The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) (17 page)

She gulped. “All that from one little
honey
?”

“All that.” Another step. “And more.”

“I’m sorry.” Was she? She didn’t feel sorry, not at all. In fact, a masochistic part of her wanted to call Luke
honey
again just to see if he would do what he promised. The images were already rolling through her mind in a delicious private reel.

“No, you’re not sorry,” he said, reading right through her. He raised her chin with his index finger, then traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “You are playing with fire, Olivia, and I’d hate to see you get burned.”

She raised her chin away from his touch. “I’m a big girl, Luke. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, really?” A grin quirked up one side of his mouth. “One of these days, I may ask you to prove that.”

She swallowed hard. Damn. Was there an outrageous amount of pollen in the air or something? Because right now it was hard to breathe, and it seemed every single thing she said brought them circling right back to the subject of sex. She kept telling herself she wanted a one-night stand, yet when she was one
honey
away, she hesitated. Maybe Luke was right about her. Maybe she did want the fenced-in yard and the pie in the oven.

“Besides, a woman like you,” Luke said, “will meet another Mr. Right.”

She scoffed. “Well if you see any growing on trees around here, let me know.”

He put a little distance between them. His tone shifted from that low bass that made her want to tear his clothes off to the more temperate sound of a neighbor passing the time of day. Was it the thought of another man being her Mr. Right? Or was it disappointment that she hadn’t risked that fire by calling him
honey
?

“Around here, a small village could be hiding in the shrubs,” Luke said. “My yard looks like the Congo.”

That was an understatement. She could hardly tell he used to have a lawn, never mind flower beds. In Florida, the vegetation got a three-hundred-sixty-five-day growing cycle, and in Luke’s yard, it looked like every plant and tree had made good use of the time. “Glad to see I’m not the only one with a project list.”

“I’ve let mine sit for a long time. Too long.” He turned and took in the weedy overgrowth. “Maybe it’s time I tackle this . . . mess.”

She got the feeling he was talking about something other than the yard. She wanted to probe but reminded herself of her no-relationship policy. Opening other people’s closed doors would only entangle her further with a man who had
NO TRESPASSING
painted all over him.

Chance nosed at Luke’s leg. He reached down and gave the dog a gentle ear rub. “You want to do some yard work? You any good with a rake?”

The dog wagged his tail and barked.

“Are you sure you want to keep him here with you? He’s still recovering, and he needs to take it easy. But I don’t like leaving him alone, and he’s not really ready to be around a lot of people yet.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke said quietly. Then he straightened and nodded toward the garage. “Come on, Chance, let’s see how those paws handle the shrub trimmers.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He tossed her a grin. “Don’t you trust me, Olivia?”

That comment sent a sizzle through her veins. Instead of answering, she said good-bye and headed back to grab Miss Sadie. But her thoughts remained on Luke, and her mind kept running images of him with his shirt off, working on the yard, skin glistening, muscles flexing—

If she kept it up, she was going to need a cold shower. Or a whole lot of chocolate. Maybe she needed to get a vibrator or an X-rated book or something while she was out. Find something else to occupy her nights than thoughts of her neighbor. But after the way he’d looked at her, and touched her, and put those images of tearing her clothes off into her mind—

Well, that was not going to be an easy task,
honey
.

She opted for the chocolate and pulled into the parking lot of the bright yellow-and-white Tasty Tidbits Bakery located right next door to the Java Hut on the boardwalk, and a block away from two churches. The scent of chocolate and peanut butter wafted out the door to greet her.

Olivia stood in the shop, debating whether to buy cookies for her meeting with Diana tomorrow. Did it scream of desperation or make her appear friendly? In the end, she called her mother, the font of everything wise. “You always told me to bring something to any important event,” Olivia said. “But what am I supposed to bring for the first time I have a real conversation with my biological sister?”

Anna laughed. “That’s easy. Chocolate. And don’t worry about it so much, sweetie.”

“I’m working on that.” Olivia leaned over the glass case and ordered a dozen double chocolate chip cookies from the gray-haired woman behind the counter. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high, but . . .”

“They’re up there all the same,” Anna said. Her voice was soft, tender. “It’ll go great, I’m sure. And besides, having a dog come to stay is a good sign for your future. It means you’ll have faithful and sincere friends ahead, to help you overcome the obstacles in your life.”

“I could use a few faithful friends who are handy with a hammer and nails.”

Anna laughed. “If you want some money—”

“Thanks, Ma, but I want to do this on my own.” Succeed or fail, it would be Olivia’s achievement either way, and she wanted—needed—this one big change to be hers, and hers alone. Ever since the divorce, she’d had that
FAILURE
sticker on her head. The move, the house, the new job, were all steps to erase it and fill her with that sense of accomplishment that had been missing from her life over the last year or two.

“I’m proud of you,” Anna said.

“Aw, thanks, Ma.” Olivia watched the baker assemble the cookies into a box, nestling them carefully in parchment paper. “I’m still worried about seeing Diana. I wish—”

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” Anna said.

Olivia laughed. “You say that all the time. What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea,” Anna admitted with a laugh of her own. “It’s something my mother used to say to me when I was a little girl. I’d get upset or worried about something, and she’d say, ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. If turnips were watches, I would wear one by my side. And if
ifs
and
ands
were pots and pans, there’d be no work for tinkers!’”

Olivia paused a second, turning that over in her mind, then shook her head. “It doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

Anna laughed. “No, it doesn’t, but it made you feel better, didn’t it?”

“Okay, it did,” Olivia admitted. “You’re always right, Ma.”

“Of course I am. And when you’re a mom, you’ll always get to be right too.” Anna paused and her voice softened. “I miss you, honey.”

