone asking him questions about a girl he was having dirty thoughts about. Thoughts that weren’t helped by frickin’ perfect muffins.

“I’m going to work at sorting out the ski stuff for a while.” He stood and stepped around Alyson. “Let me know if you need anything out front.”

“Yeah…” Alyson trailed off, and he knew without looking that she was watching him. “I’ll do that.”

After scrubbing the kitchen (holy cow did boys not know how to clean kitchens), Sierra flopped down and rested her computer on her lap.
She couldn’t even think about making the kitchen fun or cute or interesting until she got rid of the film that seemed to be on everything from the cabinets to the handles to the counter.

Over a hundred twitter notifications.

Fifty comments that needed answering.

A ton more emails from her few sponsors.

These were the things that made her grin. That made her laugh in the face of her Business 101 teacher who said her plan freshman year was worth a D.

She’d wanted to write that teacher every semester since her first semester in college, but hadn’t. She pulled in about five thousand a month, and granted that was before expenses, but her expenses hovered at about a thousand. And, if she wanted, she could easily manage a part time job on top of the rest of it.

She’d also sent her book out to about a million agents. A romantic comedy called
Kissing Lacey
.
But so far, no bites.

She tapped her foot as she sent out half-hearted responses to bloggers and what felt like a million smiley faces and heart replies on twitter.
Sifting through emails from people who wanted to buy ad space on her blog, she sent a few letters of acceptance and prices for numbers of impressions. All normal, daily stuff for her.

Her phone chirped in a text from Donovan and her heart flipped.

Donovan: Probably won’t make it home for dinner, but it looks like you’re set in the kitchen ;-)

And that’s it. No –
your muffins were amazing
- or –
I’m so sorry because this is only your second night in town…

Well, crap.

The doorbell rang and Sierra ditched her laptop on the couch. Maybe she’d recover the couch… That was a project she hadn’t tackled yet. She could turn it into a week-long segment for her blog or something…hmm…

She opened the door to see a guy in a navy uniform with a clipboard. “I have a delivery for Sierra Blades?”

“That’s me.” Oh, crap again. The big cabinet. She’d hoped Donovan would be there to help her with the thing…

The guy gestured down the stairs. “Come on up!”

Sierra glanced at the space next to the couch that Donovan had cleared for her, but it didn’t seem big enough… She’d given him the measurements…

“Gimme a sec,” she said as she dashed for her room and upturned three boxes before finding her tape measure.

“Where do you want it?” he asked.

“We were going to do it right there, but I don’t think there’s room…” She jerked the tape measure out on the far side of the couch, glancing back at the monstrosity she was supposed to fit into that space. No freaking way.

She measured twice before knowing it wouldn’t fit. The couch couldn’t be slid over because of the hallway… Dammit.

“Miss? We can’t stick around waiting for you to rearrange your furniture. Where do you want it?”

A guy stood on either end of the massive piece and Sierra climbed on the kitchen counter to get a better view of the space. If they could just get it close…

“There.” She pointed to the corner opposite the couch. “Get it as close as you can.”

“But we’ll block half the TV and the speakers.”

“Okay. Not
as
close, but close enough so I don’t have to move it too far, okay?” she asked as she climbed down.

The three men gave her a stunned look, but she didn’t back down, folding her arms over her chest and waiting. She’d figure out how to move it the rest of the way once she re-arranged everything else in the living room to accommodate it. The cabinet was a must have. With double opening doors like an armoire, it also had a slide out desk with space for her laptop, paperwork, and sewing machine—and that was just the bottom. It was like an office in a cabinet. Perfect.
Well… it would be once she finished her tufted bulletin board, and a few other extras.

The second the guys were gone she started typing Donovan a text to see if it was okay to move his furniture, but stopped.

He’d known they were dropping the cabinet off, and he’d chosen not to be there. Whatever. She’d move whatever she had to. She was paying half the rent—or her brother was. Uncertainty knocked at her resolve, but she shoved it away. She could deal.

“Why do I have to listen to this again?” Lindsey asked.

Sierra gave the cabinet another big shove, moving it maybe a half inch. “Because if this thing crushes me while I'm moving it, I need you to call 911.”

“This is insane!” Lindsey squeaked. “Can’t you just wait for Donovan?”

“Apparently his apartment now has girl cooties, and I don't want to wait.” She’d spent three hours moving the TV, speakers, bookshelves, and movie shelves around the room. She was so close. There was no way she was going to wait around for Van.

“You’re being stubborn,” Lindsey accused.

“I’m sticking my tongue out at you right now.” Sierra slid her tongue out of her mouth, pointing it straight at her phone.

“Don't do that!” Lindsey yelled. “If that cabinet falls on you, you could bite off your tongue, and then how would you kiss that hottie you’re living with?”

