“Sorry about that. Seems like I just can’t get enough of you,” Alba whispered in her ear before stepping away. She chuckled as the others started cheering and clapping, delighted to have their suspicions confirmed.
“That’s okay,” Miki said with a goofy grin. “I had a really great time and I’d love to stay in touch.”
“We will.” Alba stared at her for a moment, before shaking her head and turning on her heel, waving at them.
Miki swallowed hard as she watched her walk away. It was silly to get upset over a one-night stand, but it wasn’t that simple for her. Alba might have been the first woman she’d ever had sex with but she was certainly not just any woman to her. After only one night, she was already crushing on her and to her, that was unheard of.
“Go on, stop her,” Cathy said, sensing her internal turmoil.
Miki frowned as she turned to her. Was it really that obvious? “How? I mean, what do I say?”
“I don’t know.” Cathy waved her hands, ushering her to go after Alba. “Anything you can think of. Just follow your heart.”
Miki bit her lip as she hesitated, lingering on the spot. “It seems a little weird.”
“Just do it. What have you got to lose?” Cathy raised her voice like a pre-school teacher and gave her an encouraging nudge. “Hurry up, she’s getting away.”
At that, Miki sprinted off, quickening her pace as she followed Alba. “Wait.” She decided to shout as Alba started to head into the distance. “Alba, wait!” Miki was terrified of her reaction and prepared to be disappointed, but she was relieved to see that Alba’s face lit up when she stopped and turned. “Wait… just a moment… please,” she said between breaths as she caught up.
“What’s up?” Alba tilted her head and studied her. “Did I forget something?”
“Yeah. Me.” Miki bit her lip and paused, her hands shaking with nerves. “Can I… uhm… Can I come with you?”
“You want to come with me?”
“Yeah. Just for a little while, or until you get sick of me.” Miki let out a nervous chuckle. “I get it if you’re not interested, but I just need you to know that I’d really, really like to spend more time with you.”
“Really?” Alba took her hand, relief flooding her features. “I’d love to spend more time with you too, but I didn’t think you were interested since I’m a woman and…” Her words were dampened by Miki’s mouth on hers.
“I don’t care if you’re a woman,” Miki mumbled against her mouth. “You’re amazing and I like you and I want you and that’s all you need to know.”
“You sound like you’ve finally stepped out of your box,” Alba said, lacing her fingers through Miki’s hair.
“I think I have.” Miki leaned into her touch and felt her heart jump. “Thank God for that storm.”
Only twenty-four hours ago, she’d boarded a boat with the promise of a fun-filled day, and she’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for. Twenty-four hours ago, the idea of being with a woman was unthinkable but here she was, begging for more time with Alba, who made her feel alive, happy and desired.
Alba took her hand as they walked off the pier and into town, the noise from the traffic overwhelming compared to the quiet island they had just come from. “So, now that we’ve established that you’re coming with me, where do you want to go?
Mikki shrugged. “I don’t care. Even stranded on an island in a tropical storm was a perfect day with you.”
“Okay, in that case, let’s start with a shower and a coffee. How does that sound?”
“Throw in a hotel room and you’ve got yourself a date.” Miki smiled seductively, tightened her grip on Alba’s hand and swiftly turned her in the direction of the closest hotel.
About Lise Gold
Lise Gold is an author of lesbian romance. Her romantic attitude, enthusiasm for travel and love for feel good stories form the heartland of her writing. Born in London to a Norwegian mother and English father, and growing up between the UK, Norway, Zambia and the Netherlands, she feels at home pretty much everywhere and has an unending curiosity for new destinations. She goes by 'write what you know' and is often found in exotic locations doing research or getting inspired for her next novel.
Working as a designer for fifteen years and singing semi-professionally, Lise has always been a creative at heart. Her novels are the result of a quest for a new passion after resigning from her design job in 2017. Since the launch of Lily's Fire (2017) she has written several romantic novels and is currently working on 'The Compass Series'. 'French Summer' (2018) has won a Lesfic Bard Award and 'Fireflies' (2018) was a Goldie finalist.
When not writing from her kitchen table, Lise can be found cooking, at the gym or singing her heart out somewhere, preferably country or blues. After living in Amsterdam and Hong Kong together and getting married in Spain, she and her wife have finally settled in the UK with their dogs El Comandante and Bubba, and their cats Kanye, Tittie and Extra Sweet.
www.lisegold.com
Blisters and Beer
Claire Highton-Stevenson
Chapter 1
Angel Falls Holiday Park had once been the place to go when Londoners looked for that summertime getaway. They packed everything into the car and hit the motorway, stopping only for a quick cup of tea from a flask on the roadside. They’d arrive and spend two glorious weeks in a caravan with no toilet or shower, and there would be no complaints about a bucket at night, and then they would traipse across the field in their dressing gowns to the shower block.
Evenings were spent in the clubhouse, watching Elvis impersonators and drinking beer as cheap as you could get it. Back then, before flights to Spain meant two weeks on the sandy beaches or Benidorm instead, Angel Falls had shone brightly on the UK map of adventure.
