Summer Loving

by Lise Gold et al.

  Of course, the other part of keeping keys in doors to keep out children was that backups were required in case children locked themselves in rooms.

  Erica sighed and reached her hand up to the top of the doorframe.

  I Locked That

  Phoebe sat on the floor, her knees to her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she had been so foolish and kissed Erica. Was she mad?

  She’d just wanted to shut Erica up, and that part of the plan had worked like clockwork. Except now Erica obviously wanted to talk about it.

  Thankfully, Phoebe had thought ahead and locked the door when she fled.

  The key suddenly dropped, clanking loudly on the marble floor.

  Phoebe belatedly realised that the only thing that could do that was a second key being inserted from the other side. A second later the door swung open and Erica walked in.

  “I locked that,” Phoebe said.

  “And I opened it,” Erica replied. “You kissed me.”

  Phoebe couldn’t see Erica’s face very clearly as her tears were blurring her vision. It was almost a blessing because now she couldn’t see just how furious Erica was, couldn’t see the disappointment she imagined etched onto Erica’s beautiful features.

  “I did, I’m sorry,” Phoebe said.

  “Why are you sorry?”

  Phoebe hastily rubbed at her eyes. As her vision cleared, she found she was no closer to being able to read Erica’s expression. In all her time being Erica’s assistant she had prided herself on knowing her boss inside and out. She knew when she was tired, hungry, cramping, coming down with a cold… everything.

  But this look was one she wasn’t familiar with. And Phoebe didn’t know how to feel about that.

  “Are you sorry because you didn’t mean it?” Erica clarified.

  Phoebe lowered her forehead to her knees and wrapped her arms even more tightly around her legs. She really wasn’t ready to have this conversation. Why had she picked a hotel in Lanzarote? Why not Tenerife? Or Bournemouth? Or the moon? Why did she have to end up here and now, with Erica of all people?

  “Phoebe, please, talk to me.”

  Phoebe looked up in shock to see Erica sitting beside her, mirroring her position. Erica Johnstone did not sit on floors; suddenly Phoebe felt she should get up and sit in a chair or at least on the bed, so Erica didn’t have to sit on the floor.

  “Phoebe, please, I… I need answers,” Erica said, her voice impossibly soft.

  Phoebe swallowed to lubricate her dry throat. She knew she was stuck; there was no way out of this now. She had to talk to Erica; she had to be honest. Erica deserved that, especially as she had obviously spent the last few months thinking Phoebe had left because she hated her.

  “I left because it was becoming too much. I mean, my feelings for you were becoming too much,” Phoebe clarified. “I know I shouldn’t have walked out the way I did; I should have spoken to you. Or… or to someone. But it was all just too much for me.”

  She paused, expecting an interrogation from Erica, some sarcastic quip at least. When none came, she realised she had to keep talking.

  “I… think I fell in love with you. Or it was the biggest crush the world has ever seen. I knew it was impossible, know it’s impossible, but I couldn’t help it. And seeing you every day was too much. I couldn’t stop my feelings from growing, and it was taking over every part of my life.”

  Phoebe fell silent. She wasn’t sure what Erica thought of her admission, and she didn’t want to go further and completely bare her soul; she felt embarrassed enough as it was.

  “Phoebe… I had no idea you felt that way,” Erica whispered.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I just, I couldn’t. I’m sure you can see why now.”

  “I do. I wish you had spoken to me, of course, but I do understand why you didn’t. It’s about all I do understand, though.”

  Phoebe turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

  Erica chuckled bitterly. “I don’t demean your feelings; I just don’t understand them. I have no idea what on earth someone like you could see in someone like me.”

  Phoebe’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Erica shook her head. It was one of those times that Phoebe felt she could see right through Erica’s hardened outer shell, right into her soul.

  “Phoebe, let’s be frank,” Erica said. “You’re young, beautiful, compassionate, and caring, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re all the things I’m not.”

  It was Phoebe’s turn to chuckle. “You know I see through you, right?”

  Erica raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that I know you probably better than you know yourself. I know the image you have to portray to get by in business. I know that you sometimes get frustrated and you’re a little short with people. Sometimes you push people away—actually, no, you often push people away. You have a persona to maintain.” Phoebe lowered her knees to her side and turned to face Erica. “But I know you. Underneath all of that.”

  “What do you think you see?” Erica asked, her voice low and husky.

  “I see the woman who makes over twenty monthly donations to various charities. I see a woman who has helped several women in that male-dominated company she works for to get ahead through one-to-one training and suggested promotions. I see the woman who stopped drinking at her favourite local coffee shop when it was leaked that the CEO was racist. I see the woman who listens to comedy podcasts on the way to work in the morning and pretends she doesn’t, but is oh so beautiful when she laughs on a crowded train.”

  Erica smiled. “Oh, you’re a stalker, are you?”

  “I saw you sometimes on my train,” Phoebe admitted, wishing that part hadn’t slipped out.

  “We shared a journey to work?” Erica sounded stunned.

  “Yes, sometimes when you were running late. I… I tried to get the earlier train because I knew if you saw me, you’d change your behaviour in case I was there. I wanted you to have a little more time in the morning when you could be just be you.”

