Chapter 4

I expectedto see Clancy today but not his sister. However, I can't lie to myself. Since he mentioned her, she's been floating around my mind along with numerous question marks.

They're different than the kind I have about what it'll be like to play for the Knights. There are certain variables there, but it's familiar territory. Despite being back in my hometown, Whit is a wild card. Or at least she was.

Is her hair still shiny and wavy? Turns out, yes. But longer now from what I can tell with it pulled back in a low ponytail.

Does she still have freckles or does she cover them with makeup? She's au natural, but the freckles are faint. Summer will fix that.

Are her light brown eyes still mysterious, never lending a clue as to what she's thinking? Yep, except as ice freezes between us, I get the sense I'm not the most welcome customer.

"Can I get you something?" she asks, pulling back on the warm and welcoming greeting from a few moments ago.

But I don't let her hostility deter me. Never have. "We'd like an assortment of your very best cookies and two cold glasses of milk."

"Please," Blue adds in a small voice.

"Please," I repeat, feeling guilty because I should be setting a good example with my manners. There's no doubt Whit will assume I didn't say please on purpose.

"Sure. Today I have five different kinds of cookies." She looks at Blue while she speaks as if already annoyed by me or trying to connect the dots of what I'm doing back in Cobbiton with a kid.

There's some resemblance between us though not much. I hate to admit it, but Blue has the same shadows in her eyes as I did when I was a kid—the kind that comes from not quite trusting the people you're supposed to. Her hair is slightly darker, and she has small, round feminine features to my masculine ones, but there's a likeness that I cannot deny. There's no doubt we're related, even if we don't have the same mother.

"How about one of each," I say.

"I sell the cookies in pairs." Whit points to the Milk Mustache "Story" placard.

I skim it. The gist: Everyone, not just kids, like when someone shares their cookies and milk. Whether it's in elementary school—Whit shared with me the cookies her grandma sometimes packed in her lunch. It never crossed my mind that even in high school, despite being the cookies and milk girl, she might not have had anyone to share with. However, I do remember her storming out of the cafeteria once, throwing a carton of milk over her shoulder, and never looking back.

Even now, all grown up, she likes to think sharing cookies and milk is a great way to make new friends and remember the old ones, hence the cookies coming in pairs to share strategy.

"Wait, is this your—?" I lean back to read the logo on the side of the old Peugeot van. "No way. This is your grandfather's old van. Didn't he trade it for—?" I snap my fingers, trying to remember the crazy old story.

"For corn kernels. It was a special variety."

"The guy was a legend. I remember we used to sneak around in the barn and?—"

Whit points behind me. "Memory Lane is that way, so if you plan to travel down it..."

I assume this means I can get lost. "Are you thinking about that time Clancy and I told you about the one-eared feral cat haunting the barn?"

Blue stiffens beside me.

"It was a joke. Promise. There was no such thing."

Whit's nostrils flare as if to say, Too little, too late. Clancy and I scared the dickens out of her.

"Sorry about that. So, this is your food truck?" I ask, impressed.

"The Milk Mustache," Blue says, tracing her finger around the jolly mustache logo.

"That's right. All my grandma's recipes, plus fresh local milk." Whit adjusts her eyeglasses.

"I remember the Reid family farm fondly. Spent some of the best days of my youth there."

"Yeah, me too."

"In that case, we'll take each kind of cookie, so we'll have some for later. Sound good, Blue?"

She nods and I sense the faintest smile at this prospect. Pulling out my wallet, I watch as Whit puts together our order.

Her lower lip, bigger than the upper, has a defined Cupid's bow. Why the details? I've thought a bit about those lips over the years. I've kissed some women, ahem, but it was never like kissing her. Her mouth flattens into a line as if she's holding back laughter. Maybe she's remembering something I don't at the moment. Or immensely annoyed at my being here.