Looking at it now, she suspected that, like most things around here, it was well past its prime, and looking more and more likely that she would take the building contractors’ hefty offer for the land.
Alex Allsop hadn’t been here since she was a child. Her last memories of it where looking back through the rear-view window as she waved to her father. She was eleven then, her parents divorcing, and she was going to live with her mother in the city.
Now, she stood in front of the big iron gates with a bunch of keys in her hand and no clue which one opened the lock. Studying them, she decided it had to be the largest and slid it into the old rusty latch. It was stiff and hard to turn, but eventually she heard the click and clank of the old rusty padlock giving up its fight to keep her out.
She would see her dad three or four times a year when he would come to visit. Now, as an adult, she wondered why they had never visited him, here at the holiday park. Instead, her mother, and Steve, the newly acquired stepfather, had taken her off to Spain or Portugal. She couldn’t complain; it had been a lot of fun once she had gotten over the fact that Steve was staying.
She pushed the gate open enough to allow herself room to walk inside. It creaked loudly as the old hinges were forced to work for the first time in three years. The road that led you right up to reception was now overgrowing with weeds. Lumps of tarmac had lifted, and puddles of rainwater filled the space. An assortment of leaves stuck together like a papier mâché pathway of gold, yellows, and reds.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Steve – he was an okay kind of guy, and her mother did seem happy – but he wasn’t her father. Her dad was the kindest, funniest man that she knew, at least that’s what he wanted her to think. In reality, he was sad and lonely, and eventually it all became too much for him.
At 34 years of age, Alex Allsop was the somewhat proud owner of Angel Falls Holiday Park, and she didn’t have a clue where to start. Fifty-six caravans, eight toilet blocks, an overgrown field that had once held thirty-four tents of various shapes, sizes, and colours, and the entertainment block. The entertainment block was a giant rectangular room with a bar one end, a couple of pool tables, and a dance floor with a small stage. Next to that was the smal
l restaurant area that had been more of a canteen than fine dining experience.
It was the bar area where she now stood, looking around at the dust and flaking paint trying to escape the walls. Back then, when she was a kid, she could see it all lit up and alive with the chattering guests who would roll up from their caravans ready for doors opening at seven, and they wouldn’t leave until they were kicked out at five past midnight. Billy Wild would compère and entertain the kids for an hour before they’d be taken off back to the van. Parents wouldn’t dream of leaving their kids like that now, but they didn’t think twice back then.
Sighing, Alex puffed out her cheeks and lifted an overturned chair. “Six months. If it’s not shipshape and booked up for next year then, I dunno, Dad, I think we might have to let the builders have it.”
It was the middle of January, cold and grey. As Alex slowly turned on her heels, she noticed something that she had seen before, but not here: at home in an old photo album. On the wall, peeling away like everything else, was a large poster advertising the holiday park. It was a snapshot of Alex and one of the local kids from back then. They used to play together, running off down to the beach. She couldn’t recollect the girl’s name though; it had been too long ago.
A lot had changed in those 25 years or more, including Alex’s appearance. Gone was the long wavy brown hair and gappy smile. She’d cut her hair around the same time she had come out, eighteen years old and ready to face the world in her own skin, even if it wasn’t ready for her. She didn’t have the skin head anymore, but she had never grown it long again. The gapped smile had been fixed with braces, and she had grown quite a few inches. She was still skinny though; it didn’t matter what she ate, she just never packed on the pounds like her friends complained they did.
Nine years old and she had the freedom of this place. Freya, that was her name! It suddenly came to her as she remembered running towards the pool. “Freya, come on, let’s just jump.” She smiled at the memory. That pool was so cold. Even on the hottest of summer days it still felt like ice when you first launched yourself in.
She switched off the lights and groaned as a lightbulb popped. It was going to be a lot of work, that much was for sure.
Chapter 2
By mid-February the entire place looked like a building site. There were skips filled with old furniture, old fridges, and black bags filled with random bits of crap that had festered for months. Alex had taken the bull by the horns and with a group of locals looking for a bit of cash-in-hand work through the winter, and she was finally getting somewhere with the main building. Deciding that if this was going to work, then she needed to throw some cash at it, she stripped the place bare. Decorators were going in tomorrow to give the walls a fresh lick of paint. Next week, there was an up-to-date kitchen being fitted, and she had interviews lined up for cleaners and someone to take on the everyday maintenance.
Right now, while all of that was going on without her, she was concentrating on the living quarters: a smaller building set towards the back of the site. It was quieter, and the upstairs rooms had views of the sea. Providing living accommodation was going to be a selling point when it came to advertising for staff because she couldn’t afford to pay much more than minimum wage.
So far, she had cleared every room out, except for one: her dad’s.
It was still exactly how he had left it that day when he finally just had enough and wandered off to the woods. A couple out for a hike had found him. At first, they just thought he was having a nap, but when they returned two hours later and he still hadn’t moved, they decided to check on him.