  Phoebe wasn’t about to mention all the times that she had shared a packed train with Erica. She didn’t want to embarrass the woman by mentioning the time that Erica gave up her seat to an elderly woman or the time she’d had a phone conversation with her sister and had sounded so happy and relaxed.

  Those were some of Phoebe’s most precious moments, and the time when she realised she had to avoid Erica on the morning commute. If she had been falling before, then seeing Erica outside the office was going to make her fall harder.

  Not that it ended up making much difference. She’d fallen anyway.

  “You really are quite extraordinary, aren’t you?” Erica asked. She leaned in a little closer. “Of course, I noticed you. But it wouldn’t have been… appropriate.”

  Phoebe couldn’t breathe. Was Erica saying what she thought she was saying?

  “You saw me?” Phoebe asked softly.

  “I tried not to,” Erica whispered, “but you made it rather difficult.”

  They had drifted so close together over the course of their conversation that it was impossible to do anything but kiss. Neither had to move far to make the final connection, and so Phoebe would never know who made the first move.

  The kiss was soft and tentative, an exploration and reassurance that they were on the same page. Phoebe had never experienced such a heartfelt, meaningful kiss.

  She’d dreamt of kissing Erica, and in those dreams it had been passionate and fierce. She felt that energy bubbling beneath the surface and was left in no doubt that Erica would take control of that manner if given the chance. But right now, while they both figures out what was happening, the kiss was questioning and gentle.

  Erica suddenly pulled away. “So, that’s settled then?”

  It was a question, but it very much sounded like a statement.

  “What’s settled?” Phoebe asked, her voice sounding rough
er than she’d intended.

  “You’ll stay here for a while?” Erica said, almost sounding hopeful to Phoebe’s ears. “So we can talk, and maybe investigate this a little? If you’re amenable, that is?”

  Phoebe opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to form words. Amenable? That was an understatement. To have the chance to spend some quality time with the woman who had been her entire world for so long was a literal dream come true.

  “You… you’re…” Phoebe tried.

  “I?”

  “You… like me?” Phoebe asked, wishing she could have phrased it differently the very moment the words left her lips.

  Erica smiled. “Yes, I like you. I didn’t think much on it at the time, as I didn’t think for a single moment that you would be interested in someone like me.”

  “So… you… you want me to stay?” Phoebe clarified.

  “Very much so,” Erica agreed. She sat up a little, indicating she wanted to be serious. “To be clear, I don’t want to rush into anything. We need to talk and to reacquaint ourselves with one another. There’s a lot to discuss, a lot of hurt feelings to mend.”

  Phoebe swallowed. That didn’t sound like much fun, but she logically knew it was the next step, a step on a staircase that might just lead to delirious happiness and a relationship she had only ever dreamed of.

  “Unless you want to stay at your hotel?” Erica asked suddenly, the frown an ugly mar on her features.

  Phoebe shook her head. “I’d like to stay here, if you are okay with that?”

  “I’m very okay with that,” Erica admitted. “In fact, I almost insist upon it.”

  “Almost?” Phoebe chuckled.

  “Well, I’m not your boss anymore.” Erica grinned.

  “No, you’re not.” Phoebe grinned evilly. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t welcome you telling me what to do occasionally.”

  Erica smiled and blushed, and it was the most adorable thing Phoebe had seen.

  “I’m going to have to get used to this side of you,” Erica said softly. “I’m looking forward to that.”

  “I’m sorry I left,” Phoebe repeated, needing to impress upon Erica the seriousness with which she meant it.

  “I’m not,” Erica said casually.

  It was Phoebe’s turn to frown.

  “If you still worked for me, none of this would have come out,” Erica explained. “And if it had while you still worked for me, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

  Erica leaned forward and captured another kiss. This one was less gentle and filled with even more promise. Phoebe’s head swam as she attempted to return the kiss and not be overcome.

  Thank goodness I chose Lanzarote, she thought to herself.

  Erica pulled back. “Can I interest you in an exceptionally good glass of wine?”

  “I’d like that,” Phoebe said.

  Erica stood up and held out her hand. Phoebe took it, feeling an excited tingle at the touch of her skin. She stood up and regarded Erica for a moment.

  “What is it?” Erica asked.

  “I’m just so glad to see you again,” Phoebe admitted.

  “I’m glad to see you too,” Erica said. “Also, that you somehow booked a stay in a hotel that had yet to be built.”

  The smirk was unrepentant and Phoebe swatted at Erica, who took a precautionary step away. “I didn’t do it on purpose!”

  “Thank goodness you’re no longer in charge of my travel arrangements,” Erica joked.

  Phoebe narrowed her eyes playfully. “I’m going to get you for that.”

  Erica paused for a second, obviously gauging whether or not Phoebe was serious. When she judged that she was, she darted out of the room playfully.

  Phoebe took chase, knowing that when she finally caught up to her she wouldn’t let her go.

  About the Author

  Amanda Radley had no desire to be a writer but accidentally became an award-winning, bestselling author.

