Wrong Number, Right Woman

by Jae

  “Okay.”

  They looked at each other in silence.

  “You know, if you two want to grab a bite to eat, I’m fine covering the booth for a while,” Austen said.

  Eliza’s first impulse was to jump at the chance to spend more time with Denny, but she hesitated. Maybe she needed to get her head on straight—pun intended—first. She didn’t want to give false signals and play with her feelings, whatever they might be.

  Before she could decide on an answer, Denny shook her head. “I’d love to, but I’d better get back to the festival before my sister loses all our money—or wins us a herd of dragons. Knowing Salem, either could happen.”

  Eliza laughed. “I can’t wait to meet her and Bella.”

  “I can’t wait either.” Denny pulled her hand from her jacket pocket and lifted it in a goodbye gesture that included Austen too. “Thanks again and have a great sales day.” Then she turned and walked away.

  Eliza shifted her weight forward, peeking over the table to watch her.

  Denny walked slowly but with long strides, hands in her pockets, and a hint of a swagger to her shoulders instead of a sway in her hips.

  When she disappeared in the crowd, Eliza forced herself to go back to work. She pulled out a box from beneath the table to replace the budgie swing Denny had bought. When she looked up, Austen smiled at her. “Uh, what? Wrong toy again?”

  “No. Dee would kill me for making a comment like this to an employee, but, well, I’d like to think I’m a friend as much as an employer.”

  “You are,” Eliza answered. “Feel free to say whatever you want to say.”

  Austen hesitated for another second. “I didn’t know you were dating women. Well, one woman.” She pointed in the direction Denny had disappeared in.

  Eliza clutched the budgie swing. “Uh, I’m not.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Austen chuckled and gave her an impish look. “Guess that’s why Dee insists on not commenting on our employees’ private lives. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking to you about my private life—not that I have much of one—and I certainly don’t mind anyone assuming I date women. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

  “No,” Austen said with an absentminded grin that told Eliza she was thinking of her own girlfriend, “nothing wrong with that at all. But…you’re not.” It sounded like a question.

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s too bad.” Austen laughed. “Your friend is cute.”

  “She is.” Eliza had no problem admitting it or even that she was attracted to her. But that didn’t mean she wanted to act on that attraction, right? Admiring another woman’s handsome face or her cuddly, yet strong body was a far cry from dating her, sleeping with her, or starting a serious relationship.

  She didn’t want to lead Denny on and end up hurting her—provided Denny was even interested in her—so she would enjoy Denny’s company as a friend and wait until these confusing new feelings faded away.

  Austen gave her another curious look, but this time, she didn’t comment or ask further questions, and Eliza didn’t encourage her to.

  Chapter 14

  The next Friday, it was Salem who perched on the edge of the tub and watched Denny get ready for her date. The role reversal made Denny even more uncomfortable than she already was.

  “Remember Spike?” Salem asked.

  Denny put some gel in her hair to tame her cowlick. “Yeah, of course. He was my only sibling for many years, until you came along.”

  “Are you comparing me to an old bulldog with a drooling problem?”

  “No. There’s no competition.” Denny paused, then added, “Spike was way cuter.”

  Salem threw a loofah at her but hit the toothbrush cup instead.

  Denny caught it before it could topple over. “Why are you asking about Spike?”

  “Because that expression on your face,” Salem pointed at her in the mirror, “is exactly how Spike used to look when we took him to the vet.”

  Denny sighed and gave up on her hair. She turned and leaned against the sink. “I’m not so sure about tonight.”

  “Why the sudden reluctance?” Salem asked. “You wanted to ask her out back in April, remember?”

  “Well, strictly speaking, you wanted me to ask her out.”

  “So you only agreed to do it to get me to shut up and weren’t interested in Ms. Burkhart…Heather at all?”

  Denny gazed at her still-bare feet. “No, I’m not saying that, but…”

  “But you weren’t hung up on Eliza back then,” Salem finished the sentence for her.

  Her sister’s candid words made her clutch the edge of the sink behind her. “I’m not hung up on her,” she mumbled, barely glancing up from a close appraisal of her toenails.

  Salem gave her an oh-please-stop-kidding-yourself look.

  “I’m not,” Denny repeated but could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.

