by Radclyffe
“Great. You have my number, right?”
Blaise laughed. “Of course. Along with just about every other staff person I might have to tag for the ER.”
Courtney waved at Blake to join them and, with her other hand on Mel’s wrist, took off toward the front door. Blaise turned the other way and worked her way back toward the kitchen, checking the rooms on either side of the hall as she passed. No sign of Grady. She bumped into Abby just as she made it into the kitchen.
“Hi,” Blaise said. “Everything turn out okay?”
Abby nodded. “Gladys was stable, and crotchety.” She grinned. “She couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about just because she had a little bruise on her…bum, I believe the term was.”
Blaise laughed. “Nothing broken?”
“No. I think the folks at the residence were reacting out of an abundance of caution. She really did have a pretty nice bruise on her hip, but fortunately, she’s got good bones and nothing’s broken. We’re not even going to keep her for observation.”
“Oh, that’s great news.”
“And now,” Abby said, grabbing a disposable cup and a jug of red wine, “I’m going to have a drink.”
“I’d join you,” Blaise said, tossing her mostly empty cup into the big recycling barrel, “but I’ve already had my one.”
“Are you headed out?” Abby asked. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I got back.”
“I’m not sure what’s happening with the kids just yet. I haven’t seen Taylor or Tim for a while. Blake just went off with Mel Cochran and Courtney to watch some puppies being born.”
“I just saw Dave and some of the team pull up. It will be a while before they sort out their next stop.” Abby sipped her wine and made an appreciative noise. “I can handle transporting them if Dave isn’t driving.”
“I’ll find you in a while, and we can coordinate. Flann is looking for you too.” For some reason, Blaise didn’t want to mention that she was actually searching for Grady. She did have to deliver a message, after all. It wasn’t as if it was her idea to look for her. Just doing Courtney a favor. Never mind knowing Grady and Court had parted ways. That was just a little bit of added happy.
She poured herself some seltzer, passed on the brownies after some serious deliberation—the memory of doughnuts still fresh enough to sway her to exercise restraint—and continued on her circuit through the first floor. Someone had propped the kitchen door open with an old cast iron shoe scraper, with just the screen to keep out the moths who insisted on trying to get inside to the light. Unlike them, Blaise was drawn to the dark and the promise of quiet outside and let herself out onto the porch. The crowd had already started to thin. Farmers’ hours meant an early start in the morning, even though the next day was Sunday. Plenty of people would be in the fields or the barns at first light to put in a few hours’ work before church or family midday dinner or however else they celebrated the day of rest. Mostly, rest came after a good deal of work.
Blaise walked toward the far end of the porch, where she’d be unlikely to run into anyone who wanted to chat. She didn’t mind friendly talk with neighbors, but her mind had been buzzing all day with too many thoughts and too many feelings, and right now she’d just like to empty her head. That was a wish she wasn’t going to get fulfilled.
Grady slouched in a rocker at the far end of the porch, and as soon as Blaise saw her, all the noise and chaos and crazy lightning sparks flared bright and hot in her entire body. Quiet was the last thing she felt when looking at Grady. Asleep—at least that’s how she seemed as Blaise drew near and got a closer look—she was even more distracting. Grady was definitely fast asleep—fast asleep with a half-full cup of beer in her hand, balanced on her thigh. How had she managed not to spill that?
Blaise eased against the railing across from Grady and tried to decide if she should wake her or not. She looked peaceful. And frighteningly, quite a bit younger in her unguarded moments. She really oughtn’t watch her this way, unawares. She’d just sneak away again. In just a second. Just one more brief glance, to satisfy the strange sense of longing mixed with wonder.
Moonlight struck Grady’s face at an angle, leaving one side in shadow and the other bathed in soft, silver light. Smooth skin, strong bones, delicate angles and—Blaise leaned forward, just to get a better look—incredibly long, dark eyelashes.
Those lashes fluttered, and Grady’s eyes opened.
