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Using the key neatly hidden in the potted fern outside her door, she quickly entered the apartment to the aroma of baking: cinnamon, cardamom and every scent she associated with home.
Her heart swelled at the sight of their nice, tidy place looking cozy as usual. It was prime-time girly, scattered with lacy pillows and throws on the couches and colorful accessories. Even Molly’s old teddy bear sat contentedly under a Tiffany lamp.
After sequestering herself for days in an ultramasculine bachelor pad, the feminine vibe in their small one-story home appealed to her. Right then, she decided to take some of her pink pillows to Julian’s place. She needed to make herself more at home if she was going to be there for a while, plus she definitely planned to stock up his cupboards with her beloved Sleepytime Tea.
“Okay, what is going on with you?”
Molly spun around to find Kate standing in the kitchen archway, her red hair tied in a ponytail, a frilly apron around her waist and a what-in-the-world expression on her face.
People used to say Kate had so much energy the sun would burn out before she did. They were right; she was always doing something.
“I just came for some more clothes. Julian’s car is so impractical a kid can fit more stuff in a bike basket, I swear,” Molly said.
When Kate’s expression didn’t soften, Molly went to the kitchen to give her a hug, which might have been easier if Kate wasn’t holding a bowl.
“I can smell something’s cooking, Molly. I’m like your mother and sister and father all in one.”
“And I smell cinnamon.”
Molly peeked at all the yummy offerings on the kitchen island and selected several muffins to take to Julian. She shoved them into a brown paper bag and rolled it closed with a lot of noise.
“Aww, you always do this to me,” Kate said, exasperated, setting down her bowl with a plunk. “Those muffins happen to be for Landon and Beth’s welcome-back party, Moo. I’ll bake some for you tomorrow, okay?”
“Fine,” Molly grumbled. Already halfway to her room, she retraced her path to where her sister stood and handed her the paper bag. Instead of leaving, though, she stared into eyes that were clear and blue and almost identical to hers.
Her chest felt so heavy today, she just ached to be truthful with her sister.
They’d always been close with each other. As tight as two people who were left alone in the world could possibly be. But both of them were creatively inclined and tended to disappear into their own private bubbles of imagination half the time. Molly had been known to spend months locked away, painting away her restlessness. Kate cooked her heart out as well so that by the end of the day they were both too tired to even remember that they had lives outside their jobs, jobs which also happened to be their hobbies.
Kate had always been there for Molly, a shoulder to lean on, always supportive but not suffocating. But rarely in all these years had they actually discussed men. Or the strange feelings a woman might have toward them.
It was as though they both tried to pretend men did not exist in their lives. Or maybe just pretend that, other than their wonderful relationship with the Gages, they didn’t need any man at all.
Molly had been perfectly content with that pretense because she had Julian John’s friendship. And he counted for a hundred men. So she’d never felt she lacked any male attention at all.
Until that one night, when his brother had made her feel wanted.
Until that one night when she’d been kissed and fondled until she’d burst. Literally.
Now Molly couldn’t seem to stop craving that extra spark in her life. That wonderful feeling she’d felt as those hot lips, those expert hands, had reminded her she was a living, breathing woman who deserved a man’s love. Because why the hell not?
But how to inform Kate of her masquerade escapade with one brother when she was now supposed to be the other’s lover?
Molly just couldn’t talk about Garrett yet. It was still impossible to mention that kiss that had flipped her whole life upside down. But at least she could mention something else that was gnawing at her.
“Julian hates my wardrobe,” she blurted at last. She hated how her stomach cramped at the admission. And she loathed remembering how cockily Julian had assured her that
this “starving artist look” would not do anything for Garrett. Damn him anyway for making her feel insecure.
Kate’s eyes widened, then she cocked an I-told-you-so brow. “Now, why am I not surprised to hear that?”
“Because you’ve said the same. There. Does it please you, Kay? That he thinks I dress bad? Because the last thing it gives me is pleasure.”
Suddenly, just remembering the sexiness of that woman she’d seen in Julian’s apartment made Molly flush in anger all over again. She had to look better than her. She had so many other looks in her wardrobe, not just the “blender” ones. Jules would see.
Eyebrows joining over a nose that was dotted with freckles, Kate took a step to scrutinize Molly more closely. “Molly, I don’t get you. You haven’t called in days and when I text you, you tell me you’re flying in Julian’s airplane over to South Padre Island to get an hour of suntanning with him? Your last two unfinished paintings for the exhibit sit all alone down the hall in your studio with your deadline looming…and after years of listening to me beg you to let me give you a makeover, you finally decide to do it because of what he said? What is going on with you two? I couldn’t sleep last night—I had to call Garrett. I’m worried sick!”
“Garrett? Well, what did he say?”
