Secret Hunger (The Harper Sisters)

by Satin Russell

  “I’m the house at the end, on the right.” Olivia directed him to the small, white Cape Cod with black shutters and the ubiquitous New England red door. There was a warm, welcoming glow coming from the windows, and a Jeep in the driveway.

  She let out a breath that she hadn’t even known she was holding. “Looks like my sisters made it here okay, at least.” Olivia turned to him and shook his hand. “Well, it was very nice meeting you. Thank you again for helping me out.”

  She glanced down at their joined hands and then back to his eyes. A flicker of disappointment made her wish the ride hadn’t been so short. Shaking off the feeling, she climbed out of the truck. Mason awkwardly reached across the bench and handed her the grocery bag. She got the feeling that the cold and exertion were starting to affect whatever injury he had.

  Just as he was about to back out of the driveway, she paused. Catching his attention, she jogged back to his truck. Mason rolled down the window with a question in his eyes. “Oh, sorry. I just had a thought…um, you should stop by the café sometime and I’ll make you breakfast to repay you for the rescue.”

  “It really wasn’t any trouble.” He hesitated, and then looked directly into her eyes. ”But that sounds great. Maybe I’ll come by in a day or so to see how you’re doing.”

  Olivia’s stomach did a funny little flutter-flop. Being on the receiving end of such focus made her wonder what else he could do with that kind of intensity. She watched as he pulled out of the driveway and, with a little wave, drove off. She caught herself letting out a sigh. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a sex-starved, half-crazed, mad woman!

  Well, sex-starved may not be that far off the mark…how long had it been? Don’t answer that, she silently admonished herself. Hmm, maybe there was something to Liz’s earlier remarks.

  Shaking that unwelcome thought from her head, she adjusted her bags, and headed towards the house just as Fiona poked her head out the front door. “Hey, birthday girl. You going to stand in the driveway holding those bags all day? Who was that? And where’s your car?”

  “It’s lying in the ditch along Centre Street.”

  “What?!?” Fiona exclaimed. “Oh my God, are you okay? What the heck happened?”

  Olivia regretted the way she said it the minute it came out of her mouth. Of the three of them, Fiona was the most sensitive. Especially when it came to car accidents. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she soothed. “I’ll tell you all about it while I’m making dinner. First let me get out of my coat.”

  She handed the bags to Fiona, who took a look inside, “Oooh, Chicken Marsala? My favorite.”

  Olivia grinned at Fiona’s enthusiasm and sat down on the chair by the door to take off her wet, snowy boots.

  Liz came into the front entryway. “Hey, what took you so long?”

  She gave her a quick hug. “Long story. I’m going to go change into something comfortable and get dinner started and then I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Fiona called from the kitchen, where she’d started unloading the groceries. “I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

  Olivia smiled. She loved it when all three of them were here in the house like this. Granted, it wasn’t like they lived that far apart, but she missed the warmth and easy camaraderie they had shared on a nightly basis before first Liz, and just recently Fiona, had grown old enough to move out and get their own places.

  She climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. At first it had seemed strange to take over the bedroom her parents used to share, but her sisters had insisted it made sense for her to switch rooms, since she was the new head of the household. She hoped they were looking down on them and smiling at how the three of them had turned out.

  Olivia rummaged in her drawer for a pair of yoga pants and her favorite CIA sweatshirt, and considered the direction her life had taken. She’d always wanted to be a chef and had been halfway through her second year at the Culinary Institute of America when their parents had died and she’d assumed custody of her two younger sisters.

  Even though she never once doubted whether she made the right decision, she’d sometimes catch herself wondering how things might have turned out if the situation had been different. For the most part, she had to admit she was pretty happy.

  It helped having The Three Sisters Cafe. Sure, it may not be the higher-end, fine dining establishment she’d always envisioned, but she still got to make delicious food and provide people with a charming experience.

  As she made her way back downstairs, she admired how the expanse of marble countertops and white cupboards made the kitchen look clean and bright. The room was Olivia’s favorite place in the house. Her parents had remodeled it a year before they passed away and every time she entered the room, she remembered the joy on her mom’s face when she had seen it for the first time.

  The kitchen was spacious, with an island in the middle that invited people to sit and visit. There was a window over the sink that overlooked the deck, back yard, and the trees beyond. The gleam of the stainless steel appliances and brushed chrome pendant lights hanging over the island looked fresh and modern, while the hardwood floors kept the atmosphere warm and homey. As far as Olivia was concerned, this kitchen truly was the heart of their home.

  Fiona was at the sink rinsing off mushrooms, and nodded towards the glass sitting on the counter. “Thought you might need that before you get started.”

  “Mmm, thanks.” She twirled her glass and admired the deep ruby swirls of Chianti as they caught the light from overhead. The first sip tasted dry and tart on her tongue and left a warm trail down her throat. “Where’s Liz?”

  “Oh, she’s in the living room getting a fire started.”

  “Perfect. Thanks for starting the prep.”

  “No problem.” Fiona dried her hands and took a seat at the island. Liz came into the kitchen and sat down beside her. “So, tell us what happened. Who dropped you off, and where’s your car?”