“Hi,” Grady said, her voice a little husky from sleep.
Husky and very sexy.
Blaise straightened abruptly. “Um, you were asleep.”
Grady grinned and moved her cup of beer to a little table beside her rocker. “I guess I was. How long have you been there?”
“A millisecond. Hardly any time at all. And I was not staring.”
“Really? Because it looked like you were.”
Blaise tried not to grind her teeth. “I was just trying to see if you were really asleep.”
“You mean as opposed to faking being asleep when there was nobody else around?”
“All right, if you must know,” Blaise said, flustered—which was completely unlike her—and annoyed, and tired of being both on top of it all, “I was looking at your eyelashes.”
Frowning, Grady rubbed her eyes with one hand. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing. They’re gorgeous.”
Grady’s grin widened, and the moonlight danced in her eyes as she sat forward a little. “Is that what you think?”
“About your eyelashes,” Blaise said slowly and distinctly. “And can we just forget about that right now.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Damn it, she should have left when she’d had the chance. At least she could take care of Court’s request. “I have a message for you from your girlfriend.”
The playfulness left Grady’s face. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I told you that.”
“If you say so.”
Grady stood so quickly and stepped so close, Blaise leaned back, but with her butt against the railing, she had nowhere to go. Grady was very, very close. Way too close.
“Do you think I would lie to you about something like that?” Grady’s voice was pitched low. Her face, no longer young or vulnerable, all sharp angles, her eyes dark and serious. “About anything at all?”
“No,” Blaise said softly. “I don’t. So I apologize. I’m not…quite myself. Long day, I guess.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Grady stroked a finger along the edge of Blaise’s jaw and rested her fingertips lightly on her throat. “And while we’re on the subject, you don’t just have gorgeous eyelashes, you’re gorgeous everywhere.”
Blaise’s breath came fast and shallow. The beat of her heart was a flutter of wings in her chest, a trapped bird struggling to escape a predator, or taking flight toward freedom. She wasn’t sure which. She couldn’t back up anymore, and she didn’t want to. The heat of Grady’s gaze drifting languidly, arrogantly, over her face, stoked a heat inside her she’d never felt. Had never even known she wanted to feel. Other things she wanted, she shied away from thinking about, but she couldn’t stop looking at Grady’s mouth. Her lips were full and ever so slightly amused—as if she enjoyed Blaise’s quandary. Go. Stay. Yield. Take. Risk. Flee.
“Grady,” Blaise said quietly.
“Yes, Blaise?”
Had she moved even closer? Blaise’s body hummed with anticipation. No uncertainty there.
Blaise took a breath. Steadied herself. “I don’t kiss women I just met.”
The corner of Grady’s mouth turned up fully. Not just amused. Inviting. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“No.”
“Did you think I was going to kiss you?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“When I kiss you, you won’t have time to wonder.”
“What makes you think I’ll want you to?”
“Don’t you?”
Yes. No. How could I?
Grady leaned a little closer. She couldn’t stop herself. Indecision warred in Blaise’s eyes. A pulse beat in Blaise’s throat, a ripple like the river far below them, flowing sultry and slow in the pale moonlight. Haunting, seductive, beautiful. Her fingertips barely touched Blaise’s throat over that pounding pulse, but the force of it shot through her, making her thighs tremble and something deep inside her clench until she ached. Oh, she wanted to kiss her all right. She wanted to kiss her and not stop.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to kiss you?” Grady murmured.
“Do you think I would lie to you about something like that?” Blaise whispered.
“No. Not to me.”
Blaise pressed her hand to the center of Grady’s chest. Grady’s heart pounded beneath her palm as wildly as her own. She had thought she might push her away, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. The way her muscles tightened, the way her breath caught, when she’d touched her just then. Oh, she liked knowing she could unsettle Grady. She wasn’t alone in the wild wanting. And she wanted…more. Her fingertips drifted a little higher, found the delicate arch of collarbone, skimmed over the vulnerable hollow at the base of her throat.
