by Aurora Rey
Drew peered into the basket. “What do we have?”
“A Big Rainbow, a Brandywine, and a Cherokee Purple.”
Drew grinned. “Be still my beating heart.”
She led Drew to the side door and into her kitchen. She watched Drew take it all in. Hannah wouldn’t call her style country, but she wondered if that was how Drew would categorize it.
“You’ve got a nice setup here.”
“It was a disaster when I moved in. I like to cook enough that I had to do something.”
“Yeah. Definitely a perk of buying. I mean, my place here is decent, but the kitchen in my apartment back home was seriously cramped.” Drew smiled. “So, what are you making me for dinner?”
“You have to promise to embrace the simplicity, okay?” Hannah cringed at the sudden self-consciousness in her voice.
“The best ingredients are always better when allowed to shine. I thought you knew that about me already.”
Hannah sighed. Right. Nothing to be self-conscious about. “I do.”
“So, what are you making me?”
She lifted her chin. “A BLT.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed and, for a second, Hannah read the gesture as disappointment. Then Drew grinned from ear to ear. “I love BLTs. I cannot think of a better application.”
The response felt so genuine, she didn’t feel the need to equivocate further. “Oh, good. I didn’t make the bread myself, but I got a fresh loaf from Ithaca Bakery. It’s probably better than I could manage anyway.”
“Sounds perfect. Utterly perfect.”
She went to the fridge, pulled out thick-cut bacon and the jar of mayo. “Let me get the bacon in the oven and then we can relax, open a beer.” She turned to look at Drew and found her making a face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Drew shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re lying.”
Drew smiled. “How would you feel about me contributing something to the meal?”
She set down the jar and resisted crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”
“Do you keep eggs and olive oil on hand?”
Hannah slumped. “You’re judging my mayo.”
“Not judging. I have nothing against the jarred stuff. But if these tomatoes are half as good as the ones I tried earlier, they deserve the best.”
Hannah chuckled. “It’s hard to argue with that.”
“And we get to be in the kitchen together, which is always more fun.”
Drew seemed to mean it. But was she talking about cooking, or the company? “I’d have thought you were the type who loathed sharing a kitchen.”
Drew folded her arms and looked offended. “I’ve shared the tiniest kitchens with half a dozen people. And I grew up cooking at my Grann’s knee.”
“Okay, okay. I stand corrected.” Hannah lifted both hands defensively, but smiled. This was fine. Relaxed. Nothing sexual or romantic about it.
“Does that mean you’ll let me make mayo?”
Drew’s eyes sparkled and Hannah’s reaction was nothing but sexual and romantic. Great. “Yes. Tell me what you need.”
Drew’s smile completed the whole dangerously attractive look. “A bowl and a whisk.”
She got out the tools and ingredients Drew requested. While Drew worked, she rinsed some baby lettuce and put it through the salad spinner, then sliced the tomatoes.
Drew glanced over. “I’ll happily eat whatever doesn’t fit on the sandwiches.”
“I like the way you think.” She set some aside for the sandwiches and dressed what was left with olive oil, salt, and pepper.
Half an hour later, they sat on Hannah’s back deck, each with a large sandwich, a tomato salad, and a local IPA. Drew took a huge bite, closed her eyes, and groaned. “Oh, my God.”
Hannah took a bite of her own sandwich. She didn’t audibly groan, but her sentiments were the same. “I don’t know what it is about this combination, but it gets me every time.”
Drew finished chewing her second bite, licked tomato juice from her thumb. “It’s everything in one package. Crunchy and soft, salty and tangy and sweet. Oh, and fat. Fat makes everything taste better.”
“High praise from a fancy chef.”
“You’ve got me wondering if I can find a way to put BLTs on the menu at the restaurant.”
Hannah smirked. “If anyone can, it would be you.”
They finished the sandwiches, then decided to split a third. Hannah pulled two more beers from the fridge. The sun was setting, so she lit citronella candles to ward off mosquitoes.
