by Erica Abbott
She tried very hard not to think about Lea, her mouth or her fingers, but she could dream of nothing else, no one else. She climaxed silently, pressing her forehead into the cool tile and seeing only Lea’s face before her.
Chapter Eight
Rita Lopez toyed with the ends of her silverware, still tightly rolled up in her napkin.
“Are you nervous?” Jean asked gently.
“No,” Rita answered quickly. “Yes, I guess. A little. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”
After days of delicate negotiation, dinner had been substituted for lunch and Lea had suggested Carelli’s, which despite the name was a steakhouse rather than an Italian restaurant. Carelli’s was close to the nicest place in town and Jean wondered at the choice. It made the get-together seem more formal than she would have thought advisable.
Rita had certainly dressed for the evening. She was wearing a bright red wrap dress and a matching set of jet-black necklace and earrings.
“Don’t worry, you look great,” Jean reassured her. “And it can’t be that long since you’ve been on a date, I bet.”
Rita lowered her head a little. “You’d be wrong,” she said softly. “I got married right out of high school, had a baby when I was nineteen. He wanted more children right away but I wanted to go to community college. We fought all the time and at twenty-one I was divorced and on my own with Jay.” She looked up at Jean and smiled a little. “His name is Jesús, but he likes to go by Jay. He’s thirteen going on thirty. Man of the house, you know. Not a lot of guys want to date a woman with a teenaged son already.”
Jean looked up to see Lea and Loren coming across the dining room floor. Loren was propelling himself in his wheelchair, with Lea following behind. Lea was wearing her usual off-duty attire of jeans and western-style shirt, but Loren had clearly dressed up for the evening. He was wearing a white silk shirt with the cowboy yoke outlined in black piping and a handsome black onyx bolo tie. His brushed-felt black cowboy hat was in his lap and his dark eyes were alight with pleasure.
“Hi,” he said, wheeling up to the table where Jean had asked the hostess to remove one of the chairs for him. “Jean, it’s nice to see you again.”
Jean rose and kissed him on the cheek. He was freshly shaven and smelled faintly of soap. “Good to see you too, handsome,” she said. “You will behave this evening, won’t you?”
Loren laughed then turned to Rita. “Hi,” he said again, warmth in his voice.
“Hello,” she said shyly. “I’m sure you don’t remember me.”
“I do actually, Rita.” He grinned. “You sang the national anthem before one of the football games my senior year, didn’t you?”
She nodded shyly. They fell into conversation immediately, reminiscing about high school. Lea sat down next to Jean, leaned in and murmured, “So far, so good.”
Jean turned her head and caught a faint scent of something fresh that was reminiscent of the desert: sage, perhaps. God, Lea even smelled good to her. She swallowed and replied, “Let’s keep our fingers crossed. How have you been?”
“Fine, except for the stinking mess that is the Lambert murder investigation.”
“Field full of cow patties, is it?” Jean asked.
“I’ll have you know those are called meadow muffins, you tenderfoot.”
Jean laughed. Had Charlotte ever made her laugh this much? She couldn’t remember.
“What’s wrong with the investigation?” she asked. “Or can’t you tell me?”
Lea glanced at Loren and Rita, still deep into their conversation. “I thought I could tell you anything, Counselor.”
Jean raised her hand, palm outward. “Girl Scout’s honor.”
“You don’t look like the Girl Scout type to me, but I’ll take a chance. Crabtree’s alibi checked out. He continues to swear he knows nothing about Lambert’s murder and we have nothing to tie him to the shooting. My investigators are now convinced he’s not guilty of the murder and they’re usually very skeptical people. This time I agree with them. Which puts us back at square one. Lambert’s wife was in full view of her bridge club all evening, he got along with his neighbors, he apparently didn’t have much money or insurance to speak of and no known enemies. Worked for county road and bridge twenty-two years.”
“Until he got fired,” Jean mused.
Lea looked at her sharply. “That’s right, you told me about that. What have you found out about the suit?”
Jean shook her head. “I assigned the research project to one of the assistants and I haven’t had a chance to talk about it with him.”
“Follow up, will you? There’s probably nothing in it, but we need something to go on. Presumably if he was angry enough to sue, there was some animosity, on his part at least.”
Jean looked thoughtful. “I know he was claiming he was wrongfully terminated by the county. I wonder if one of his supervisors had it in for him.”
“It’s not much of a motive, but I’ve seen less.” Lea glanced again at Loren and Rita, who had moved on to rodeo as a topic. “Do you think we’ll be getting dinner any time this evening?”
“We should be pleased it’s going so well,” Jean said with a hint of smugness.
“Oh, I am.” Lea gave her an enigmatic smile. “I’m a romantic at heart.”
Jean felt her own heart thud against her breastbone. “Are you?”
“Yes. I keep it well hidden except for my closest friends.” Lea gave her the half smile and Jean thought her beating heart must be visible beneath her blouse. It might have been a very long time, but Jean knew flirting when she heard it.
“What am I going to do?” Jean murmured.
“What?” Lea asked.
“I said, what am I going to do for dinner? Ah, have for dinner, I mean. What are you having?”
