“You did good in there.”
The poker game had broken up and Forrest had insisted upon walking Sierra back to her car. More like he’d saved her from a very eager Buck. When the latter had suggested that Sierra needed an escort, Forrest had swooped in from nowhere and said he was going her way. Sierra was fairly certain the blue metallic Explorer parked around the corner from the firehouse was his. From the looks of it, Buck knew it too. Sierra's car was still close to the middle of downtown. She’d dropped by the liquor store hours earlier, before walking over to the station.
They could have made it to her Prius in five minutes, but neither seemed invested in making good time. Forrest walked with his fingertips in his pockets. His gait was slow and he seemed relaxed and content. It was a change from the way he walked in the park. There, he was purposeful and commanding, with his sunglasses and his axe. Off-duty Forrest was gentle. And, away from the other guys, he seemed more subdued.
“You mean my poker skills or my social graces?” She made light of his compliment.
“Both.” His voice was quiet and low. “Fish out of water, my ass. You knew how to wrangle them boys. And when it came to the poker end of things …” He blew out a long breath between his lips. “You were a shark.”
Sierra was glad that the cover of darkness might conceal just how pleased she was about her victory over Dennis. Beating him in any capacity felt better than good. She mentioned none of this. “You sound surprised.”
“No, just impressed.” His lips turned up in a smile. “I haven’t seen anyone get their ass handed to them that bad since Richard Sherman took the Championship from the 49ers back in 2014.”
Never mind. She wished it were light outside so he could fully appreciate her evil look. Sierra was seventy-five percent certain he only made himself out to be such a Seahawks fan so he could irritate her. Before she could tell him where he could take that Seahawks talk, he went on.
“It’d have been worse if you hadn’t let him win that last hand. At one point, I thought smoke was gonna come out of his ears.”
She winced at what he’d suggested. “Was it really that obvious?”
He gave another little smile. “Maybe not to other people. But I’ve learned your tells.”
“If that was true, you’d have beaten me,” she pointed out.
His smile became flirtatious. “Maybe I was having too much fun watching you teach Dennis a lesson.”
Sierra laughed. “Or, maybe you’re talking shit and you don’t really know my tells.”
“I’ll admit, you’re good at not reacting the moment you see your cards …”
“But?” She was being baited. More and more, he liked to tease.
“But when you’re on shaky ground, you pay attention. Size up the other players and watch for their tells. It’s when you’ve got a great hand that gives you away. When you know you can beat anything else that’s on the table, you don’t scrutinize the other guys. That, Sierra Betts, is your tell.”
She lifted her chin proudly. “Either way, I think I’d better wait a while before I show my face in there again. Taking home such a big pot the first time you get invited to a game is generally poor taste. I just couldn’t stop myself from taking it, every time I had the chance to beat Dennis.”
“I don’t know …” Forrest said lightly. “Frank sure did seem to enjoy it.”
“Oh, yeah?” She was surprised. “I thought the three of them were some sort of trifecta: Clint kissing Frank’s ass and Dennis kissing his …”
“Oh, you called it,” Forrest confirmed. “Only, Frank prefers his ass to be kissed directly by Clint. I’ve never gotten the impression that Frank was a fan of Dennis.”
His comment reminded her of how much she still had to learn about the politics. But even with all she didn’t know, tonight had been a victory. Not every moment had been Sierra's idea of fun, but Forrest had been right: coming out more would make everything better.
“You were right, you know …” What she needed to say next was along those very lines. “It’s good to get to know people at a personal level. I didn’t know you’d ever been to California. Why didn’t you ever tell me you fought the Kincade Fire?”
A glance at his face told her he was choosing his words. When he looked back over, his eyes were earnest, but kind.
“It’s only recently that I’ve entered your good graces. Before a couple of weeks ago, you didn’t want much to do with me.”
His comment punched her in the gut at the same time as it held up a mirror, showing her what kind of person she had been. She’d gone to work and loved her job. She’d found her little tribe in Rick and Olivia and some of the researchers she was friendly with in the park. But there were people she’d kept at arm’s length.
She could see now how transparent her resentment of him had been. She could see even more how much she’d missed out on by shutting him out. Her first year moving to Tennessee had been difficult. It might have been easier with a friend like him.
Normally, Sierra wasn’t too proud to apologize. And it wasn’t pride that stopped her now. It was the way he made her feel—as if any honest emotion she showed him would lay her bare. She couldn’t say out loud how big a mistake she’d made in keeping him out before. Even alluding to that might show him how desperately she wanted to let him in now.
“So I’m late to the party,” she conceded. “Tell me all the things I ought to know about Forrest Winters that I have somehow missed.”
It came out flirty—sultry somehow—but she liked the way he smiled.
“I think that might take a long time,” he warned.
“Start me off easy.”
By then, they were approaching Main Street, which bustled a little, even for a Monday night.
“I know all the secret places.” He stopped to face her squarely. He was close enough that she could really breathe in his scent. The night was not young, but the air was cool and she could smell the leather of his jacket, and the sharp freshness of cedar against the sweetness of beer.
“All the secret places?” she repeated, her throat suddenly dry, too clueless or swept up to know what he meant. Maybe it was nighttime that made his eyes look the color of slate.
“The wildflower meadow? The one you can see from the trail on the way to Hen Wallow Falls?”
It was her favorite place in the park. Of course Sierra knew it. But how did he? It was the second time he’d mentioned it to her.
“I love that place,” she confessed.
“You ever been down to sit in the field?” he asked.
Sierra shook her head. “They say there’s a hidden trail, but I’ve never found it.”
The road had long since cleared for them to cross, but they made no move from the street corner. Forrest leaned forward, all the better for her to breathe him in even more.
“Like I said, I know all the secret places. Let me take you there.”