Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (26 page)

“YOU’RE SURE CODSWALLOP WON’T SCARE
him away?” Hannah pushed her messy hair off her forehead. She was curled up on the sofa with a cup of coffee, wearing an overlarge T-shirt and a pair of Polly’s knee socks.

“I’m sure.” Polly sighed. The only thing that could scare Luke was a threat to his family. And a long-lasting relationship. And making promises.

She put her toiletries kit in her travel bag. While her discovery of Luke’s paternity suit had explained a great deal about both his workaholic nature and his approach to relationships, she felt sad rather than enlightened.

Sad that Luke had had to go through such pain when he’d already worked so hard to protect Sugar Rush after his mother’s death. Sad that one vindictive woman had scarred him so deeply. Sad that he’d thrown himself back into the company with such force that everything else was obliterated.

Except . . .

He’d agreed to go with her this weekend. Even though Polly didn’t like leaving while her sister was in town, Codswallop only happened once a year and she wasn’t about to miss the chance to take CEO Stone.

“Do you know yet when you’re leaving?” she asked Hannah.

“I’m still waiting to hear from Dave. He’s in Arizona now, I think.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Hannah chuckled. “He would like to be, but no. I’ve found out that it’s easier in general not to have boyfriends.”

She took another sip of coffee and looked at Polly speculatively. “And, Polliwog, I know you like Luke, but I hope you don’t think he’s going to whisk you off to his castle on the cliff forever and ever.”

Polly’s heart clenched. She turned away to fold a couple pairs of panties, stuffing them beneath the rolled blanket in her travel bag.

“Of course I don’t think that,” she said, hoping she sounded as if she were scoffing a little. “Luke and I are just having a good time. Besides, what business is it of yours anyway?”

Hannah shrugged. “None. Just making sure you know that men like him don’t do that with girls like us.”

“Please.” Polly shoved two pairs of socks into her bag. “This isn’t the eighteenth century. Luke’s family hasn’t arranged some marriage to a wealthy heiress for him.”

But the words rang hollow in her ears as she remembered her encounter with Luke’s Aunt Julia who, even if she didn’t have her sights set on a wealthy heiress, had some very definite ideas about the type of woman her nephew deserved to be with.

Polly shook her head. None of that mattered anyway because even though her
emotions
were getting involved, both she and Luke had established that neither one of them was in this for the long-term.

“We’re having a good time,” she repeated, which was certainly the truth. “After three years of helping Mom and trying to save Wild Child, I deserve to have a good time.”

Hannah shot her a faintly irritated glance. “You were the one who chose to come back here.”

“I know.” Polly’s chest tightened. “I’m not saying I was a martyr. There was nothing I wanted to do more than help Mom and the bakery.”

“And now?”

“Now the only thing that’s changed is that Mom isn’t here anymore.”

“So you really want to run Wild Child for the rest of your life?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Polly zipped her bag and set it on the floor. “Mom worked so hard for it. Remember how she was the town baker at Twelve Oaks? She baked something for every meal—bread, muffins, biscuits, and of course tons of desserts. She once told me she’d wanted to open a bakery since she was a teenager, but never had the chance. So when we moved to Rainsville, she was finally able to make her dream come true.”

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “
Her
dream.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what I said. Wild Child was
Mom’s
dream. Not yours. Certainly not mine.”

“So?” Polly spread her hands out, suppressing a crack threading through her heart. “I promised her I wouldn’t let Wild Child fail.”

“And you think she’d expect you, her beloved Polly at the age of twenty-three, to dedicate the rest of your life to running an ancient hippie bakery that was never your dream in the first place?” Hannah asked.

Polly pressed a hand to her aching chest. Though Hannah had envied her and Jessie’s close bond, she was confused by the sudden frustration radiating from her sister.

“What do you care if I want to run Wild Child for the rest of my life?” she asked, her voice sharpening. “It’s not as if you were ever around to help out.”

“Because I’ve been out living my life the way I want to,” Hannah replied. “And contrary to what you might think, that is exactly what Mom and Dad both would have wanted.”

“And you didn’t stop once to think I might need you? That maybe it was hard for me to read about all your travels on your blog while I was here the whole time, taking care of Mom and the bakery the best I could?”

“I never asked you to do that,” Hannah said, though a flash of remorse crossed her features.

“You didn’t have to. I wanted to be with Mom, but it was so hard to watch her dying while knowing the bakery was failing at the same time. That bakery was her favorite thing in the world, and I couldn’t save it for her.”

“The bakery was not her favorite thing,” Hannah replied. “
You
were. And she’s gone, Polly. You don’t have to save the bakery for her anymore.”

“Yes, I do.” Polly’s heart cracked deeper. “Even though things are improving, I have such a long way to go. I still feel like a failure for not being able to do what Mom did.”

“Maybe you feel that way because it’s not what you really want to do,” Hannah said. “You don’t have to live the rest of your life on a promise. You can be free too.”

“Free to do
what
?” Polly wiped at a stray tear trickling down her cheek. “Wander the world aimlessly like you’ve been doing for the past ten years?”

“Do whatever you want.” Hannah shrugged. “Go work for Sugar Rush. Go back to college and finish your degree. Hell, go work on an Alaskan fishing boat, for all I care. Just don’t pigeonhole yourself into a life only because you think you can’t do or
be
anything else.”

“How am I supposed to do any of that and run the bakery at the same time?”

“Get rid of the bakery.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Hannah replied. “It’s not as if Wild Child is making all your dreams come true. Stop playing it safe.”

“I’m not playing it safe. I’m being responsible.”

“Really? When was the last time you took a chance?”

I’m taking one right now by letting myself feel too much for Luke Stone.

