by Nina Lane
“Well, I could have told you some of it without seeing it.” She curled his fingers into his palm and cupped her hands around his fist.
“Another mystery of life that can’t be seen or proven?” Luke asked.
Maybe. Polly’s intuition certainly told her she was falling for him in ways that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with her heart.
And she could read the signs, both in his palm and his actions—his overprotectiveness, his desire for her to stay, his “borrowing” a reminder of her, the way he touched her, his confession that he believed in her. All of those things spun together like feathery, sweet cotton candy right in the center of Polly’s heart, creating a truth that both thrilled and scared her.
Despite his talk about not making promises, Luke Stone was starting to fall for her too, at least a little bit. She tucked herself against him again and closed her eyes. Where would they both land?
POLLY PUT A CHICKEN POT pie in the microwave and returned to the kitchen table, which was covered with a pile of textbooks and papers. She sat down and opened her confectionary sciences book, but instead of focusing on studying the effects of heat on the flavor and textures of various foods, her mind drifted to Luke Stone.
Her body warmed at the mere thought of him, everything inside her feeling light and airy as whipped cream. The rational part of her warned she was treading in dangerous waters with these fluffy, romantic feelings, but it felt so good to let all her darker emotions of the past year—discouragement, frustration, despair—float away on a cloud of pleasure.
A knock sounded at the door, breaking into her reverie. Hoping it was a surprise visit from CEO Stone, who could certainly help her study the effects of heat, Polly hurried to peer through the security-installed peephole in the door. A slender woman with long, straight brown hair stood on the landing.
Polly’s heart slammed against her ribs. She pulled the chain off the door lock and yanked it open.
“Hannah,” she breathed in shock.
Her sister smiled. “Hey, Polliwog.”
A familiar rush of both pleasure and resentment flooded Polly as Hannah stepped forward to embrace her. She hadn’t seen her sister since Jessie’s funeral, and the faint smell of sandalwood drifting from Hannah brought back a sharp reminder of their mother. A lump of emotion rose to her throat.
“Good to see you, sis.” Hannah detached herself, her gaze going over Polly. “You look great.”
“So do you.” Polly blinked back the sudden tears stinging her eyes and stepped aside. “Come in. Do you have a suitcase?”
“Just this.” Hannah indicated the canvas backpack she was carrying as she entered and flopped down on the sofa. “Nice place. Looks the same.”
“It is.”
Had Hannah expected anything different? She knew Polly was the one who craved familiarity, whereas Hannah needed constant change.
She closed the door, unable to stop looking her sister. Dressed in a cotton skirt and tank top that displayed the tattoo on her shoulder, Hannah looked both young and also somehow jaded. With her bow-shaped lips and aquamarine eyes, she had always been beautiful, but her seemingly endless traveling had given her a sharp, restless energy.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Polly said. “I had no idea you were even coming into town.”
“I was in LA for about a week. Thought I’d stop in and see if I could stay with you for a while.”
“Of course.” She went into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I have another pot pie if you want.”
“Sure.” Hannah picked up The Art of French Pastry book on the coffee table and leafed through it. “You’ve been okay?”
“More or less.”
Polly pulled the pot pie out of the oven and put another one in, punching the timer buttons. As the microwave whirred into action again, she set the cooked pie on a plate with a fork. She pushed her textbooks and papers to the side, creating a space at the kitchen table as Hannah came to sit down.
“With school and the bakery, I haven’t had a chance to keep up with your blog as much as I’d like.” Polly set the plate in front of her sister. “Last I read you were in Brazil.”
“Yeah, for Dia dos Namorados.” Hannah picked up the fork. “It’s like Valentine’s Day, with gifts and date nights. Celebrated because of St. Anthony, who blessed couples with prosperous marriages.”
“Are you ever worried you’ll run out of love traditions to write about?”
“Astonishingly, people around the world seem to think love has no end.” Hannah rolled her eyes slightly. “That’s good for me, though. I’ve picked up enough readers that I’ve started running ads on my blog now.”
“Really? That’s great.”
“And not all my posts are about love because that would be boring.” Hannah broke the crust on her pie and scooped up a portion. “So how are things at Wild Child?”
“Not great,” Polly admitted. “We’re in debt and business sucks. But believe it or not, I’m getting help from the CEO of The Sugar Rush Candy Company.”
“Really? You’re going corporate?”
“No, no. Luke Stone is a friend of mine. He’s helping me with a business strategy.”
“A friend?” Hannah arched an enquiring eyebrow.
“Well, he’s a little more than a friend.” Polly’s cheeks heated. “But it’ll never be anything serious.”
Saying the words aloud dissipated the fluffy feeling that had surrounded her heart earlier. “Nothing serious” was what she’d been looking for the night she first saw Luke at the Troll’s House. So why did it feel like a punch in the gut to actually say that out loud to her sister, who blogged about love?
“How long are you staying in town?” she asked in an effort to change both the subject and her train of thought.
“A friend is heading to Portland, and he’s going to let me know when he passes through here. I’m going to hitch a ride with him.”
“What’s in Portland?”
