Unlikely You (Sapph in the City #5)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Bren

What the actual fuck was wrong with me? No one had held a gun to my head and forced me to keep going back and forth with her. No one had taken me hostage and made me call her Honey Bea. HONEY BEA. Where the hell did that come from?

If I believed in any kind of possession, I might have been looking for ways to banish a spirit from my body, but since I didn’t, I only had myself to blame for whatever I’d said last night. The worst part? I’d been completely sober the entire time.

Honey reached into my chest and grabbed onto pieces of me that I didn’t even know were there and then yanked them into the light and made me look at them. It was horrifying and freeing at the same time. Both the best and the worst.

I’d never gone skydiving, but I was going to assume that it felt similarly. That terror that you were going to die and the exhilaration of falling.

I wanted more.

“Oh my god, you have to read this one. You’re buying a copy,” Delaney said on Tuesday when I stopped by Between the Sheets to restock my inventory.

Delaney was working today, and she had just finished what looked like an extremely heterosexual romance, judging by the enormous hockey player and the woman he was gazing at on the illustrated cover. They could be bi, but something told me they weren’t. Larison was busy with other customers and the shop was bustling, which made me happy.

“I’m telling you, it’s so good,” Delaney promised. I adored her, but we did not have the exact same taste in books. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed a sweet romance now and then, but more often I wanted something sexy, something dark, or something really gay. Preferably all three.

Delaney was more Cinderella with singing mice making her dress and I was more Beauty and the Beast, but the beast is a woman who’s into BDSM and may or may not be a terrifying monster.

But she was not going to let me get away without buying this incredibly popular hockey romance and if I didn’t read it, she’d be disappointed in me. Delaney was one of the sweetest and most cheerful people I’d ever met and there was a fragility about her that I didn’t want to mess with.

“I keep telling my boyfriend he should be happy I’m reading these because I learn all kinds of things,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Precious Delaney. From what I’d heard about her boyfriend, he wasn’t anything to write home about. Sure, he was employed, and he didn’t yell at her, but reading between the lines, he didn’t do a whole lot else. There were many stories of him going away with his friends on hunting trips, including on her birthday weekend. His excuse had been that one of his buddies got a moose permit and they were harder to get than a new Birkin bag, but I thought that was bullshit. Not that I knew anything about relationships, but her birthday was important to Delaney, so it should be important to the man who claimed he loved her.

“Mmmm,” I said, pretending I was paying attention as she told me another story about him that was supposed to be funny but was really just kind of sad.

“And then he was like, ‘stop reading those smutty books,’ and I told him that he could thank those books for some of my skills.” She giggled and I didn’t know what to say.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a book for my daughter and I don’t want to get her anything that isn’t appropriate for her age, but she’s always reading and begging for more books,” a woman said to Delaney and I was free from having to hear about her mediocre boyfriend.

“Are you coming to book club?” Larison asked me. I usually turned her down, but for some reason I found myself asking which book they were reading and being surprised that it was something I would actually enjoy.

“It’s very low-pressure. Some people just come for the free snacks and don’t even say anything. And then some are more enthusiastic. It’s all up to you.” Wondering if I was making a mistake, I added the selection to the stack of other books that I was taking home with me. The meeting was next week, which would give me just enough time to read the book beforehand. I’d have to pause on my other reading, but I could roll with that.

I guess it would be fun. And if it wasn’t, I could always just stuff my mouth with cheese and crackers and mentally check out. Or people watch. That was something I did enjoy. It was one of the reasons I hadn’t rejected the marketplace idea when I’d been building my business plan.

Book lovers were the kinds of people I could tolerate. There was a connection there that I couldn’t put into words, but once you found a reader’s favorite genre or author or trope to talk about, their eyes lit up and you could see the passion in their expression.

Larison said they already had about twenty-five other people signed up for book club, but usually not everyone showed up. That was still enough of a crowd I could lose myself in.

“You’re coming?” Delaney asked as I was attempting to leave.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Well now I had to go.

Delaney beamed so bright that you would have thought someone announced that Christmas had come early this year.

