“Pick up the phone, Lory. Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Sugar chanted frantically as she sharply turned a street corner with her foot pressing hard on the gas pedal. One hand gripped the wheel while the other held the phone to her ear.

She cursed aloud as it went to voicemail for the ninth time but refused to give up, redialing her baby brother’s number.

Finally, he picked up.

“Damn, Shug! What, what, what? Damn it, what?” Mallory answered in an angry, tired voice.

“I need you to open the restaurant at noon,” Sugar said, shaky and urgent.

“Uh-uh. That wasn’t part of the deal,” Mallory returned, most likely shaking his head stubbornly like a damn toddler. “I promised to close the restaurant, and you promised you’d be in good enough shape to open it. Now, I’m happy that ol’ dude did a number on you, and you’re probably walking funny, but a deal’s a deal. Just tell everyone you sprained an ankle or something.”

She let out a frustrated growl as she slammed her brakes at a red light. “Code blue, Lory.”

There was a long pause. “What did you just say?”

“I said code blue.”

Mallory asked in disbelief, “What in the hell did you and that dude do to cause a code blue?”

Between the Hartwell siblings, they had a code system for family drama. Code red meant a Hartwell sibling was about to get their ass whooped by another Hartwell sibling. Code black meant a Hartwell sibling bond was on rocky terms and needed immediate repair. Code blue meant a Hartwell sibling was traumatized by another Hartwell sibling.

There had been very few code blues issued, aside from someone walking in on a few of Mallory’s after-school hookups.

Sugar’s face burned with embarrassment and shame.

When Miles drove her back to her house, he assured her everything would be fine and told her to name the time and place he needed to meet her twin brother. Sugar had simply told him it wasn’t that simple.

Sully wasn’t that simple.

Chef had walked her to her front door and tried to kiss her goodbye, but she turned her head, making his lips land on her cheek. He took the subtle rejection in stride and told her that last night—and this morning—was only the beginning. Sugar had wanted to ask what he meant by that, but she quickly told him to have a good day and scurried inside her house to concoct a peace offering.

Sully’s favorite dessert was sweet potato cupcakes with buttercream frosting.

She took a shower while the cupcakes were in the oven and dressed in something Sugar Wallace would normally wear: a stylish dress and classy heels. She didn’t have time to tame her hair into a bun, so she left her tresses in loose curls cascading over her shoulders.

Now, she was driving to her twin brother’s job to do the very thing she had been trying to avoid for as long as possible.

“There was an accident regarding a”—Sugar cleared her throat as she weaved through traffic—“phone.”

Another long pause stretched between them.

“Did you… did you fuck-dial someone, Shug?”

She closed her eyes, groaning aloud in response.

Mallory burst out laughing heartily. “Who was it? I gotta know.”

“The last person I wanted to know,” Sugar admitted.

The humor drained from her baby brother’s voice. “Are you being dead serious right now?”

“As a heart attack,” she said.

He sighed heavily. “Aight, aight. I’ll open the restaurant. Hell, take the whole day off if you need to ‘cause dealing with Sully ain’t no joke.”

Her mouth felt like cotton, and she craved a shot of something stiff. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll explain my case and be back before the lunch rush.”

“That’s if Sully doesn’t kill you before then,” he said.

“Bye, Lory,” Sugar said as she pulled into a tiny parking lot with a small, one-story brick office building. The business sign read HARTY JAIL BONDS.

Her twin brother owned a bail bonds business with his wife’s family.

She exited the car with a white bakery box of sweets and sauntered into the building. From the wide windows, she could see things were hectic as always, but the door’s shopkeeper’s bell went off as she came inside, which got Uncle Roger’s attention.

“Hey, Shug,” he greeted with a grin. “What’s in the box?”

She smiled at the old man. “Sweet potato cupcakes.”

He got up from his desk and went to see what she had. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He grabbed a cupcake and gobbled it up in a few bites. “Mm, mm, mm. That’s some good shit.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Sugar said.

“Might be just what Sully needs this morning. He ain’t in a happy mood,” Uncle Roger warned. “Came in with a stank attitude, and it’s been smelling up the place.”

A forced smile spread across Sugar’s lips. “Maybe these will help.”

Uncle Roger jabbed a finger toward her twin brother’s closed office door. “I have confidence they will, honey. Only you and Kit-Kat can calm his ass down and make him tolerable.”

“We’ll see about that,” she murmured, her heart in her throat.

“I’m busy,” Sully said gruffly from the other side after she knocked on his office door.

“I brought cupcakes,” Sugar said in a sing-song voice. As heavy footsteps neared the door, she bit her lip nervously. Suddenly, it flew open, and there was Sully, looking sour as hell.

“They’re your favorite.” Sugar smiled sweetly at him, lightly wiggling the box before his face. “Sweet potato.”

Sully narrowed his dark eyes at her.

“With buttercream frosting,” she added, her sweet smile now straining to stay on her lips.

“You’re here to bribe me with cupcakes?”

“It’s not a bribe. It’s a peace offering,” Sugar assured him.

He pursed his lips before widening the door to let her enter his office.

She entered, placed the box on his desk, and sat in a chair. Sully returned to his seat after closing the door and leaned back, glaring at Sugar like he could skin her alive and get away with it.

The bakery box remained untouched.

“Who’s the dude, Shug?”

Sugar cast her eyes down. “His name’s Chef.”

Sully’s dark, thick eyebrow arched high. “That’s his birth name?”

“No, his birth name is Miles, but everyone calls him Chef.”

He scoffed, gesturing his hands wide. “So, you’re dating a grown-ass man who likes to be called Chef. He sounds like a good catch.”

Sugar frowned. “We’re not dating.”

“Oh, so you’re just casually bumping uglies then? That’s ten times better,” he replied, clapping. “Bravo, Sugar.”

“Don’t judge me, Sullivan. I don’t see you looking at Lory some kind of way with his one-night stands,” she said, defensive.

Sully tossed back, “At least Lory didn’t dial me up while he was having a good time with one of his little friends!”

She huffed, gripping her chair’s armrests. “It was an accident!”

He clenched his jaw. “If it was an accident, why are you here, Shug, trying to plead your case?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Sully wagged a finger at her. “See, you came here because you felt guilty. Because you got caught. You were sneaking around, trying to keep this Chef guy a secret from everyone, and now here you are caught red-handed.”

Miles Thibodeau wasn’t a secret.

As that truth flashed across her mind, her face betrayed her.

He paused, head cocked, his anger turning to confusion. “Wait, he’s not a secret, is he?”

Sugar closed her eyes, sighing, “No, he’s not.”

His anger turned to hurt, and a dull ache started in her chest. As his twin, she always felt his pain.

“So, who else knows about him, Shug? Mallory? Rochelle? Odette?” Sully queried bitterly. “Is that everyone, or is there more?”

She cast her eyes away, swallowing at the hard lump in her throat.

His eyebrows shot upward. “So, there’s more? Who else, Sugar?”

“Helena,” she said.

“Not surprised. She’s nosy as hell,” Sully commented, his lips crimping.

“Reid,” she trailed off, then added: “And, well, Mom introduced us.”

Kind of.

He stroked his beard, his laugh short and sour. “Mom, too, huh? This day just keeps getting better and better.”

RETURN HOME