“The Tulip Festival. I went to the one in the Netherlands last year, so I thought I’d do another tulip post.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Polly still couldn’t fathom how her sister could be on the move so much, in Spain one week and China the next, though part of her did envy Hannah’s sense of adventure and her outright bravery. Certainly Polly would have liked to visit just a fraction of the countries Hannah had been, but she also liked the idea of having a home to return to.
After they finished eating, Polly got clean towels and a washcloth for her sister, then changed the bedsheets while Hannah showered and changed.
“We’ll have to share the bed,” she said when Hannah emerged from the bathroom. “The sofa isn’t big enough to sleep on.”
“That’s fine. I’ve slept on concrete floors, so a bed is a luxury.”
Polly sat on the bed and watched as Hannah brushed her wet hair. She had always been slender, with narrow hips and long legs that gave her a feline kind of grace. She was thinner now than she’d been a year ago, and her hair fell past her shoulder blades in a straight, thick curtain.
Hannah’s eyes were the same, though. Polly couldn’t remember a time when her sister hadn’t had those striking, thick-lashed aquamarine eyes that sometimes unnerved people with their perceptiveness. Even with subtle changes, Hannah was still beautiful in an otherworldly way, like a forest elf.
“So where else have you been?” she asked.
“Oh, everywhere.” Hannah waved her hand, as if it were easy to go everywhere. “I went to Greece for a few months, but I’ve mostly been in South America. Mexico, Peru, Chile.”
“Did you see Machu Picchu?”
“Not this time.” Hannah worked at a tangle in her hair. “After Oregon, I thought I’d go up to Alaska and work for a while. I met a woman whose brother owns a restaurant up there, so I can wait tables.”
Polly brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Hannah fastened her long hair into a ponytail. Her sister
had always had a natural elegance about her, like a dancer or a gymnast.
“If you need money, you can always work at Wild Child,” Polly said. “We might have to close soon to do some remodeling, but Clementine is the only employee I still have. I can’t pay you much, but we could use help at the counter while we’re still open.”
“By the sound of it, you don’t have any customers to serve, so what do you need help with?”
“I need someone to staff the front so I can work on the accounting and business plan.”
“Isn’t that what Clementine is for?”
“She can’t always be there. Besides, it’s your bakery too.”
Hannah gave a short laugh. “It’s not mine. It’s always been yours.”
“Mom left it to both of us.”
“I know, but Wild Child is your thing. You were always the one hanging out there with Mom, not me. Heck, I didn’t even really like it. I’ve never been much of a dessert person anyway.” She sat beside Polly on the bed. “Why don’t you just buy me out and keep the whole thing for yourself?”
Because if I do that, then there really will be nothing tying you to Rainsville. Not even me.
“I can’t afford to buy you out,” she said. “And besides, Mom wouldn’t want that.”
“Mom isn’t here.”
“I know. I’m aware of that fact every time I walk through the front door of Wild Child.”
“Maybe you should let it go then.” Hannah motioned for her to move over so she could climb under the covers. “Don’t hold on to Wild Child just because you think it’s keeping Mom close.”
Irritation scraped Polly’s insides. “That’s not why I’m doing it. I love the bakery. I practically grew up there, especially after you left.”
Hannah’s mouth tightened. “I left because I didn’t want to be stuck in this town for the rest of my life. But unless you make a change, that’s exactly what’s going to happen to you.”
“Being responsible is not the same thing as being stuck.”
“Look, if you want to stay here and run Mom’s bakery, that’s your choice.” Hannah turned to fluff up the pillow. “But don’t try and convince me to do the same thing.”
“Well, I’d really like it if you at least stayed longer than a few days.” Polly’s heart thumped with sudden anxiety. “Even if you don’t want to work at Wild Child, it would be nice to have you here. There’s a new outlet shopping mall near Gilroy we could go to.”
Hannah’s breath expelled on a sigh. “That’s part of the reason I left, Polly. To get away from things like outlet shopping malls.”
Polly climbed off the bed, resigned to the fact that this visit would be no different from all the ones that had preceded it.
“All right,” she said, heading back to the kitchen table. “Get a good night’s sleep.”
She turned off the light switch on the wall and sat down again. She’d always known Hannah had a penchant for adventure and travel—when they were kids, Hannah’s pretend games were always about being on the crew of a sailing ship or explorers on uncharted territory. Polly, on the other hand, tended to want to play house or school.
Still, that didn’t explain why Hannah had bailed without either an explanation or a plan two days after her high school graduation. Polly had been baffled by her sister’s departure, but she hadn’t been angry—at first. The longer Hannah had been away and the less she seemed to care about Jessie or Wild Child, the more Polly had resented her.
Jessie hadn’t, though. Their mother had been happy that Hannah was off seeing the world, and she’d read her lively blog updates as if they were letters written just for her.
And despite her resentment, the posts always incited envy in Polly that she couldn’t ignore. Reading Hannah’s descriptions of the ice-blue waters of Silfra, eating curry on a beach in Goa, hiking to a Buddhist temple in Vietnam, all sparked a latent wanderlust that Polly hadn’t even known she possessed. Sometimes she wished she had even a fraction of Hannah’s bravery.