  She gave up a marketing career in order to make stuff up for a living instead. She claims the similarities are startling.

  She describes herself as a Wife. Traveller. Tea Drinker. Biscuit Eater. Animal Lover. Master Pragmatist. Procrastinator. Theme Park Fan.

  Connect with Amanda

  www.aeradley.com

  Park Service

  Aurora Rey

  Park Service

  I rubbed at the short hair on the back of my head and tried to remain calm. It was a tent. I was an engineer. How hard could it be?

  The problem with rhetorical questions was not wanting the answer.

  I took a step back and did that deep calming breath thing I usually reserved for the most obnoxious clients. It helped my blood pressure but did nothing for the tent, which remained at my feet as a pile of poles and fabric. Perhaps I needed a little break.

  I turned away from the tent and focused my attention on the other pile of supplies I’d unloaded from the back of my car. It was fine. It was all going to be fine.

  I checked my watch. I still had a good three hours before sunset. That was plenty of time. I’d just take a little walk and come back with a fresh pair of eyes and a renewed sense of adventure.

  That was the point, after all—more adventure, less stress.

  The campground was large, with dozens of campsites along the main road and down little cul de sacs. It was situated along one edge of Adirondack Park, which would be my home and my project for the next year. I’d arrived the day before, to the little house I’d rented in the neighboring town, but decided to prioritize a night in the park before my first presentation on the improvements my firm would be overseeing.

  Since it remained a few weeks shy of the high season, many of the sites were empty. Still, I was glad to have my secluded spot. Even if it was a bit of a trek to the lake and the bathrooms. I followed the road, taking the fork that led down to the lake. Well, pond, as far as I was concerned. I’d spent a year on Lake Superior so I had standards when it came to this sort of thing.

  It might have been small, but it was pretty. The early summer breeze created ripples on the surface, making me shiver. Would it be warm enough for a swim? Preferably after the kids currently running around on the small beach had turned in for the night.

  I’m not sure how long I stood there, but by the time I turned to continue my walk, my shoulders had relaxed and the tightness in my ribs—so prevalent I often forgot it was there—had eased. See? This was the point. Calm. Quiet. Relaxation. This was what drew people to state parks and the great outdoors.

  It was why I’d taken this project, complete with its yearlong commitment to be on site. The city was literally sucking my soul and I needed to get out. I decided to make the full loop instead of doubling back. Not that I was avoiding my pile of a tent. Okay, fine. I was totally avoiding.

  By the time I made it back to my site, it was closer to sunset than I’d hoped. No need to panic. It wasn’t like I was in some remote wilderness. If worse came to worst, I could sleep in my car. Or go back to my house. Even if doing so would make me feel borderline pathetic.

  I returned to pitching my tent with renewed vigor. I snapped one of the poles together, slid it through the nylon sleeve. Only it didn’t come out the other side. Fuck.

  I took it out and, in a stroke of pure genius, counted the number of sections. Seven. Okay. After surveying the pile of aluminum sticks on string that would constitute the other posts, I picked up the one that had ten. Longer was better, right?

  I chuckled at my own double entendre and started piecing together the other pole. When I threaded it through, it came out the other side by a good two feet. Hmm. Maybe too much. This was the point in the process where I may or may not have made a “that’s what she said” joke to myself. And I hadn’t even started drinking. Speaking of drinking…

  I headed over to my cooler and pulled out a beer, popping the top and taking a long swig. There. So much better.

  Back to the tent.

  “Do you need help?”
>
  I jumped and let out a yelp far girlier than I cared to admit. I may have also fallen over, taking out the one pole I’d managed to get upright. Fuck.

  “I mean, you clearly need it. I guess my question is whether you’ll accept it.”

  I scrambled to my feet. At least the voice belonged to a woman. I wasn’t sure I could take some mansplaining cis dude schooling me on how to set up my tent. I blew out a breath before turning, hoping it was some rugged older lesbian who’d take pity on me but wouldn’t make me feel like she was taking pity on me.

  But no.

  The woman in front of me looked like a femme LLBean model. Dark brown hair pulled back from her face, impossibly long legs that stretched from the bottom of her khaki shorts to the top of her hiking boots. And curves. My God, did this woman have curves.

  “First time?”

  My brain scrambled for words. Ideally, clever ones. But as the seconds stretched out, I’d take anything coherent. Eventually, I managed, “Is it that obvious?”

  I mean, I’d camped before. I’d spent time in at least a dozen national and state parks for work. Only I’d always been part of a team. And setting up base was never one of my tasks. Somehow, admitting that seemed less charming than being a complete novice. I decided to stick with the rookie angle.

  She lifted a shoulder and offered me a smile that was probably playful. But if I squinted optimistically, it might be flirtatious, too. “I work here, so I know the signs.”

  Oh. I couldn’t decide if it made me feel better or worse that she was being paid to rescue campers of the helpless and hapless variety. Not that it mattered. I needed help and didn’t have the luxury of worrying whether or not her hotness should be a factor in how I felt about it. “I’m proud and a bit stubborn, but I’m not an idiot. So, yes, please.”