Secret Hunger (The Harper Sisters)

by Satin Russell

  He winced. “You get up that early every morning? That has to be hell in the winter.”

  “I’ll admit it can be tough getting out of bed in the dark and cold, but most of the time it’s not so bad. Don’t you usually keep odd hours with your job?”

  “Yeah, sometimes I’m up that early and I haven’t even managed to see my bed yet. Criminals don’t seem to keep normal business hours.”

  She laughed. “If only they could be more accommodating.”

  “Yeah, if only…” Something dark flashed in the depths of his eyes before quickly being suppressed. He seemed to pull himself out of whatever thought had crossed his mind. “So, I’ll pick you up at 5:30 Friday night for our date, Ms. Olivia.”

  “Sounds good. Um, thank you for the ride…again.”

  “Not a problem. Do you need help getting the bags into your car?”

  “Nope, I think I can manage.” Olivia climbed down from the cab, and wrapped the handle of the bag holding her bulbs through her arm, then walked to the back of the truck and hauled the bag of deicer over her shoulder. “Talk to you later, then.”

  After making sure she got into her car, and got it started okay, he gave her a nod and drove off. Dazed, she sat in the driver’s seat and waited for the heater to kick in.

  A few minutes later, she found herself humming as she entered the house, closed the door, and stood in her entryway staring into space with a goofy grin on her face.

  Realizing she was standing and smiling at nothing, she shook her head and laughed at herself.

  She couldn’t remember the last time since she’d had a date to look forward to. Sure, she’d gone on a few dates back when she was in college, but after she took custody of her sisters, there had never seemed to be enough time for stuff like that.

  Besides, most guys her age hadn’t been ready for the kind of commitment it would have required to date a woman who’s taking care of two younger girls. Most people in their early twenties were more concerned with going out to the clubs, drinking, and hooking up.

  She had sort of skipped that step. Now that her sisters were out of the house and successfully living their lives, there was nothing stopping her from making up for a little lost time. This was a good thing.

  Ugh, why am I standing here justifying this to myself? I have every right to a romantic pursuit, she thought. Liz and Fiona were right. This was exactly what she needed.

  She put a hand to her stomach to dampen the dancing butterflies. She was just feeling nervous. After all, it had been years since she had even thought about a date, let been tempted to go on one.

  With that thought, she groaned. Oh man, what was she going to wear? She didn’t have anything remotely resembling date clothes.

  Honestly, there hadn’t been a point. Most of her wardrobe consisted of clothes she didn’t mind getting dirty while working at the café. Jeans, t-shirts, maybe a few skirts, a ton of chef coats…but not anything worthy of a first date. She needed to call her sister, Fiona, and get some help.

  Grabbing her phone, she headed into the kitchen to make some tea. “Hey, Fiona. How was your day?” she asked.

  “Pretty busy. Finals week is coming up and everybody and their dog is at the library studying. What’s up?”

  “You’ll never guess what happened to me today…” and with that she told her about running into Mason and walking away with a date.

  “Olivia, I’m so happy for you! Of course I’ll come over and help you pick out a good date outfit. Tomorrow is my night off, let’s get together then. I know you don’t have much in your closet, so I’ll bring over a few things you might like. Do you think Liz would like to come too?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll ask. Thanks so much, Fi.”

  “Are you kidding? This is going to be fun!”

  She gave Liz a quick call and confirmed she could also come over the next night. Happy to share her good news with her sisters, she thought it was funny they were so excited for her. Their energy was infectious and helped alleviate the nervousness that threatened to creep in.

  Plans made, she spent a couple of hours looking up recipes and working on her upcoming dinner menu. Afterwards, she took a nice, long, hot bath, and finished the book she’d been reading. As she lay in her bed, drifting into sleep, she couldn’t help but think she was starting her next year off right.

  Overall, it had been a really great birthday.

  Chapter Twelve

  Today is not a good day, Olivia grumbled to herself.

  It had started as a bad morning. First, she managed to trip and fall up the steps while letting herself in the back door of the restaurant. Sure, she’d bought a new lightbulb, but hadn’t actually had a chance to replace it yet.

  That had left her with a scraped palm and a bruised knee, along with half a bag of baked goods lying on the concrete slab around her. Then, Jackie – who is never sick – called in sick.

  This left her trying to cook in the kitchen with Tom as well as working the front of the house with Becky. Of course, the one day she was short-handed, the entire town decided to show up for breakfast.

  Apparently, Frank and the rumor mill had been busy. The recent storm wasn’t the only popular topic circulating around the coffee counter that morning. She’d been fielding questions about her forthcoming date with Mason from at least a dozen folks, including Mrs. Crowley and Mr. Harrington.

  Not, she reminded herself, that I should be complaining about too much business. She would have asked Fiona if she could drive over and help cover tables, but she’d been called in to the library to haul books out from under a leaky spot in the roof.

  At eleven o’clock, Olivia was cleaning up a table where a five-year old boy had decided his eggs would be better on the floor than in his belly. Suddenly she felt an eerie, prickling sensation on the back of her neck.