She's familiar yet there's something different about her. She's somehow softer with feminine curves, for sure, but it's also like she removed some of her armor. Her heart certainly isn't on her sleeve, but it's not locked in a vault anymore either.

At least not that I can tell.

I wonder if she met someone—a guy to smooth her rough edges, to tell her how beautiful she is and how special.

I stagger backward, instantly recalling her brother's request. Clancy said their parents wouldn't let him get married until she has a boyfriend, meaning she's single. The Reids were always so nice, I can't imagine them sticking her with that kind of ultimatum. Moreover, does she know?

How could she not? Unless she's as angsty and sassy as she was in high school it seems unlikely she's not dating. For one, she's a milk and cookies vendor. She can't be all that mean anymore. For two, she smiled in greeting. I'm more accustomed to her scowl.

Though the grin fell quickly. I can name every time she smiled back in high school since it was such a rarity during the Wild Whit years. There was the smug smile, the sly smile, the snub smile, and once a shy smile. I remember that one well. What followed was the smooched smile, but it was short-lived.

"So, we're both back in Cobbiton. Never thought I'd see the day—" I start.

She interrupts with the order total.

I glance over my shoulder to see if we're holding up the line. No one waits behind us. Blue and I stopped here on our way to the old Reid farmhouse where we'll stay until the new place is ready this fall. Fingers crossed before Blue starts school so we can be settled in. I keep that to myself for now so I don't wake up to find my car egged and toilet papered tomorrow. We didn't call her Wild Whit for nothing.

Whit passes us each a plastic cup filled with milk along with a straw.

"Thank you," Blue says.

"You are very welcome," Whit replies pointedly, not looking in my direction.

I arch an eyebrow. "Is that how it is?"

Whit frowns. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is this town big enough for both of us?" I ask in a low tone.

She swishes her head from side to side and then passes Blue some napkins. "Enjoy your cookies, and I won't tell if you don't share with this guy."

I almost growl, but then scold myself for reverting to the rivalry I'd all but forgotten about. Looking back, my sense is we both vied for Clancy's attention. Under all that teen angst, there was something hot about Whit. She wasn't necessarily on my radar in high school, mainly because Clancy would've murdered me, but she was—and is—indisputably attractive. Reflecting on our kiss in the woods, perhaps it was to diffuse the tension that had grown between us over the years.

Some things change with time. I'm slightly more mature for one. But it's obvious she hates me as much as she ever did. I snort a sharp exhale out my nose. One thing I'm certain of, I will not be dating my best friend's sister. Not even to get funding for the high school hockey team this summer. It's then I realize what happened.

Nice try to make me miserable, Clancy.

He probably made up that whole marriage thing as a prank, knowing Whit still despises me. Have to give him credit for getting Kathleen to go along with it.

Blue and I settle down at the bistro table beside the Milk Mustache van.

We start with the classic chocolate chip cookie and Blue takes a massive bite.

"Is it good? Kids always tell the truth," Whit says, poking her head out the order window.

"Yes, very yummy." Blue slurps her milk.

Whit wears a half smile. "It was made with love."

"Is that an official ingredient?" I ask.

Whit rolls her eyes at me and then tends to some new customers.

After finishing up, Blue and I stroll around the street fair and then return to the SUV.

"So, what do you think of Cobbiton so far?"

She shrugs. "I like the cookies and the cookie lady was pretty."

"That's the third pretty lady you pointed out to me. Are you trying to play matchmaker?"

"No, but I have Baloo, so I thought you should have someone too."

"I've got you, kiddo," I say, meaning it. "Anyway, Whit and I have known each other since we were your age, and we're like fire and ice."

"That sounds nice."

"No, it's the opposite," I reply as we head over to the Reid family farmhouse.

"I mean that it rhymes like a poem. Fire and ice and everything nice."

I grunt, not really having it in me to explain that she's Clancy's sister and how complicated things are. I was advised to communicate with Blue but keep things simple. The key is to provide her with stability and my confusing thoughts about Whit make me feel off-kilter.

