The Sweetness of Honey (A Hope Springs Novel) (6 page)

She pulled to a stop at his curb, his building in the town’s historic warehouse district looming with dark disapproval as if the strict mores of the past still lingered and judged. They needn’t worry. She wasn’t going inside. That much she’d determined before they’d set off for home. As much as she liked him, there was something about him that was off, or wasn’t quite right, while still incredibly compelling. And as interested in him as she was, as curious to know him, as charmed, it was too soon to be alone with him and tempted.

“I’m not coming up,” she finally told him, when he hadn’t moved to get out. When he hadn’t said a word in the two or three minutes since she’d parked. When he’d done nothing but look through the windshield where the street lamps caught every hint of moisture on the pavement and sparkled.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he said at last, still facing forward, hunched a bit, his busy hands pressed between his knees. That left her a bit uneasy. His nervousness. How antsy he was. How out of sorts.

“Then . . . good night, Will. Thank you for the evening—”

“W
hat do you want from me, Indiana?” he asked, his head turning slowly until the look in his eyes, so bottomless and dark as they stared into hers, had her heart rising to pound at the base of her throat.

“I don’t want anything. Well, except for what I’ve hired you to do. With the cottage,” she said, her pulse making itself known throughout her body. “I mean, at the very least I’d like your friendship, but if for some reason we can’t be friends—”

It was all she got out before his hand was in her hair, bringing her face to his, her mouth to his, her lips and tongue to his in such an act of desperation, she couldn’t find the strength to back away, or to say no, or to do anything but share in the devastatingly draining emotion.

What was this man’s damage? What was he looking to her to fix or to make whole, or just to soothe because he couldn’t do it alone?

He kissed her as if he were on fire, as if she could douse whatever it was burning him up. His hand at the back of her head was hot. The fingertips of the other, where they brushed her jaw, were sure to leave blisters on her skin. An obvious exaggeration, but oh, everything about this moment felt that way.

She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Should she touch him? Should she leave them where they were, wrapped tightly around the wheel? Should she tuck them between her knees to keep from reaching for him? What was she supposed to do? She didn’t know what she was supposed to do because she didn’t know if this, from Will, was what she wanted.

But she wasn’t unmoved, so she kissed him back, finally reaching up to grip his wrist, a grounding, an anchor, a solid reminder of where she was, because everything around her seemed too ethereal to grasp, and all she knew was Will. He smelled like rain on a dark night, rich and electric, a dangerous storm set to strike.

He tasted like the wine he’d had with dinner, the bourbon he’d had after, the coffee he’d had with dessert. The barest hint of the cigarette he’d smoked while waiting for the valet to bring her car. It was the first time she’d ever seen him indulge, and the lingering hint of tobacco wasn’t unpleasant.

His tongue made hers tingle, and the pressure of his lips, soft yet slightly chapped, started a sweet, exquisite tension building in her body. Oh, this was so unexpected, so beautifully, frightfully out of the blue. She didn’t know whether to revel in the sensation, or run far, far away.

Before she had a chance to decide, and almost as quickly as he’d started, he stopped, releasing her mouth, then pulling his wrist from her grip. His hand in her hair was the last to let go, and she fought against feeling bereft. Surely she wasn’t that hungry for human contact, that desperate to be wanted?

His door opening had her searching out his darting gaze; he was leaving just like that? Yes, she’d told him, and herself, that she wasn’t coming up to his loft. But she needed to figure out this push-pull thing between them, and she couldn’t if he was going to walk away. “Will?”

“Thanks for driving,” he said, adding, “friend,” as he stepped out of the car. Then he leaned back in, one hand on the roof, one hand on the door, his eyes, wicked and bright, reflecting the glow of the street lamps through the windshield. “Be safe. And don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.”

Then he slammed the door and turned for the sidewalk, leaving her staring after him without a clue as to what they’d just done. Or what he’d meant by his parting remark.

CHAPTER SIX

R
ather than driving back to Buda after leaving Will at his loft, Indiana spent the night in her empty cottage, roughing it with the two furniture pads she kept in her Camaro’s trunk. The water was on. The power was on. And the pads, which she used when she found herself needing to transport starter plants or bags of soil, smelled like the life she loved. The life she thought perfect. The life well suited for living alone.

