Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

by Susan Mallery

  “Give me until tomorrow. I’ll call you in the morning. Uh-huh. Bye.” He hung up and stood. “Idiot.”

  “Don’t you hate people who don’t plan ahead?”

  “Mostly they just annoy me. What’s going on?”

  She pulled the sheet music from her bag and waved it. “Isaak wants us to do a new duet.”

  “Are there any Billy Joel songs we don’t already know?”

  His voice was low and teasing. Helen’s stomach fluttered, along with the rest of her.

  “It’s not Billy Joel.”

  Jeff held out his arms. “Do you need a hug?”

  She did and more, but they were talking about different things. “I’m trying to breathe through my disappointment. He suggested a Miley Cyrus song instead. It’s not a traditional duet, but he thinks it has potential.”

  “I know that name,” he murmured. “Give me a second.”

  “Her publicist will be so proud.”

  She set her phone on the docking station he had on his credenza and pressed play. She adjusted the sound as the first notes of “Wrecking Ball” filled his office.

  Jeff sat on the corner of his desk as he listened. At the end he reached for the sheet music.

  “We could do this in harmony,” he said absently. “Decide who starts the song. Would you play it again?”

  As the opening notes began, he started scribbling on the paper.

  “You’ll start,” he told her. “That’s what people will be expecting. I’ll join in here, then take over after the chorus.”

  “We could try it.”

  “Is there a video?”

  Her heart sank. Literally. It fell to her feet and flopped around, whimpering in pain.

  “Helen?”

  “Oh, there’s a video.”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  Why? Why? “Because it’s so unfair. She’s beautiful and the rest of us mortal women don’t stand a chance.”

  He dropped the sheet music to the desk and studied her. “What does that mean?”

  Her throat tightened as she recognized that this was one of those make-or-break moments in her life. She could tell him exactly what she was thinking and see what happened or she could continue to wish without doing a damned thing to make her dreams come true.

  She sucked in a breath for courage and raised her chin. “Jeff, I—”

  “There you are,” Kelly said as she walked into the office. “I saw your car in the parking lot and knew you had to be somewhere. What’s going on?”

  “Isaak wants me and Helen to try a new duet,” Jeff said, glancing at his daughter.

  Helen held in a scream. She forced herself to smile at her friend because none of this was Kelly’s fault.

  “Miley Cyrus.”

  Kelly grinned. “Do you even know who she is, Dad?”

  “I’m going to find out. Helen says there’s a video.”

  Kelly took a step back. “I so don’t want to be around when that happens. Ew.”

  “Now I’m even more intrigued,” he said.

  Of course he was. And then he was going to have Miley Cyrus stuck in his head and then what chance would she have, assuming she’d ever had one at all. Life was not fair.

  “I don’t want to interrupt,” Kelly said. “Come see me when you’re done.”

  “We’re finished.” She waved at Jeff and walked out with Kelly, not sure if the universe was trying to protect her from heartbreak or having fun at her expense.

  * * *

  Olivia hung up and pumped her fist in victory. The PR department of the Seattle Mariners had been more than helpful. Thanks to them, she would be able to get excellent tickets to a baseball game, which she would add to the football tickets that had already been donated. Creating a sports extravaganza, as she was thinking of calling it, would increase the value of the auction item.

  In the past couple of days the reality of what she’d taken on was starting to sink in. She didn’t doubt her organizational abilities, it was more that she was working in unfamiliar territory. She didn’t know all the nuances of the town and how it worked, nor was she a favorite local kid doing good. Still, she was going to do everything possible to make the auction a success. Her goal was to raise enough money for a new roof and a major sprucing up of the inside, as well.

  Her phone buzzed. She glanced down and saw a text from Ryan.

  Miss you. Can we get together?

  Bastard. Did he think she was going to spend time with him after what had happened at the bar?

  Just the two of us or will Autumn be coming along? Want me to ask her?

  She doubted Ryan would respond to her sarcasm, which was fine. What really pissed her off was feeling unsettled about him. Their relationship had ended through external forces and had never run its course. While her sensible brain could guess they would have eventually broken up and gone their separate ways, her teenaged heart was less sure. Being with Ryan was her unrealistic antidote to everything that had gone wrong back then. She knew he wasn’t anything close to what would make her feel better about herself, but she couldn’t help wanting him back in her life. Or at least the theory of him.

  She pulled on workout capris and a tank top, then laced up her running shoes and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

  Five minutes later, she was jogging along the big park about a half mile away. It was nearly eleven in the morning, but not hot at all. She’d forgotten what it was like to not have to worry about things melting in the heat of summer.

  Not that she’d paid much attention to the weather when she’d lived here as a kid. She’d had more important things on her mind. Like Ryan.

  She thought about his stupid text and grimaced. No way she was going to forgive him anytime soon. He needed to be punished and for more than just his current girlfriend.

