Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (2 page)

“Mia—”

“Nope.” Mia shook her head so vigorously her hair flew around her shoulders. “Next Saturday, seven sharp. I’m treating you to the kind of dinner Brian should be buying you tonight, and then we’re going out for drinks and dancing. I’ll come early to help pick out your outfit. And I’m blocking your texts so you can’t cancel. Now I’ve gotta go. My curry is getting cold. And you still have crumbs on your face.”

Before Polly could come up with an excuse to decline, Mia pulled her into a quick, tight hug and flounced back to the table where the other girls were moving on to the entree course. Polly bent to pick up the paper bags she’d left at her feet. As she straightened, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the opposite wall.

Her hair was pulled into a messy knot with frizzy tendrils drifting around her forehead, her favorite cotton paisley skirt was wrinkled and sagging at the hem, and there was a grape soda stain on the front of her shirt. Not to mention, a smear of orange dust marred the side of her pale cheek, like a really hideous blusher.

Really, Polliwog? This is what you’ve come to?

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. Polly almost winced. Despite Jessie Lockhart’s peace-loving nature, the words felt like a smack right upside Polly’s head. Even after she’d gotten sick, Jessie had been all about
living
and having fun, taking risks, following your dreams. Maybe it was time Polly remembered how to do that too.

After scrubbing her sleeve across her cheek, she drove back to Brian’s parents’ house. She went into the separate entrance and down the narrow wooden stairs. The noise of battle pinged from Brian’s Xbox, and an old
Dr. Who
episode played on the TV. The light was a weird yellowish color from the railroad light glowing on the opposite wall.

Brian didn’t look up from his sprawled position on the sofa to acknowledge Polly’s entrance, but when she marched to stand right in front of the TV, his gaze settled on her with faint irritation.

“You’re in my way,” he remarked.

“No.” Polly put her hands on her hips and summoned her resolve. “Actually, you’re in
my
way.”

Brian gave a
whatever
shrug and turned back to his laptop. Polly reached for the remote and turned the volume down on the TV.

“Brian,” she said. “We need to talk.”

He sighed gustily and dragged his attention back to her. Polly’s nerves tightened. She didn’t want to hurt him. They’d met at the local community college where she was taking culinary classes and Brian had been enrolled in a computer science class before dropping out at the beginning of the new semester. He was a good guy, just rather clueless when it came to relationships.

Not that Polly was any more experienced, but Mia was right. She deserved more from her future than sitting in the basement, eating Top Ramen and watching
Mystery Science Theater 3000.
Wasn’t that the reason she’d enrolled at Hartford Community College in the first place? To learn how to be a better baker, a smarter business owner, a woman worthy of following in Jessie Lockhart’s footsteps?

She looked at Brian with his messy hair and scruffy goatee. How many days in a row had he been wearing that
Minecraft
T-shirt?

“Brian, I’m getting the sense that maybe you and I want different things out of a relationship,” Polly began gently.

She hoped this news wouldn’t make him cry. She’d have a really hard time leaving if he cried.

“Why’d you turn the TV down?” Brian frowned.

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation here. I don’t think we’re as compatible as I was hoping we were.”

He shifted one eye toward his video game again.

“Brian.”

“Huh?”

“I’m breaking up with you,” Polly said firmly.

He didn’t respond, his attention on the screen as his fingers moved over the keyboard.

“Brian? Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I’m breaking up with you,” she repeated. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not you, it’s . . . well, actually it
is
you and not me, and you’re welcome to blame yourself, but really, you need to get out of this basement and go do something with your life. It’s about time I did too. Brian? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah.” He craned his neck to peer around her at the TV. “Hey, did you remember to order the lamb vindaloo?”

FIND YOUR HAPPINESS.

Even amidst the noise of the Troll’s House bar, the thought zinged around Polly’s mind like a pinball. For years, she hadn’t had the luxury of thinking about
happiness
in any great detail, but she wasn’t going to find it, or her future, in a basement that smelled like old socks.

And frankly she couldn’t imagine how she ever thought she might.

Now her future would be about . . . well, it still involved finding a way to keep her mother’s bakery afloat and finishing her spring semester in the culinary arts program, but at least those goals no longer seemed quite so far away
.

Polly had promised her mother she would return Wild Child to the warm, homey place it had been before Jessie got so sick, and it was time to fulfill that promise. In her efforts to jumpstart her life, Brian had just been an unfortunate misstep, one she attributed to her weakness for wounded animals and lost causes.

Her
immediate
future, however, involved another birthday cake shot.

“Wow.” Polly gestured to the bartender, feeling sort of fizzy and bubbly, like soda pop. “These shots are awesome.”

“Agreed.” Mia tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder and tilted her head back to down hers. “But I dunno, Pols. This place isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“I know, but thanks for humoring me.”

After Mia had treated Polly to a gourmet sushi and teriyaki dinner, she’d wanted to go to an upscale club for drinks and dancing. But Polly had balked at the idea of sophisticated cocktails and gorgeous men and women who actually knew what they were doing. She wanted to be a braver version of herself, but one that was actually attainable.

So she and Mia had ended up at the Troll’s House, a dive bar with a rough wood floor, flashing jukebox, neon beer signs, and several pool tables. It was loud, crowded, lots of beer, and nothing fancy. Exactly the kind of place Polly could start to come out of her shell.