But she didn’t want her sister’s nomadic, uncertain life. She didn’t want whatever darkness came along with it—uncertainty, no home base, risk-taking, leaving friends behind, fear. Polly wanted to live and have fun, but with people she loved and with a home to return to. Hannah, of course, wanted a different kind of life.
And as their mother had always said, “Live your life.” Though Polly and Hannah were both doing exactly that, she wished their lives weren’t so separate.
“MR. STONE? MR. STONE.”
Luke jerked his attention away from staring out his office window. He turned in his chair, forcing himself to focus. Kate stood by his desk, holding a folder and watching him with a furrowed brow.
“Are you all right, sir?” She put the folder on his desk. “Do you need anything?”
“No.”
What he needed was Polly to stay at his house, security system or not. But even more than that, what he needed was to stop thinking about her and concentrate on his work. He hadn’t contacted her all morning, and he hated himself for checking his email more often than he usually did in the hopes of finding a message from her.
She’d told him her sister had shown up unexpectedly, and he couldn’t tell whether or not she was glad about that. Polly missed Hannah, but their relationship was strained.
And he sure as hell knew something about strained sibling relationships.
“Perhaps a protein drink?” Kate asked.
“No, thanks.”
It would take a lot more than a protein drink to straighten him out. He didn’t enjoy that realization one bit. In less than three weeks, Polly Lockhart had infiltrated his mind to the point that she was clouding his usually razor-sharp concentration on the business. Hell, he’d make a stupid mistake on the Switzerland project analysis this morning because he couldn’t stop thinking about sinking into her warm, tight—
“ . . . the corporate social responsibility report,” Kate was saying.
Luke shook his head slightly, as if that would somehow get thoughts of Polly out of his mind. “Okay, thanks. Is Evan in yet?”
“I believe so, sir. Shall I summon him for you?”
“No, I’ll go see him.” Luke shrugged into his suit jacket and headed down the hall to his brother’s office.
Evan stood at the table in the corner, looking over a bunch of graphics. He glanced up when Luke entered.
Tension tightened the air.
“Did you talk to Sam about the Fair Trade Foundation?” Luke closed the door behind him. “He had a marketing idea about a fair trade challenge to get other companies on board.”
“Yeah, he mentioned it. He didn’t know where to start, though.” Evan rubbed his jaw. “I got the website up and running, and I started drafting a charter of standards and principles.”
Despite Evan’s frustration with not having control of the foundation, his brother would never stall a Sugar Rush initiative out of spite. Just the opposite—he’d still do everything he could to help.
Luke had a stab of regret over his decision to turn the foundation over to Sam, even if he still couldn’t justify letting his brother travel extensively to remote locations. He doubted Evan’s cardiologist would sign off on the idea either. At the same time, he did need to do more to get his brother involved in Sugar Rush . . . or risk losing him in a different way.
What would Polly read in Evan’s heart line? Luke had almost believed her when she’d talked about all the qualities she could see in his palm. Just like he’d almost believed her when she’d told him the crystal around her neck had fallen from the Northern Lights. And when she’d talked about love being something you couldn’t explain through science or reason . . .
Stop.
“Hey, you want to grab a beer or something this weekend?” he asked.
Evan glanced at him in faint surprise. “With you?”
“Yeah, with me. Even though you ratted me out to Julia about Polly, I might even pay.”
“I didn’t rat y
ou out, man. I was trying to save you.”
“From what?”
“Julia gave me a list of the women she’d invited to her museum fundraiser, and she said she was reserving a few of them for you. So I told her you were already dating someone and didn’t need to be set up.”
“Oh. Well, thanks for the save.”
“No problem.” Evan straightened, resting his hands on his hips. “For the record, you owe me big because Julia is now seating me between two single ladies in an arrangement she’s calling the spinster sandwich.”
Luke shook his head in both resignation and amusement. “Who else has she recruited?”
“Dad, of course, and maybe Tyler if she bribes him enough. Are you bringing Polly?”
“I was planning to.” He was no longer sure. Not because of Polly, but because he still didn’t want to share her with anyone.
Pushing aside that unsettling thought, Luke grabbed his phone when it buzzed with another text.
POLLY: There is a very scary woman here who claims to be related to you.
“Shit.” Luke hit the call button. It rang once before Polly answered.
“She just told me it looks like a hippie threw up in here,” she said indignantly. “What the hell is going on, Luke?”
“Put her on the phone.”
A second later, Aunt Julia snapped, “Really, Luke? This is your latest investment? You’re going to make pot brownies under the Sugar Rush label?”
Luke heard Polly’s incensed screech in the background. His jaw clenched as fresh anger filled his chest.
“Julia, what are you doing there?” he asked. “How did you find it?”
“There aren’t that many Hartford culinary students named Polly who own a bakery,” she replied. “And I remembered your father told me some students had visited the offices recently, so a little digging and . . . voilà. I find out you’re a victim of reefer madness. This is where you plan to sink your money?”
“It’s none of your goddamned business, Julia. Leave Polly alone.”
“Not likely. If this place is going to be associated with Sugar Rush, you’d better believe I’m giving you my opinion. We have a brand to protect, and roach clips don’t go well with lollipops.”
