Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about before,” he began. “About the women I see in Seattle.”

Yes? Yes? She did her best to look completely normal when on the inside she was doing a competition-worthy cheer routine. Oh, please, oh, please let him want sex with her. Wild, crazy, hot monkey sex.

“You caught me off guard with your questions. I didn’t know what to say.” He raised one shoulder. “I guess I was embarrassed.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. People talking.”

“No one’s talking. I observed.” Although she did think other people had noticed, she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“My point is, you’re right. We’re friends. Good friends. So ask me what you want to know and I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”

The hot, glowing sex bubble inside of her burst with an audible pop. “That would be great. Probably not right here.”

He looked around at the empty café parking lot. “Probably not.”

They walked the quarter block to her small house, the one she’d bought after her aunt and uncle had moved away. It was just over fourteen hundred square feet, with nice light and an updated kitchen. But what had sold her on the place was the oversize living room with the perfect space for her piano. The small upright was one of the few things she had from her parents. The piano had to be on an interior wall, away from drafts, vents and the sun.

She unlocked the front door. Jeff followed her inside. They gravitated to the kitchen, as people always did, and settled on the bar stools in front of the main counter.

Unsure of the protocol for a conversation like this, she asked, “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m fine.”

They were sitting about two feet apart, angled toward each other. Helen set her purse on the counter, then didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“I have a couple of bars I go to,” he began. “I’ve also used a dating website or two.”

She told herself that whatever he said, she was going to keep her mouth firmly shut. And act natural. No snorts, no gasps, no blushing, although the latter would be hard to control.

“I make it clear I’m not looking for anything long-term or involved. No serious commitments.”

“Why not?” she blurted before she could stop herself. “See, I don’t get that. I know you and you’re a commitment kind of guy. You love your routine and the rhythm of the seasons. Why would it be different with a woman? Why wouldn’t you want to be with someone long-term?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not. Kelly wouldn’t care. She worries about you being alone. One day she’s going to move out and then you’ll be in that big house all by yourself. You can’t sell it—it’s been in the family too long. I guess you could move out and Kelly could...” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

He gave her a brief smile. “Want to bet on that?”

She grinned. “No. Anyway, you were saying it’s complicated.”

“Maybe that’s not the right word. With my past...”

He meant Marilee, the bitchy, unfaithful ex-wife. “You know what she did wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t about you, it was about her. Something inside of her.” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. There was something in her.” He shifted on the bar stool. “When we first started dating, I knew she wasn’t long for this town. That as soon as she graduated from high school, she was gone. Then she got pregnant. I was shocked when she told me and even more surprised that she wanted to have the baby. We got married and Kelly was born and Marilee went to college and got her degree and started teaching. For a while things were okay between us. Then they weren’t.”

He looked at her, then away. “I never knew how to make her happy enough.”

Happy enough that she wouldn’t cheat, Helen thought. She’d had a similar thought herself. With Troy. She’d kept thinking that if only she were prettier or thinner or more adventurous in bed, he wouldn’t cheat on her.

“Like I said before, it’s not about you. It was never anything you did. It was always her.”

“You telling me or yourself?” he asked gently. Because, of course, Jeff knew about her past. Everyone in Tulpen Crossing did.

“Both.”

“I agree with you, at least in theory. My head tells the story, my gut is less likely to believe.”

“And because of that, you won’t get involved?”

“That’s part of the reason.”

“What’s the rest of it?” That he was secretly in love with her? If only life were that convenient.

He leaned toward her. “This conversation is supposed to be about you. Here’s my advice. Make sure you like the guy. Keep yourself safe. Listen to your gut and make him wear a condom. Don’t take any crap about how it doesn’t feel good with a condom. It feels just fine. You deserve someone who looks out for you.”

Like he was doing now, she thought dreamily. Only he wasn’t talking about himself. He was giving her advice on how to sleep with someone else. Not exactly the act of a man secretly in love with her.

Another dream dashed. It appeared she was never going to have her way with Jeff—not if she couldn’t get him to be the tiniest bit jealous.

“I appreciate the advice,” she told him.

“Good.” He stood. “I need to get back to the office.”

She rose and walked him to the front door. He turned and smiled at her. Before she could catch her breath or react, he pulled her close. Like in a hug. Not that they hadn’t hugged a billion times before, but maybe this was different. Maybe he was finally going to—

He leaned in and kissed her. On. The. Top. Of. Her. Head. WTF?

Helen forced herself to smile tightly as he drew back.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

What she said was, “Absolutely.” What she meant was, “Not if I see you first.”





6

Kelly lowered the seared pot roast into the pressure cooker, then added broth and the vegetables. While most people were Crock-Pot fans, she’d never taken to it. The thought of having to get up first thing in the morning and dice or chop or even assemble was too daunting. A pressure cooker gave her the same kind of flavor in a significantly shorter period of time.

She put on the lid and set the timer. In ninety minutes they would have pot roast—one of her dad’s favorites.

She supposed a psychologist would have a field day with the fact that she was still living at home at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. Every now and then she thought about moving out. She just wasn’t sure when that was going to happen. Or if there actually was a reason to. In some societies, multigenerational families were the norm. She and her dad could start a trend.