by Nina Lane
“You wake up to this every morning,” she said. “Must be nice.”
“It’s why I bought the house. I like being right next to the sea.”
He opened the prescription bottle of his daily medication, dispensing two tablets into his palm. He swallowed them with a gulp of water. Only when he glanced up did he notice Hannah watching him.
She averted her gaze. A pained look flashed in her eyes. He put the bottle in the cupboard and slammed the door too hard. Tension threaded his shoulders.
“I think about views a lot when I’m in a place I love.” Hannah pushed a tumble of hair away from her face and picked up her fork. “Waking up in Kenya, or Ireland. Brazil. If I have an amazing view, I always think how incredible it would be to wake up and see that every morning. It would fill you up.”
Evan sat down and passed her the plate of toast. “What about when you wake up in a place that’s not so picturesque?”
“Then I think how lucky I am to be there anyway. Not many people have had the opportunity to travel as much as I have. To have seen the things I’ve seen.”
He took a bite of toast and considered his next words carefully. “You ever going to stop?”
“One day. Maybe.” Hannah picked at the eggs with her fork. “I don’t know. I make a living with my blog, so I don’t know what else I’d do for money.”
“What about your book?”
Her mouth twisted. “I still don’t have any inspiring ideas. Even if I did, it would just be one book. I’d still have to keep up my blog for income.”
She reached for her coffee, slanting her gaze to the window again. A swath of hair fell across her cheek. Even in the gray dawn light, her eyes were a striking aquamarine, the colors of the tropics.
Pride flared inside him, alongside a fierce sense of protectiveness. He hated that she’d been deemed the irresponsible one, the flight risk, the sister whose promises were suspect. More, he hated that she would even slightly believe those things about herself.
“It’s amazing,” he said. “What you’ve done with your life. Your writing, your photography. A lot of people dream of taking off to see the world, making a living, traveling wherever they want. You’re one of the unique few who have actually done it.”
“Thank you.” She looked down at her plate. “Unfortunately, I’ve also been selfish. I didn’t come back to visit my mother nearly enough. Or Polly.”
“Don’t make yourself feel guilty. You’re here now.”
“Maybe I agreed to help Polly out of penance.” She shrugged. “I should have come back more. I think I knew it at the time, especially when my mother got sick. I felt like such a coward every time I left again. I just hated seeing her so sick, wasting away. She’d always been like Polly, vibrant and full of life. Sociable, likable. Then I’d come back from Malaysia or wherever, and she was so thin, almost skeletal. She lost all her hair and sometimes she was so weak she couldn’t get out of bed. And Polly…”
Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. “Polly was so good. She’d have done anything for our mother. She did do everything she could. Even dropped out of college to come back to Rainsville and take care of her. Meanwhile, I had a hard time staying for more than a couple of weeks.”
“Hannah. You’re here now.”
She lifted her head to look at him. A nascent glow burned in her eyes. He could almost see her thoughts shifting and working in her sharp mind.
“My mother always told me how much she loved my blog,” she said. “That my posts made her happy.”
“I’m sure they did. It sounds as if you make a lot of people happy.”
There it was—the full-fledged smile that lit up her whole face and flooded Evan with warmth.
“Well, you make me happy, Heartbreaker,” she said.
His heart flared with an emotion he didn’t know what to do with. It was a combination of pleasure and sorrow—because of course Hannah made him happy too, but it would be a fleeting happiness, like eating a Sparkle Pop that he knew he’d be done with soon.
The front door slammed shut suddenly, and Adam’s voice boomed in from the foyer. “Hey, man, you ready to go?”
Shit. Adam walked into the kitchen, clad in track pants and a T-shirt. He stopped in the doorway, his eyebrows lifting in surprise at the sight of them.
“Sorry.” Adam stepped back. “Didn’t know you had company.”
“It’s okay. Adam, you remember Hannah. Hannah, my younger brother Adam.”
“Sure. Hi.” She rose and extended her hand.
Adam’s gaze flickered to her bare legs before he moved forward to shake her hand. “Good to see you again.” He glanced at Evan. “Guess you forgot we were going to shoot hoops at the gym.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Adam rolled his eyes at the insincere apology.
“Have a seat.” Hannah waved Adam to an empty seat at the table. “There’s plenty of eggs and stuff.”
Adam hesitated for about half a second, then pulled out the chair.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He sat, poured himself a cup of coffee, and filled a plate with eggs. “Looks like the auction worked out for you two, huh?”
Evan and Hannah exchanged glances. He didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if she hadn’t spontaneously bid on him.
“What about your date?” Hannah asked Adam.
“Nice girl.” Adam shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “We had fun.”
“Are you going to see her again?”
“Not sure. Maybe. I’m heading to Indonesia next week, so I guess it’s up to her if she’s going to wait for me to get back. I’m guessing not.”
“What are you doing in Indonesia?” Hannah asked.
“Sugar Rush business.”
“The Fair Trade Foundation crap I told you about,” Evan explained. “It’s turning into a crisis of corporate responsibility.”
“Why?”
“Evan is all about strengthening Sugar Rush’s social responsibility,” Adam told Hannah, reaching for the plate of bacon. “It’s always been part of the culture, but he wants it to be a division of the company.”