Sierra’s body jerked in laughter. “See?” She gave the cabinet another hard shove. “This is why you get my horrible phone calls.”

“I’m a glutton for punishment.”

Sierra shoved again. Almost there…

“But I’m blessed with awesome friends.”

Very awesome friends. Since forever. Her heart pinched and Sierra stopped. “Now you’re being sentimental, and I can’t deal with that when I’m three hours away. Stop.”

Lindsey laughed. “So, how’s it coming?”

“Ask me in a sec.”

“Push harder! You can do it! Push! Breathe! Push!” Lindsey shouted.

And while laughing through tears, Sierra heard the delightful sound of the cabinet bumping against the wall. “Victory!”

“Is it a girl or a boy?” Lindsey teased.

“It’s monstrous perfection!” Sierra yelled tossing her arms to the sides.

“So, now you need to take a “before” picture of that cabinet, the inside of that cabinet, and the living room. Show all the college kids out there how to organize a crap-ton of stuff in a small apartment and make it look awesome while you do it.”

Sierra glanced around the apartment knowing she’d be pretty limited in what she could do and wondering if that would make the challenge more fun, or just frustrating. She snapped a few pictures, sending one to Lindsey right away.

“And now you need quiet, right?” Lindsey asked.

Sierra relaxed. “For organizing. Yeah. I have so many boxes that almost all need to fit into this armoire-type thingie.”

“Just don’t call it an armoire-type thingie on your blog. You’ll lose all your crafty-person cred.”

Sierra laughed again. “You’re the best!”

“I try!”

“Bye, Linds.”

“Bye, See.”

The second they hung up, Sierra scanned the room. Not ideal, but workable. And maybe organizing all of her favorite things would help take her mind off the very absent Donovan.

Four

Sierra’s feet ached, and her back had a weird twinge that she wasn’t sure what to do with. But.
But.
The living room looked like a functioning room again, she just had to reconnect all the mysterious wires behind the TV.

Her heels were long since abandoned in the hallway, but her feet were still killing her, and probably swollen. Screw that Victoria’s Secret workout. It had gotten her nowhere with Donovan, and she sort of wanted to burn her heeled sandals.

She took a moment to snap another picture of her progress (to be blogged about later) and sat down next to the TV. Her muscles ached, her stomach grumbled, and she’d barely slept the night before, being in a new place and all.

Okay… She tapped her fingers on her lower lip as she studied the wires. There had been three power cords plugged into the surge protector. That was simple enough. And then one was screwed on or shoved onto the cable connector-thingie in the wall.

In the wall… She tapped her lower lip again as she scanned the wall for the right part. There had to be one, didn’t there?

Her heart sped up as she squinted behind the TV stand, trying to find the cable plug.

Oh, no.
How could there be no cable plug? How had she not thought to look before moving
the entire living room
?

She jerked her head to scan the room again as if a magic plug-in would somehow appear. Nothing.

Sierra’s heartbeat continued to speed up. At some point it was just going to explode. What kind of apartment only had
one
place you could put the TV? Who could stand to leave their stuff in the same place for that long?

Keys turned in the lock.

She was screwed.

Donovan stepped inside and froze.

Her eyes fell closed because she could not deal with something else going wrong. She hadn’t planned on re-arranging anything. She’d planned on creating a kickass meal for Donovan to make him fall in love with her, and instead she’d taken away the only thing she knew guys liked as much as food. His TV. And there was no food because the grocery store trip hadn’t happened with the cabinet delivery and the room change that probably needed to be totally put back.

She slowly opened her eyes to see Donovan still standing between the front door and the kitchen, staring at the living room.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted. “The cabinet didn’t fit, so I moved things so it would fit, and now the TV…” Her chin trembled and her voice was starting to get high-pitched and whiny, and turning into a big sobby mess was about the last thing she needed right now.

Glancing down at herself, she paused. Her shirt was smeared with dust from the TV stand and bookshelf, the old shorts she’d changed into were stretched out from working and sagged off her butt, and her painted toenails were chipping at the edges after dropping an armload books on them.

Donovan chuckled. “Same energy as always.”

Sierra blinked and forced her eyes off the dirt smudging her body.

“I seriously walked in and thought I’d somehow opened the wrong apartment door, which doesn’t make sense because I have a key, but… But just…wow.”

“I ruined it.” Sierra pushed the stringy wisps of hair off her face. “I didn’t check for the cable plug in over here.”

“I don’t have cable.” Donovan shrugged. “Was it still plugged into the wall?”

Tears welled behind her eyes, which made no sense. She was a grown up. She was confident. She’d rearranged his small space to Feng Shui perfection. “You don’t need the cable thingie plugged in?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She felt her body jerk in relief, or in that horrid sobby feeling she got before she cried. She was
not
going to cry in front of Van. Was not.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

She shook her head again.