He had a carrier bag with him. Inside were eight empty bottles of assorted pills, two bottles of water, and an envelope stuffed with notes for his friends and loved ones. Alex still hadn’t read hers. She couldn’t face it, not yet.
When the will was read out and everything he had had been left to her, she almost refused it, she was so angry with him. Angry with herself too; she should have made more of an effort. But life was busy, especially in the city. Now, he was gone, and it was all too late to do anything about.
She was pulled from her thoughts by Scott’s deep voice shouting up at her. “Alex, there’s someone here about a job.”
Checking her watch, she saw it was almost lunchtime anyway. “Coming,” she called back, wiping the dust off her hand down her thighs. She’d only put the ad in the local shop window yesterday, so someone was eager.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to see a woman. A very attractive woman. She’d been expecting to see a retired bloke with nothing better to do than getting under his wife’s feet. Maybe that was because that was always the kind of people that worked here in maintenance. She needed to remind herself that this wasn’t the 80s anymore.
“Hey, I’m Alex,” she said holding out her hand.
The woman was looking at her with a knowing smile on her face. She took the offered hand and said, “I know, you don’t remember me?”
Alex studied her some more. Dark wavy hair, shoulder length, pushed back off her face. Brown eyes that were smiling at her. They were about the same height, but this woman was fuller-figured, though she hid it beneath baggy clothing. “I’m sorry, no.”
She chuckled, and Alex thought it might be the cutest thing she had heard. “Freya, Freya Ross. We used to play…”
“Together, yes. Oh my God. You’ve…” The image of them on the poster flashed into her mind.
“Grown?” Freya smiled and stepped back to look at Alex properly. “You’re still skinny as a rake, I see.”
“Yeah, genetics, what can you do?” She shrugged.
“I was sorry to hear about your dad,” Freya remarked solemnly as Alex led them to a couple of chairs and a table. “He was a nice man, I liked working for him.”
Alex stopped and turned. “You worked for him?”
Nodding, Freya said, “Yes, the last two years. I worked here, keeping everything running smoothly. Fixing what I could.”
“Wow, I had no idea. So, you want your job back, right? Because I could really use the help around here.”
Grinning, Freya placed her palm on Alex’s forearm and squeezed gently. “That’s what I am here for.”
Alex let out a breath. “Great. When can you start?”
Chapter 3
With an extra pair of hands around the place, it didn’t take long before the rooms where liveable again. When her dad had died, the staff had been paid off for the rest of the season and given notice to vacate. It had stayed empty for two years before Alex woke up one morning and had an epiphany.
Her job had been getting her down for months. Yeah, she made a lot of money and lived in a nice, modest house in the leafy suburbs filled with all the materialist things you could think of, but that was it. Friends were few and far between; you don’t keep friends when you’re working 24/7. She was exhausted with life.
There had to be more to it, didn’t there?
She’d been single for too long to remember. Had she even been on a date recently? Not that she could think of. The last woman had been Tracy. She was nice enough, but when push came to shove, it was always the women that were shoved.
Freya had moved back in a couple of days ago, and following several trips to IKEA, and more hours than she wanted to think about building bedframes and wardrobes, they were enjoying catching up about the years in between.
At least now, several rooms were liveable, which meant that Alex could start thinking about hiring staff, and Freya could start on the caravans. Hopefully by the end of April, they would be up and running and ready to start the summer season.
It was nice, at night, when all the builders had gone, to finally just sit quietly and read, knowing someone else was in the building. It had never bothered Alex to live alone, she was quite used to it, but that was her fear: that she would become so used to it that even if by some miracle she did meet someone, she would be too stubborn and set in her own ways, that sharing wit
h someone else would be impossible.
The light knocks on her door made her jump. She shook her head at her own silliness and placed the book down on the bed. “Come in.”
“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten yet, but I made a casserole and there’s tons there. Do you want to join me?”
“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” Alex said, getting up from the bed. “I didn’t realise the time.”
“It’s been a busy few days. Would be nice to have a catch up over dinner.”
The small kitchen still needed some work done to it, but with a new fridge freezer and the oven cleaned, it was at least usable for now.
“It smells great,” Alex said as the aroma wafted out from the oven. “I don’t think I’ve had a decent meal since I got here. Unless you count eating out.”
Freya donned the oven gloves and pulled the hot dish from the oven, placing it down on a mat in the centre of the small table. “Well, I don’t mind doing a bit of cooking now and then.” She turned in the small space and bent down to pull bowls from the cupboard; something else that was new.
“I will not say no to that offer.” Alex grinned and waited patiently as Freya moved around the room, getting cutlery, glasses, and then lastly, two beers from the fridge. “Beer too, you’re like my perfect woman.” Alex laughed and took the bottle offered to her.
Their eyes met and held for a moment, and Alex was sure that Freya was going to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she donned the gloves again, lifted the lid from the casserole dish, and served up.
“So, where did you learn all this then?” Alex asked, in awe that anyone could create something so delicious. She had never been much of a cook. She had given it a go, but even with a recipe she just never seemed to perfect the art, or have the enjoyment of it.
Summer Loving Page 4
