by Jea Hawkins
“I also kinda, sorta need a place to crash and Miranda said you had plenty of room. So, if you’re willing to do this, it could work out for us both.” Blythe offered her a sheepish grin.
“Wait… what? I’m sorry, but this isn’t a place where you can ‘crash’ no matter what Miranda says.” Sabrina hoped she didn’t sound rude and the way Blythe’s smile deepened, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Everything about her tightened again, and she wondered if it was with annoyance or fascination this time.
The latter would spell trouble. She was sure of it.
“I think she left another note for you, too.”
Sabrina almost wished she hadn’t sliced a glare at Blythe. The situation wasn’t fair to either of them, but the girl calmly sipping coffee in her kitchen wasn’t to blame. She also sounded so sweet and hopeful, that Sabrina supposed she could entertain the crazy idea. A little.
After putting the pitcher of coffee away and curling her hand around the handle of her mug, Sabrina went to her office. It was her favorite room, bright and airy and overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. That was where she’d watched so many days pass, storms blow in, and the sun set, tingeing the waters golden.
Miranda knew where to leave a note for her – on the keyboard. Too bad it had only one word: Enjoy.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sabrina crumpled the paper and chucked it into the white wicker wastebasket at her feet. The note didn’t explain anything and by the time Miranda returned one of the many calls Sabrina expected to make to her, she probably wouldn’t want to bother with a full explanation anymore. Sabrina swept her cell phone up off the desk and her thumb went unerringly to the contacts.
For once, she wouldn’t call Miranda twenty times begging for an explanation or excuse as to some bad behavior on her part. One call. That’s all she’d make. After that, it was up to Miranda.
“You either call me or mail me the key, because you are not welcome in this house anymore,” Sabrina growled into the phone. No need to play games when the one voicemail said it all.
Too bad she still didn’t know what to do about Miranda’s little plot, Jennifer’s unknowing endorsement of it, and the beautiful woman she was meant to “enjoy.”
Chapter Two
Blythe made three things clear that morning: she wouldn’t stay long, if Sabrina really wanted her to leave, she would be quiet while Sabrina needed to work, and she would provide an unending source of mystery in the meantime.
As expected, Miranda didn’t have the courtesy to return her call. Instead of working on the rough draft of her next novel, Sabrina found herself poking at the keyboard in frustration. This scenario deserved to be in her next book. Maybe the story needed to be about sisters, one good and one evil. The question was, how the hell would Miranda redeem herself this time?
And what was Sabrina going to do with her unexpected houseguest? “Enjoy” her, apparently, to make sure the world didn’t see her as some freakish old maid. Jennifer was right, though. With a book launch coming up, there would be more and more interviews for Sabrina to respond to. That meant questions like, “What did you think of your sister’s interview earlier this month?” and “Is it true you’ve sworn off love?”
Sabrina rarely talked about her personal life. It just didn’t have any bearing on her books. Well, much. Her love life, or lack thereof, certainly didn’t come into play.
Sabrina swallowed and opened the mini-fridge next to her desk. The stash of various coffees and chocolates had never looked so tempting. She leaned forward, reaching for an item, but recoiled at the thought of Blythe walking in on her. Maybe the stash was best left for when she was alone again in the sanctuary of her beloved house.
It wasn’t that she kept these goodies in her office out of any sense of guilt. They were a convenience for when she needed a sugary jolt. But she still didn’t know anything about Blythe’s own motivations. What if she was there to be more than a decoy girlfriend?
She rubbed her hands over her face and groaned. She needed her life back to normal so she could focus on writing. For the moment, a beautiful woman could be anywhere she turned and the idea that her home was no longer her own left her unable to concentrate. The best thing she could do was get out of there.
****
Covell’s Candies was a welcoming place with its pastel walls and old-fashioned furniture. It’d belonged to Sabrina’s great-grandfather, a strange venture for a family known for whaling in the 1800s. Now, one of her second cousins owned the shop. All she had to do was try not to worry about the fact that she'd left a random stranger alone in her home.
Her cousin Mike’s expression shifted from a welcoming smile to brows drawn together almost the moment their eyes met. Without missing a beat, he plucked a brown rectangle of taffy off a piece of parchment paper and said, “Here, try my new flavor. It’s called Chocolate Cupcake. You look like you need it.”
“Does it show?” Sabrina accepted the saltwater taffy and popped it in her mouth. After a few chews, she said, “You’re right. This helps, but unless you have a way to keep my sister from leaving strange women in my house, it’s only a temporary fix.”
“So, Hurricane Miranda strikes again? What kind of gold-digging fame-hound did she leave you with this time?” Mike turned to continue dusting the taffy-filled vintage glass jars on the shelf behind the counter, accustomed to Miranda’s annoying behavior. He and Sabrina were the same age. They’d grown up together, gone to school together, and he’d also endured Miranda’s mean girl ways like a brother. If only Sabrina could shock him with something good for a change.