Suffice it to say, she's my best friend's twin, and we mutually agreed that we thought the other was a twit. Well, until that camping trip. Something changed that day, and I couldn't stop thinking about her...or the kiss. Or that she smelled like warm summer strawberries with a faint scent of wood smoke from the campfire.

It wasn't quite a crush, but whatever it was I had to squish it up into a compact ball. No, a puck. Then I sent it past the net, off the rink, and out of mind.

When we pull up to the farmhouse just outside town, it's exactly as I remember it, though the grass is a little longer and the house along with the property are slightly neglected compared to how it used to be. No surprise considering it's been sitting vacant since Grandma Reid's passing.

My breath comes deep as I park the SUV. The barns promise early morning sunrise vistas. The sprawling property suggests sunny summer afternoons followed by a refreshing swim in the creek. The wrap-around front porch with its wide planks invites slow evenings with good conversation and laughter.

The way life should be—the way it was for a blink.

"Home sweet home for the summer. I think you'll love it here," I say to Blue, excited at the prospect of living in a rural setting after years in Los Angeles.

As soon as my sister opens the door, Baloo takes off running like he's finally free.

Blue follows me slowly up the wooden steps onto the broad front porch. "This used to be Clancy and Whitney's grandparents' house." I tell her about spending time here as a kid.

When I open the door, instead of smelling old and musty from being locked up, the pleasant and familiar scent of cookies fills the space.

Blue's shoulders relax as if she's worked out that the place can't be haunted if it smells like this.

"Go ahead and play Goldilocks. You can pick out any room you like. I'll bring in our stuff."

"Any room?" she asks.

"Any room."

We hardly settle in before we go exploring and to find Baloo. He's by the dairy barn, looking quite pleased with himself and smelling a bit like manure.

It's not until the sun starts to lower that we head back to the house. To my surprise, Clancy filled the fridge as if this were an Airbnb. I think about him getting married and what money can buy—that does not include me dating his sister, not that she'd ever go along with that. I remind myself that Clancy was messing with me and that I should come up with a revenge plot.

After warming up a can of beans, hotdogs, and frozen French fries, I cut up some broccoli. Blue and I have dinner and recap the day. All at once, it occurs to me that from here on out, she and I are going to be together, meaning I have to find things for us to do.

It's always been me, myself, and I, resulting in a very pleasurable life out on the West Coast. Now what?

Before I can answer that question, headlights flash in the reflection of the kitchen window and a vehicle sputters to a stop. A door slams and then the back one with the floppy screen opens.

Blue, ever vigilant, shrinks slightly because we both instantly recognize this is unexpected.

However, instead of a stranger, Whit stands in the doorway. She blinks a few times, unfocused as if slow to comprehend what—and who—she sees.

I certainly see all five and a half feet of her, cheeks sun-kissed from being outside all day and her hair slightly windswept. Her mouth opens as if preparing to verbally slay, but she holds back because there is a child present. Part of me wants to kiss the scowl off her lips, but not in front of the kid. What? Where did that come from? I must be tired from the road trip.

I have to wear my game face around Whit. Have to focus on Blue.

Whit's gaze, full of questions that quickly shifts to accusation, scalds me.

I'm about to explain when Baloo, having had his fill of dinner, releases a happy bark as if acknowledging that everyone is finally home. He greets Whit as if she's his best friend.

Blue, seemingly relieved, waves. "Hello again."

Whit's mouth guppies like she's not sure what to say in place of giving me the lashing that is on her tongue. "Hi." Then, turning to me, her expression returns to stone.

Best case scenario she saw the lights on. Clancy hadn't mentioned we'd be here, and she's checking on the house. Worse case, the refrigerator full of milk and the cookie jar on the counter means Whit lives here.

"Hungry?" I ask, afraid the biggest and baddest of the three bears caught us red-handed.