Maybe.

“I told you I’d be on the prowl,” Mia said unapologetically, scanning the room with her sharp gaze. “And though I was hoping for a Wall Street executive, I can see the appeal of a blue-collar dude.”

Polly turned to take the birthday cake shot from the bar.

Live your life. Take risks. Embrace change. Be happy, for God’s sake.

Her mother’s voice again. The sharp stab of pain Polly had felt at her loss had recently dulled to a soft, perpetual ache around her heart. She’d miss her mother forever, but more and more, Jessie’s incessantly positive, you-only-live-once, Polly-I-love-you-but-if-you-don’t-move-on-and-be-happy-I-will-come-back-to-haunt-you attitude, was easing Polly’s grief.

She licked up another rainbow sprinkle. The alcohol hummed pleasantly in her blood, giving her much-needed courage. Though Polly had faced a lot of challenges head on, she’d never been confident, much less experienced, in the
Men
category.

Brian aside, she just hadn’t been around men that much, especially after her father died when she was nine. Her mother, determined to start a new life, moved out of the Twelve Oaks commune in Santa Cruz where they’d lived all of Polly’s life.

Jessie had taken Polly and Hannah to Rainsville, a small farming town south of San Francisco, and opened up the Wild Child Bakery with their father’s life insurance money.

Women had always worked at the Wild Child Bakery, and Jessie had been active in feminist groups and women’s writer workshops. She had boyfriends every now and then, but they never stuck around. And Polly hadn’t had much chance to form her own relationships before her mother got sick.

“They’re like a foreign species,” Polly muttered to Mia, gesturing toward a group of men crowded around the tables. Even with his video games and geekiness—or perhaps because of them—at least Brian had been
safe.
“I feel like I’m studying them for research purposes.”

“As long as it’s sexual research, you’re good to go,” Mia replied. “I guarantee that great sex will give you the boost you need.”

Though the thought of
great sex
made Polly a little nervous, it was past time that she finally got her groove on.

“I’m ready,” she said with a firm nod. “I want to experience everything I’ve been missing, and especially to—” she dropped her voice to a whisper “—get laid.”

If she was going to do this, she was going full-force, like turning an egg beater on high speed to get the job done.

“Good girl.” Mia gave a nod of satisfaction. “Let’s get started.”

She spun around on the stool again to face the crowded room.

“What you need first,” she continued, “is practice. Look at that guy. Serious, panty-melting hottie alert.”

She nodded toward a tall, dark-haired man in his thirties who was playing pool. Polly blinked and focused on him.

Oh, wow. Hottie, indeed. How was it possible she hadn’t noticed him before now? He was wearing gray trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms. A striped, silk tie was knotted loosely around his neck, and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, displaying a tempting V of tanned skin.

As he leaned over to position a shot, Polly let her gaze travel over the slope of his muscular shoulders and back, down to his very fine ass. She had never been much of a gawker, but this man gave a girl plenty to gawk at.

Then he glanced over his shoulder. Right at Polly.

Their gazes collided with a force that almost knocked her off the barstool. She grabbed the edge of the bar, her heartbeat going from normal to crazy-wild in two seconds flat. The air sizzled with a current of electricity that arced right between them, setting her nerves alight and pooling heat in her core. Her sex actually throbbed, as if he were parting her legs and gliding his fingers right up north to—

He broke their eye contact and returned his attention to the pool table.

Whoa. What the hell just happened?

He shot. And missed.

“Hmm,” Mia said. “Maybe you should go console him.”

“What?”

“For practice,” Mia explained. “You need to learn how to approach a hot guy and talk to him. You have a total opening since he’s standing there by himself waiting for his next turn. But if you don’t go now, that redhead in the corner booth is going to pounce on him. And she looks like a territorial bitch.”

Polly swung her gaze to the busty redhead whose cleavage was about to pop out of her tank top. The redhead was staring at Mr. Hottie, poised on the edge of her seat as if she were waiting for an opportunity to make a move.

“Go,” Mia hissed, grabbing Polly’s arm and hustling her off the stool. “I’m right here. If you start to panic, scratch your ear as a signal, and I’ll come rescue you.”

Polly dug for courage, grabbed her shot from the bar, and approached Mr. Hottie. Thanks to Mia picking out her outfit tonight, she was wearing a black mini-skirt and white, stretchy shirt that gave her a nice hourglass shape without looking trashy. At least, that was what Mia had told her before they’d left for the Japanese restaurant.

Polly stopped beside Mr. Hottie. Just the air around him seemed warmer and charged with energy. A tingle rained down her spine.

He turned his head to look at her. God, he was gorgeous. Strong features shadowed with a delicious-looking dark scruff, black eyebrows arching over thick-lashed eyes, and a sensual mouth that was made for kissing and probably a lot of other dirty things Polly shouldn’t know about.

And didn’t.

Mr. Hottie surely did, though. He exuded self-confidence, control, and oodles of sexual experience. He could really teach her a thing or two. Or several dozen.

Oh, yes. He was the man she needed and wanted—even though just getting close to him was nerve-wracking.

He was still looking at her. Again, her heartbeat jolted into gear, that throb of heat starting right between her legs. She struggled to pull in a breath, frantically trying to think of something to say.