  Olivia described her near accident, lack of cell service, attempt to walk home, and subsequent ride with the newly met and gorgeous Mason Clark, all while she put water on to boil and pulled the chicken out of the fridge.

  Then she told them about her observations at the store, of the group of women not much younger than her, the way she’d been called “ma’am” by the guy at the checkout, and the strange onslaught of feelings about getting older.

  “Oh, honey, that must have felt so awkward.” Fiona sympathized. Although, Olivia suspected her sister was too young to fully relate to what she was saying, she was so sensitive and empathetic that Olivia knew it was easy for Fiona to imagine her dismay.

  Liz sighed with exasperation. “Old, my ass. You are a gorgeous grown woman and a successful small business owner. Now that the two of us are out of the house, there is nothing preventing you from getting out of this rut and exploring your options. What’s holding you back?”

  “I know, I know…you’re right. Honestly, I don’t know what’s come over me. Maybe I’m just experiencing my first bout of the birthday blues.”

  Liz held up her glass. “Well, here’s a toast to our beautiful birthday girl. May she find adventure and love this next year and remember that she’s not too old to pursue her dreams.”

  Fiona clapped and raised her wineglass. “Here, here!” After taking a sip, she leaned forward eagerly. “So, tell us about this Mason Clark. I didn’t catch a very good look at him, but from what I did see…”

  Instantly she blushed. “Oh, he has dark, unruly hair, a scruffy beard, and the bluest eyes…I swear you could sink right into them.”

  Her sisters cast each other significant looks. Neither of them could remember the last time she’d paid enough attention to be able to even describe a guy in years…probably since her freshman year in college. Definitely not since their parents had died. They both hoped this was a sign that she was ready to get on with her own plans. As much as they appreciated all she’d done in the past years, they worried that she may never get a chance to
live her own life.

  Olivia turned back towards the stove and poured Marsala wine into the pan. A plume of heavenly aroma wafted up and Fiona groaned. “Oh, that smells so good.” She hopped up from the barstool. “I’m going to set the table.”

  Liz also stood. “I’ll grab another bottle of wine.”

  Ten minutes later they gathered at the dining room table and lifted their glasses. “Cheers! Here’s to sisters, snowstorms, warm fires, and good food.”

  Liz added, “And wine.”

  “And birthdays!” Fiona exclaimed.

  They all got quiet as they took their first few bites and enjoyed the meal. Eventually, Liz turned to Olivia. “Okay, so we’ve established this guy is hot. Who is he? Did he move here recently?”

  “Well, apparently he’s a Boston police detective. He said he’s taken a leave of absence and that he’s on disability. He’s currently staying with his sister, so he probably won’t be here for very long.”

  Fiona shot Liz a disappointed look, but Liz just shrugged and said, “Well, there’s nothing wrong with a little fling, right? A girl can have fun.”

  Olivia thought about it, but then shook her head, “I suppose, but it’s not really my style. He seemed pretty nice, but kind of clammed up when he mentioned his job. It felt awkward to ask how he got hurt or how long his recuperation would be.”

  “Who is his sister?” Fiona asked.

  “Her name is Melody. She owns that cute bed and breakfast at the top of the hill on West Chops Point. You know, the one overlooking the bay? I couldn’t believe it when he told me.”

  “No kidding? Oh, I love that place! I have daydreams of sitting and reading on their porch and looking out at the view. Hm, maybe we can finagle an excuse to go up there and take a look around.”

  “Actually, he offered to give me a tour, sometime. Maybe you can tag along.”

  The storm grew louder as their meal progressed and they could hear the wind whip around the house, making the timbers creak a bit. Just as they finished washing the dishes, the lights flickered off and on. Twice the power came back, but the third time the house stayed dark.

  “Well, there goes our plan for a movie marathon. At least we have the fire going.” Olivia pulled some candles out of the junk drawer in the kitchen before they all moved into the living room.

  “Hm, it’s too dark to read. Why don’t we play Scrabble?” Fiona suggested.

  Olivia and Liz groaned. They both knew she was a fiend at Scrabble and usually kicked their butts. “Okay, okay, but just one game.”

  The three of them wound up playing two games, finishing their second bottle of wine and then turning in. Overall, Olivia thought, as she slipped under her covers, other than having a nice warm man to cuddle with, it was the perfect way to pass the storm and celebrate her birthday.

  Chapter Six

  The flash of a muzzle…

  His partner’s weight falling back on him…

  Losing his balance and the sensation of tumbling backwards as the world faded to black…

  Mason jolted awake, his brow and palms damp with sweat. He lay there trying to catch his breath.

  “Mason? Are you up yet?”

  He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head as his sister came into the room and opened the curtains. Even though it was overcast, the dull light that flooded in was still offensive.

  He tried to roll over on his side and promptly cursed. It’d been nearly a month since the shooting and he kept forgetting that it still hurt to do that. Relegated to his back, he pried one eye open to give her the evil death stare from under the pillow.

  Melody was not impressed.

