Becoming Sienna

By TM Bashford

Three's a crowd, especially when one is a stalker…

Sienna Chase is having the worst day of her adult life—kicked out of her nursing program, dumped by her boyfriend, and to top it off, followed home by creepy Dr. Charles Allerton.

Flying back to her parents' home on Cape Cod to take stock of her life ends up triggering the trauma of her sister's death twenty years earlier. Thank goodness for Blue Rafter, the boy she gave her first kiss to at the age of eight. He's all grown up and their chemistry is instant.

Except Dr. Allerton turns up, scaring her with frightening gifts and messages, and Sienna needs to figure out why she's hiding evidence to protect him.

The police don't take her seriously. Her parents think she's drinking too much to numb her memories. Her only ally is Blue... and he's trying to save her from herself.

Until Dr. Allerton's final gift . . .

If you love a suspenseful romance with a twist that'll keep you reading into the night, then you'll love T.M. Bashford's page-turning novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TM Bashford
• Release date: Jan 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648678069

TM Bashford

T.M. Bashford is the author of both romantic suspense and young adult novels. First published by Pan Macmillan and Skyhorse Publishing in 2018, Taryn just left behind the beaches and moved to the city with a family that includes teen children and a highly-strung dog who loves cheese. She’s lived on four continents, meaning her job experience has been . . . interesting—an advertising sales rep, a ski chalet chef, a late-night news reader for the BBC, and the CEO of an internet company, but writing is her true love. As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate, she’s about halfway through her PhD in Creative Writing while tutoring undergraduates. When she’s not writing or teaching creative writing, she’s training for triathlons in the hope they will compensate for the fact she spends ten hours a day sat on her tushie. Learn more about Taryn at www.tmbashford.com or join thousands of readers and sign up for her monthly newsletter which always includes bookish giveaways, bookish chat and next book release dates.

Book preview

Chapter 1

W hat makes you think nursing is a good career choice for someone who faints at the sight of blood? Arthur’s thick brows furrow, reminding me of an owl.

I shift positions in the armchair opposite him, pressing myself deeper into the cushions. His tutorial room is flanked by three bookshelves that tower over us. Part of me wouldn’t mind if one of them toppled and crushed me right then and there.

Silence tramples over a few more seconds.

This is the third time, Sienna. I’m not sure we can find you any more work placements. I believe it’s time for you to consider a different path.

I’m already five years older than most of the others. Now you expect me to start again?

Not entirely. You’ve earned a year’s worth of credits. You can talk to careers about how to transfer . . .

No. I shut him out. The thought of deciding on another career choice is too stressful. What if I make the wrong decision again? I have a sneaky suspicion I’m not suited to the life of a student, either. My parents, who are funding all this, won’t want to hear it, but I’m more of a free spirit; I should be good at art or drawing or music. Except I’m not.

Thanks, Arthur. I stand, ready to dart out of his sunny office. The dust motes choke me when I add, But I need to reflect on my next steps.

Please, Sienna. Don’t rush into anything. And I’m always here to talk.

I give him a stiff smile and jerked wave, yank open the heavy wooden door, and try not to slam it behind me. Oddly, I experience a flashback to the dog I loved as a girl. She died the day after my sixteenth birthday. She was white and fluffy and despite being a mongrel we rescued from the animal shelter, she always walked with her chin in the air. Which is why I named her Duchess. I used to find her when I needed a good cry. A sudden urge to go home—not to my student accommodation, but to my parents’ home—tugs at me. It’s funny how I couldn’t wait to leave when I turned eighteen. After leaving school, I spent some years traveling and took odd jobs—temp admin work, bar work, retail roles, because I hadn’t a clue what I wanted to do with my life. Mom and Dad prodded me every six months, and then came up with the nursing option. I had no idea that the sight of blood—lots of it, not just a cut finger—could make me faint.

To relieve an oncoming headache, I yank my ponytail out of its elastic and march down the corridor, afraid I’m going to cry and Arthur might come out and see me. Outside, I head for the bench under the English oaks. It’s off the main path and doesn’t attract passers-by. On the way across the neatly clipped lawn, I pull out my cell and call my boyfriend, David. When it goes to voicemail, I wonder about calling Mom and Dad but they moved back to America last year. With the time zone differences between there and England, they’ll be asleep. There’s no one else I want to talk to. Moving around from place to place and job to job tends to sever friendships, and the students I share accommodations with are younger than me. I’m more of a mother hen to them than a friend. Instead, I let the tears come, my face in my hands.

Anything I can do to help?

I brush at my cheeks before looking up and into the gaze of Dr. Allerton. He works at the medical clinic where I’ve completed the nursing placements. Despite being a doctor, he’s a little socially awkward, but sweet. The kind of guy my parents would like.

Dr. Allerton. What are you doing here? I ask. A bit out of your way?

He brushes his long fingers through his dark auburn hair. Please, call me Charles. I was visiting Professor Langton. He was one of my tutors a long time ago—and I saw you. You appeared upset. He indicates to the bench as if to ask for permission to sit beside me, but then he sits anyway, his butt perched on the edge. He stares straight ahead rather than at me when he adds, This is a great spot for— He doesn’t finish. Instead, he clears his throat, strident.

I peek at his profile. If he wasn’t so shy, he’d be a catch. His cheeks and jaw are deftly carved, his shoulders broad under a navy Ralph Lauren sweater. And I recall how his blue eyes are psychedelic.

Not been a good day, I say. Looks like I won’t be back to the clinic.

Did you faint again?

How did you know?

His sideways glance is furtive, embarrassed. Someone at the clinic mentioned it. I remember it happened before when you helped dress a wound. Not an easy thing to cure. On that occasion, Dr. Allerton—Charles—caught me before I fell to the floor.

Not curable then? Tears form a wad in my throat. I didn’t think so. That’s the end of it then. I fold myself in two and can’t stop myself from blubbering again. The heat of his hand on my back is enough for me to lean into him for a comfort hug. He lets me sob, then gradually embraces me until I’m crushed against his chest. He smells like coconut, which is odd considering we’re in the city.

I keep saying, ‘sorry,’ but I can’t stop crying. He rocks me, makes shushing noises, and assures me I can be cured. At least he’s a doctor and has good bed-side manners.

At times like this you need your parents, he says. It sounds a bit weird coming from a man who must be thirty-something. Maybe he lives with his mom. But in that moment, I miss my parents.

They’re back in America, I say, calming down. I extract myself from his bear hug. He shuffles a little farther from me. Dad’s job brought us to England thirteen years ago, but they missed Cape Cod and once I settled in at Portsmouth, they moved back.

That’s the east coast isn’t it?

My nose becomes runny. I sniff and search my pockets for tissues, even though I’ve never carried them with me. A peninsula off Massachusetts. It is beautiful. I can’t blame them.

Why didn’t you go with them?

I feel more English than American. I’ve lived here since I turned ten. And college is more accessible here, financially speaking. I certainly didn’t stay because of my friends—they graduated and were busy with careers in London, Manchester, and overseas, leaving me behind in what they believe is the backward port city of Portsmouth.

What will you do now? he asks.

My sigh seems to come from the bottom of my soul and I sob-laugh. I have no idea. The thought of a different degree…changing direction yet again…

Why not? I’m changing directions. I’m qualifying to be a surgeon.

I catch his gaze for a moment before he hides it by looking up into the oak tree.

That’s impressive. I slump against the back of the bench like a deflating pool toy. But I’m anything but impressive.

He puts out a hand as if to touch me, but then changes his mind and withdraws it.