My sister watched me curiously as she finished off her breakfast. “What’s up? You look weirdly nervous.”
I fought the urge to shift in my seat, to cross my legs and fidget. Truthfully, Iwasa little nervous.
I wasn’t typically one for gossip or sisterly bonding. Despite Candace being supportive and a good listener, it was difficult to seek her out for advice. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d actively cared about anyone’s opinion but my own. Plus, she was my little sister. I was supposed to be the one doling out wisdom.
But here I was, sitting in Candace’s office, having a complete out-of-body experience. I did not get mixed up over men. I didn’t let myself get distracted either. And yet ...
“Ian kissed me,” I blurted.
My sister’s dark brows lifted in surprise. “Okay.”
When I couldn’t manage to say anything else, Candace encouraged, “And how are you feeling about that?”
I scrubbed an anxious hand across my forehead before snapping, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
Somehow, she appeared even more stunned. “Was it ... bad?”
She wanted to knowif it was bad. Was it bad to feel so affected by someone that you thought about them all the time? Was it bad to get preoccupied when they spoke just because you couldn’t stop staring at their lips? Was it bad to want something so far out of reach that you couldn’t even put a name to it?
Nothing about this thing with Ian was simple enough to deem it good or bad. It was complicated. It was unwise. It was baffling. It made me feel weak and confused and unsteady.
And I was painfully aware of all of it.
Even without having all the answers, I knew that kissing Ian wasn’tbad.
The movie had been on a break for a week and a half. Ian and George had spent Christmas with my family. It had been fun to see them in the middle of our big meals and traditions. We’d made candy with my mother. Swapped ridiculous white elephant gifts. Then Ian and I had stood side by side at the kitchen sink and washed dishes together. We’d watched movies and played board games with George. The familiarity had me all mixed up.
Then Ian had helped me and Mercer and Brady build an enclosure for Ralph. Unsurprisingly, the Hollywood actor had never constructed a goat house or put up a fence, but he followed directions well. All those muscles were good for wielding tools and carrying wood.
It had been fun to work together on a project. Ian had joked around with my brother and even drawn quiet Mercer into conversation. Watching the outsider become even more embedded in my family had been equal parts joyful and troublesome. I didn’t know how to feel.
It was easier to tell myself it didn’t mean anything—that Ian fit in wherever he went because that’s what he was good at. But even my cynical heart wasn’t buying my arguments anymore.
Ian and I had also continued running together regularly. Since Darren and Sophia were still away, he brought George to stay with my parents in the mornings while we found ourselves on paths all over the farm. Then we’d make our way back to the farmhouse, and all have breakfast together. We usually separated after that. I’d go to work in the fields while Ian took George on adventures.
So far during the film’s break, they’d visited the waterfalls the town was named after. They’d hit the movie theater in Asheville and the fancy Franklin Street chocolate shop there as well. There’d been the trip to the pinball museum and the toy store, and the doughnut tour they’d done of the surrounding area.
Today was the final day of the break. Ian’s team would return this evening. He’d wanted to take George on a big outing before things went back to normal—well, normal for a movie star and his nephew. Early mornings on set and homeschooling with a private tutor.
But, for today, it could just be fun. At my recommendation, they were going to the old-school retro arcade over in Clemmons. And then over to the historic Bluebird Drive-in for lunch and milkshakes. George was going to love it. The diner had cheeseburgers the size of his head. Luckily, he wasn’t a practicing vegetarian this week.
I was supposed to be working on breaking down the orchard’s holiday displays and decorations, followed by closing up the Apple House until we reopened to the public in May. Mercer was already in the tree lot, but it was still early, so I’d taken the opportunity to talk to my sister.
“Kissing Ian was not bad,” I finally replied, fighting the urge to bolt from the room. “But it makes no sense.”
“Why?” Candace asked.
It wasn’t the money or the fame. Okay, maybe it was the fame, a little bit.
Ian wasn’t better than me, but I didn’t know how to explain it. His life was loud, bright, and bold in ways that demanded attention. I was a farmer inthe small town I’d grown up in. My life was quiet and contained. It went beyond compatibility.
“He’s—I mean—you know—” I blew out a frustrated breath before admitting, “He’s a damn movie star, Candace. Why the fuck is he going around kissing me?”
My sister smiled then, and it finally felt like someone understood where I was coming from. “You know, it is weird to get to know a celebrity the way we’ve gotten to know Ian. He’s eaten dinner at our childhood dining table.”
“Yes, exactly. I’ve seen his butt on a television screen, and he helped my mom change a lightbulb the other day.”
Candace laughed. “The same man who was on the cover ofPeoplemagazine has looked at our baby pictures in our parents’ living room.”