Lea opened a menu. “If you like steak, I can recommend anything on the menu. I usually get the New York strip.”
“You are such a carnivore,” Jean teased.
“Guilty, Counselor.”
Jean looked at the menu, trying to decide what to do about dinner and what to do about her life.
Eventually Loren and Rita let them into the conversation and they enjoyed their dinner and evening. By the time after-dinner coffee was served, Loren had made plans to go to Jay’s soccer game the next day. Lea was smiling happily at everyone, her brother, Rita and especially Jean. Relieved that their plan seemed to be going well, Jean enjoyed her meal. The brussels sprouts were a little underdone and bitter, but her steak was fine. At least all those years living with a chef had given her some appreciation for a well-cooked meal.
Rita walked toward the parking lot beside Loren as he wheeled his way out, with Jean and Lea trailing behind. Near the door, Lea stopped Jean with a hand on her arm.
“Would you like to go riding tomorrow?” Lea asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve been and being on a horse always relaxes me. This week has been hellish. Or don’t you ride?”
“I used to when I was at school,” Jean admitted. “It’s been a few years. We’re not doing anything too difficult, I hope.”
“No, just an easy ride to one of my favorite places on my parents’ ranch. Later in the afternoon if that’s okay.”
Jean realized that she’d apparently agreed to go without actually saying so. Maybe it was just as well, she sighed inwardly. Alone in the middle of the desert was probably the best place to finally have the conversation about Charlotte.
* * *
Jean got out of her car and managed to get the door closed just as the dogs rounded the corner of the house on a dead run. This time she waited until they reached her and then said, “Good dogs. Doc, Wyatt, sit.”
The dogs went down, tails still wagging. Jean petted them both thoroughly until they were dancing and wiggling in pleasure.
“Okay, you two,” Jean said and they bounced away, leading her back to the barn. She went in to find Lea slipping a bridle onto a beautiful brown-and-white paint horse. Tied
securely nearby was a second smaller horse, a dapple gray, already saddled and bridled.
“Hi,” Jean said. “I see I timed it perfectly, letting you do all the work and showing up just in time for the fun stuff.”
“Good job,” Lea said dryly.
Both horses received a greeting from Jean, who enjoyed the silky soft feel of the horses’ muzzles. “I brought presents,” Jean said. “Are they allowed?”
Lea tried to look stern. “Not sugar, I hope?”
“No, apples, a healthy snack. I like to make friends with my mount before the ride.”
“Very wise. Please go ahead, bribe your horse.”
Jean produced the apples, carefully doling out one per horse, offering them flat on her palms to prevent a mistakenly chewed finger. As the horses crunched happily, Lea petted the paint horse. She said, “This is Horatio, one of my father’s best stallions.”
Jean looked him over. She said cautiously, “I’m not riding him, I hope.”
“Nope. He and I are working on some of his obedience issues, but he’s going to be a good boy today, aren’t you? You’re on Amelia there.”
“She’s a lovely mare, but she’s not a paint,” Jean observed, stroking the gray-flecked coat.
Lea smiled. “She’s my horse. Gentle, and a sure-footed mount. You’ll like her.”
“Your horse? She lives here?”
“Yep. She gets plenty of exercise this way and I get to ride whenever I have a chance. I also pay for her board, which helps out my parents in slow months. You ready?”
They mounted. “I have some water in the canteens so be sure to drink as we go,” Lea said as they rode out. “It’s a dry climate.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” Jean remarked. “I don’t seem to be able to keep enough hand lotion in the house.”
There were stratocumulus clouds thick above the line of the mountain range before them. As they rode in a mostly westerly direction, Jean spent a few minutes adjusting to using her riding muscles again, but Amelia was as easy a ride as Lea had promised. Soon Jean was able to relax and enjoy the scenery.
“What are those mountains called?” she asked after a while. “I mean, I know they’re the Rockies, but does that range have a specific name?”
“They’re called the Wet Mountains. Because of the geography they get more than their share of moisture, usually in the form of winter snow. The tallest one, there? That’s Greenhorn Mountain, a little over twelve thousand feet.” She pointed south to a pair of mountains that seemed to stand a little apart from the rest of the range. “Those two are actually the easternmost Rockies in the entire range. The local Indian tribe called them ‘The Breasts of the World.’”
Jean admired the mountains for a moment then shifted around in her saddle to glance over her shoulder. “And that’s Pike’s Peak to the north, right?”
“Yep. It’s much taller, more than fourteen thousand feet. It’s the only Colorado fourteener where you can drive to the top. The rest of them require you to hike.”
Jean smiled. “No, thank you very much. I think I’ll stick with Amelia. She’s great, by the way.”
“I’m glad you two are getting along. She’s named after Amelia Earhart, one of my childhood heroes.”
Jean cocked her head. “You know, I didn’t think of it before, but you look a lot like pictures I’ve seen of her.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
If Lea was following some path along the sandy soil, Jean couldn’t discern it. They seemed to be randomly picking their way through the scrubby green trees, low bushes and rocks, avoiding the dry arroyos as they went.