  Back in high school, they’d been the perfect couple—at least before she’d been sent away. According to her friends it had taken Ryan all of fifteen minutes to get over his supposed broken heart and take up with someone else. Two years later he’d gotten a full ride to Texas Christian University. When she’d found out, she’d applied and had been accepted. He’d been surprised but pleased when she’d walked into his English class. It had been a scene straight out of Legally Blonde. But unlike Elle Woods who’d had the good sense to fall for someone else, Olivia had set her sights directly on Ryan and had never turned away.

  Oh, she’d played hard to get for the first month, but once Ryan had won her back, she’d been his...until he’d dumped her for the Red Sox farm team, leaving with barely ten minutes’ notice. She’d transferred to ASU and had finished her degree there.

  Frying pan meet fire, she thought grimly. She’d gone from dealing with Ryan to dealing with her mother. Not much of an improvement.

  She reached the park and started along the main jogging/bike path. After a couple of minutes she picked up the pace. Her breathing was regular, her mind starting to clear. This was the part of her run that she liked the best. When the rest of the world started to fall away and she could simply be in the moment.

  About a half mile later, she saw another jogger running toward her. He was tall and blond, with broad shoulders and a body that would stop traffic in any major city. She started to enjoy the show only to realize she’d met him at the tourism board meeting a couple of nights before. It was the Viking god, Sven.

  She was prepared to simply say “Hi” and jog past, then saw he was slowing, so she did the same.

  “Hello, Olivia.”

  “Hi, Sven.”

  They came to a stop.

  “You’re a runner,” he said.

  “I am, and it’s much nicer here than back in Phoenix.”

  “Less sweating.”

  She grinned. “You
know it.”

  “Want to run together?”

  “Sure.”

  She wasn’t the fastest runner, but she had a steady pace and great endurance, so if he didn’t turn the outing into a sprint, she should be able to keep up.

  They started back the way he’d come, matching their strides as they jogged.

  “Thank you again for your donation for the auction.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re from around here?” she asked.

  “I’ve lived here seven years. I grew up in San Diego.”

  “How on earth did you get from San Diego to here and why?”

  He laughed. “You say it like you’re surprised.”

  “I am.”

  “My great-uncle had a small nursery here and left me his house and land when he died. I’d met him a couple of times when I was young and must have made an impression. He knew I’d been working for a large nursery in San Diego and wanted to start my own business.”

  “People up here sure like to grow things.”

  “Like your sister.” Sven glanced at her. “She never talks about you.”

  “Not a surprise. We’re not that tight and I haven’t lived here for years. So do you grow tulips, too?”

  “No. Other kinds of plants. I leave the tulips to the professionals. I do believe in beautiful gardens and I’ve been experimenting with mat gardens. You unroll it, water it and plants grow.”

  “I think I’ve seen them on an infomercial.”

  He dismissed that with a wave. “Simple designs with common plants. I want to make something more special. I’ve developed a different growing material that allows me more leeway with what I plant. I’m getting ready to launch them online, but I’m having trouble with my website.”

  Sven-the-viking-god.com?

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “My web designer Alison wants content.”

  “Most women do.”

  He shot her a grin. “Yes, they do, but what is the point of a web designer if she won’t fill the pages?”

  “Okay, so a web designer is like a house builder. They build the house, but they don’t furnish it. You have to buy your own furniture, meaning you have to tell her what to put on the pages.”

  “I’m no good at that. She also wants me to pick the colors. It’s plants and flowers. Those are the colors.”

  “Such a guy,” she murmured. “Would you like some help? I have a bit of a design background and I’ve worked on web content before. It’s not difficult. How big is the website going to be?”

  He stared at her blankly.

  “How many pages?” she clarified. “Will you have drop-down menus or just...” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m happy to help.”

  “Thank you. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m much better with my hands than on the computer.”

  Yes, she was sure he was, she thought with a grin, knowing he meant working in his nursery while she was thinking something else entirely.

  They came out the other side of the park and crossed a street, then ran along a dirt road lined with trees. Apples, she realized, surprised to see them growing there.

  “I didn’t know someone was growing apples,” she said.

  “I am.”

  “These are yours?”

  “Yes. I also grow blueberries. About half my blueberry crop goes directly to consumers while the rest is processed, as are the apples.”

  “You ship over the mountain to eastern Washington?”

  “No, I ship north to Canada. They’re both turned into sweet wine for the Asian market.”

  She came to a stop and stared at him. “Apple and blueberry wine?”

  He smiled. “It’s a huge market. I’m doing very well with my exports.”

  A Viking god with a brain and big hands. Talk about a sparkly day.

  He motioned to the small farmhouse about a half mile up the road. “That’s me. We’ve run nearly five miles. Why don’t you come inside for water, then I’ll drive you home?”

