Sprinkles on Top (A Sugar Springs Novel)

by Kim Law

  Damn. And he’d just let his ride head off.

  “Don’t hurt her.” Nick’s words were clipped.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I saw the way you looked at her. Don’t hurt her.”

  Ah. The glare was about Holly. Zack nodded. “No intention of it.”

  “Intentions can be shot to hell. Especially with a pretty girl around. You might be my brother, but I’ll kick your ass if you break her heart.”

  “Man.” Zack held his hands up in front of him. “We’re just friends.”

  “Friends who left the park together last night.”

  “Yeah,” he said, beginning to take offense. “Friends who left the park together. Stay out of it.”

  An evil slash lifted one side of Nick’s mouth. “Cody cares about her more than I do. Think you can take us both?”

  He thought he’d get his ass whipped if even one of them took him on.

  Though Zack wasn’t a lightweight, his brothers easily had twenty pounds each on him. Of muscle. As well as a couple of inches in height.

  “We’re just friends,” he repeated. He found it reassuring that Holly had people watching her back.

  “Keep it that way.”

  The hardness cleared and Nick changed before Zack’s eyes. He didn’t become friendly, exactly. But he no longer seemed ready to take Zack out either.

  “You only here to apologize?” Nick asked.

  Meaning . . . do you want to know us?

  He did.

  Zack hadn’t fully realized it until that very moment, but he wanted to get to know them. He’d missed too many years already.

  “The apology is just the beginning,” he explained. “I’d like to actually get to know my brothers.”

  That had been far easier to say than he’d imagined.

  “I should also tell you that I met our birth mother ten years ago,” he added.

  Nick’s matching eyes locked on Zack’s. His voice went flat. “You met Pam?”

  “I did.”

  “Where?”

  “A run-down bar outside Nashville.”

  “She sober enough to know who she was talking to?”

  Sounded like Nick wasn’t blind to what the woman had been. “She was sober enough to extort me for a good chunk of money.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Anger heated Nick’s words. “You gave her money? You know she either drank it or snorted it.”

  “I know. But I’d tracked her down—which wasn’t exactly legal. She’d never signed the release. I couldn’t risk her filing suit because I looked her up.” He still wasn’t proud that he’d handed a junkie a pile of cash. “Heard what I needed to hear, got her signature on the form, and then I got the hell out.”

  There was so much he left unsaid. Nick seemed to get it. He studied Zack quietly for several seconds, his gaze never wavering. Then he slowly nodded.

  “What else did she tell you?” he asked.

  Anger suddenly fueled Zack. He’d had every intention of looking his brothers up ten years ago. Before he’d met Pam. The worthless piece of shit had taken that from him.

  “When I didn’t come off the full amount she wanted, she made it clear the two of you would do her bidding. Said to watch my back. She also implied you were drinking buddies.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Nick growled. And then he got it. “You thought we came to Atlanta for money?”

  “It took a while, but yeah. I have a lot of money. I assumed you wanted some of it.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Private investigator. Confirmed you didn’t actually meet Cody until last year and that you were both respectable business owners. That went against everything Pam had said.”

  Nick shook his head. Disgust covered his features. “Why would you ever believe something a strung-out drunk told you?”

  Because after meeting her, he’d been afraid to hope for more.

  Zack had sought Pam out ten years before, naively believing he would mean something to her. He hadn’t been looking to build a relationship so much as to have a few questions answered. To find out what his biological family was like.

  The PI had warned him not to expect much. He’d seen the woman in action himself, and had already deduced the type of person she was. At least that hadn’t been a surprise. But for a guy who’d grown up always wondering, always imagining that he meant something to the woman who’d given him life, it had been near impossible to keep from hoping.

  How did he explain that to Nick? Nick had grown up with her.

  Nick knew better.

  And after meeting her himself, Zack hadn’t wanted another reminder of what his genes were. He didn’t need to see his two strung-out brothers to be reminded of what low-class stock he came from.

  “I’m not sure what I can say,” he finally answered. “It is what it is. I believed her.”

  “You didn’t want to risk having junkies hanging around?”

  He took his brother full on. “Would you?”

  He knew the answer. Nick had grown up with the woman, and he hadn’t spoken to her for fourteen years before she died. Clearly he’d wanted that distance himself.

  “I suspect you already know the answer to that,” Nick acknowledged.

  “I suspect I do.”

  Both men grew quiet, drifting in their own thoughts, until Nick finally asked, “You good now? Don’t think we’re out to scam you?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

  He nodded. “Good enough.” Then Nick reached out to slap Zack on the back, and the tension of the last few moments evaporated. Just like that, they were ready to move on. “You have any idea how to hold a hammer?”

  A tight chuckle escaped Zack. He still had Cody to get past, but this might just turn out okay.

  “I can hold my own,” he assured Nick.

  “Then let’s do this.”