After breakfast with Oliver and dinner with Will, she had to remind herself of that. Oliver and his silver spoon were out of her league, and Will . . . Will, too, was off-limits. He had to be.
Both
had to be. A relationship done right required nurturing, and she had too much on her plate to be anything but selfish with her time.

Besides, she knew nothing about being part of a couple. Her parents had been partners in their crusades, and obviously lovers at some point to have produced three children. But their interaction reminded her of coworkers. There had been no public displays of affection, no terms of endearment, no gazes colliding across crowded rooms.

Then there was Kaylie and Tennessee, as well as Luna and Angelo. The latter were newlyweds, Kaylie and Tennessee engaged. And boy, was the difference between those couples and Indiana’s parents obvious. Gazes collided constantly, heated and longing-filled. Affection was as automatic as breathing, endearments spoken in lieu of names as if the most natural thing in the world.

But what struck her hardest wasn’t the chemistry, or the physicality of what the couples shared. It was the respect, the friendship, how Kaylie anticipated Tennessee’s moods, or Tennessee Kaylie’s needs. They were that tuned in to each other. As if they didn’t need words to communicate. As if love had given them superpowers.

It was a nice reality to strive for. If one hadn’t already screwed up two of the most important relationships in one’s life. But Indiana had. And until she fixed those, she would never trust herself with such a bond. Or at least with being able to make it right should she make more bad choices and break it.

Anyway, she had an established business to run, a new business to launch, a brother she couldn’t quite figure out, and another brother to find. She couldn’t afford the distraction of a relationship. And it seemed even simple meals with interesting men were destined to cause her grief. She would eat alone. She would live alone. She would probably die alone.

But, she mused, stepping onto the porch, she did need coffee. And she’d have to shower and change clothes before heading to the farm. Seeing Kaylie’s Jeep turn into the arts center’s driveway and head toward Luna’s barn, and seeing no sign of Oliver’s BMW, Indiana ditched the idea of making the trip home decaffeinated, and instead hurried across the street.

She caught up to Kaylie just as she and Magoo reached Luna’s front door. Well, Kaylie reached the door. Magoo ran off with Luna’s dog, Francisco, who was a quarter his size and obviously in charge. Indiana would’ve enjoyed watching the mismatched two rough-and-tumble across the yard, but she was too focused on the Butters Bakery box in Kaylie’s hand. “I hope you have an extra muffin in there. I’m starving.”

Kaylie laughed, then as Indiana came closer, frowned. Luna opened the door just as Kaylie asked of Indiana, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, why?”

“Well, not to be rude, but your hair is a bit wilder than usual. You obviously slept in more makeup than I think I’ve ever seen you wear.” Kaylie paused to continue her once-over. “I’m going to guess you also slept in the clothes you have on, clothes, by the way, which I have never seen on you before.”

“Those are date clothes,” Luna said, causing Indiana to look down at her skinny black pants and frothy white swing top, at the ruby stilettos on her feet that had her missing her boots. “And that’s what’s left of a date face.”

Then it was back to Kaylie. “Which brings us to the question of
where
you went to bed, and if you went there alone.”

Indiana started to ask herself if caffeine was worth this grilling. Then she stopped. “I slept on the floor of the cottage between two furniture pads.” Truth
was
stranger than fiction.

“Because . . .” Kaylie let the sentence trail.

That one was easy. “I got back late from Austin and didn’t want to drive home.”

But Kaylie wasn’t appeased. “Buda’s between Austin and Hope Springs. That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if she had to come back here because she wasn’t alone,” Luna said, still standing in the barn’s doorway.

These two women gave better third degree than Tennessee. “I wasn’t alone in Austin. I was alone in my cottage. And I think I may have a problem.”

“You think?” Luna asked on top of Kaylie’s “You don’t know?”

“I’m kinda in over my head here,” Indiana said in answer to both.

“There’s only one thing it can be.” This from Kaylie.

“A man.” This from Luna.

“Yes. And no.” Indiana looked from one woman to the other. “More like two men.”

Kaylie glanced down at the box she held. “I’m not sure we have enough muffins for this story.”

