THREE

Pippa woke up early on Sunday and took her mug of coffee out to the deck running along the back of the house. It faced Discovery Bay in the distance and was surrounded by trees. Jon Kingston, her friend, and co-worker at Twisted Steel, had offered up a weekend at his vacation home as an auction item for charity, and Pippa had snapped it up, along with lunch at one of the restaurants nearby.

The festival had been a great reason to bid and an opportunity to hang out with her girlfriends doing something fun away from home. She was often really busy, so any chance to be still and listen to the birds and the wind in the trees was one she tried to avail herself of.

The doorbell sounded, and she hurried back inside to see who it was.

“Delivery from Tastee Doughnuts for Pippa Hall.” Pippa managed to locate a tip from the pocket of the jacket she’d worn the afternoon before.

The note read, “I figured something sweet might hit the spot on a weekend getaway with your friends. See you Tuesday. Xander.”

“This guy,” the delivery person said. “Said all this stuff about you and how he wanted you to have a nice breakfast. Oh!” They held up a large, insulated tote. “Fruit variety, juice, and iced coffee.”

“He’s certainly working overtime with this stuff.”

“What’s going on?” Rennie asked as she shuffled into the kitchen where Pippa was unloading the food.

“Xander sent breakfast.”

“My Xander? Wow.” Rennie opened the doughnut box and chose a cinnamon twist. “He asked where we were. I guess this is why. Good luck resisting him. He’s like this when he wants something.” She waggled her brows.

“I’m not really trying to resist him,” Pippa said, filling her own plate and settling in the sunny breakfast nook across from her friend. “I like Xander, and I can’t lie, I also like that he’s openly into me. I don’t have to guess if he’s interested.”

“I have to say this whole song and dance where we’re supposed to wait around to let the other person decide when and if we ever actually discuss feelings is stupid and I hate it. I’d set it on fire if I could,” Rennie said as she topped off both their mugs of coffee.

“And if they’re not being aloof, they’re love-bombing you. Three minutes after you meet, they’re telling you how perfect you are.” Pippa groaned after a bite of the blueberry doughnut. “This is delicious. Anyway. It’s nice. It’s normal. It’s brand new. Sending doughnuts instead of roses is a point in his favor.”

Jessi came in shortly and joined them for doughnuts and coffee as they planned the rest of their morning. They’d take one last stroll through the festival. There’d be sales that day, and Pippa was already doing her holiday shopping. They’d grab lunch in Bainbridge and then catch the ferry back to Seattle.

When everyone headed to their rooms to gather their stuff, Pippa took a moment to text Xander.

“Thanks to you, our stomachs are full for the morning we’ll be spending shopping. Very thoughtful.”

It was lovely to know he’d been thinking of her.

Her phone pinged right after she’d zipped up her cosmetic bag and tucked it into her suitcase.

“I’m glad they were a hit. I tossed in the fruit in case you were feeling virtuous.”

Pippa typed, “I didn’t expect you to be up yet.” No lie, it was nice imagining him still in bed, texting her. He seemed like the type to sleep naked when she was fantasizing about him.

“I’m at the shop already. My first tattoo is in about twenty minutes. Finishing up a half sleeve and then I’m doing two smaller tattoos before the day is done. I’m glad you reached out.”

She was too, even if she had no idea what the heck she was doing. Dating was confusing enough. Dating multiple people at once was…not optimal. She was a person who wanted to be in a relationship. She’d dated someone for eighteen months, and it had been fine. Nothing more. Nothing less. Eventually, he broke things off and got married to his new girlfriend six months later. It hadn’t been fraught at all. Pippa liked his wife and was the first to say they were suited for one another. They still sent her cards at Christmas and had two kids in elementary school.

And then the prior year, she’d met Hamish. Which had changed everything and nothing at the same time. That was a whole thing in and of itself.

Hamish with his hard outer shell and soft center. There’d been something between them from the start. Some spark that had ignited a fire between them.

He saw her in ways no one else did. He had unexpected depth in a variety of circumstances and topics. He was a poet whose heart had been so battered he’d stopped giving it out because he lived in fear of being left behind.

