Harley returned from her morning goat yoga class early. The goats had gotten into a crate of oranges, the equivalent of a carton of ice cream for the lactose intolerant. To avoid potential digestive distress, Harley limited class to two-legged paying patrons, so things had wrapped up earlier than expected.
She left her shoes and mat on the deck—the Teagan-approved location—and entered through the back door, heading straight for the coffeepot.
After a sunrise run and teaching three classes before the fog had lifted, green tea wasn’t going to cut it.
“Hey,” Teagan said. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open and a spreadsheet by her right hand. Given the messy bun, crumb-dusted apron, and spicy smell of cooking anise, her sister was baking one of Harley’s favorite desserts—an Italian spiced Bundt cake.
“Are you making Nonna’s Buccellato di Lucca?”
“Yes,” Teagan said, and Harley opened the oven. “Can you not? You’re letting the heat out.”
“I don’t barge into your room when I hear the telltale buzzing, so don’t deny me my morning food porn.”
“There’s one on the counter. Have your way with it.”
Harley spotted the delicious goodness on a cooling rack. She picked off a little bite, which was a million degrees, so she had to bounce it between her palms, blowing on it before she popped it in her mouth.
Huh, food porn was a lot like people porn, only without the distraction of a man.
Harley felt her sister’s stare burning into her back. “What?”
“The other one.” Teagan pointed to a cooling rack on the other side of the island. “The one that’s not cooling and can deflate when poked and prodded.”
“My bad.” Harley sliced off a big hunk, dropped it on a paper towel.
“A plate?”
“Too much work. Maybe on my second helping.”
“I made that for the girls.”
“Who come up to my kneecaps and eat like birds.” She reconsidered that. “Actually, they can both throw back a serious number of cheesy poofs.”
She poured a cup of coffee, then—remembering that she was practicing being a considerate adult—checked her sister’s cup. It was empty so she filled it up, then sat down.
“Thanks.” Teagan sounded surprised. Harley had to work on that.
“What’cha doing?” she asked Teagan.
“I was trying to ignore the death trap I took down that’s once again suspiciously hanging in the front room.”
Harley pretended to look surprised. “I wonder how that got up there. It sure looks great though. Very bohemian modern. Plus, it’s our thing.”
“It’s your thing,” Teagan said but Harley could tell she was lying. Theblink and you’ll miss itquirk of the lip was a dead giveaway.
It reminded her of when they were little, before the divorce, the way they were constantly pulling pranks. Sometimes on each other, but mostly it was the two of them against the world. No one had been safe. Their mom, Nonna, Zia Iris, even the West brothers next door. Although pranking the latter had more to do with Teagan’s hormones than her inner trickster. Still did.
She wasn’t sure if her sister had acknowledged that little truth yet, but Harley had a feeling from the constant grin on her sister’s face, the most stubborn not-a-couple couple had gotten together at last.
“Not to mention the swing is dangerous,” Teagan went on. “You do remember that Lily nearly went to the emergency room after sitting in it.”
“Actually, Poppy was hanging from the top like a little Tarzan and lost her grip. Lily, who was lying underneath, tried to break her fall and banged her chin on the coffee table. So, technically, it was user error.”
Teagan went still. “That’s not the story I heard. Did they tell you that?”
“Not directly,” she said around a bite of cake. “Poppy confessed to the Forgiveness Fairy the other night while I was putting them to bed. I kind of learned it by eavesdropping.”
Harley paused, wondering if she should even mention the other fairy Poppy confessed to. In the end, she decided Teagan had a right to know. Plus, things always seemed to go sideways when she kept things from the people she loved.