After polishing off the second round, Drew slumped back in her chair and put a hand on her stomach. “Have I gorged myself enough for you to know, without hesitation, that I approve of BLTs?”
“I’d say so. And I’m completely converted to homemade mayo. Which is a rather dangerous development, actually.” Among other things.
Drew waved a hand. “All things are okay in moderation.”
“Is that a rule for food or more of a life philosophy?” She was skirting the boundaries of flirtation now.
“I think you can apply it to most things, don’t you?” Her playful smile sent Hannah’s pulse skittering.
“I suppose.” She tipped her head to the side. “It’s just that some things are more addictive than others.”
“You have a point there. But I guess it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’m so over the notion of self-denial as a virtue.” The playfulness vanished. In its place, a piercing intensity that skirted nothing. This was flirtation, pure and simple.
“Ah.” Hannah wanted to say more, but words eluded her.
“You don’t agree?”
“No.” Hannah shook her head. Her throat had gone inexplicably dry. “I do. Mostly.”
Drew pushed her plate to the side and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Do you like to indulge yourself, Hannah?”
The way Drew said her name was almost too much. She imagined what it would feel like against her ear. Drew’s breath warm against her skin, her hand—
“Too personal?”
“Huh?” Hannah blinked.
“I asked if you were one for indulging yourself. You didn’t answer, so I wondered if it was too personal a question.”
“Oh.” Hannah tried to collect herself. “No.”
“No to indulgence?” Drew sat back. “That’s too bad.”
She might be playing with fire, but she wasn’t going to be dishonest. She leaned forward, mirroring Drew’s earlier posture. “No, it wasn’t too personal. I’m quite fond of indulging, actually.”
Desire flicked through Drew’s eyes. “I see.”
“It’s just that some things are hard to enjoy in moderation. Ice cream, for example.” Or you, she almost added.
Drew chuckled. “So, what do you do?”
“When the opportunity presents itself, I don’t say no.” Hannah shrugged casually, as though she meant nothing beyond her penchant for sweets. “But I also don’t keep it in the house to tempt me at all hours.”
Drew laughed. The sound, low and seductive, had no hint of teasing in it. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
The conversation lulled and they fell into a comfortable silence. Well, not uncomfortable, at least. Sexual tension remained in the air, but more of a gentle hum than a crackle. Dusk set in and fireflies dotted the perimeter of the yard.
“I don’t think I ever saw a firefly before this summer,” Drew said.
“Really?” The idea gave Hannah a pang of sadness.
“I’d never even thought about them, really, to even know what I was missing.”
Hannah sighed. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere so awash in streetlights that it was never fully dark. Why anyone would choose to live in a city baffled her. “Sounds like you might be saying life in the country has at least a few things going for it.”
Drew turned. Even in the dim light of dusk, her eyes were full of meaning. “It certainly does.”
Chapter Twelve
Hannah stepped into the shower, bone tired. She loved the hot days of summer when everything seemed to grow heavy and ripe at once, but it was killer on the back. And the legs and arms and feet and pretty much everything else. And the rush to get in a day’s worth of work before a late-afternoon thunderstorm only intensified that fact.
She kept the temperature lukewarm but let the water pelt her skin. After washing her hair, she squirted a generous blob of honeysuckle shower gel onto a loofah and scrubbed away the dirt and sweat of the day. By the time she emerged, she wanted nothing more than a cold beer and a nap in her hammock. Unfortunately, it was pouring down rain and she had plans.
At least the plans were good.
She slipped on a pair of shorts and light V-neck tee, then decided on sneakers instead of flip-flops. The dash to her truck didn’t quite soak her through. She plopped the bottle of rosé on the seat next to her and started the short drive to Jenn’s.
Despite the intensity of the storm, the worst of it seemed to pass before she arrived. As steam rolled off the pavement, she said a prayer of thanks they’d managed to get so many tomatoes picked before it blew through. After months of weeding and watering and care, split skins and bruised fruit drove her absolutely nuts.
