SIENNA.

“They’re already talking.”

Roman’s voice was calm when he set the coffee in front of me the next morning. I sat at his small kitchen table in one of his shirts, bare underneath, still sore in the best way from the night before.

I wrapped my hands around the mug. “How bad?”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me. “Two of my regulars cancelled appointments. One of them is friends with your mother’s bridge group. Word travels fast when Claire Cole decides to open her mouth.”

Heat crawled up my neck—not shame, exactly. Something sharper. The same reckless burn that had made me walk out of her...