Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Apparently the sarcasm was lost on him because all he said in response was, “I wanted to be sure.” He gave her a smile, then rose. “I know you have to close out for the day and I need to get back to the office. I’m glad you’re all right with this. I appreciate having one less thing to worry about.”

Did he? How lovely. How great for him.

Fury built inside of her, but she ignored it and him. The need to throw something grew, but she resisted. After all, not only would she be stuck paying for whatever she broke, she would also have to clean it up. Because life sucked—especially hers.

He paused by the front door. “Helen?”

Hope fluttered. Happy, bright, maybe-he-wasn’t-as-stupid-as-he-looked hope. “Yes?”

“Lock the door behind me.”

That was it, and then he was gone.

Lock the door? Lock the door? Because someone sneaking in was the worst thing that could happen to her today?

“Asshole,” she muttered as she went to the door and turned the lock.

As she returned to the counter, she passed a table with a vase on it. She reached for the perfect tulip, jerked it out of the water, then snapped its stem. After tossing it in the trash, she scooped out a bowl of ice cream, sank to the floor and started to cry.





21

Olivia felt the burn in her legs. She’d passed exhaustion two miles before and was now running on sheer force of will. That and the fact that she wasn’t exactly sure where she was or how far she’d gone.

She’d gotten up at six, pulled on her running clothes and headed out. She hadn’t warmed up or brought water or even her phone, all of which were stupid. Now she was dehydrated and potentially lost. Maybe she would pass out—not a normal goal, but if she was unconscious then she wouldn’t have to think about what had happened the previous night. She wouldn’t have to relive the fight with her sister and remember how hurt Kelly had looked when she’d learned the truth.

Olivia knew she had no one to blame but herself. Trusting Marilee was five kinds of stupid. Her mother couldn’t be trusted—she knew that, but she’d done it anyway. She’d handed Marilee a weapon and then had been cut down not forty-eight hours later.

The ache in her legs turned to actual pain. She slowed to a walk and tried to catch her breath. Running had always been her escape but today she couldn’t go fast enough or far enough to get away from what had happened.

She wasn’t worried about her dad. He would understand and even if he didn’t, he would forgive her for lying. But Kelly was different. She and Kelly were just getting to know each other. They were becoming friends, which was different than being sisters. Now that had been blown and she didn’t know how to fix it.

She heard a truck behind her. She thought briefly about waving her arms and asking for help, then told herself not to be foolish. Bad stuff happened everywhere, even in places like Tulpen Crossing.

But even without her flagging it down, the truck slowed. She turned and recognized the vehicle. Not Ryan’s, thank God, but Sven’s.

“You ran too far,” he said after he’d rolled down the passenger window. “Are you all right?”

“No.”

He leaned over and opened the door. “Get in. Have you had breakfast?”

Breakfast as in a meal or breakfast as in sex? Because she wasn’t up for anything physical right now.

The question must have shown on her face. His expression gentled. “Breakfast, Olivia. Just food and maybe I listen while you talk.”

Her eyes burned, but she blinked away the weakness before nodding. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She could barely crawl into the seat. As soon as she sat down, her legs started shaking. He handed her a half-empty bottle of water.

“Sorry, that’s all I have with me.”

“It’s okay.”

She took a sip, careful to let her stomach absorb the fluid before taking a second sip. Her mouth was dry, as was her throat. Her body screamed at her for water, but she knew if she drank too much, too quickly, she would throw it all up and wouldn’t that be pretty.

“I had to get a shipment off this morning,” he said as they drove back to his place. “There’s a trucking company I use that’s very reasonable, but the drivers like to make an early start. Did I tell you I’m growing blueberries? They’re ripe and delicious. Blueberries are a good fruit. Lots of antioxidants.”

The inane conversation should have bothered her but she had a feeling he was simply filling silence and giving her space to come to grips with whatever was wrong. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Her legs continued to shake as her muscles surrendered to exhaustion.

He pulled onto his property. “After breakfast, we’ll go look in the barn. People have been dropping off items for your auction. You’re going to have a lot to go through.” He turned off the engine. “Don’t try to walk. I’ll come get you.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. She swallowed the last of the water, then opened the passenger door. Rather than try to step down, she slid off the seat. Her feet came in contact with the ground and she automatically braced her muscles to stay standing.

Nothing cooperated. Her knees gave way and she started to go down. Sven reached her in time to grab her.

“You’re a stubborn woman.”

“Sometimes.”

He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her into the house. The back door was unlocked—of course. He took her through the mudroom and into the kitchen. He set her on one of the bar stools by the island.

“Don’t move.” His voice was stern.

He got a glass and poured her orange juice. “Drink this. It will help with the shaking. Your blood sugar is low and you’re dehydrated. You could have collapsed.”

Exactly what she’d been hoping for, she thought as she drank the fresh juice. Only in hindsight, it might not have been her best idea.

He started coffee, then began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. Instead of eggs, he collected fresh, thickly cut bread along with brie and ripe pears.

He put sandwiches together, then poured her coffee. While the panini pan heated, he got her water, then gently massaged her calves. The trembling had stopped, but she was still exhausted and knew she would be sore for days.

His large hands moved over her skin. His fingers and thumbs dug in to her muscles. There was nothing sexual about the actions, but she sensed his concern and kindness.

When the sandwiches were done, he sliced each of them in half and set them on a plate next to a small bowl of blueberries. She managed to hobble to the kitchen table and sank down next to him.

“Eat,” he told her.