“Did you ever wonder what you’d have done if you’d lived a hundred years ago?” Jean asked. “I can see you as a barnstormer, myself.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Lea laughed. “I like my feet on the ground, thanks. Too bad I couldn’t have been a US marshal in the days of the wild, wild West. I would love to spend a lot less time on budget reports and applying for federal grants and a lot more time going after the bad guys.”
Jean mused, “I can see that too. Six gun strapped to your hip, strolling down the wooden sidewalks, tipping your hat to all the ladies.”
“Oh, I’m sure that would have gone over well,” Lea said dryly.
“Don’t be so literal.” Jean twitched the reins to guide Amelia around a big rock. “Come on now. Are you hanging out at the Long Branch Saloon, wooing the local Miss Kitty? Of maybe you’d rather pay court to some nice widowed shopkeeper. Does calico do anything for you?”
Jean was enjoying the light-hearted conversation, but Lea said suddenly, “You mean like the blouse you wore to the Harvest Moon Party?”
Jean was suddenly having trouble swallowing and she groped for the canteen hung on her saddle horn. “Lea—”
But Lea interrupted her with, “I’m thinking I’m going after the brave woman rancher trying to make a go of it on her own land.”
“Oh.” Jean managed to recover. “So now we’re casting Barbara Stanwyck in The Big Valley.”
“Hmm.” Lea thought it over. “Maybe. Though there was a lot of testosterone on the ranch with all those hunky sons hanging around. Even better, how about the marshal courts the local schoolmarm? Those delicate little glasses and all.”
There wasn’t enough water in the canteen for her to deal with Lea flirting with her like this. Jean swallowed and then ventured, “You’re going for an early twentieth-century version of geek girl?”
“Pretty sure ‘geek’ wasn’t part of the vocabulary then,” Lea said. “What would you call an educated, intelligent woman a hundred years ago?”
“A bluestocking,” Jean answered.
“Really?”
“Yes. It originally was a group of well-educated women in the eighteenth century, I think.”
“The things you know, Counselor.” Lea smiled. “The Marshal and the Bluestocking. I’m not sure that’s really a compelling title.”
Jean found a laugh. “The Marshal and the Schoolmarm doesn’t exactly sing, either.”
Lea led them up a little rise that seemed to grow steeper. She guided her horse in front of Jean. “It’s kind of single file through here. Don’t worry, Amelia knows the way.”
When they completed the climb up the hill, Lea dropped Horatio back to ride beside her again. “The Marshal and the Shopkeeper isn’t going to cut it. I think we’d better go back to the brave woman rancher scenario.”
“Yes, we need a snappier title for our little lesbian western,” Jean said. “Perhaps a place name like The High Chaparral.” She glanced up at the mountains again. “Maybe Greenhorn Ranch?”
“Nope, sounds too much like a dude ranch. And I definitely do not recommend using Pike’s Peak or Breasts of the World in any way, shape or form.”
Jean started laughing. “I guess you won’t let me use some variation on the Wet Mountains, then.”
“Hell no!” Lea said forcefully.
Jean considered the problem. “How about Don’t Fence Me In?”
Lea considered it thoughtfully. “Not bad, but—wait, I think I’ve got it.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I’m thinking, Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch.”
They were both laughing now. Jean was amused by Lea and attracted to her in the same moment.
There was a crest at the top of a little mesa wide enough for both horses to stand side by side. Above them, a solitary hawk circled, wings spread wide, coasting on a thermal as it scanned the ground for a rabbit or prairie chicken. Below them the sandy landscape, dotted with dark green, spread expansively to the far away blue-gray hills. Lea had timed the ride so that the sun was beginning to set, bleeding from rose to peach to orange, the color in the clouds changing every few moments.
“Oh, my God,” Jean said.
“My favorite spot for sunset viewing,” Lea said. “I was hoping it would be particularly nice this evening with the right amount of clouds. I’m glad you like it.”
The colors began to darken, the sky turning to a deeper blue. Finally Jean said the only thing she could say.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said softly.
Lea eased Horatio into a wide circle around the top of the mesa until she brought him next to Jean and Amelia again, this time with the horses nose to tail. Lea pulled up until she faced Jean, their knees touching.
“It is beautiful,” Lea said, her voice low. “And so are you.”
She put her hand on Jean’s saddle horn to keep them close. Lea waited a moment, to give her time to protest. But Jean wanted nothing else.
Lea leaned in toward her. Jean didn’t wait for the kiss—she met Lea halfway there. Warm and smooth, Lea’s mouth against hers heated her down to her core. Jean had never felt so much from a single kiss. Lea broke their contact and sat back a little to look into Jean’s eyes. Jean didn’t know what Lea was looking for and at that moment she didn’t care. All she wanted was for Lea to kiss her again.
Whatever Lea read in her face was enough and Jean welcomed another kiss, longer and deeper this time. When they finally stopped, Lea’s hand came up and gently caressed Jean’s cheek with the backs of her fingers.
Jean couldn’t remember what she wanted to tell Lea, why she couldn’t pursue a relationship with her or anything else, even where she was. She could barely remember her own name while Lea was touching her.