“I miss you too, Ma. Say hi to Dad for me.” The homesickness hit Olivia in a wave again, and though she knew it was snowy and cold in Massachusetts and balmy and warm here, she missed the state, the people she knew there, the world she used to inhabit. “I can’t wait until you guys come down for a visit in March.”

“Me too. Take care of you,” Anna said. They said good-bye, and then Olivia tucked the phone back into her purse and fished out some bills to pay for the cookies. As she did, a trio of people came in—two women, one man, laughing and debating the cookie choices.

Lois Blanchard and her Constitutional Crew—her brother-in-law and her sister. Today’s matching sweat suits were a pale blue, with bright pink sneakers on the women and lime green for Ben. A three-year-old towheaded boy ran circles around the women, tugging on Lois’s sister’s shirt. “G’ma, cookie. G’ma, cookie.”

“Olivia!” Lois enfolded Olivia in a quick hug, like a long-lost cousin. “So nice to see you, neighbor.” Then she drew back and waved to the people with her. “I’d like you to meet the Constitutional Crew. My brother-in-law Ben, my sister Emmaline. Our mother got all fancy with the last baby’s name, you know. And Emmaline’s grandson, Tucker.”

Emmaline gave her older sister a dismissive wave. “You’re just jealous because I have a prettier name than you do.”

“I am not. Lois was our grandmother’s name. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

They sounded like sisters, and a part of Olivia envied the two their connection. Would she banter with Diana like that someday? Or would they maintain this civil connection, like co-workers?

“How’s the garden coming along?” Olivia asked Lois. “I meant to tell you that I really liked the pink flowers you added. They’re a nice pop of color. You’ve got me all inspired to fix up my landscaping.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Lois beamed with pride. “It’ll be so nice to see something blooming in your yard, too. Bridget—that’s the previous owner—never turned a spade of dirt in all the years she lived there. She was always so busy with those dogs. It’s a noble cause and all, but she could have at least found a minute to plant some shrubs or perennials.” Lois waved her hand. “Jazz the place up.”

“You knew Bridget?” Olivia said.

“Not well,” Lois said. “We were more waving neighbors than anything else. You know, the kind where you wave as you’re taking out the trash or bringing in the groceries. Like I said, she was always so busy with those animals.”

“I keep hearing that,” Olivia said. The picture of her biological mother painted someone with little time for the people in her life. Because she was selfish or because she was so busy with the shelter?

Olivia had moved here to find out what kind of person Bridget had been, who she was, what she’d been like, and thus far, she’d learned . . . zilch. Maybe Monday’s meeting with Diana would fill in a few blanks.

“Here’s your change.” The brunette cashier leaned over and deposited some coins into Olivia’s palm, then put out a hand. “I almost forgot to introduce myself. Carrie Parks. Owner of the Tasty Tidbits Bakery and a lifelong resident of Rescue Bay. I’m as much a fixture of this town as the lighthouse.”

“Olivia Linscott. Massachusetts transplant.”

The two exchanged small talk about the Boston weather, Carrie’s cousins in Rhode Island, and the balmy days in Florida. Lois, Ben, and Emmaline debated the lowest-calorie menu item while Tucker buzzed the café tables like an airplane.

The entire scene brimmed with hospitality and neighborliness and should have helped ease the homesickness in Olivia’s chest. But if anything, it made her miss Boston more. She had yet to find where she fit into Rescue Bay—or if she fit here at all.

“Welcome to Rescue Bay, by the way,” Carrie said, as if reading Olivia’s thoughts. “It’s so nice to see a new face around here. Our snowbirds are mostly retirees, so when we see someone under the age of fifty in the middle of winter, it’s about as rare a sighting as snow.”

“There was that year Merlin Brooks brought back that trophy wife from Vegas.” Emmaline wagged a finger.

“She wasn’t a trophy. She was an I Wish I Had Viagra.” Ben arched a pale blond brow to emphasize the point.

“Your mama would swat you if she heard that, Ben.” Lois shook her head. “Forgive my brother-in-law, Olivia. He’s a little lacking in the manners department.”

“G’ma, what’s a Viagra?” the little boy asked, tugging on Emmaline’s shirt again.

“Something your Grandma Emmaline thought was funny to put in Grandpa Ben’s Christmas stocking,” Ben muttered.

Emmaline just smiled, then grabbed her grandson and her husband and headed for the glass case to pick out their treats.

Lois turned to Olivia. “How’s the work coming on the house? It looks like one of those TV shows over there, except without the hunky carpenter and the camera crew.”

“I’m getting there. One nail at a time,” Olivia said. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but in the end, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince the neighbors or herself. She’d put in hours of sweat and tears on the house, on her new job, and on trying to connect with her sister, and thus far, she felt like she was swimming upstream and not making any progress.

“You know, I see you at Luke’s house a lot.” Lois put up her hands and shook her head. “I don’t want to know why or what you’re doing over there, and I’m not saying anything bad about my neighbor, but I do think you should steer clear, dear.”

“Why?”

Lois leaned in and lowered her voice. “This is a town where people like to talk. And they’re already talking about you. About how you’re living in Bridget’s house instead of her daughter, how you’re coming in with all these fancy ideas about animals and elderly at Golden Years, and about how you’re taking up with that”—Lois bit her lip and put on one of those fake smiles that always preceded a backhanded slap—“well, let’s just say that Luke didn’t leave the military under the best of circumstances.”

“I know he got injured, so I assumed there was an accident or something.”

“Oh, there was an accident. A tragedy, really. I heard all about it from Susan Mandel, who heard the details from her sister-in-law, whose brother is in the Coast Guard, too. I hear . . .” Lois looked around the room. Her family was busy at the counter, still debating chocolate chunk versus macadamia nut. She cupped a hand around her mouth and leaned in to whisper. “I hear he killed someone.”