  As she looked up, she spotted the weird guy from the coffee shop sitting at the breakfast counter, watching her. “Great, just what I need,” she muttered, and blew hair out of her face. He just smiled and raised his mug in a toast.

  Quickly, she finished putting the table back in order, dropped off the place settings and headed to the door for the next party in line. All the while, she could feel the man’s eyes following her. What could he possibly want? She didn’t have time to deal with a creepy jerk today.

  Any thoughts she had about his intentions were quickly forgotten as she worked to keep up with the rush. By the time she remembered him, he had disappeared. Puzzled, she glanced around the dining room, but didn’t see him. Ah well, she mentally shrugged. He probably just got frustrated with the wait and left.

  Feeling relieved that he was gone, she threw herself back into the rhythm of working a busy shift. After another couple of hours, business started to slow down. Finally, it was two in the afternoon and time to close the café. Tom had filled the last ticket; Becky was just wiping down the last few tables.

  “Phew! We haven’t had a mid-week rush like that in a while.” she exclaimed.

  “Tell me about it. For a moment there, I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. I swear I spilled more orange juice than I served this morning,” Olivia glanced distastefully down at the front of her shirt.

  “In fact, I think I have a spare shirt in the back. I’m going to go change real quick and then we can get the dining room put back in order.”

  “Okay, I’m almost done wiping the tables down. Really it’s just the side work that needs to be tackled.”

  “How about this. You get everything sorted out here and I’ll do the side work. You did a great job today. I couldn’t have done it without your help this morning. Thank goodness you’re off this week for winter break.”

  Becky beamed with pride. “We both did well. I just hope Jackie feels better soon.”

  “Me, too.” Olivia smiled at the younger woman and headed down the hall to her office. As she passed the kitchen she called out, “Great job this morning, Tom,” and heard him grunt his response.

  Af
ter quickly changing into a fresh shirt, she headed back to the dining room and started gathering the ketchup bottles, salt and pepper shakers, and sugar containers, stacking them on the breakfast counter to begin refilling them.

  As she struggled with a stuck ketchup bottle top, she heard the bell at the door ring. All it took was a second to glance up, and sure enough, red suddenly exploded across her chest.

  Of course Mason would be standing in the doorway and watching right as I squeeze a huge glob of condiment down my shirt, Olivia thought ruefully. However, embarrassment quickly turned to concern as Mason’s face turned sheet white and he began to breathe heavily. Bent over, he started to shake and gasp for breath.

  Concerned, she rushed to him. Recognizing the signs of a panic attack, she murmured in low, soothing tones. Gently, she rubbed her hand in slow, calming circles over his back until he managed to get his bearings again.

  After a few moments, he raised his head. The dark, raw, look of anguish in his eyes speared her to the core. It was hard to see such a strong man with such dark shadows in his eyes. It made her ache to hold and comfort him.

  She could sense his embarrassment as he glanced away. “Sorry about that.” His deep voice was rough with emotion.

  “It’s okay.” She gave him one, last rub on his back before stepping away.

  Straightening, he gestured to the ketchup splattered down the front of her.

  “Uh, yeah,” she glanced down at herself, “not exactly the most graceful thing I’ve ever done. I don’t think I could be any more embarrassed at the moment.” Her laughter helped to dispel any lingering awkwardness. “Talk about timing.”

  Mason broke into a reluctant grin. “Here, let me help you with that.” He reached out with his finger and grabbed a bit from her chin.

  Entranced, Olivia gave an inward groan. How is it possible to be utterly embarrassed and turned on at the same time?

  “Great, I even managed to get it on my face? I think that answers my question about whether I could be any clumsier. Sheesh! I think I need to go back to bed and start over again tomorrow.”

  He walked over and wiped his hands off. “Rough morning?”

  “You have no idea.” Olivia grabbed a handful of napkins and started mopping up the mess, unaware of the way her breasts strained against the tight cotton of her t-shirt.

  Gulping, he said, “I was going to try to grab lunch, but it looks like you’re closed.”

  Startled, she glanced up from her shirt, “Oh! Yeah, sorry about that. We close at two.” Gesturing towards the kitchen, she added, “I can make you a sandwich if you’d like…”

  “Oh, no, that’s okay. I can grab something at my sister’s.” He looked around. “I didn’t tell you this before, but your café is great. You put this place together yourself?”

  Olivia found herself pleased to know he liked it. “Yup, for the most part.”

  “Frank mentioned you were a chef. What made you open a café?”

  She sighed and gave up on making her shirt any less of a disaster. Setting the napkins down, she resumed filling the little table holders with multi-colored sweeteners.

  “Well, after I graduated high school, I went to the Culinary Institute of America in New York. At the time, I wanted to become a top-rated chef and eventually open my own high-end restaurant, preferably in the Boston area.

  “After my parents died, I put all that on hold to come back and take custody of my sisters.” She shrugged. “I figured I might as well put what I’d learned to some use, so ended up opening the café.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. Hell, when I was that age, I think I was busy partying and drinking my way through college. I didn’t even have the discipline to study, let alone take care of two other people. That must have been quite a challenge.”

