Felicia waved and walked away.
Starr stared after her. “She scared me.”
“Me, too. At the same time, I kind of want to be more like her. Talk about smart.”
“You’re smart. Look at the job you have.”
“I’m intelligent enough,” Destiny said with a laugh. “But not compared with Felicia.” She put her arm around her sister. “On the bright side, apparently we don’t have to worry about going gray.”
“I already wasn’t.” Starr snuggled close for a second then stepped away. “I’m hungry.”
“Me, too. Looks like we have plans for lunch now, but that’s hours away. Want to go by the bakery and get a doughnut?”
“Sure.”
They circled the park then headed up Second Street, maneuvering around families with strollers. Tourists or locals? Destiny wondered, thinking about her plan to sensibly marry and then have a quiet, calm marriage of her own one day.
In college, when she’d come up with the plan, she’d assumed she would have found a husband by now. But it turned out that calm, sensible men were more difficult to find than she would have thought.
Two men stepped out of the bakery. She recognized Miles and Kipling, each holding a silver-and-white-striped box.
She stumbled to a stop as her chest suddenly tightened. How strange. What on earth was—
Everything went still. She focused on her breathing then cautiously let her attention drift to the rest of her body. There was the aforementioned tension in her chest, plus a distinct quiver in her stomach and something almost like tingling in her thighs. If she hadn’t felt totally fine a second before, she would swear she was getting the flu. So if it wasn’t that, then what?
She looked at Miles. He saw her and grinned. He appeared self-satisfied, which meant he’d been successfully flirting with someone. As she studied him, she felt only pity for whatever woman had endured his attentions. Not that most of them seemed to mind. Many conquests had lamented losing Miles, but few of them regretted the short-term thrill of being with him.
Something she’d never been tempted to experience herself, so Miles wasn’t the cause of her reaction.
She turned to Kipling and instantly got lost in his dark blue gaze. He looked less happy than his new friend. Irritation tugged at the corner of his mouth and when he glared at Miles, she had a clear view of his chiseled profile.
Your words were like a beacon, I was looking for a home.
Destiny sucked in air. No, she told herself firmly. She would not create song lyrics around Kipling. She knew where that led, and it was to a dark, bad place. It led to attraction, which led to sex, which led to jealousy and late-night fits of anger. Love was only a few shades less bad. No way, no how. She was not, under any circumstances, attracted to Kipling Gilmore. Ski gods did not make for sensible relationships.
“What part of ‘my sister’ don’t you understand?” Kipling demanded as he and Miles reached her. “Hey, Destiny.”
“Hi. What’s going on?”
Miles shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw a beautiful woman and complimented her. This one nearly took my head off.”
Destiny winced. “Not Shelby. I like her. Stay away from her.”
“Thank you,” Kipling said, then smiled at Starr. “Hi. I’m Kipling.”
“Starr.”
“The sister. I see pretty runs in the family.”
Starr blushed and ducked her head.
“Hello,” Miles said. “We were talking about me. Shelby’s an adult. She can date who she wants.”
Kipling took a step toward the other man. “No, she can’t. You hurt her, and I will break every bone in your body. Is that clear?”
Miles opened the bakery box and pulled out a cookie. He took a bite. “Attitude, man,” he said as he chewed. “You have to work on your attitude.” He looked into Kipling’s unyielding expression and sighed. “Fine. She’s off-limits.” He offered a cookie to Starr. “So what am I going to do for fun in this town? No Shelby.” He winked at Starr. “You’re too young for me.” He looked at Destiny. “You’re not interested in me.”
“You’re right. I’m not.”
Miles groaned. “You don’t have to be so blunt. You could pretend you think I’m hot.” He turned to Kipling. “We’ve had this problem from the start. It’s the princess thing.”
Destiny had been enjoying the exchange right up until that second. Now she stiffened, hoping she was wrong. That he wasn’t going there.
It always happened, she thought frantically, searching for a distraction. Someone found out, then word spread and then everything changed.
“Princess?” Starr asked. “Destiny?”
“You, too, your highness.”
“What?” Starr studied her cookie. “I’m not anybody special.”
Kipling turned to Starr. “Sure you are.”
A kindness, considering he had no idea what Miles was talking about.
Miles wiggled his eyebrows. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
“No, and he doesn’t have to.”
“Sure he does.” Miles grinned at Kipling. “Destiny is the oldest daughter of Jimmy Don and Lacey Mills. You know who they are, right?”
Kipling looked at Destiny. Confusion darkened his eyes, then it cleared. “No way.”
“Way,” Miles told him. “I’ve met Lacey a couple of times. She usually comes to visit Destiny on her jobs. Wow, is she still hot. And that voice. I heard her live once. They really are country music royalty. All those hits, all that passion.”
And drama, Destiny thought grimly. The pictures in the tabloids, the arrests, the divorces, the broken promises. Yeah, it had all been so incredibly wonderful. Who wouldn’t want to be her?
She made a point of glancing at her watch. “Look at the time. We need to be going.”
She turned away, hoping Starr would follow. The teen fell into step with her.
“Why didn’t you want Kipling to know about your parents?” Starr asked when they were out of earshot.
“It changes things. People act differently when they know.”
“They respect you more?”
If only, Destiny thought. “Not exactly. They think they know me, because of them. And they don’t.”
“Is that bad?”
“Sometimes.”
DESTINY AND STARR arrived at Jo’s Bar for lunch. Destiny wasn’t sure what to expect. As a rule, she avoided bars. She didn’t drink all that much and certainly wasn’t looking to be picked up by a man. But Felicia’s lunch invitation offered a chance to get to know some of the women in town and fill part of the day—at least until it was time for the bands to start playing. A twofer in the win department.
She was surprised to find the place was the antithesis of a traditional bar. There was lots of light, a high ceiling and soft, pastel-colored walls. The place was clean, the TVs tuned to what looked like shopping shows, and the background music was barely audible.
A few tables were already taken, mostly with