  The log cabin sat quiet and closed up as Holly straddled the idling four-wheeler. The building was small, but big enough for her purposes. It held one bedroom and a combo living room and kitchen, with an eat-in area large enough to be her work space. It was a home, just as she’d implied to Zack when he’d asked earlier. Only, it was so much more.

  It was her place.

  It wasn’t her parents’, and it wasn’t her brothers’. It was hers.

  And it used to hold her dreams.

  Now she wasn’t sure what it held.

  Her heart sat heavy in her chest, as she wondered what she should do next. She climbed from the vehicle and made her way up onto the small porch that spanned the length of the house. A couple rockers sat there, where she sometimes worked out a design in her head or sketched it in a notepad.

  There was also a small table she’d confiscated from her parents’ basement. It had ring stains from years of glasses of lemonade sitting on it during the sluggish heat of summer. She ran a hand over the back of one of the rockers. They were painted a glossy white, and were just as inviting now as they had been the last time she’d been out here. Seven weeks ago.

  She’d driven her SUV here that afternoon, making use of the one-lane dirt road that led only to her cabin. Excitement had flooded her at the new direction her life was about to take. She’d loaded up as many of her original pieces as she could fit in the back without risking damage.

  Then she’d headed north.

  And last weekend she’d come home with all of them once again packed away and loaded in the back. They were still there now.

  She hadn’t even bothered to unload them.

  But she knew she couldn’t ignore the task forever. She had to decide if she was going to accept that this was truly it for her, and be happy with just a hobby . . . or if she would quit for good.

  She unlocked the front door and pushed it open.

  Sunlight streak
ed through the oversized floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall that looked out toward the mountains. The light angled off the many mirrors hanging on every available space in the living room.

  The mirrors in this room were the ones she’d refurbished. They were the ones Holly would eventually take to the consignment store.

  But it was what was in the bedroom that she was most proud of.

  Or had been.

  She walked slowly through the room, her eyes roving over each and every design. There were large antique mirrors all the way down to small, handheld ones. For each of them, she’d touched up the mirror itself, if needed, and had then added embellishments. Some she’d removed from their original holders and had put into something new.

  Like the one that hung at the base of the stairs at the B&B. She’d rescued that mirror from a fake brass frame like those that were once seen in any number of homes throughout the country, and had found and cleaned the copper tray she’d seated it in.

  Then she’d gone to work on what she enjoyed most. The perimeter of that mirror was one of her favorites. She liked the mosaic work. The fine detail it took to get it just right. But she also liked creating new designs from scratch.

  She made her way through the room to the adjoining kitchen, noting that, as she’d left it, every surface was covered with containers holding glass, beads, slate . . . whatever item she’d run across that could be repurposed for her mirrors. Of course, there was a layer of dust covering everything now, as well.

  Then there were the sheets of mirror waiting to be cut and styled into the more artistic works, like those she’d taken to Chicago. No one in Sugar Springs had ever seen any of those.

  They were her babies.

  The ones she lost hours of her days creating. They were also the ones she’d been fearful to share with others. She hadn’t wanted anyone to laugh at what she thought was unique and original.

  Because what would she have left if she found out they were nothing special?

  She let out a shaky breath. She’d have exactly what she had now.

  Nothing.

  She was just the little Marshall girl; she might as well accept it. The boys’ baby sister.

  Whatever she’d needed all her life, all she’d had to do was ask. If her parents didn’t give it to her, her brothers had.

  But no one had ever asked her what she really wanted.

  The back of her nose burned as she stood at the windows and looked out over the water. She loved this house. And she would love to live here all the time. Though she did get lonely. Just as she’d told Zack. She preferred being around people.

  But there was something about this space being so “her” that made it special.

  She picked up a notebook where she’d made several sketches, and flipped through the pages. Some she’d already created, and some she still wanted to.

  Pain pressed into her chest at the thought of giving this up. This was her thing. It had taken a long time to find it, but she had. And she loved it. She’d never had anything that was truly hers before.

  And she didn’t want to give it up.

  She looked around and saw nothing but beauty surrounding her. She shook her head and set her jaw. There was no reason she had to.

  Screw those highbrow people she’d met in Chicago. They didn’t control her. They did not choose her destiny.

  And she wasn’t giving this up.

  Even if her more intricate pieces never went anywhere but this house, she could still enjoy creating them. And she could still enjoy working with the ones that she did take into town to sell.

  People loved those.

  In fact . . . She went to the kitchen cabinets and riffled through the extra-large space that most people would use as a pantry. She found what she wanted, a triangular mirror she’d picked up at a rummage sale in the spring, and nodded her head as her vision for the piece came to her.

  She knew just what she wanted to do.

  She put the mirror on the sturdy workbench in the eat-in area of the kitchen, and pulled several containers from the shelves running along the wall. She would finish this piece and take it into town next week. That would make her feel back to normal.

  And she’d put her trip north completely out of her mind. It had been a mistake to go in the first place.