Polly couldn’t admit that to her sister, not after Hannah’s comment about “girls like us.” As she straightened, her gaze fell on Pierre Lacroix’s
Art of French Pastry
book on the coffee table.

“I applied for a French pastry-making course in Paris.” She gestured to the book. “Getting accepted would be like winning the lottery. But it’s still taking a chance.”

Hannah set down her mug and reached for the book. “Didn’t you and Mom used to watch this guy’s show all the time?”

Polly nodded. “That’s his latest book. I even sent in my own original recipe with my application.”

“Well, good for you.” Hannah leafed through the glossy pages. “I’m glad you realize Wild Child isn’t the only place in the world you can be.”

But what if it was the only place Polly wanted to be? Not the shabby place on the verge of bankruptcy, but the lively, vibrant haven of creativity and friendship that her mother had created? What was so wrong with wanting to
nest
and take care of people?

“I think your CEO is here.” Hannah nodded toward the window.

Polly glanced outside just as a sleek Porsche pulled to a stop in front of Wild Child.

Fun,
she told herself firmly. This was all about having fun, getting herself back into the world again, and learning how to run her business so she could take control of her life.

And it was perfectly fine that her heart did a little jump at the sight of Luke’s tall figure getting out of the car and walking around the side of the building with that easy, long-legged stride of his.

It was okie-doke that anticipation filled her veins when the doorbell rang. And it was
no problemo
that she got all soft and mushy inside when she opened the door and saw him standing there, utterly beautiful and masculine in cargo shorts and a faded San Francisco Giants T-shirt that stretched over his shoulders and the expanse of his chest. Even the morning sun got in on the act, gleaming off his thick, dark hair and lighting it with strands of gold.

“Hey, Peach.” His gaze moved appreciatively over her Indian print, cotton skirt and purple tank top. “Ready to go?”

“Almost.” She leaned toward him, breathing in his scent of soap and shaving cream as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Come in.”

She closed the door behind him and gestured to Hannah. “Luke, this is my sister Hannah. Hannah, Luke Stone.”

Hannah uncurled herself from the sofa and extended a hand, though a faint gleam of suspicion lit in her eyes. “Good to meet you.”

“You too. Polly’s told me a lot about you.” After shaking her hand, Luke held out a green paper bag that Polly hadn’t even realized he was carrying. “I brought this for you.”

Hannah glanced at Polly before taking the bag. She peered inside and took out a clear cellophane package filled with multi-colored, round candies and tied with a red ribbon.

“What . . .”

“Polly told me the Sugar Rush Jelly Rolls were your favorite,” Luke explained. “I thought you might like some.”

An emotion rose in Polly that she couldn’t name, one that seemed both disproportional and a perfect reaction to the fact that Luke had brought her sister her favorite candy. It was like walking from a frigid day into a warm, cinnamon-scented house and feeling every part of her body thawing and melting. It was like making a perfect meringue or tasting a buttery madeleine for the first time.

It was like realizing she might be falling in love.

“Oh.” Hannah still appeared a bit baffled. “Well, thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Polly crossed the room and put her hand on Luke’s arm, her palm tingling at the sensation of his taut, hair-roughened skin and hard muscles.

“We should get going,” she said. “Hannah, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“No, I told Clementine I’d help at Wild Child, if she needs me.” Hannah was already opening the bag of Jelly Rolls. “Have a good time.”

That was exactly what they had whenever they were together, Polly thought. Luke picked up her bags, and they went down to his car.

“Thank you,” she said, still feeling all warm and melty inside. “I can’t believe you even remember I’d told you the Jelly Rolls were her favorite.”

“I pay attention to you.” He unlocked the trunk and loaded her bags inside. “Has it been okay with her here?”

“More or less. It’s always a little tense just because I know she’s going to leave again. So there’s that.”

“How long is she staying?”

“I don’t know. I never know. I don’t think she does either, honestly. That’s just one of the things that have always made her both brave and irresponsible.” Polly shook off a twinge of sadness, reminding herself of the reason she’d planned this weekend. “So we’re ready?”

“I’m always ready, baby.” Luke let his gaze slide over her body again. “And you look edible.”

She eyed him in a pleasurable return assessment. “So do you.”

“Then we could just stay here and . . .” he raised an eyebrow, “ . . . eat each other.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Stone.” Tempting as the idea was, Polly shook her finger at him. “You don’t get off that easy.”

“Actually with you, I do.” He winked at her and opened the passenger side door. “Are you going to tell me yet where we’re going?”

“Still a surprise.” She eyed him with mild suspicion. “Are there any electronic devices on your person?”

“No, but you’re welcome to give me a pat-down to be sure.” Luke turned toward her, extending his arms to the sides.

Not about to deny herself the opportunity of touching him, Polly patted her hands all over his chest and back, down the length of his legs, and—just to make extra certain—over his groin and incredibly firm rear.

“Okay,” she said, rather breathless after having discovered nothing but warm, solid muscles. “You’re clean.”

“I can be dirty too.”

“Oh, I know.”

They exchanged smiles as Luke gestured her into the car. After Polly had given him the address, which he inputted into his GPS, they started south away from Indigo Bay. He drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, the Porsche handling the winding roads with ease. Cliffs swept majestically down to the ocean, and the water splashed and sprayed against the rocky shoreline.

They drove for an hour, having easy conversations about movies, Luke’s extensive travels, and Polly’s life at Twelve Oaks. Eventually he turned away from the coast toward the flat, dry landscape of the Central Valley, where miles of farmland stretched out in all directions. As they exited Interstate 5 and headed east, parked cars began appearing along a two-lane road, and the faint sound of music filled the air.