  “It wasn’t easy, but it could have been worse. We were lucky to have a good community of people helping us out.”

  He nodded. “Listen, since I missed lunch here, would you be interested in coming up to the bed and breakfast with me? We could have a late lunch. You could meet my sister and get the grand tour of La Luna Vista. You mentioned you always wanted to check the place out. Here’s your opportunity.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to stop by my house first, to change my clothes, though.”

  While she finished up her side work, he offered to replace the lightbulb in the back. Half an hour later, she stepped outside with him and locked the door behind her.

  This was one of the benefits of only being open for breakfast and lunch, she thought, as she walked towards her car. She liked having the late afternoons and evenings to herself. Of course, if she decided to go forward with her plans to start serving dinner that would all change.

  He was parked next to her. “I’ll follow you back to your place. I was thinking we could just take my truck and I’ll bring you back home later. Does that work for you?”

  “Sure. See you at the house,” Smiling, she climbed into the car. With the prospect of a great afternoon ahead, she left her bad morning in the parking lot.

  Minutes later, he followed her through the front door and into the entryway. There was a little bench along the wall, with hooks on the wall for outerwear, and a small rack for shoes. Everything was neat and orderly, yet still managed to feel welcoming.

  Through the arched doorway to the left was a dining room with big bay windows overlooking the front yard. There was a tasteful table and chair set made of mahogany, inlaid with what he thought was bird’s eye maple. The open floor plan enabled Mason to see towards the back of the house and into the kitchen with its granite countertops and gleaming stainless steel appliances.

  The living room was in the right front of the house and had a sleek flat-screen TV hanging on the wall over a large fireplace. At the other end of the room, he noticed a pair of French doors leading into an office, or a study, with a wall of bookshelves taking up one end of the room. In front of him was a staircase leading up to where the bedrooms must be. Just to the right of the staircase was a door leading to a bathroom.

  “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink?” Olivia hung her coat on one of the hooks.

  “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  “Okay, then. I won’t be long.” With that, she headed up the stairs towards her bedroom. Mason wandered into the living room.

  He was struck by how warm and cozy her place was. It was obvious this was a home, well-tended and loved. The couch looked comfortable enough to sprawl out and read a good book, or tempting enough to convince a person to take an afternoon nap. There was a throw draped along the back of it and soft pillows tucked into its corners.

  She had chosen muted, neutral tones for the furniture, but had used reds and oranges in the accent pieces. He walked towards the mantel and noticed a framed picture—set in a place of honor—of a smiling family of five.

  Instantly, he recognized the younger version of Olivia. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing, her arm was wrapped around the waist of a curvy and slim older brunette who had the same amber-colored eyes and radiant smile. The woman, presumably Olivia’s mother, was sheltered in the crook of a taller, wiry-framed man’s arm.

  The younger girl hanging around his neck had the same slim athletic body and green eyes as her father. That must be Olivia’s sister, Eliza. The tomboy mechanic, he thought. Standing arm in arm with her was an even younger girl with soft, dreamy eyes and a shy smile. She’d be her youngest sister, he deduced.

  “That was a good day,” she said softly behind him. “It was the summer after I graduated high school, a couple of weeks before I left for college.”

  He carefully placed the frame back in its proper place and turned away from the mantel. He saw that she had changed into another dark, V-neck t-shirt, this one long-sleeved.

  Funny how, even when she was dressed in casual clothes, she had a way of standing out. He knew some women spent h
ours hoping to achieve her kind of effortless beauty. Yet she never seemed to try to draw attention to herself.

  Shaking the wayward thought aside, he asked, “When did you lose them?”

  “I was twenty-one, nearly twenty-two, and about halfway through my second year at the Culinary Institute of America. Liz was going to be graduating high school that year, but Fiona was just a sophomore. I ended up dropping out and moved back home to take care of them.”

  “How did you manage to do it?”

  She laughed. “I’m not going to lie, it was scary. Technically, I was old enough to take custody of Fiona, but felt so ill-prepared to do so. Added to that, we were all dealing with so much grief at the time.”

  She traced the edge of the frame with her finger. “I think it was hardest on her because she was the youngest and still in the middle of high school. Her situation felt the most vulnerable to us. There was no way I would leave her to the foster care system. Not after the kind of loving childhood I’d had. She deserved the same opportunity. Besides, even Liz, who was technically able to live on her own, would need support.”

  “I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you.”

  She gave him a smile. “Thanks. I’d like to think so. We were lucky. Mom and Dad had been very organized with their finances. Their wills and beneficiaries were in place for all of it. They also had made a few modest investments, which really helped out when I decided to open the café.

  “Plus, we had a good network of family friends and were surrounded by people who knew us and wanted to help. Mom had stayed at home with us kids, but as we got older she did a lot of volunteering at the public library and used to lead the reading hour for little kids in the afternoons. Dad had been known to cut deals or delay payments for people who were hard up and needed car repairs.

  “They were both so well-loved by the community that when it came time to pitch in after the accident, people were coming out of the woodwork. Added to that, Dad’s business partner, Paul, was invaluable during those early days. I honestly don’t think I could have made it work without all the help.”