“Blaise,” Grady groaned. “Kiss me, then.”
“I can’t do this like this.” Blaise dropped her hand.
“All right,” Grady said, blinking hard to clear her head and tamp down the fire. She eased back, letting her fingers trail down Blaise’s throat until the contact broke. Something wild and primitive raged inside her, howling in frustration. “I will kiss you,” Grady said. “But I’ll wait until you ask, if that’s what you want.”
Blaise shivered. What did she want? Not this whirlwind of conflicting sensations—desire, hunger—spinning out of control. Grasping for solid ground, she cleared her throat, swallowing back the desire that threatened to choke her. “Courtney…Courtney left with Mel. Something about puppies.”
“That’s a lot more novel than etchings,” Grady muttered.
Blaise laughed and, suddenly, being with Grady was easy again. Grady laughed too, and the stark lines in her face eased. “Really, around here that wouldn’t even be a line.”
“I heard Mel talking about it earlier. Thanks for letting me know.”
“She wanted to make sure you had a ride home. I can text her if you want to meet her or…”
Grady shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m sure she’s busy.”
Grady didn’t seem the least bit upset that Court had disappeared with another woman. Not a date, then.
“I have to check with Abby and the kids,” Blaise said, “but I can drop you off in town if you need a ride later. I’m not sure when I’ll be leaving, though.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any plans,” Grady said in a rush before Blaise could change her mind.
“Well, if you’re sure, I’ll text Court and let her know.”
“I’m sure.” Grady followed Blaise as she turned to go back inside. She was sure, all right, even if waiting wasn’t her game. But then, where Blaise was concerned, all the rules had changed.
Chapter Sixteen
Flann dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Have you seen my wife?”
Ida Rivers slid a tray of warm apple pies onto the stone trivets at one end of the table. In seconds, the stack of plates she’d put out was gone and the pies were rapidly following. “She was headed into the hall about ten minutes ago.”
“You need help down here?”
Ida pushed a lock of midnight hair threaded with silver behind her ear and surveyed the remaining food. “I think we might have filled everyone up—for the moment.”
“Yell if you need a hand. Dad here?”
“Hiding in his study, I think.” Ida smiled. “There may be poker.”
“Oh yeah?” Flann considered. Maybe she could fit in a hand or two. Better clear it with Abby first. “I’ll catch him later, then.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ida patted Flann’s cheek. “You were up most of the night, I hear. Get some rest.”
Flann didn’t even ask how her mother knew she’d had a case the night before. Her mother always knew. The Rivers was in her blood, just like all the rest of them. “I’m good, but I might grab Abby and take off a little early. Haven’t seen her much the last few days.”
“All the more reason to skip the poker—go.”
Grinning, Flann circuited through the downstairs, ending up in the library. Margie was curled in the corner of the sofa, and Flann dropped down beside her. “Hey. Have you seen Abby?”
“No,” Margie said in kind of a weird flat tone, “not since the game.”
“Oh, well, she’s probably hiding somewhere so she doesn’t have to talk shop with half the people here.”
“Uh-huh.”
Flann angled her back to the arm of the sofa and stretched one leg out on the seat, her bent knee just nudging Margie’s. “Where’s Blake and the rest of your crew?”
“Um, Taylor and Tim went to find Dave. Blake is delivering puppies.”
“Come again?” Flann sipped her beer. Something was off with her sister. Margie’s usual exuberance had disappeared, like the bubbles in champagne gone flat when set aside for other pleasures. She immediately substituted an image of seltzer left out on the counter, feeling somehow guilty thinking about champagne and sex and her sister in the same mental breath, but all the same—something was not right here. “I didn’t think you guys were on call for Val. Some kind of emergency?”
“Not Val, Courtney.”
“Okay, now I’m really not following. What’s going on with Blake and puppies?”