“It’s going to be so fun! I’m making this really good cannoli dip with chips. Don’t eat before you come because there’s tons of food. And drinks.”

It was probably worth it to come just for that, even without the book discussion.

I agreed that I would be there (again) and forced myself to leave the bookshop and get on with my day.

A message came through on my phone while I was walking to my car. For the past few days, Honey and I had been talking. A lot.

Too much. Way too much. Every response or new message from her was like a hit of every drug combined. Not that I’d ever done that, but that was how it felt. A high that made me want to laugh and giggle and twirl around in a circle in the middle of the grocery store or kick my feet in a gleeful tantrum in bed.

I was officially hooked on Honey Holloway. Desperate for more. Hoping that I wouldn’t get cut off.

Every day I woke up with a start, eager to see if I had a message from her. I’d never been much of a morning person, but she was quickly turning me into one. It seemed that she got up earlier than I did, which made sense since she was busy with farm chores. Sometimes she’d take a video of what she was doing and narrate it for me. Made me feel like I was right there with her. No wonder the farm had so many followers.

She’d worked her magic on me. Her kindness and sweetness were integral to who she was and for some reason I was letting her get to me. Normally I would have run in the other direction and just completely ghosted her. That wasn’t entirely possible given that we were in close proximity to each other four days a week, but I could have given her the coldest shoulder. Made it clear that I didn’t want to be her friend. Didn’t want her light in my life.

But I didn’t.

No. I stretched and reached for her like a struggling plan bending toward the sun.

It was pathetic how much nourishment I got from those messages and videos and attention. I’d hate myself if I wasn’t so…well I wouldn’t go so far to say that I was happy . I was something though. An emotion that made me feel light and bubbly as if I was constantly full of champagne minus the hangover.

Sure, I did lose a little bit of sleep thinking about her and trying to figure out something witty to respond with, but I was willing to sacrifice.

I was quickly becoming someone I didn’t recognize. Someone who smiled a lot more. My cheeks were even a little stiff and sore, as if I hadn’t exercised those muscles in too long.

Honey was just who I thought she’d be, except more so. I kept waiting for a crack, a moment where she’d reveal her true feelings and that she wasn’t just a bubble of joy, but it wasn’t happening. Either she was really good at keeping up a facade, or she was just really like that.

I was still skeptical.

Her behavior toward me at the marketplace wasn’t all that different, which I was grateful for. If she’d made a big deal out of everything, then everyone would have known. I did my best to limit my interactions with the other vendors to mostly polite nods and greetings, but there were always those certain people who just wanted us all to be coworkers or soldiers in the trenches together or comrades.

Most of the time I ignored them, but if they scented even a whiff of new gossip, they’d be up my ass and talking about me in voices that they thought weren’t loud but carried across the entire marketplace because of the high ceilings and concrete floors.

Something told me Honey wasn’t worried about that gossip, but that she didn’t want to give her family any ammunition, which was interesting. I’d caught her speaking to them in a hushed voice as they pretended not to be watching me and I pretended not to notice them watching me.

I’d caught her blushing a few times as well, which was so sweet that I had to bite my lips so I’d stop smiling.

Every now and then, though, when her family members were distracted, Honey would throw me a grin or a wink or an eye roll and my heart pulsed in my chest in a way that was both thrilling and disconcerting.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back at her.

She also sent me messages throughout the day. Sometimes they were questions like do you think flowers have emotions? and sometimes they were silly relatable things that made me laugh. There were also more bee facts, but none of them were boring. Honey had a way of putting even the driest piece of information in an interesting or entertaining way. She could have been a teacher, and I guess she kind of was in a way.

On Saturday night I’d thought about going to Sapph again, but instead I ordered food and stayed in my apartment to read and talk to Honey.

She told me about growing up with her siblings and I’d never talked to someone who loved other people so much. She was brimming with it.

My parents asked me to help a little bit, but I always wanted to do more. My mom laughs that she never changed a diaper for Ellie because I always got there first. I took care of Ember and Archer too, but Ellie was MY baby.

