Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

“I wish I were. I didn’t study the kind of engineering that can build a sanitation system, but I can at least provide housing to people and with that housing, give them a toilet, whether it’s self-sustained or hooked up to plumbing.”

He knew this was a ridiculous topic. Not many women found a discussion on poverty and toilets arousing. But he couldn’t seem to shut his mouth or change the subject.

“That’s what got me excited. I was accepted for an internship in Africa. I spent two summers building tiny homes there. Jane expected me to get it out of my system. I was offered a place at a New York firm and another in London. I turned them both down to go back to Africa.”

“Were you married by then?”

“Oh, yeah. Jane came with me and stuck it out for two years. When we returned to the States, I was supposed to take a job in New York. Instead I accepted a position at a nonprofit in LA, designing shelter for the homeless. That was it for Jane. She left.”

He paused. “Okay, that makes it sound like I was a saint and she’s a horrible person. I don’t mean that. She and I had other problems and I’m sure most of them were my fault. She’s very sweet, but she had expectations that I didn’t meet.”

“What about now?” Kelly asked. “Would she like what you’re doing?”

He smiled. “Tulpen Crossing isn’t exactly her speed.”

“But we have the craft mall. How could she not love it here?”

“I’m confused, as well.” He thought about what had happened when Jane told him she wanted a divorce. “I didn’t see it coming,” he admitted. “I knew she wasn’t happy but I figured we’d work it out. That she wasn’t willing to try shocked the hell out of me. I couldn’t get past how I’d made such a bad decision. Of course I’d changed the rules, so maybe she’s the one who was shocked. Either way, I’m bad at love and bad at marriage.”

“That’s a fairly harsh assessment after a single failed relationship.”

“I don’t like making mistakes.”

“No one does, and I’m not judging. It’s not like my five years with Sven made any sense. He’s a great guy, but I don’t know. I should have missed him more, you know? He ended things and I felt bad, but I wasn’t crushed.”

She grabbed a throw pillow and pulled it against her midsection. Even in his guyness, he was able to recognize the gesture as protective.

“Were you in love with him?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. While we were together I would have said I was, but after it was over, I just kind of went on with my life. I missed the concept of our relationship more than the actual man himself.”

“Good to know.” He put his arm on the back of the sofa and rested his hand on her shoulder. “So, Kelly Murphy, what’s it going to be? Now that we’ve confessed our failed relationships, you want to see where things go between us?”

She looked down, then back at him. “No falling in love, no forever. Just dating.”

“And sex.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, and sex. I’m clear on the expectations.”

Her phrasing surprised him. Why expectations? That made it sound as if it would all be about him and not her. Didn’t Kelly like sex?

Before he could ask any questions or figure out a way to pursue the topic, she drew in a breath.

“Yes.”

His mind screeched to a halt, then skipped back to what he’d asked.

“You’re in,” he confirmed.

“I’m in.”

He thought maybe she was going to say something else, but decided not to give her a chance. Instead he pulled the pillow away and tossed it on the floor, then scooted a few inches closer, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Her mouth was warm and soft and yielded immediately to his. Her lean body was temptingly close, but he wasn’t going to rush things. His gut told him slower was better where Kelly was concerned. He wanted her to trust him.

He kept his lips on hers for three full beats of his heart, then slowly brushed back and forth. Just a little. Just to get the feel of her.

Heat burned in his chest before moving lower to the traditional spots, but he ignored the expected reaction to kissing a woman he was interested in, instead focusing on her.

Her hands fluttered, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with them. One finally landed on his shoulder. Her breathing quickened slightly. Just when he was about to draw back, she parted her lips.

The invitation was clear and not one he could resist. He slipped his tongue inside, just for a second, and let himself enjoy the taste and feel of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and she leaned closer. He circled her tongue with his, felt his blood heat then, regretfully, broke the kiss and straightened.

Her eyes were half closed. She blinked and looked at him. He smiled and brought the hand on his shoulder to his mouth. He kissed her palm.

“It’s late. I should get you home.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He debated asking her to spend the night, but instead rose and helped her to her feet. He was a man with a plan. No matter the temptation, he was going to stay focused. He didn’t want one evening with Kelly—he wanted a lot more and he knew he was going to have to earn that.

*

Olivia parked in front of The Parrot Café. She wasn’t that hungry, but a childhood memory of an Oreo cookie milk shake had her mouth watering.

She didn’t actually need the billion calories, but she could run them off later. One of the advantages of being back in the Pacific Northwest was the balmy temperatures. She didn’t have to get up at five to run before the sun was up, nor was she concerned about it getting over a hundred by midafternoon.

She went inside. It was a little after one o’clock and much of the lunch crowd had dissipated. She took a seat at the counter and was surprised when Helen, her sister’s friend, appeared and handed her a menu.

“Oh, hi,” Olivia said. “You work here?”

“Actually, I own this place. I bought it from my aunt and uncle a few years back.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry—we weren’t in the same grade at school, so you’re kind of a mystery to me.”

Helen laughed. “That’s okay. I’m what, six years older? When you were in high school, I was already working here full-time. I would have seemed ancient.”

“Maybe just really mature.” Olivia pushed away the menu. “Do you still make Oreo milk shakes?”

“We do and they’re delicious.”

“I’ll take one.”

“You’ve got it.”

Helen took the menu and entered the order on a small computer on the back counter. Olivia glanced around at the booths and tables, the cheerful prints on the walls. Big windows let in lots of light. The restaurant wasn’t fancy—more diner than bistro—but it had a welcoming feel. It was a place you’d want to come back to.

Helen returned with a napkin and a long-handled spoon. “How are you settling in to being back in town?”

“Pretty well. So much is familiar, but every now and then there’s something I don’t remember.” She tilted her head. “I sort of remember you weren’t born here. Is that right?”

“I moved in with my aunt and uncle when I was eleven.”

Olivia wanted to ask why, but told herself it wasn’t her business. “And you stayed. That’s nice. So many people want to be somewhere else.”