  “Well, then going out with Heather shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

  “It’s not.” Denny sprayed some cologne on her neck and wrists. “I’m going, see?”

  Bella stuck her head through the open bathroom door. “Are we going somewhere?”

  “No, just your aunt. She’s got a date.” Salem drew out the last word in a singsong.

  Bella didn’t wrinkle her nose, as she usually did at the mention of dating. Instead, she looked interested. “With Eliza?”

  “No,” Denny and Salem said in unison.

  “She’s straight,” Denny added while her sister said, “Your aunt is much too old for her.”

  “Hey!” Denny threw the loofah back at her and hit her square in the face. Too bad she hadn’t soaked it in water before throwing it.

  “Why?” Bella studied Denny as if she were counting every wrinkle on her face. “It’s not like you’re super old.”

  Denny snorted. “Thanks, I think.”

  “She’s just saying that to get a bigger birthday present,” Salem said.

  Bella grinned and gave Denny a hopeful look. “Is it working?”

  “Guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.” Denny glanced at her reflection in the mirror one last time, then left the bathroom to get her shoes. For a second, she considered putting on sneakers.

  No, she told herself. Sneakers were Eliza’s thing, and she was going out with Heather.

  Eliza’s best friend. Denny raked her fingers through her hair. Ugh. Why on earth had she thought this was a good idea?

  Eliza lay sprawled on her belly across Heather’s bed, her bare feet up in the air and her hands framing her face as she watched her get ready for her date with Denny. Her stomach churned. Why, oh why had she encouraged the two of them to go out with each other?

  Heather slipped her sheath dress over her head and shimmied it down her slim hips and athletic thighs. “Can you zip me up?”

  “Sure.” Eliza got up, moved Heather’s hair out of the way, and pulled up the zipper.

  “How do I look?” Heather gave a playful twirl, but the expression in her eyes was serious, maybe even anxious.

  Eliza ran her gaze over the red sheath dress. It looked stunning on Heather’s tall frame and dipped low in the front, showing off her cleavage in a way Eliza never could. Her gut twisted at the thought of Denny catching a glimpse of Heather’s black lace bra—or, if the date went well, more than a glimpse.

  “Uh-oh. You think it’s too much, right?” Heather tugged on the front of the dress. “Be honest.”

  Eliza attempted to tamp down her conflicted emotions to reassure her friend. When they had first gotten to know each other, it had taken her a while to see behind the armor of confidence Heather wore, but now she knew it protected her vulnerable core. “No. It’s perfect.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Eliza said, trying her best to sound lighthearted and positive. “You look beautiful.”

  Heather studied her carefully. “What is it, then? Something is givi
ng you a stomachache, and if it’s not the dress…”

  Shit. She needed to get herself together. Dating was hard enough for both of her friends, and she was making it even harder on them with her own confusion. Eliza forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

  “You?” Heather laughed. “I’m the one going out on a date, and yet you’re the one who’s nervous?”

  “It’s silly, I know. I just worry.” Eliza couldn’t even say what was worrying her more—that the date might go badly or that it might go really well. “Remember that you might have to carry most of the conversation, at least at first. But please don’t make her feel self-conscious about it, okay?”

  “Jeez, Eliza, you know me. I’m not a jerk.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m being ridiculous.” Eliza flopped back down on the bed. “Just ignore my nervous-mom-on-prom-night routine.” Of course, her concerns weren’t motherly at all, but she couldn’t tell Heather that.

  Heather sat next to her on the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle her dress. A slow grin spread over her face. “Now I get it! You’re jealous!”

  A cold prickle slithered up Eliza’s spine and fanned over her scalp, followed by a wash of heat. “W-what? No! I just…”

  Heather slung one arm around her and shook her gently, as if to get her out of panic mode. “There’s no need for that. Even if Denny and I end up together, I’ll always make time for you, and I’m sure she will too. To quote a wise woman: you’ll always be my favorite neighbor, my go-to for craft advice, and the person I can rely on to give me a hug or a kick in the ass when I need it.”

  Eliza slumped against her. Oh, thank God. Heather thought she was afraid she’d lose her best friend’s attention. She had no clue what was really going on with her. And how could she? Eliza had no clue what was going on either. She had decided she didn’t want to act on whatever attraction to Denny she felt, and that should have been the end of it. So why did she feel almost physically sick at the thought of Denny guiding Heather with one hand on her back and possibly kissing her at the end of the evening?