“Isn’t that what the Fair Trade Foundation is?” Hannah asked.
“That’s why I started it,” Evan said. “It’s supposed to not only ensure fair compensation for farmers but also find ways to keep cocoa bean crops sustainable. Eventually I want the foundation to invest in local communities with building projects and programs to train people in the best agricultural practices. Unfortunately, the man in charge of it is taking things in a different direction.”
“The wrong direction,” Adam added around a mouthful of toast.
“Can you fire him?” Hannah asked.
“Not without evidence of wrongdoing, which we don’t have.” Evan told Hannah more details about the deforestation issues with Singa, as well as the potential for a PR disaster.
Hannah listened carefully, her hands wrapped around her mug and her gaze on him.
“Remember that trip to Mongolia I told you about?” she asked when he paused to refill his coffee. “Has Sugar Rush done any special programs with global tourism?”
“We’ve funded scientific expeditions in Venezuela,” Adam said. “They’re not for tourists, though.”
“My friend Dave, he’s into eco-tourism,” Hannah continued. “He did some volunteer work for the Java Works Coffee Company’s environmental project in Costa Rica. They were working on a farmer’s collective or something. He can tell you more about it, but I think it was a big success. And Java Works is known all over for its commitment to the environment.”
“All of our cocoa beans are sourced from family farms in Venezuela and the Ivory Coast,” Adam said. “We’ve never done a volunteer project though.”
“Dave said there were about three hundred people from all over.”
Evan was silent. His brain started working in a different direction. A better one. The palm oil issue was specific to Sugar Rush’s chocolate line.
And the Fair Trade Foundation hadn’t yet gotten off the ground—that was supposed to be Sam’s job, despite his shitty start. But since Sugar Rush already had a framework in place in both Venezuela and the Ivory Coast…
He looked at his brother. “What if we created a program like that to launch the Fair Trade Foundation? A research and educational project with volunteers, scientists, students, Sugar Rush employees. We could recruit international donors, get journalists involved. We could start with the research about soil quality and improving crop yield of cocoa beans.”
“Great idea, but Sam wouldn’t want you encroaching on his territory,” Adam said.
“Fuck him. Luke’s the only one who would have to sign off on it.” Ideas pinged back and forth in Evan’s mind. “We need to go on the offense rather than the defense. Yeah, we still have to prove we’re not involved with Singa, but a hands-on project about sustainable production and farmer support will take some of the heat off. Then we launch the project with applications, recruitment, maybe even scholarships… all emphasizing the foundation’s charter of principles and Sugar Rush’s worldwide initiative for corporate social responsibility.”
Adam shook his head and chuckled. “Ambitious.”
“I need your help,” Evan told his brother.
“I’m here,” Adam said.
Evan looked at Hannah, who hadn’t taken her eyes off him during his whole speech. He leaned across the table and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Lockhart, you’re a genius.”
“I am?”
“You’re my genius.” He stood and grabbed Adam’s half-eaten plate of food away from him.
“Hey, I’m not done, man.”
“Let’s get over to Sugar Rush. We have work to do.”
Chapter
EIGHTEEN
The Wild Child Bakery van rattled noisily over the straight, I-5 highway bisecting the center of California like a ribbon. The Rolling Stones crackled from the old speakers, and dry wind from the endless stretches of farmland blew through the open windows. Hannah opened a bag of Chocolate Crunchies from the stash of Sugar Rush candy Evan had brought along.
She passed the bag to him in the driver’s seat. He took a few and popped them into his mouth, his gaze on the highway in front of them.
“Tingo,” he said.
“The sound made by striking a bell with a metal spoon.”
“Nice.” He shot her a look of approval. “But no. It’s Pascuense for stealing a person’s belongings gradually by borrowing but not returning them. Pochemuchka.”
“A cute little woodland creature.”
“Russian for ‘a person who asks too many questions.’”
“Really?” Hannah asked. “Russia has a word for that? Why? Where did it come from?”
He grinned. “Gattara.”
“A special guitar made in a tiny Italian coastal town.”
“A woman who devotes herself to stray cats. Basically a crazy cat lady.”
“I have one,” Hannah said. “Fika.”
“Swedish for a coffee break.”
“Sahnehäubchen.”
He slanted her a sideways glance. “Look it up.”
“Huh.” Disgruntled that he still wouldn’t just tell her, she reached for a bottle of water from the cooler. “Okay, what about great English words? I’ve always liked the word kerfuffle. It sounds like what it is, and it’s fun to say.”
“Like hullaballoo.”
“Exactly. Gobbledygook.”
“Brouhaha,” Evan said.
“Gibberish.”
“Lollygag.”
“Serendipity.”
“Epiphany.” Evan unwrapped a Sparkle Pop and nodded toward the bag of candy. “Try one. You’ll have an epiphany about sugar.”
“When you lived in Copenhagen, did you try and convert all the Danes into sugar addicts?” Hannah took a Chocolate Crunchie and popped it into her mouth.
“Actually they converted me.” He stuck the lollipop in his mouth, rolling it across his tongue. “I became a huge fan of ebelskiver. Ever had them?”