“Actually, I’m not sure this new chick is like that. She’s beautiful and not in a fake way. Miranda told her she could crash at my place for a while and somehow also managed to concoct a plan to keep me from getting out of it.” Saying everything out loud made tension blossom between her shoulders again, and she reached back to rub the muscles there. A massage was definitely in order.
“What do you mean? Getting out of it is easy. You tell the woman to leave.”
Sabrina supposed it was that easy, but finding the guts to explain everything to her publicist was not. And, though it pained her to admit this, she kind of needed the easy out that Blythe presented. First, she couldn’t let her sister’s remarks about her turn her latest book launch into a circus. Second, finding a woman to pretend to be her girlfriend might not be difficult, but both time and options were limited.
Mike glanced back at her, his expression bland. “I fail to see the problem. If I found a random, beautiful woman in my house, I would love it.”
“That’s because no one set you up for national humiliation, and you’re a perv, to boot.”
Mike reached over the counter and poked Sabrina’s shoulder. “So are you. You’re just better than the rest of us are at hiding it.”
“Remind me again why I put up with you.” Sabrina took another piece of the Chocolate Cupcake taffy. If she couldn’t binge at home, she would do it in Oak Bluffs, far from Blythe’s potentially prying eyes. Sabrina had never been able to bring herself to relax and let down her barriers with real girlfriends. No way was she doing it around a stranger planted in her house for someone else’s selfish motivations.
“Because I'm the only living family member you can stand, not to mention the only cousin who provides you with endless quantities of sugar for free.” His hazel eyes twinkled a bit as a sunbeam shone through the window. Irrepressible Mike. He might as well have been a leprechaun, inviting her to get into mischief. Hard to believe Sabrina had been the troublemaker once upon a time, the one who pulled pranks and nearly got kicked out of school for it. Mike was just the follower, who went along willingly for the ride.
“As lovely as all of that is, it doesn’t solve my problem. Besides, this girl is one of Miranda’s bed buddies. Don’t you remember how all of that turned out last time?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mike rolled his eyes. “You mean the two times you thought it would be okay to try to hook
up with one of those.”
It’d been more than hooking up, at least for Sabrina. She’d gone in, head over heels, for one of Miranda’s girlfriends right after high school. Being young and in love was the easy part. Trying to develop a relationship with someone who constantly compared her to her sister had been a bad idea.
Ten years later, she’d endured worse when she dated another of Miranda’s ex-girlfriends. This was the one who set the bar as far as low behavior. She’d even had the temerity to proclaim, to anyone who would listen, that she’d gotten it on with famous sisters.
Barely thirty-years-old, Sabrina had received the message loud and clear. No one cared about her as a person; just the fame that came with being associated with her and Miranda.
“It might not be such a bad thing, but this chick seems completely on board with it,” Sabrina added. “That worries me more than anything.” She turned as the bell over the door rang and the last person she wanted to see entered the shop.
Blythe looked like summertime in female form with her pale, flowing hair, tank top, and ankle-length floral skirt. Draped around her neck was an expensive-looking camera and her gaze went from Sabrina to Mike, then back again to Sabrina. Her inquisitive expression fell into a frown.
“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“No, come on in.” Mike’s voice dropped and smoothed out a bit, his attempt to sound persuasive evident.
Sabrina glared at him and mouthed, “That’s her!”
The way Mike’s brows drew together, Sabrina knew he didn’t understand. So much for the way they used to communicate as teenagers, nudges and exchanged glances that silently conveyed all the meaning they needed.
Blythe approached the counter and smiled at Sabrina, some tentativeness in the expression. “I’m sorry for surprising you. I guess it’s bound to happen again and again while I’m staying here, especially if we agree to...”
She trailed off and, after a long moment, turned away to examine one the many shelves lining the shop’s walls.
As soon as Blythe’s back was to them, Mike mouthed, “Is that her?” Sabrina rolled her eyes and lifted her brows.
This was getting more complicated by the second. The more people who read the article, the more intense the pressure would be to prove her sister’s words untrue. A lonely middle-aged lesbian was too cliché, easy to mock. But Sabrina knew caving to the pressure to refute it might compromise everything she believed.
Blythe didn’t seem to notice the tension, because she ran her fingers along the pale green shelves on the opposite side of the store and asked, “What’s good here?”
“Everything. What do you like?” Leave it to Mike to try to seduce the woman Miranda had dumped in Sabrina’s lap.
“Mm, how about the Classic taffy?” Blythe went to the counter and bounced on the tips of her toes, giving Sabrina that smile again. Contrition mingled with excitement in her expression. “I realize we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe if I explain my side of the story, that will help you make a decision.”
“Yeah, I would think so,” Sabrina agreed, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Blythe’s presence set her on edge, and not in a good way. Anything that originated with Miranda’s warped mind was bad news. It was all Sabrina could do to keep the tremor from her tone.