  She stood at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips and glared right back. “Your captain called again. He said that Dr. Patel still hasn’t heard back from you. He wants me to remind you that you will not be cleared for duty until you have at least a few therapy sessions and they can determine you’re mentally healthy. You need to call him today.”

  He responded with a muffled grunt and pulled the pillow off his face. Man, he felt like shit. He scratched his jaw and tried to think back to the last time he had shaved, or even taken a shower, for that matter.

  Struggling to a sitting position, he caught his breath as pain tightened his lungs. For the most part his shoulder was recovering fine - it had only been grazed along the outer arm - but his chest was still uncomfortable with certain movements. He considered the fact that he had probably overdone it yesterday, being out in the cold for so long. After his breakfast at the café, he’d been feeling restless and had ended up walking around the small town for a few hours.

  “Yeah, yeah. Ok, give me a moment to pull myself together.”

  His sister’s eyes softened as she looked him over. He could tell she was worried about him, but he couldn’t seem to work up the energy it would take to ease her mind. It sucked, and he felt like an ass about it. Hell, pretty much everything sucked nowadays.

  “Good. Thank you. Make sure you take a shower first. I can smell you from over here.” Now, there was the bratty little sister he remembered.

  He tossed the pillow at her, allowing himself to wince after her back was turned and she’d walked out the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he did a couple of deep breathing exercises that his doctor had taught him to help his lung recover.

  Slowly, he got to his feet, stood up straight, and tried to will the old man feeling from his bones. Maybe a hot shower would feel good after all.

  He padded into the bathroom and paused to appreciate the heated floors and plush towels. Thankfully, when Melody had opened her bed and breakfast, La Luna Vista, she hadn’t spared any expense. He was glad to see that their father’s trust fund had been put to good use.

  After filling a cup with water and taking the handful of antibiotics and various other prescribed pills, he started up the shower. For a while, all he could do was stand under the hot spray and lean his forearm up against the cool tiles. Water sluiced down his face and neck. Images from that day invaded his mind.

  Wood splintering…

  The shock in Ryan’s eyes…

  A pool of red blossoming across his partner’s chest…

  With a jolt, Mason fumbled for the shampoo bottle. He washed and turned the tap off. As he reached for the towel, he realized his hands were shaking, and decided he’d rather keep the scruff for another day than cut his chin again.

  He laughed at himself mockingly and turned away from the mirror in disgust. Who the hell was he fooling? How could he expect to go back to active duty and handle a gun when he couldn’t even trust himself with a razor?

  After dressing, Mason picked his phone up off the desk and stared at the number of missed calls.

  The problem was, he didn’t really know what to say to his Captain. On one hand, he was eager to get back to work. The need to hunt down the guy who shot him and killed his partner was so overwhelming that he couldn’t breathe at times. It was the single point that kept him focused on his recovery and fueled his determination to get back to full health.

  However, in those quiet moments at three in the morning, when he was awoken by nightmares and drenched in cold sweat, he had to admit to himself that he had doubts about his ability to perform at a high level. It was hard to imagine working cases without his partner there with him.

  He shoved the uncomfortable thoughts back into his subconscious. Bad enough they plagued him in his sleep; he wasn’t about to let them deter him from his goal.

  Resolutely, he hit the speed dial.

  “Detective Clark, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us. How’s the recovery going?”

  “Slowly, sir, but I am improving.”

  “Glad to hear it, son. So, I’m sure you know why I called you. Dr. Patel tells me you haven’t spoken to him yet to make an appointment. You do realize you need to meet with him at least three times and be cleared by him before you can come back, don’t you?”

  “Yes sir. Look, I’m not tryi
ng to be a pain about this, but right now I’m in Maine, staying with my sister. We just had a big snowstorm drop over a foot of snow and it’s not a good time to make the drive down.”

  “This wouldn’t be another one of your excuses to avoid meeting with him, would it?”

  “No, sir.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “Well, maybe. All I’m saying is, with the holidays coming up, I’d just like to wait for a few weeks. I’ve been focused on getting my body healed up right now. I can meet up with him first thing after the New Year.”

  He could hear the familiar squeak of the other man’s chair as he stood up and shut the door to his office. The noise of the bullpen in the background grew muffled over the phone.

  “Mason, I’m worried about you. I know how close you and Ryan were. Anytime a detective loses his partner it’s hard, but you guys went to the academy together, were officers together, became detectives together…” There was a pause as he waited for a response.

  Mason looked down, realized his hands were clenched into fists in his lap, and forced himself to relax his fingers. There was nothing he could say around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

  He heard the Captain sigh over the phone. “Okay. You win. I’ll let the doc know you’re going to keep working on your physical recovery and to expect a call from you after the holiday. The Christmas holiday, not the New Year’s holiday.

  “Remember, your mental and emotional recovery is just as important - maybe even more so. There are three of these meetings that you have to go to. If we time it right, you’ll be ready to start back at the first of the year.”

  “Thanks, Cap. I know I’ve been difficult.”

  “I just want you to remember we all lost a good detective that day. You may have been closest to him, but Ryan was loved by all of us. If you ever need to talk, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

  “Will do. I really appreciate your understanding and how much you’ve done for me. I’ll get in touch with you in a few weeks.”