Free The Sweetness of Honey (A Hope Springs Novel) by Alison Kent Page A

wrist from her grip. His hand in her hair was the last to let go, and she fought against feeling bereft. Surely she wasn’t that hungry for human contact, that desperate to be wanted?
    His door opening had her searching out his darting gaze; he was leaving just like that? Yes, she’d told him, and herself, that she wasn’t coming up to his loft. But she needed to figure out this push-pull thing between them, and she couldn’t if he was going to walk away. “Will?”
    “Thanks for driving,” he said, adding, “friend,” as he stepped out of the car. Then he leaned back in, one hand on the roof, one hand on the door, his eyes, wicked and bright, reflecting the glow of the street lamps through the windshield. “Be safe. And don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry.”
    Then he slammed the door and turned for the sidewalk, leaving her staring after him without a clue as to what they’d just done. Or what he’d meant by his parting remark.

CHAPTER SIX
    R ather than driving back to Buda after leaving Will at his loft, Indiana spent the night in her empty cottage, roughing it with the two furniture pads she kept in her Camaro’s trunk. The water was on. The power was on. And the pads, which she used when she found herself needing to transport starter plants or bags of soil, smelled like the life she loved. The life she thought perfect. The life well suited for living alone.
    After breakfast with Oliver and dinner with Will, she had to remind herself of that. Oliver and his silver spoon were out of her league, and Will . . . Will, too, was off-limits. He had to be. Both had to be. A relationship done right required nurturing, and she had too much on her plate to be anything but selfish with her time.
    Besides, she knew nothing about being part of a couple. Her parents had been partners in their crusades, and obviously lovers at some point to have produced three children. But their interaction reminded her of coworkers. There had been no public displays of affection, no terms of endearment, no gazes colliding across crowded rooms.
    Then there was Kaylie and Tennessee, as well as Luna and Angelo. The latter were newlyweds, Kaylie and Tennessee engaged. And boy, was the difference between those couples and Indiana’s parents obvious. Gazes collided constantly, heated and longing-filled. Affection was as automatic as breathing, endearments spoken in lieu of names as if the most natural thing in the world.
    But what struck her hardest wasn’t the chemistry, or the physicality of what the couples shared. It was the respect, the friendship, how Kaylie anticipated Tennessee’s moods, or Tennessee Kaylie’s needs. They were that tuned in to each other. As if they didn’t need words to communicate. As if love had given them superpowers.
    It was a nice reality to strive for. If one hadn’t already screwed up two of the most important relationships in one’s life. But Indiana had. And until she fixed those, she would never trust herself with such a bond. Or at least with being able to make it right should she make more bad choices and break it.
    Anyway, she had an established business to run, a new business to launch, a brother she couldn’t quite figure out, and another brother to find. She couldn’t afford the distraction of a relationship. And it seemed even simple meals with interesting men were destined to cause her grief. She would eat alone. She would live alone. She would probably die alone.
    But, she mused, stepping onto the porch, she did need coffee. And she’d have to shower and change clothes before heading to the farm. Seeing Kaylie’s Jeep turn into the arts center’s driveway and head toward Luna’s barn, and seeing no sign of Oliver’s BMW, Indiana ditched the idea of making the trip home decaffeinated, and instead hurried across the street.
    She caught up to Kaylie just as she and Magoo reached Luna’s front door. Well, Kaylie reached the door. Magoo ran off with Luna’s dog, Francisco, who was a