  Five miles? Plus the nearly two she’d already done that day? Her normal workout was about four miles.

  “Water would be great. Thank you.”

  She wondered how sore she was going to be in the morning, then decided she didn’t care. Sven was interesting and she’d enjoyed running with him.

  As they approached the house, she saw the large garden sprawled in every direction. There were roses to the east, some kind of orchid or lily garden to the north and what looked like a jungle of vines and bushes to the west.

  “I assume there’s a plan?” she asked.

  “Yes. I’m experimenting with hybrids and different soil.” He flashed her a sexy grin. “Some I grow because I like it.”

  They went inside. Olivia hadn’t been sure what to expect. From the outside, Sven’s home was a traditional farmhouse but the living room was a different story.

  Walls had been removed to create a completely open floor plan. Large windows offered views of the garden and let in tons of light. The furniture was modern—chrome-and-glass tables with sleek, dark leather sofas against pale-colored hardwood floors.

  The kitchen had been remodeled with stainless steel appliances and poured concrete counters. The upper cabinets opened by lifting up instead of out and the pantry doors were frosted glass. There was no clutter, very little art. An iPad sat on the kitchen island and there was a bowl of cherries on the counter. Otherwise, there were no signs of life.

  She could have been in a San Francisco or New York loft rather than a Tulpen Crossing farmhouse. She supposed there would be people who would find the house sterile, but she liked the clean lines and openness.

  Sven watched her, his blue eyes unreadable. She admired the sculpted chairs in the eat-in kitchen and touched the glass table.

  “I love it,” she told him. “The design is totally unexpected, which is a lot of the appeal, of course, but everything flows so well. You’ve made this your own.”

  “Some people think it’s too cold.”

  “Some people are idiots.”

  “Thank you.”

  He got two glasses from an upper cabinet and walked to the refrigerator. He poured water from a pitcher, then handed her a glass. She swallowed several gulps before telling herself to slow down. She didn’t want to throw up by drinking too fast, because hey, not very sexy.

  “Did you design it yourself?” she asked.

  “I had a basic idea, but I hired someone to help with the finishes. The whole house is like this. I put a sauna in the bathroom.”

  “Of course you did,” she said with a laugh, then finished her water.

  “More?”

  “I should be getting home. How far is it?”

  “Six miles when you don’t cut through the park. I’ll drive you.”

  The house really was great, she thought. And the sauna would be delicious. Naturally it would be even better with Sven soaking up the heat with her. The man was very easy to look at.

  “You’re smiling,” he said.

  “I find life amusing.”

  “You’re very beautiful.”

  The unexpected statement surprised her. She knew how to clean up well, but that was for when she wasn’t exercising. She wasn’t even wearing mascara.

  She looked up at him. Literally up—she was barely five-five and he was over six feet. She’d never been the blond hair, blue eyes type, but was starting to see the appeal. He watched her with the kind of interest a man shows a woman he wants to sleep with, but he didn’t make a move. She sensed the decision was up to her. She could say “thank you” and he would take her back to her place. Or she could say something else and things would progress. What was a girl to do?

  She thought he was ni
ce and it was obvious her body was more than a little interested. She wasn’t seeing anyone and sleeping with Sven would certainly be good for her morale, not to mention teach Ryan a lesson.

  “Are you involved with anyone?” she asked.

  “No. I was in a long-term relationship but it ended several months ago. I haven’t dated anyone since. What about you?”

  “There’s no one.”

  “What about Ryan?”

  She felt herself flush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I was at the bar the other night. I saw you there with Ryan.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t noticed him. She’d been too focused on her old boyfriend. “He’s seeing someone, which makes him much less interesting.”

  “How long since you slept with him?”

  “That’s a blunt question.”

  One shoulder rose and lowered.

  “Six years.”

  “It’s time to get over him.”

  “I agree.”

  “I could help with that.”

  She stared into his eyes and saw desire there. In response, her belly clenched. “I’m sure you could.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked out of the kitchen and down the hall and returned less than a minute later. He tossed a box of condoms on the island.

  “I have a fantasy about making love with a woman in this kitchen. I want to take you on the counter.”

  She glanced from the poured concrete to his body and saw the height would be about perfect. “That seems very doable, but why haven’t you made that happen before? Is the kitchen new?”

  “No, it’s three years old.”

  Which meant the old girlfriend wasn’t the kitchen counter type? Her loss.

  So many women didn’t get it. Sex was easy—it was emotions that were a bitch. Something Olivia had learned very early on. She moved close to Sven and pulled off her tank top. Her sports bra followed. He drew her close and kissed her. At the first sure stroke of his tongue, she let herself sink into his embrace. Sven was a capable guy—she was sure he knew what he was doing, which meant she got to relax and let him do the driving.