It wasn’t the muffins Indiana was worried about. “There won’t be any story if I don’t get coffee ASAP.”

“Coffee I can do,” Luna said, urging both Kaylie and Indiana through the door, then through what had once been a barn, but had since been converted, and into a kitchen Indiana could see herself never leaving.

She, who grew vegetables for a living but wasn’t much of a foodie, not to mention a terrible cook. “Luna. This is amazing.”

Spice racks and suspended copper pots and bakeware glazed in delicious shades of olive and aubergine. The walls were exposed brick and what looked like original wood weathered to gray, the floor a variegated travertine to match. The small appliances were the same stainless steel as the large ones, all of it brought together by a center island with barstools along two sides.

“It is, and it’s more deserving of someone who actually has time to enjoy it.” Luna turned on the espresso maker, and filled the milk-foaming attachment before snapping it into place. Then she pulled three latte mugs from the cupboard. “Angelo and I end up eating out way too often, though it turns out when he has the time, he can put together Tex-Mex to die for.”

“In this kitchen?” Indiana wondered if she could replicate this design on a smaller scale in her cottage. “Even I could put together Tex-Mex to die for.”

“Which reminds me,” Luna said, as she switched out a full mug for an empty and ran the machine through its cycle again. “You’re coming to our Halloween party next week, yes? Mitch and Dolly are doing a huge taco spread, and we’ll have tons of goodies.”

“Of course, though I have no idea what I’m going to do about a costume.” Indiana accepted the mug and sugar bowl Luna handed her, stirring in a spoonful while she added, “But I do know what goodies I’m going to bring.”

“The goodies can wait,” Kaylie said, setting out muffins on the three plates that matched the mugs, and matched the linen napkins bearing the same exclusive Patchwork Moon label found on the scarves Luna wove. “It’s time to hear about the men. Both of them.”

“And,” Luna said as Indiana swallowed her first mouthful of coffee, “I’m going to guess their names are Will and Oliver.”

Indiana nodded, but before she could reply, Kaylie did. “Wow. I think I see your problem. I can’t imagine picking between two more different men.”

“I didn’t exactly pick them,” Indiana said, breaking open a glazed lemon-blueberry muffin, her stomach growling in anticipation. “They just happened. Kinda like Francisco just happened to Luna, showing up when she wasn’t looking for a dog. I mean, I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and it’s not like I have a relationship—”

“Two,” Luna said, holding up her fingers in a victory vee. “Two relationships.”

“Two friendships,” Indiana said, making the state of things perfectly clear. Then, feeling a remembered rush of the heat Will Bowman had generated, hovering when they’d kissed, she admitted, “Though I’m not sure using one’s tongue is the best way to kiss a friend good night.”

“Who was it?” Kaylie asked as Indiana reached for another bite of muffin, only to have her very impatient sister-in-law-to-be nearly slap it out of her hand. “Enough with the torture already. Luna and I are very happily paired off, and must now get our thrills vicariously.”

“I don’t know about you,” Luna put in, “but my thrills are very much the real thing.”

“Well, sure,” Kaylie said, pulling the paper from her muffin. “Mine are, too. But there’s just something so exciting about new love—”

Okay. Time to rein in the runaways. “No one said anything about love. And it was Will,” she said, and when she got nothing but silence, added, “Bowman. Will Bowman. Will is the one I went out with last night. The one I kissed. The one who kissed me.”

“Huh,” Luna said, frowning. “I would’ve sworn you were going to say Oliver. Angelo told me . . .”

And now Indiana was the one to frown. “Angelo told you what?”

Lifting her mug, Luna shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have mentioned it. Now spill.”

Another shrug, then, “He walked into the living room at the arts center the other morning, and saw Oliver watching you.”

“Watching me?” Indiana asked, wondering if she had Oliver’s interest all wrong. Wondering, too, what she’d been doing, what she’d been wearing, though it had to have been her boots and a sundress. One of these days she really should try a little harder . . .

“It wasn’t anything pervy,” Luna was quick to assure her. “You were standing in the driveway staring across the street. He was drinking his coffee.”

That must’ve been the morning they went to breakfast. “And looking at me.”

“Unless he was looking at some other scenery,” Luna said, fighting the twist of a smile.