The woman’s hands drew her attention again as they hefted the camera. Sabrina tried to ignore the thought of curling her own hands over those slim shoulders and pushing Blythe to the ground while kissing her perfect, full mouth. After all, she was supposed to “enjoy” her.
Note to self – stop thinking like the characters in your book and get laid. Fast.
“I’m a photographer and getting a place to stay on the Cape in the summer is hard. I was too late to score a place this year, so I told Miranda and she suggested I stay with you.” Blythe bit her lower lip, looking apologetic. “She said you’re all alone in that big house, writing constantly, and that you wouldn’t mind. That and, well, the publication of the interview coincides with your next book launch and Miranda knew it might set your marketing person in a bit of a tizzy.”
Tizzy didn’t even begin to describe what Jennifer was capable of, but Sabrina nodded for her to continue.
“So, she thought I could earn my keep by making it seem like we’re together, stop any negative rumors before they start, you know?”
“That’s Miranda, generous to a fault while making Sabrina sound like a tragic old maid.” Mike chortled and handed Blythe a piece of saltwater taffy. She reached for the purse slung across her body, but Mike lifted his hand. “Samples are on the house. Besides, any friend of my cousin’s is a friend of mine.”
“Is that how it works around here? I’ve been hobnobbing with the wrong people on the islands.” Blythe let the purse rest against her hip. “Nantucket, for example. They’re very picky about who they give their taffy away to there.” She gave another one of those wide, sincere grins, and Sabrina’s heart lurched.
Blythe checked all her boxes when it came to what she found physically attractive. Why did her personality also have to be so… so cute, too? Sabrina knew she had to get out of there.
With soft steps, she backed toward the door, while Mike explained his taffy-making process. Blythe had the good grace to look interested as he went on about ingredients, mixing, and more. Maybe Sabrina could make her escape. Just a few more feet…
Blythe turned, her smile instantly falling. “Are you leaving on my account? I’m sorry. I did interrupt and you’re both too nice to tell me.”
Sabrina froze. She didn’t want to be uncharitable, but this woman had appeared in her kitchen like a stray cat. Every time she thought of her sister’s shenanigans and how she’d reached new levels of asshole with this particular mess, Sabrina wanted to scream. But when she saw Blythe smile…
Oh, she was going to make Miranda pay dearly for this one. She didn’t know how, but she’d find a way to get back at her for years – nay, decades – of humiliation. This was the last damn straw.
But she couldn’t take it out on Blythe or let her own career get derailed because of this. She’d take another day to think about it. For now, she swallowed and said, “Why don’t we take a walk, so we can talk?”
The smile that had faded returned, brighter than the summer sun. Blythe glanced over her shoulder at Mike and said, “Thank you for the taffy. It was amazing. The best I’ve ever tasted.”
He was apparently smitten, because he grinned back at her like an idiot. “Anytime.”
As soon as they stepped out into the warm, salty air, the sights of downtown Oak Bluffs transported Sabrina back to her adolescence. Many a time in the 1990s, she’d walked with a girl along Circuit Avenue, eating taffy or ice cream, and hoping for a kiss, if not more. There was something nostalgic in the moment and that’s what she put the sudden urge to reach out and pull Blythe to her down to. Nostalgia, nothing more. She wasn’t about to change her stance on dating simply because one woman happened to make her pause and consider it.
“So, you’re a photographer who needs a place to stay, but that doesn’t explain what you want here or why you’re willing to fake dating me for the sake of positive press.”
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t.” Blythe ducked her head, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I want to photograph life on the islands, but not the rich and famous. I want to see the real people of Martha’s Vineyard, like your cousin in the shop or fisherman or crafters.”
Sabrina couldn’t help but laugh. It was a naively sweet thought and one she indulged whenever she created characters for her books. Not that she’d ever admit it to anyone. Once again, the sense that Blythe was more than just a pretty face made her wonder if Miranda had found the perfect torture device – a woman who might be capable of making her rethink the idea of falling in love.
She cleared her throat and said, “It sounds to me like you want to go back in time.”
“Well, maybe I do, a little bit. I want to show the contrast between the
entitled elite and the people truly devoted to the island’s rich history and culture. Summer is the perfect time to do it.” Blythe’s lower lip jutted out a bit and Sabrina averted her gaze. The heat spreading through her must have been because of the sun. Not the philosophical woman next to her.
Damn it. Maybe Miranda wasn’t being mean, after all, but had somehow found the kind of woman Sabrina wouldn’t be able to resist – beautiful, smart, and deep. Nothing like the women Miranda dated or the ones she suggested Sabrina date. For once, it looked like her sister knew what she was doing.
That thought was the most terrifying of all.
“I know most people come here to rub elbows with the wealthy or enjoy a getaway that’s reserved for the truly privileged, but what about the year-rounders? Or the people who make the whole Cape experience possible? I want to see the people everyone else takes for granted and show that juxtaposition. The lifestyle the rich enjoy during a summer at Martha’s Vineyard can’t happen without those people, you know?”