Donovan crossed the room, sat on the floor, and put his arm over her shoulders, the smell of leather and waterproofing spray tickling her nose. She leaned into the warmth and breathed in the smell of dust and man-deodorant and the buttery leather of his coat.

She’d overreacted, and there was no reason for it. This was Donovan. She knew Donovan.

“Let’s go get food, okay?”
he asked.

She nodded and let herself be led like a child to the front door where she
slid her feet into flip-flops, because that’s probably all they could handle after the heels.

“I should have asked before I moved your stuff.” She glanced back at the living room, which felt twice as full now, even though she’d only added one more piece of furniture.

“I like it. It’s your place too.”

“But it’s yours, and I thought I could just get it done, and that I could do dinner before you got home, and I messed it up… And I want to get hooks for your guitars so you can play, and groceries, and none of that happened.”

Donovan chuckled as they walked down the stairs. “I think it’s cool. I’m pretty sure nothing has moved since I moved it in, and I kind of planned on being here for your cabinet arrival, and I didn’t make it. Now we get to go eat and catch up, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t worry about the guitars.” He stumbled once when they hit the bottom of the stairs. “I’m almost never home to play anyway.”

The reminder that Donovan
wasn’t
playing was a worse feeling than when she thought she’d messed up the TV. A different kind of feeling, but for sure a worse one.

Hanging out with Sierra after she freaked out was something Donovan knew how to do. He’d been at Sierra’s house off and on since she was about seven, and lived with her family when she was twelve or thirteen until about fourteen when he and Hanson graduated.

Sierra always just needed someone chill with when she got too excited. Now that he’d fallen back into the role of “brother” or “protector” instead of “creepy ogler,” being around the new version of her felt so much easier.

“Let’s do something really cheesy like the Golden Corral—watch all the old folks try to slip muffins into their bags.”

Sierra snorted before wiping her nose with her shirt, which was something else that had followed her as she’d gotten older.
A lot about her was the same; he just had to reconcile her age and newness with all the things he’d liked about her before.

She followed him to his van, since her dad would flip if he took her on his motorcycle, and he took another deep breath in. Things between them were about to settle back into normal.

Once Donovan paid for their buffet dinner (she forced him to allow her to buy groceries after dinner), Sierra jogged for the bathroom, grabbing a small butter packet off a buffet table as she went. No way she wasn’t a mess from her day, and she had to do something to fix it.

She was out to dinner with Donovan.

The dingy bathroom mirror showed red-rimmed eyes, dirt smudges, a stretched t-shirt and saggy butt shorts.

“Ok, Sierra. Pull your crap together.”

Wait. This would totally be a good Instagram, or blog, or something.
How to give yourself a two-minute fix-up in any bathroom.

She took a quick selfie using the mirror and went to work.

Jerking the ponytail holder and pins out of her hair, she wet her hands and bent forward, dumping her hair upside down, trying to use the dampness to ruff up her roots. She snatched a few paper towels and wiped off her face and hands, then stripped off her white t-shirt, slipping it back on inside out and knotting up the back. She couldn’t do much with her shorts, but she unbuttoned the top button and folded them down once, helping her saggy butt. The problem with vintage-y, thrift store jeans is that they rarely had enough elasticity, if any at all. But the waistband fold-over helped.

She took another few paper towels and wiped the smudges off her shorts and thighs. Opening the butter, she smoothed her fingers over the greasy food then rubbed her dry lips with it. Sort of gross, but at least the cracked, dry lip look sort of went away.

She fluffed her hair up again, grateful that the high school frizz seemed to be tamed by the right shampoo and snapped another quick pic, determined to blog about this stupid day the minute she got home (aside from the get-Donovan’s-attention part).

Dumping the rest of the butter in the trash, she pushed out the bathroom door to go find Donovan.

The second Sierra rounded the corner, Donovan’s stomach flipped. How did girls go into the bathroom looking like a little sister, and out looking like an underwear model? She could not keep looking hot when she was supposed to look like a little sister.
Hanson would strangle him—best friends do not date their best friend’s little sister.

“I’m gonna load up.” He stood and Sierra’s brows twitched as she stared at his full plate.

“I…” he started. “I…um…forgot some things I wanted.”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a soft smile. “Just like high school.”

In that moment, it was the
only
thing that was just like high school. He couldn’t wait to get to work the next day. He needed some space from her, and some time to force his head on straight.
She was just another pretty girl. He’d been with several pretty girls. There were pretty girls everywhere.

He just wasn’t living with any of them. And…none of them were ‘off-limits’ the way Sierra was. Zoning in on her was exactly the kind of thing he knew his dad would have done for a lot of reasons. Her hotness, her proximity, and the fact that being with her would have pissed off a best friend. Knowing this about his father, and being close with both Clark and Hanson, meant that entertaining thoughts of Sierra past friendship was not okay.