  It had shown her one thing, though. She belonged here.

  Chapter Nine

  You sure you want to do this?” Zack halted outside the door to the Bungalow and eyed his brother.

  He and Nick had spent the day together working on the cabins, and though the hours had passed with them getting along well enough, Zack found it difficult to imagine the man honestly wanted to continue their time together into the evening.

  Or that he wanted to do it so publicly. He had to know what everyone thought of Zack.

  “Got to show off my big brother,” Nick replied. The words sounded sincere.

  Zack eyed Nick. “This could be your downfall. You might be ostracized.”

  “You don’t give them enough credit.” Nick pulled the door open and country music pounded out. The bar was packed. “They protect their own, yeah, but I’m one of their own now. They’ll see that I’m good with you, and will cut you some slack.”

  “What about Cody?” Zack stepped inside the building. His nerves pulled tight at the base of his spine, keeping him from taking more than a couple steps forward. “He might take issue with you spending the evening with me.”

  Cody had declined to come out with them tonight. Which hadn’t surprised Zack.

  “Cody will be fine,” Nick assured him. “He doesn’t trust easily. Years of rejection will do that to a person.”

  Sounded like Zack and Cody had some things in common.

  Nick perked up at the sight of a blonde in the corner, and waved. “That’s my fiancée, Joanie,” he explained. He nudged Zack to move, and the two of them headed across the room. As they did, conversation came to a halt. The music continued blasting from the speakers, but no one danced.

  Every single pair of eyes was focused on them.

  “It’s all good,” Nick said, while giving a smile of greeting to the people they passed. “Stop looking as if you’re ready to snap someone’s head off and it’ll help.”

  Zack forced a more pleasant expression to his face and thought about Holly. She would have called him out on his scowl too. She probably would have laughed in his face and told him he wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought.

  He wondered where she was tonight. After working with Nick all day, he’d been dropped at the house, but she’d been nowhere to be found. Zack had considered staying in for the evening and working, yet that had held little appeal. Truth be told, he’d wanted to come out with Nick. Hell, he’d wanted to come out with Holly.

  She was probably out on a hot date, though.

  So instead of hanging at the house as if he had no life, he’d showered and changed into the least dressy clothes he’d brought with him. He was still overdressed.

  “Zack.” Joanie Bigbee smiled warmly up at him as they reached the table. Nick had talked about her a lot during the day. She owned the local cupcake store, and apparently had go-go boots and short skirts that brought his brother to his knees. The man was a goner.

  She also had blue-tipped hair, and her eyes said that she was not only intelligent, but that she knew how to hold her ground. If he wasn’t mistaken, they also said that she’d rip him apart if he hurt her fiancé again. He liked her on the spot.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. He expected her to offer a handshake. Instead she stood and reached across the table, wrapping both arms around his neck in a warm embrace. This made conversation around them start again. The noise level quickly returned to normal.

  “Sit,” she urged when she pulled away.

  Before doing as she asked, he
made a quick sweep of the room. Most people were still watching, but no one seemed ready to do anything about him being there. From what he knew about small towns, he’d expected someone to offer to kick his ass just for walking in the door.

  “Take a seat, man.” Nick pushed him to the empty bench before sliding in next to Joanie.

  The number of firsts Zack had experienced in the last two days kept piling up. Why not add spending an evening at a honky-tonk to the mix? He often went out on Friday nights anyway. Usually with some babe who was more interested in his money than his wit. But this was fine.

  Actually, his first impression of the relaxed atmosphere was favorable. There were pool tables in the back, a dance floor in the middle of everything, and tables scattered all around. Most seats were full, and the dance floor was filled to capacity. Everyone looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. It didn’t seem to be a bad place to hang out.

  “So tell me about working with Nick.” Joanie stretched a hand across the table and rested it on his. The motion made him feel included. “I hear he can be a real slave driver,” she said.

  Before Zack could answer, a woman slid onto the bench seat beside him.

  “Hey darlin’,” she drawled. Her perfume was strong but not off-putting, and her cleavage was expansive. And it was right up in his face. She gave him a wide, inviting smile.

  “Gina,” Joanie groaned at the newcomer. Nick simply chuckled under his breath. “Could you not give us five minutes before you pounced?” Joanie asked.

  “In five minutes, honey, any number of women could snap him up,” Gina replied. She gave Zack a lidded look and pouted her lips suggestively. “I sure do love you Dalton boys.”

  He stuck out his hand. “Winston, actually. Zack.”

  She took his hand in hers and petted the back of it. “Dalton, Winston. Either works for me. As long as they come as good-looking as you. I’m Gina Gregory. I’m single, looking, and I know how to give a man a good time.”

  He didn’t quite know how to take her.

  Actually, he did. He could probably take her in the bar’s restroom in about two minutes flat.

  “Nice to meet you, Gina.” He preferred a woman in his bed.