“Oh, so now I’m scenery.”

“To Oliver, I’ll bet you were,” Kaylie said, adding, “Or are. To Will, too.”

Luna huffed. “Every woman is scenery to Will.”

It was hard to argue with that, Indiana mused, having seen Will’s gaze wander more than a few times when they’d been in the same room. But it hadn’t wandered once last night. He’d talked to her. He’d paid attention to her. He’d looked only at her. He’d needed her.

And then Luna went on to say, “Though I suppose, considering his situation, that’s not surprising.”

“I know it’s none of my business,” Indiana said, having finished off her latte and nodding when Luna offered a second, “but has he ever said anything to either of you about why he went to prison?”

Both women shook their heads; then Kaylie said, “I don’t even think Ten knows.”

“And he hired him anyway?” Luna asked.

Kaylie handed over her mug for a refill, too. “Manny knows Ten’s requirements for the parolees he takes on. He doesn’t send him violent offenders, or sexual offenders, or repeat offenders.”

Giving them the second chance he hadn’t been able to give his own brother. Indiana knew what drove Tennessee to do what he did, and that made her more curious than ever about Will’s crime.

“It does make it hard not to wonder what he did. And why,” Luna said, giving Indiana back her mug. “But mostly I want to know which one of you asked the other one out.”

“We were looking through the cottage, and out of the blue he asks if I’d like to have dinner and see a show,” Indiana said. “I was so surprised I almost blurted out yes, not even thinking, but I kept my wits long enough to make him tell me if we were friends having dinner, or if it was a date.”

“And?”

The word came in stereo, and Indiana smiled. “All he said was that I didn’t want to date him.”

“Do you?” Luna asked before Kaylie could free her mouth of muffin.

“I don’t know.”

This time Kaylie was ready. “Because things didn’t go well? Which is hard to believe, looking at you the morning after. Or because of Oliver?”

“I don’t know,” she said again, until both women gave her a look letting her know that answer didn’t cut it. “Okay. Okay. It’s not about Oliver, and it’s not even about Will, and things did go well, thank you. It’s about me, and needing to fix things with my brothers.”

Luna glanced at Kaylie. “Did she say brothers?”

Kaylie glanced at Indiana, as if to ask permission before giving Luna an answer. Indiana nodded, and Kaylie said, “Brothers plural, yes. She’s hired my investigator to find Dakota.”

“Oh. I had no idea you were going to look for him.”

“No one knew but Kaylie. I haven’t even told Tennessee yet.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell Ten?”

She thought back to the explanation she’d given Oliver. “Tennessee does
n’t like it when he’s not the one putting things in motion. If I tell him now, before I have something, anything, to report, he’ll want to put the kibosh on the whole thing until he can be the one to make the arrangements.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Luna said. “Dakota’s his brother, too. Why wouldn’t he be just as anxious to find him as you are?”

“He’ll say that if Dakota wanted to be found, he’d let us know where he was. Except I don’t believe that.” Indiana wrapped her hands around her near-empty mug and stared down, focusing on the one thing that mattered. “I need to hear Dakota tell me that himself.”

“And if he does?”

Luna’s question was one Indiana had forced herself to consider, and it broke her heart to respond. “Then I’ll leave him alone.”

“In the meantime,” Kaylie said, “you never know where things might go with Oliver or Will. And I can’t imagine Dakota being happy about you putting your life on hold for him, because that’s what it sounds like you’re doing.”

No. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all. “It’s moot anyway. With the annex going in, I can’t afford the distraction of a relationship.”

“You know,” Luna began, picking at her muffin as she weighed her words, “it almost sounds like the annex, and even the search for Dakota, are the distractions.”

“How so?”

“If you stay busy enough, you won’t have to make a choice.”

“I don’t know if I
can
make a choice,” Indiana admitted. “They’re such completely different personalities. Both are so smart, and so . . . compelling, I guess is a good word. Oliver seems to have everything going for him, though he has so much tragedy in his family. Will just seems lost, yet has absolutely no fear. He asks what he wants to know; he does what he wants to do. It’s like consequences don’t exist for him. Oliver is much more reserved, but so aware and deliberate at the same time.”