Which left Pippa in a no-man’s-land of sorts where he couldn’t let go of her entirely, but he seized up any time she got too close. All while she’d done what she could to be consistent and reliable in his life.

It was complicated. But she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Hamish adored Addie and James Franklin—his parents—with every part of himself. He hadn’t been born to them, but that wasn’t the important part. They’d given him a safe, permanent home with structure and rules. And so much love and support the street kid he’d been hadn’t known how to process it for a long time.

No matter how wary he’d acted, how many buttons he pushed to test their commitment to him, their love and support had never wavered. Very few people in the universe knew the real Hamish Wilson. Even fewer knew the real him and loved him anyway.

Addie and James were his parents because they’d been the ones who’d helped him understand he was worthy of the love and safety they offered as part of their family.

Currently, Hamish stood in the kitchen with his father, the main cook of the bunch, as his mother broke up a fight between a cat and a bird who remained out of reach while calling down insults at its furry sibling.

It was blessedly weird in a normal Franklin way. It settled him.

“Just leave the room and it’ll stop,” Addie muttered to the cat. Looking quite offended, the cat cast an angry glance up at the curtain rod where the bird had perched, and then with one last twitch of a very fluffy tail, sauntered away like it didn’t matter anyway.

Addie spun and made a sound of warning toward the bird, pointing at it. “You will most assuredly not fly over that cat to harass her. Enough. Be nice or I’ll put you out with the chickens.”

James chuckled at that as he put a slice of garlic bread on Hamish’s plate. “How have you been? Haven’t seen you for a week or two.”

“I had to run to Los Angeles—just a quick two days—to attend meetings and sign things. When I returned, I admit I holed up in my studio. I’m slowly starting to work on some new songs.”

He’d been afraid he’d killed his creative mojo after his last tour. Nearly two years on the road had sucked the life out of him by the end. What he’d needed was to fly off somewhere sunny and tropical where he could be by himself in the quiet for a while. Naturally he’d ended up in London where it had been anything but quiet.

But only for a short time. Because while he’d been visiting his parents, he’d met Pippa. And two weeks into his London binge of excess, he’d tapped her phone number on his phone screen, and then pretended he’d done it on accident.

But when he’d heard Pippa’s voice on the other end, he’d gotten his shite together and had finally headed to a cabin in the woods where he’d slept a lot, journaled and made lists for the next stage of his life and career, and let himself sit in the discomfort of kicking the sleeping pills he’d become accustomed to. And in those hours when he’d chosen to plow through his issues through writing, he realized he’d been using the chaos of that life to keep the door closed on anything truly intimate with anyone else.

He started to sketch out ideas for his next album and the next tour—and he made plenty of notes about how to structure live shows that wouldn’t end up duplicating what he’d spent three months detoxing mentally and physically from.

He was grateful for the success he’d busted his ass for so long to earn. Even more so at the way his career and success continued to grow and mature with each new release. But there were aspects of celebrity he was wary of. Touring and fame were a theme park. Fun while it lasted but they weren’t real. They weren’t forever. And behind the curtain was where all the real stuff happened.

Real life was to be lived with people like Pippa. He just wasn’t entirely sure if he could manage to give her what she deserved, what she needed. Love, yes. Could he stay faithful and be there whenever anything went wrong? The idea of failing her was more than he could wrap his head around. And until he got to a place where he could understand it, he couldn’t get close enough that she was any more hurt than she’d been.

A kiss on the cheek from his mother as she passed where he’d been leaning against the counter brought him out of his head.

“Jessi said you’ve been hard at work. We’re very glad to hear it. Your color is good too. You’re no longer so thin I was worried you needed medical help. The dark shadows are gone from under your eyes.”

There was a commotion at the front door, but no one paid it any mind. People constantly came and went from the Franklins’. Aside from Hamish, who’d come to live with them when he was thirteen, they had three adult children: Jessi, who was a costume designer, and the other two—Leif and Charlie—who worked at the veterinary clinic on the property along with their dad. Add all the various partners, children, and friends who made up their large circle of intentional family, and that meant there weren’t always a lot of quiet moments in the main part of the house.

But then he heard her voice and everything inside him went taut.