She went to Jenn’s side door, knocking but not waiting for a reply. Jenn stood in her kitchen, chopping garlic. She smiled at Hannah over her shoulder. “You made it.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Jenn set down her knife. “No, but it was really nasty here for a bit. I thought you might wait it out.”
“I was afraid if I sat down, I might fall asleep.”
Jenn laughed. “Rough day?”
“Great day. We’re having a killer season.”
“But it’s killer on you.”
Hannah shrugged. “You’ll never catch me complaining about a bountiful harvest.”
“I know. So put up your feet and take a load off. Wine?”
Hannah handed her the bottle. “Yes, please.”
When they were seated on Jenn’s sofa, underneath the blissful breeze of the ceiling fan and with their feet on the coffee table, Jenn turned to her. “So, tell me everything.”
“I’m not sure there’s much to tell.”
“Liar. You had her to your house for dinner. There is most definitely something to tell.”
“I think we’re friends. It was flirty, but she didn’t try to kiss me again, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Jenn gave her an exasperated look. “She probably isn’t going to. You put the brakes on, you have to be the one to restart the sexy train.”
“The sexy train?” Hannah raised a brow. Who said that?
“Yes, you got on it. And you never actually got off. You just signaled a stop.”
“That might be the cheesiest analogy I’ve ever heard.” Annoying in its accuracy, but cheesy.
Jenn ran her finger through the condensation on her glass and pointed at Hannah. “Maybe, but you’re deflecting. And stringing that poor woman along.”
Hannah sat up straight, almost sloshing her wine all over. “I’m not doing that.” She looked at Jenn. “Am I?”
“More like holding the door but not inviting her in.”
Even teasing, she didn’t like the sound of that. But she let the words sink in. It was exactly what she was doing. Because she was interested in Drew. Even if she thought it a bad idea, she couldn’t bring herself to close the door on the possibility of something happening between them. Being a tease did not sit well. “Ugh.”
“You know I’m not trying to make you feel bad, right?”
“I know.” She didn’t need Jenn to make her, she could manage all on her own.
“It’s just so unlike you. You’re always decisive.”
“Yeah.” She was decisive. Not a trait she came by naturally, either. She’d had to work at it and come to terms with knowing what she wanted out of life wasn’t going to fall in her lap. Being able to articulate it, taking action to make it happen, were her biggest assets. A mild disgust settled in the pit of her stomach.
“I can see your wheels turning. This isn’t a value judgment thing. Relationships aren’t like work or other things.”
“Relationships.” At what point did talking about Drew turn into talking about relationships?
“Relax. I’m not implying you’re in one, or should be.”
She couldn’t decide which was worse—Jenn using the word “relationships” or how instantly it freaked her out. “But I’ve crossed a line with Drew. We’re definitely more than two people with a professional connection.”
Jenn shrugged. “Whatever it is, and whatever you want to call it, is up to you. I’m just saying you should maybe worry a little less.”
“Oh, well, as long as you’re just saying.” It kind of felt like she wasn’t worrying enough. Like, if she let her guard down, she might get so caught up in Drew she might lose sight of herself completely.
Jenn laughed. “Shall we eat? I promise not to torture you with any more talk of relationships.”
“Yes.” Hannah nodded. “And yes.”
They went back to the kitchen. Jenn waved off her offer of help and assembled the bruschetta. If BLTs were her favorite use of tomatoes, this came in a close second. She’d gone so far as to adopt Jenn’s version—with garlic, balsamic, and basil, topped with fresh mozzarella—as her own. They filled plates and returned to the sofa, eating with their fingers and moaning about how good it was.
“What about you? Anything shaking in your dating world?”
Jenn rolled her eyes. “I’ve gone back to the app.”
Hannah chuckled at the euphemism for Tinder, as well as Jenn’s sullen delivery. “You don’t seem happy about it.”