I was surprised when she confided in me about her sister being trans and how scared she was for the world she was going to grow up in. I couldn’t imagine the stress of that myself.

I can’t change the world for her, but damn, I’m going to try.

Some of Honey’s messages were so intense I didn’t know what to say to them. That was one of them.

Honey Holloway was a force of nature. She was the sun, yes, but she was also fire. She was a hurricane and a tornado and a snowstorm. She was the kind of woman you didn’t recover from. The kind of woman I knew instinctively to avoid and yet, I hadn’t. Every other time I’d heeded those warning signals from my brain about a woman, but I hadn’t been able to resist Honey.

On Sunday I was dragging after spending so much time thinking about Honey, composing messages to her, and doing my best not to reveal how completely she’d infiltrated my life.

I was just fixing the bookmark display when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned to find Honey standing there with an iced drink.

“I got you a matcha. You looked like you could use a pick-me-up and it’s my favorite. I snuck some of our honey in there too.”

Matcha had never been my thing, but if Honey Holloway handed me a cup of battery acid, I would have drunk it with a smile on my face.

“Uh, thank you,” I said, taking the cup from her. She’d thoughtfully gotten a cup sleeve so it didn’t get my hand all wet.

“Of course. I just… It feels weird to be talking so much and not actually hearing your voice, you know?” It was strange, but I’d been comfortable with it. Honey standing right in front of me was too much. All I could see were her lips and her cheeks and bright eyes. I could have spent hours fascinated by every single pore.

Pathetic. I was truly pathetic.

“How’s your weekend been?”

Oh I guess we were chatting now. Her parents were gone, and the only sibling around was her youngest sister who was handing out tea samples with the kind of enthusiasm you can only have when you’re young.

“Oh, it’s fine,” I said. “Same old, same old.” The days pretty much blurred together for me. My body and my mind went on autopilot and I didn’t come back to myself until I got home.

“Did you hear about the Johnsons?” she asked.

“Who?”

“You know, the couple who sell the cheese?” Oh, them. They were always having some drama or another. I did my best to avoid their table, even if their cheese was divine. It wasn’t worth the secondhand embarrassment of having to witness their marital squabbles. They never really yelled at each other, but the tension was as thick as their sharp cheddar and they were always hissing nasty comments back and forth to each other and trading dirty looks. It was hard to believe they didn’t realize that their behavior might affect their business.

“Oh god, what now?” I asked.

Honey’s eyes went wide and she stepped closer and spoke in a low voice that made me think of sweaty tangled sheets and heavy breathing and I gripped the matcha until my fingers went numb so I didn’t make any kind of embarrassing noises.

“I guess it was their anniversary the other day and he forgot so she’s going to make him pay for it. Passive aggressively of course.”

“Shitttt,” I said, and Honey let out a low laugh.

She shrugged one shoulder. “I went over to get some cheese when he was on a break and she talked my ear off. I think I’ve got one of those faces that makes people want to tell me their whole life stories, you know?”

I let out a snort. “My face is the exact opposite.”

Honey giggled. “You do give off a kind of ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe sometimes.”

Good. That was what I wanted.

“But then you smile, and it changes your whole face.”

Fuck, I needed to stop talking to her. I needed someone to come up and ask me about my book sleeves so I had a good excuse. Only problem was the lack of customers wandering by to use as a distraction. Just a few people wandered by, and they were pure browsers. Not interested in anything but wasting time.

I hated how my face went red and I couldn’t put my hands up and hide my cheeks without drawing more attention.

For something to do, I sucked in a sip of the matcha which caused me to almost choke. I managed to keep the liquid in my mouth and not spray it all over Honey and the floor, but it was close.

“You okay?” Honey asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, my voice rough as I had another (smaller) sip. It was actually good. The honey was a nice touch.

“Honey, we need more tea,” Ellie said, coming over and tapping her sister on the arm before turning and speaking to me.

“Hi Bren!” I’d never seen anyone so happy to see me in my entire life. It was almost unnerving.

“Uh, hi, Ellie.”

“Do you want some tea?” she asked me.

“No, I’m good. Your sister brought me a drink already.” I held it up.