Pippa bustled into the kitchen with Jessi at her side. Her hair was piled up into a bun, exposing her neck and the curves of her features including those big brown eyes that widened and filled with pleasure at the sight of him there.

“Pippa, love, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, already on his feet and moving to her. The ease with which she slid into his embrace and the way she fit perfectly against him seemed to kick down the doors of his resistance.

Had him questioning why he’d thought he needed to keep himself away from her when she clearly didn’t want that, and for fuck’s sake, neither did he.

“I thought you were still in work mode,” she said, stepping back and then hugging James and Addie.

She wore a navy-blue sweater with white polka dots, and jeans. Simple and pretty. He wanted to bask in that even as the twin desire rose to dirty her up.

“I was just saying I’ve gotten a lot of work done this last ten days or so. When I got a text saying a certain someone had made garlic chicken and there were lemon bars for dessert, I knew what was good for me. I jumped in my car and came right over where I’ve been fed and loved up on. And then you.” Hamish couldn’t resist one last touch to her cheek before he took bags from Jessi, along with a quick hug.

“Are you hungry?” James asked them.

“Yes! We had lunch, but that was hours ago. We just dropped Rennie off at her apartment, and Pippa was kind enough to bring me over so I could grab my car. And lucky us, Hamish is here.” Jessi sent him a sunny little-sister smile that was bright and full of affection but also had something sneaky going on.

More than his little sister; she was his dearest and most trusted friend and ally. So, she was a pest who barged into his home and his life regularly to nose around in whatever it was he got up to.

He’d moved to a house less than a mile from hers so she could do exactly that.

“There’s a litter of puppies at the clinic,” Addie said. “Someone dumped them in the ditch near the mailbox on the main road.”

The house and the second building that held the veterinary practice sat on an acre and a half of land and were set back from the main road up on a gentle rise. Hamish could remember easily a dozen times various animals had been dumped somewhere on the property by their former owners.

“What is wrong with people? Are they okay?” Pippa clasped her hands in front of her chest, eyes wide, mouth turned down. So upset over puppies being mistreated.

Christ, he was mad for her.

He’d told himself over and over she wasn’t for him. His life was too fast and rough for a being like her. She was soft. Kindhearted. He’d taken her on several dates, and they’d ended up in bed repeatedly. She was anything but soft in bed. Christ, he’d never experienced the type of chemistry and attraction he had with her. But it had been those hours he’d stolen away with her that had changed him fundamentally. Quietly tucked up in her little townhouse watching movies as she crocheted the whole time had created a craving for more.

And for the first time ever, he found himself thinking about love and a future with someone. Someone who knew him on levels very few did.

Which terrified him. She terrified him. There were no masks with Pippa. It lightened his heart even as he’d thrown distance between them, telling her he was working through too much shit to be in a serious romantic relationship.

He’d noted the brief flash of hurt in her eyes when he’d said it, but she’d respected what she saw as a boundary.

Like a fool, he’d thought prioritizing the friendship over commitment would be a way to have her in his life without the eventual hurt he’d bring if he tried to be a boyfriend. He wasn’t a good bet. He couldn’t bear to be a disappointment in her life.

But all it had done was allow him to get to know her better and on a deeper level when both their defenses were down. She was unlike most everyone he’d known, and there was no one else he wanted. No one else fit him the way she did. He treasured it. Craved it. In the late hours when he’d been unable to sleep, he’d written about her instead. Let his lyrics speak when his heart really wanted him to stop fucking around and give himself permission to love her.

The feral part of him, the remainder of that street kid, couldn’t take the risk. But the man he’d grown into yearned for what she brought to his life.

“Go on out and give them a snuggle. Charlie’s over there now, so you can give her a cuddle too,” James said. Charlie was the oldest of the Franklin siblings, and though she’d been in college when he’d come to live there, she’d bossed him around like she bossed Jessi and Leif around. Like he was her brother. The first time she yelled at him for using her special hair conditioner something in Hamish that had been waiting to be rejected eased up.

Which he supposed was a good thing because both his sisters were incredibly bossy and nosy. It ran in the family full of intelligent, successful, brilliant women.

“I’m going to unload all these veggies first and join you in a bit,” Jessi said to Pippa.