“I’ve decided for the time being that proximity is more important than perfection.”
“I hear you.” Hannah sighed. They’d spent a good deal of time hashing through the relative pros and cons of the various online dating platforms. None, of course, were perfect. Nor were the people who used them. Hannah had not dipped her toe in those waters, but she’d learned a lot. She told herself she didn’t really have time for meeting a bunch of new people, but even without that excuse, it seemed like an ungodly amount of work. And she had more than enough of that.
“I had dinner with a woman last night.” Jenn paused. “And went home with her after.”
“You did what?” Hannah cringed at the high-pitched shock in her voice. She cleared her throat. “How did you not lead with that?”
Jenn shrugged. “I wanted to know about you and Drew.”
Hannah gave her an exasperated look. “Spill. Now.”
“Her name is Suri and she’s a yoga instructor.”
“Seriously? Wow. Okay. Give me the details.”
She lived up the lake near Seneca Falls. Not only was she a yoga instructor, she ran her own studio. As far as Hannah was concerned, it was an important distinction. Jenn had dated a number of people who seemed to have absolutely no ambition in life. Money wasn’t the be-all and end-all, but it helped if someone had a professional life and goals and stuff.
Hannah was happy for her. Truly. Even if she envied Jenn’s uncomplicated approach to dating. Proximity over perfection. Was that what Drew was? The attraction was certainly there, and based on the kiss, there was chemistry to back it up. And as Drew had argued, neither of them technically worked for the other. Hannah shook her head. She’d need to think on that some more. Or, maybe, figure out a way not to think about it. For the moment, that entailed bringing her thoughts, and questions, back to Jenn. “So, you’re going to see her again?”
“She’s coming to my place tomorrow.”
“You’re already taking turns. That seems like a good sign.” Hannah tamped down the flash of envy. “Is the conversation as good as the sex?”
Jenn reached over and put her hand on Hannah’s arm, her I’m being serious right now gesture. “No. But only bec
ause the sex is that good.”
Hannah laughed. There was no one in her life she could talk about sex with the way she did with Jenn. “Yeah?”
“She’s a switch. Not an ‘I’ll try that if you’re really into it.’ Like an honest to God loves to top and bottom equally.”
“Huh.” Hannah hadn’t given much thought to the idea. She was mostly drawn to women who identified as masculine of center, and while she liked being assertive, they were the ones doing the fucking. Since she liked it, she’d never pushed for anything else. That could prove interesting. “You got all that from one night?”
Jenn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well, night, morning. We made good use of our time.”
Jenn’s words intensified the envy to a sharper pang of longing. Hannah’s last few times hadn’t been bad per se. They’d been nice. Not exactly the word she wanted to describe sex. “I’m happy for you.”
“Then why do you look so deflated?” Jenn’s tone was more concerned than accusing.
“Just thinking about how my own exploits have been kind of flat lately.”
“I hear you.” Jenn nodded slowly. “I have an idea what might fix that.”
“Oh, you do?”
“Yeah. Her name is Drew. She’s about yea high.” Jen lifted her hand to approximate height.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
Jenn shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“Maybe you’re right.” The idea made her nervous, but it came with a lick of anticipation, too. The good kind of anticipation.
Jenn grinned. “I usually am.”
They finished eating and brought the dishes to the kitchen. She’d given Jenn a quart of strawberries, so they sliced some up for dessert. Jenn hadn’t bothered with shortcakes, which was fine by Hannah, but she’d whipped some heavy cream with a splash of Grand Marnier.
“Fancy,” Hannah said.
“I do what I can.” Jenn shoveled a big bite into her mouth and Hannah followed suit.
After, Hannah hugged her and wished her a good night. “Get some rest. Sounds like you’re going to need it.”
Jenn laughed. “I already do.”
She drove home with the windows down. The rain had ended and a breeze had blown in, leaving the evening cool instead of muggy. The first stars sprinkled the dusky sky. She considered driving over to Drew’s.