“You should get another drink, Honey, and then you can have them together,” Ellie said, bouncing on her toes next to her sister. Okay, this kid was cute. Not subtle, but cute.

Honey grinned at me, as if we were sharing a joke.

“I think we should let Bren get back to work, don’t you? And we should make one last batch of tea for the day.”

Ellie let out a heavy sigh paired with an epic eye roll. Honey had her hands full with this one.

“Come on, Ellie Belly,” Honey said, throwing me a wink and ushering her sister back toward the table.

A group of teens chose that moment to find my table and get excited about my book sleeves and stickers, so I lost track of Honey for a little while. It was almost time to go and I was practically twitching to be out of here and not have to speak to another person for the rest of the night. I’d also finished the matcha and that might have also contributed to my antsy feeling.

“I’m guessing you just want to get out of here, huh?” Honey asked, startling me. I’d literally been staring off into space, completely mentally checked out for the day.

I had officially reached my limit and no amount of caffeine was going to help.

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, my voice a little rough. The first few weeks of working at the marketplace, I’d actually lost my voice by Sunday night. Now I was more used to so much talking, but I still drank special throat soother tea a few times a week.

“How are you always so…” I trailed off and gestured, unable to find the right word. I was worded out for the time being.

Honey crossed her arms, drawing attention to her perfect chest. Polo shirts looked pretty bad on just about everyone, but the way it stretched across her breasts made it even harder to think. “So what? I feel like whatever word you come up with might be insulting.”

“No, not insulting. You’re just always so friendly and smiling. How?” It was the question I’d been wondering the second I’d seen her the first time.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know.” Her face fell and I wish I hadn’t said anything. I didn’t want to be the reason she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Sorry. That was rude. Forget I said anything. It’s been a long weekend.”

God, I was so tired. In mind and body.

I closed my eyes and wished I was back home. By myself.

When I opened my eyes, I found Honey giving me a worried look.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”

I snorted. “Yes, that is my regular complexion.” My foundation shades were always called Porcelain or Ivory or something like that.

Honey appeared to be someone who spent a healthy amount of time in the sun. I appeared as if I was likely to haunt an old dusty home.

Honey made a little huffing noise. “No, I mean, paler than usual. And your complexion is fine. Better than fine.” She fumbled a little bit over the words and her cheeks blushed a pretty pink. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, going redder.

“Honey, darling, it’s time to pack up,” a voice said, and her mom wandered over. She wore a flowing dress that looked like it might have been handmade, and her hair was braided back from her face. She and Honey didn’t look much alike, which had puzzled me since Honey didn’t resemble her father much either. Though she did share features with her siblings. Genetics were interesting.

“Nice to see you, Bren,” she said, her voice and smile warm. “Have you had a good weekend?”

“Oh yes, sure,” I said as Honey pressed her lips together and looked like she was trying not to laugh.

As a result of talking with Honey so much, I now knew her parents were Sharon and Bill. Such ordinary names. Maybe that was why they’d gotten creative with their children. With the exception of Ellie, who had chosen her own name, but had decided to fit the vibe of everyone else.

“Well, we should get packed up. Honey, why don’t you give Bren a hand? We’ve got this here.”

Honey opened her mouth to argue, but Sharon squeezed her arm and then said something in her ear.

“I don’t need any help,” I said, but Sharon had already twirled away, singing, Bill joining in while Ellie skipped around, and Ember sat there on her phone. Archer was slowly putting jars of honey back in their crates as if he’d rather be doing anything else. Must be hard with so many sisters and singing parents.

Honey looked at her family and sighed.

“I should help them. We’ll never get out of here if I let them handle things.”

“I can handle my stuff if you need to go,” I told her. It would take longer for me if I had to supervise someone and tell them what to do.

Honey bit her bottom lip as if she couldn’t decide.

“Go. Be with your family. I’ve done this every week. I have a system.”

“Just give me ten minutes,” she said, touching my arm and then going to wrangle the rest of the Holloways.

I looked down at my arm where she’d touched me. Obviously there was no visual evidence of her touch. But that didn’t stop my arm from tingling.