“Those little round pancakes, right?”
“Fried and topped with jam and sugar. Couldn’t get enough of them with a cup of coffee, some fruit and cheese.” He made a deep noise of appreciation that settled in Hannah’s core.
“Did you live with a family while you were there?”
“No, I was in the dorm at the University of Copenhagen, but I spend a lot of weekends and holidays with friends’ families. You ever been there?”
“Once, but many years ago, and I didn’t stay for very long. I don’t remember much about it, actually.”
“You should go. It’s a phenomenal city. Still my favorite.”
Hannah looked out the side window at the acres of field and low hills in the distance. A thought pushed its way upward from the seed that had planted during their trip to Napa Valley.
What would it be like to travel the world with Evan rather than alone? She’d taken short trips with other men before, but they’d always parted ways sooner rather than later, and she’d never longed for their company again.
But Evan… she could picture standing with him in the quiet stillness of the Roman Pantheon, walking along the Santiago de Compostela in Spain, eating ginger-lanced siu mai from a Hong Kong street vendor. She could hear him waxing rhapsodic about Viennese pastries and chocolate-dipped churros in Barcelona. She could imagine reaching out and finding his hand ready to close around hers, anywhere in the world.
“Are you planning to go back anytime soon?” she asked. “To Copenhagen.”
“I don’t know.” He pulled the pop out of his mouth and set it back in the wrapper. “I’m going to Bern next year to work on the Alpine transition. I might stop in Copenhagen.” He glanced at her, his eyes shaded behind his sunglasses. “Where are you going when you leave Rainsville?”
She wished she knew. For all her longing to leave, she hadn’t yet made any specific plans—not that planning too much had ever been part of her repertoire. Her ability to uproot herself and move from place to place, buoyed by the wind like a dandelion puff, had always been one of her great sources of pride. And she didn’t know what to make of her intense attraction toward a man whose family had roots that sank deep into the California soil.
“I’ll probably go to the mountains,” she said. “Since I’m now spending months near the sea, I’ll go toward the sky next time. Maybe Italy. I’ve never been to the Apennine mountains.”
The idea stirred inside her, though it lacked the quick-fire spark of excitement she’d always felt at the anticipation of a new trip.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen to find a message from Polly: Are you seriously on a road trip with Evan?
Hannah couldn’t tell if her sister’s tone was surprised or disapproving. She responded with: Just for the weekend. Wild Child is fine in Ramona and Sophie’s hands.
I know. I’m asking about you and Evan!
Hannah chewed her bottom lip. She’d sensed Polly was hoping something would happen between her and Evan—Hannah had no idea why, since her sister knew she was leaving Rainsville soon.
Just so I can get material for new posts, she texted back. No big deal.
She turned off the phone before she could read Polly’s response. Now that Polly was so happy with Luke, Hannah felt bad for having tried to dissuade her sister from feeling too much for the commanding CEO Stone. Polly wore her heart on her sleeve, and her genuine warmth and goodness had probably softened Luke’s inflexible edges from their first encounter.
But Hannah wasn’t Polly, and Evan wasn’t Luke. They were having a fling, not a relationship.
Never mind how good she felt around him. Even the tedious drive south was turning out to be fun, only because she was sharing it with Evan and his inscrutable words, classic rock playlists, and Sparkle Pops.
She took over driving for a couple of hours so he could work on his tablet—brainstorming ideas for the cocoa bean res
earch project he and Adam were devising. Not only was she immensely proud of his ambition and determination, she was happy he was convinced this was the way to pull the company out of the recent shadow that had fallen over it.
And she’d had a small role in giving him the idea. Not once had she ever thought she’d one day influence the way a multi-million-dollar company conducted its business and social programs.
They neared LA. Hannah checked her travel guide and made a few calls to low-budget motels, finally locating one in East Hollywood that had a room available for the night. The urban sprawl of Los Angeles spread over the valley like a maze, divided by a tangled web of highways. High-rises shot toward the sky on either side of Wilshire Boulevard as Evan navigated the van through the clogged traffic of Westwood.
After registering at the neon-lit motel, they ate sloppy hamburgers at In-N-Out and wandered around Hollywood Boulevard. Though not nearly as high-end as Napa, there was a gritty, electric energy in the air that reminded Hannah the boundaries of the world didn’t end in Rainsville. She took pictures of street performers, neon signs, graffiti.
They sat on the grass to listen to a free concert in the park, and Hannah realized her faint misgivings about this weekend road trip had disappeared. She’d known Evan was accustomed to expensive travel and dinners, and though the road trip had been her idea, she’d been anxious about how he’d handle it.
Clearly she needn’t have worried. For all his wealth and family lineage, Evan was a man who would be comfortable anywhere—from a penthouse suite to the floor of a yurt. He knew how to eat caviar on blini, and he could appreciate a greasy burger from a roadside shack. He enjoyed both exclusive art galleries and tacky souvenir shops.
An ache nudged at Hannah’s heart. Evan should be out in the world, a part of it, layered in all its joys and complexities.
“Did you ever want to travel more?” She held out a paper bag of nachos they’d purchased from a food truck.
