Page 7 of The Candlemaker

Bea blushed and blurted out. “He was so hot.”

A workahottieI’d dubbed him since I hadn’t wasted any precious time yesterday learning his name. I didn’t need his name—didn’t want it. He was for Lou.

“Yeah,” I agreed and took another big gulp of my drink, hearing the embarrassing way my voice turned husky.

We get it, Frankie, he’s hot. Like you’ve never seen a hot guy before.

Not one who looked at me the way he did.

Not true.

Fine. Not one whose look made me feel…made me ache…the way his did.

“Bea.” I cleared my throat and the internal dialogue from my mind. “Do you know if Lou?—”

The bell above the door clanged like shots fired.

“Frankie.”

I spun and whipped a smile to my face.Speak of my twin.“Hey! What are you doing here? It’s your day off.”And you’re supposed to be giving Mr. Workahottie a tour.

“Can you give us a minute, Bea?” Lou looked past my shoulder at the other girl, who read her tone like I did.It wasn’t a question.

“Sure,” Bea chirped and disappeared.

“What’s up?” I asked casually like I couldn’t tell she was upset with me.

Lou slugged her bag higher on her shoulder and strode over to me. “I shouldn’t be here. I should be prepping for Kit’s next show, but instead, I’m having to give out atourof Friendship.”

A sound of glee burst from my lips—one that deflated quickly when it was pierced by the daggers in her eyes.

“A tour of Friendship to the man who upped the town’s hotness level by a factor of ten,” I countered, but she didn’t budge. “Seriously, Lou?”

“Seriously?” She gaped. “Just because everything is ajoketo you doesn’t mean that’s what the rest of us want—or want to be a part of.”

I flinched, feeling an unexpected pain in the center of my chest. Lou never got angry. Annoyed? Sometimes. Frustrated? Rarely. But angry? Never. And to say something like that…

“Wow, Lou.”

Remorse instantly washed over her features, and she pulled me in for a bear hug. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted and hugged her back, feeling the slight tremor that went through her.“Why are you really upset?” I asked softly, able to read her like she did me.Better than anyone.And there had to be something wounding my sister to the core for her to lash out at me like that.

“There’s another offer for the inn.” The hollowness to her voice was like a knife to my gut.

Three jobs. A seven-day work week. No time to relax. It was all for the old Lamplight Inn. Her dream. And the way that dream had been yo-yo’d in and out of my sister’s grasp was the very definition of cruel.

To believe our family had purchased it only for some insane legal snafu to take it away and put it in the hands of oneMr. Collins—a man who had more wealth and properties and business than was easily fathomable, yet couldn’t bring himself to sell an old, dead inn fora littleless profit to the one person who would put her heart and soul into bringing it back to life.

There weren’t many people I harbored ill-will toward, but the CEO of the Collins Corporation was one of the few.If I ever met the cold-hearted capitalist, I wouldn’t shake his hand, I would strangle him.And no, that wasn’t a joke.

Lou deserved for things to come easy—to work out perfectly. Instead, it was my business that came together in the blink of an eye and flourished with every passing year. All the while my perfect sister toiled and toiled and toiled…and fate chose to smile on trouble.

“It’ll be okay, Lou.”

“It’s a cash offer. Ten percent above mine,” she said softly. We had a childhood friend, Adele, who workedfor the law firm representing the current owner of the inn; she passed along any information she received about potential buyers, wanting Lou to know what she was up against.

But it wasn’t exactly how we used the information.

---