Margie heaved a sigh. “Mel Cochran’s bitch, Sadie, is having pups. Right now. Blake ran off to observe.”
“Well, of course he did.” Flann grinned. “Are you upset puppies won out over your company?”
She’d meant it as just some good-natured poking, but Margie’s expression took another odd turn, as if she wasn’t quite sure whether she was upset, angry, or confused. Totally not her sister.
“Nope.”
Margie—reduced to sentences of one word? Flann straightened, giving Margie a little space between them, but in a position where she could watch her face. Margie, like all her sisters, was pretty easy to read when you’d grown up with them. “So what’s the problem?”
“No problem,” Margie said, her forced enthusiasm obvious.
“Uh-huh. Are you two fighting or something?”
Margie shook her head.
“I can keep on guessing all night.” Flann took another sip of her beer, anxiety starting to roil in her innards. “Has there been another altercation? Somebody giving you or Blake trouble?”
“No,” Margie said. “Not really.”
“Define not really,” Flann said through clenched teeth.
Margie heaved a sigh and dropped her head onto the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling in a posture Flann was coming to recognize as the universal teenage sign for my parents are bothering me and I’m so bored with it all. She wasn’t Margie’s parent, but she was her big sister, and as far as she was concerned, that gave her a legitimate reason to poke and prod until she got answers.
“Spill it, Rivers.”
“Billy Riley. He’s such an ass.”
“Agreed. What else?”
“He keeps bugging Taylor to go out with him, and she said no a million times.”
“Okay,” Flann said slowly. “Some guys—some women too—don’t take no for an answer right away. It’s annoying. But is something happening that’s a lot more than annoying?”
“Not really.” Margie sighed and rolled her head to the side to meet Flann’s gaze. “But he feels wrong. Like, something more could happen.”
“I think I know what you mean,” Flann said quietly. “Like he could do more than just be a jerk verbally. Like that?”
“Maybe,” Margie said softly. “I don’t really know for sure. He’s just…a creep.”
“I get that. Is there anything else? Something
I should know, or Abby or Blaise?”
“No, you guys already know. It’s nothing new.”
“Was Blake on Billy’s a-hole radar tonight?”
“No more than usual. Just the usual oh hey, you all like queers kind of thing.”
Flann sighed. “You’re right, he’s an ass.”
“You know, lots of us, like, I don’t know, half, somewhere like that, don’t even think in terms of straight or gay. It’s kind of, just, you know, flexible.”
“Hmm,” Flann said, starting to tread out onto the thin ice again. Why did she always end up here when she started talking to a teenager? Of course, if she remembered right, being a teenager was a whole lot about sex. Other things mattered, sure, but sex? Pretty much up at the top of the list. “So how about you?”
Margie grinned. “You don’t really want to know that, do you?”
Oh boy. Flann’s stomach produced a lot more acid, if that was even possible. “Yeah, I do. Just because it’s you. You’re my sister, and I love you and I want to know you.”
“That’s corny.”
Flann sighed. “Okay, yeah. Maybe. But it’s still true.”
Margie’s expression softened, and for an instant she looked like the much younger kid Flann remembered. Always bold and brave and filled with enthusiasm, but still learning about the world.
“Come on, Margie. It’s me, remember?”
“I’m mostly coming down on the liking guys side of things.”
Flann pressed a hand to her heart and stared. “Oh my God. No.”
Margie’s grin widened. “I know, weird, huh? Of course, that makes it fifty-fifty for the four of us. So maybe not.”
“It’s not weird, babe.” Flann leaned over and touched the tip of her index finger to Margie’s nose, the way she used to do when Margie was much younger, just to get a giggle out of her. “It’s you. That’s all that matters.”
“Blake kissed me.”
Flann froze, as immobile as if she had suddenly turned into an ice statue. She shook her head, certain she’d misheard. “Come again?”
“Blake. Your kid, you know the one? Dark hair, awesome blue eyes, really nice to everyone? He kissed me.”
