Susan Mallery - Secrets Of The Tulip Sisters

She knew that he’d played in a rock band in high school, then had quit after he’d gotten married. She wasn’t sure when he’d taken up the guitar again. She’d started working with the students at JML years ago—shortly after her divorce. In fact, that was where she’d first noticed Jeff. She’d fallen for him during an off-key Beatles retrospective—specifically “Hard Day’s Night.”

Before she could dig up more swoon-worthy memories, Jeff appeared in the foyer. Her throat immediately tightened and speech became impossible. What was it about a man in a plaid shirt? Okay—not any man—just this one. Or maybe it was the worn jeans that hugged his narrow hips and long legs. Or the way he held his guitar case with such confidence.

Jeff smiled as he approached. “Heard anything about our latest bandmates?”

“Isaak said they’re fifteen-year-old twins who got guitars for their birthday.”

Jeff winced. “Why do parents do that?”

“Someone has to be the next generation of rock music.”

Isaak, a tall, curly-haired man of mixed heritage, walked into the foyer. “You’re here,” he said, sounding grateful. “Adults. Thank God.”

“How are the new students?”

“You honestly don’t want to know. They’re arguing about whether to play Atreyu or Pop Evil.”

“Are those bands or songs?” Jeff asked.

“Bands,” Helen told him. “You really have to pay attention to music from this century.”

“I like Coldplay.”

“They started in the nineties.”

“But they have songs out this century.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Probably.” Jeff turned to Isaak. “Give them the approved music list.”

“That’s less of a problem than them having trouble grasping what a chord is. Can you give me a few minutes?”

Jeff looked at Helen who nodded.

“We’ll wait,” Jeff told him.

The music director retreated to one of the practice rooms. Jeff and Helen walked to the break room in the back. Jeff pulled several dollar bills out of his pocket and walked to the soda machine.

“Diet Coke?” he asked.

“Thanks.”

He got them each a can, then joined her at the round table by the window. One wall thumped from uneven drumming while another vibrated with an overly enthusiastic bass guitar.

“We should have brought earplugs,” he told her.

“You always say that. The students get better.”

“Not today.”

The table was small, forcing them to sit close enough for their knees to bump. With every casual contact, Helen felt a jolt of awareness zip up her leg. Talk about stupid.

“I can’t believe you mocked Coldplay,” he said.

“I didn’t. I simply pointed out you’re not a fan of contemporary music.”

“No one’s better than the Rolling Stones.”

“Billy Joel is better.”

He looked at her over the can. “You have a thing for him so you can’t be impartial.”

“My thing for Billy is nothing when compared to your slavish devotion to that British band.”

“Mine doesn’t have a sexual component. That makes it more honest.”

“Because sex isn’t honest?” she asked with a laugh.

“You know what I mean. I’m not blinded by lust.”

“It’s not lust.” Of that she was sure. Her love for Billy Joel was different than her feelings for Jeff. Now if he really wanted to talk lust, she was all in.

“Next time he’s in Seattle, I should take you to a concert,” he said. “Unless you’re going to throw yourself at the stage. I’m not sure how I’d feel about that.”

There was so much unexpected information in that brief statement, she didn’t know what to say. Was Jeff asking her out? No, it was a friendly invitation, but still. But there was something... Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

She clutched her can of soda for courage and decided to go with it. “Wouldn’t that cramp your style?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your trips to Seattle. When you go to...” She made air quotes. “A Mariners game.”

He put down his can, then picked it up again. “I do go to games. I like baseball.”

“Uh-huh. No one is fooled. You go in for a long weekend to see a game, but sometimes the Mariners aren’t even in town. There’s a woman. Or women. I’m not sure.”

Nor did she want to be talking about this, only it was going to be hard to change the subject now. Plus, she couldn’t help thinking that if they could get into something slightly more personal he might see her as more than just a buddy.

“What do you mean everybody knows?”

“It’s understood,” she said. “I don’t talk about it with your daughter, if that’s what you’re asking, but she’s a bright girl.” She met his wary gaze. “It’s not a bad thing, Jeff. You’ve been divorced a long time. It’s nice that you have someone.”

No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t nice at all. It ate her up inside. It made her want to scream and beg and wish she had the courage to say “What about me?”

Jeff swore under his breath. “I didn’t think anyone knew.” He swore again. “It’s not like however you’re thinking. It’s just sometimes a man—”

Had needs? Because she could help with that. But before she could figure out how to offer, Isaak joined them.

“This is going to take a while. Are you two willing to come back in a couple of hours or do you want to call it a night?”

Jeff glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six.

“Buy you a burger?” he asked Helen.

“That would be great. Thanks.”

Jeff returned his attention to Isaak. “We’ll be across the street.”

“Great. I’ll come get you there.”

Jeff locked his guitar in his truck before they headed across the highway to the Tulip Burger restaurant. While Helen didn’t mind that their town was all things tulip, she felt the new owners of Tulip Burger had taken things too far. There were stencils on the wall, a tulip-shaped blackboard with specials and tulip-printed napkins. Cute, but not necessary. Tourists already knew where they were—there was no reason to drill home the point.

They took a seat at a booth in the back. Helen knew better than to read too much into the dinner invitation. New band disagreements were frequent, which meant she and Jeff often had time to kill between sessions. What she didn’t know was whether or not she wanted to return to the previous topic. While it might help get her closer to her goal of being his love slave, there was also the risk of him saying something like, “I will only ever see you as my friend.”

Helen stared at the menu. They had a really nice grilled chicken salad. If she asked for dressing on the side, she would have made it nearly twelve hours on her new low-carb, low-fat diet and wouldn’t that be special.

“Want to split the bacon cheeseburger?” Jeff asked.

Because while the decorations might be tacky, the food was amazing and the bacon cheeseburgers were huge and delicious and, well, damn.

Helen’s stomach grumbled, which she took as a vote of “yes, please.” Oh, why did she have to be weak? Or fat?

“Sure,” she murmured, then waited for the wave of guilt.

Their server came over. Jeff ordered for them, asking for extra fries and suggesting a chocolate milk shake. In deference to the now broken diet, she said she would just have water.

“We’re getting Christmas orders,” Jeff said when their server had left. “It’s June. What are they thinking, waiting so long? We have to grow the tulips from bulbs, which we have to order. It’s not like we can put on an extra shift in the factory.”

“Maybe if you put up inspirational posters they’d grow faster.”

“Are you sassing me?”

“Actually I believe I was sassing the tulips.” She sipped her water. “I get that you’re growing flowers, but it’s still strange to me that flower distributors have to order flowers so far in advance. The most I have to do is make sure my food orders are done two weeks out. What if the bulbs don’t work?”