“I’ll come along. Can’t refuse puppy cuddling,” Hamish teased, laughing as he sidled close.

They walked outside and across the wide yard bordered by gardens of various types. “When I lived here, one of my chores was to help weed the vegetable and herb gardens,” he told her, holding an arm out for her to take.

It was mid-September, so at seven the sun was still up but beginning to float toward the horizon. There’d been a misty rain for a few hours, but it had cleared up, leaving beads of water on the leaves and grass. He loved the garden decked out in brilliant raindrops with the leaves changing as a backdrop.

“Addie’s gardens never cease to amaze me. It’s always so lovely out here. No matter the season, she’s got something to show off. Still, between you and me, weeding was one of my most hated chores. I did it anyway because I got out of the house,” she confessed.

He forgot sometimes that she’d grown up in what he privately thought of as a religious cult. Complete with a multifamily compound. But he never forgot how it made him feel when she trusted him with the details of her life.

Yard work was easier than being on the street. But he didn’t want to say that and make her feel bad. He shrugged. “It killed my back and left me with sore hands. It also was time for me to be with Addie. Being useful.” He’d wanted to prove his worth. The early years he’d still worried they might find him wanting and send him away. “I refused to go to school, so she and James put together a home school program and had various people stop in to do my lessons. We’d be out here, and she’d tell me all sorts of stories. Only they were actually history lectures. Then we read books together about those events and would talk about them while we weeded or planted. You know, all the work that’s so monotonous but has to be done. I still come out to help her winterize things if I’m in town.” It was their thing together.

Pippa leaned in closer to him for a moment, acknowledging what he’d shared. “Of course you do. She’s your mom.”

He had a biological mother who’d been in and out of his life since he was nine years old. The only thing he shared with her was a penchant for addiction and very poor life choices.

Pippa said, “The monotony of repetitive tasks is one of my favorite things. I realized years later in therapy.” She paused to chuckle, but it wasn’t all amusement in her tone. “I’d used that time for meditation. In the house supervision was far more intense. My mother or other siblings were always there. My aunts would stop over all the time with their kids. There was no time or opportunity to meditate or even simply to think deeply on anything. But the vegetable garden was huge, and I could be out there with five other people, and no one was going to notice if I was having deep thoughts as long as I knew how to twist a tomato just right when I picked it, and I did it at a decent speed.”

“I hate that young Pippa had to grow up that way.”

“I hate that too. And I hate that you were a street kid. But I love that you and the Franklins found one another and became family.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

She paused, and they stood in the evening gone purple and orange. “Why?” There was no calculation there. Pippa tipped her face up, looking at him directly. Always so forthright.

“Because I’d like to see you. Catch up. I haven’t spent much time with you in the last few weeks. I missed you.”

“We texted all the time.”

“It’s not the same as being with you.” Not the same as smelling her on the air or being able to touch her.

“This is dangerously close to romantic, Hamish,” she said with a smile.

“Will you come to my house?” he asked. “I’ll make us brunch.”

“Tomorrow is Monday. We’re closing in on the deadline for three builds at once at work, so I’ll be there until seven or so. Even if your scrambled eggs are a powerful motivator to accept your invitation, I can’t.”

He winced a little. “Sorry. I’ve been in the studio at all hours. Honestly, I don’t know what day it is. How about Tuesday night?”

She opened her mouth and then shut it again, hesitating before finally saying, “I have plans that night.”

He realized what she meant. “Ah. A date? Who’s the lucky guy then?”

Her features fell a moment, and she stepped back, away from him. He stepped forward, closing the gap he’d created.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to sound cavalier and modern, but I’m jealous. It’s not a good look.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “I’m not sophisticated like other people.”

He shook his head and cupped her face, swamped by tenderness. “It’s not about sophistication at all. You just don’t know how not to be truthful.”

She frowned, frustration flowing from her. “Don’t fool yourself. I can lie perfectly fine.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes as he did, drinking her in. “How about you tell me what day coming up works best for you, and that’s the day we’ll catch up?”

Her breath hitched a moment, and then she nodded.

“Let’s go play with puppies,” he said, getting them headed toward the vet clinic.