  “So, crisis averted?” Heather pulled back to study her again.

  Eliza nodded. She couldn’t tell her it wasn’t that kind of jealousy.

  “Good.” Heather tugged her up from the bed. “Then come help me pick out a pair of earrings.”

  As Eliza followed her to the dresser, she wondered how she would make it through this evening. Was it too early for a glass of wine?

  Denny hadn’t been on a date this awkward in a long time—okay, she hadn’t been on any date in a long time, period. As if being rusty wasn’t enough, she kept thinking of Eliza, wondering what she was doing and whether Heather would tell her about their date.

  Not that there was much to tell since they didn’t have much to say to each other.

  It didn’t help that the waitress gave Denny dirty looks, clearly not approving of her suit and tie. Denny felt Heather’s gaze on her, and the thought of what she must think of her made Denny sweat. God, what a total failure.

  The waitress set their plates in front of them and prepared to march away without another word.

  “Actually,” Heather spoke up, stopping her. “Could we get these to go? Oh, and throw in some disposable cutlery, please.”

  Damn. Denny had known it was bad, but not so bad that Heather didn’t even want to stay through dinner. “I’m sorry. I—”

  Heather slid her hand on top of hers. “Not your fault. Some people just aren’t cut out to work in the hospitality sector,” she said loudly enough for the waitress to hear.

  Denny stared at her, then at the hand on top of her own. Heather’s hands were smooth and manicured, but a few nicks graced her fingers, like Eliza’s. God, stop thinking about her, asshole! It wasn’t fair to Heather, who was turning out to be awesome.

  When the waitress brought their boxed-up food, Denny insisted on paying.

  Heather grabbed the bag. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They walked out side by side, and Denny realized how tall Heather was. She looked shorter behind the big wheel of the school bus. But she wasn’t wearing her uniform tonight. She was stunning in a red dress revealing a tasteful bit of cleavage and with only a hint of makeup that made it appear as if she wasn’t wearing any.

  “I’m sorry,” Denny said again as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “I’m not usually…” She stopped herself. If nothing else, she owed Heather that bit of honesty. “Okay, truth be told, I am usually this much of an awkward dork. First dates make me nervous.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Denny stared at her. “Really?” Was Heather just saying that to make her feel better? “You seem so confident.”

  Heather shrugged her slim but toned shoulders. “I just hide it better than most, I guess. But deep down, I’m petrified any time I go on a first date.”

  Denny hadn’t expected that, nor had she expected Heather to openly admit it and make herself that vulnerable. She gave her an astonished look.

  “There’s always that inner debate,” Heather added. “Do I tell her or wait until the second date?”

  “Tell her what?” Denny asked.

  Heather paused at an intersection and made eye contact. “That I’m trans.”

  Now Denny felt even more like an asshole. She didn’t want her to think she was rejecting her for who she was when the true reason was her hopeless infatuation with Heather’s best friend. She really liked Heather, but a smile from her didn’t leave her breathless the way Eliza’s smiles did. Since she couldn’t tell her that, she struggled to find the right words. Finally, she said, “Thank you for telling me.”

  Heather gave her a nod. The pedestrian light switched to walk, and she pointed toward the South Park Blocks. “You up for a picnic?”

  “I’d love that.”

  Within minutes, they were sitting on the lawn beneath an old oak, with Denny’s suit jacket serving as a blanket. They passed the containers back and forth, sharing Denny’s chicken fettuccine alfredo and the smoked salmon ravioli Heather had ordered.

  With every forkful, Denny relaxed more. Maybe it was because they had left the stuffy restaurant with its homophobic waitress or maybe because they had both admitted to being nervous—or maybe because this improvised picnic felt more like hanging out with a friend than the romantic setting in the restaurant.

  “You didn’t seem surprised.” Heather pointed to the corner where she had told Denny she was trans. “So you read my No More Frogs profile.”

  Denny swallowed a bite of salmon ravioli. “No. I only took a quick look at your profile picture but didn’t read any of your answers to the questions. I thought it would be nicer to get to know you in person.” She pierced a piece of chicken with her fork. “I saw the pin you wore for Transgender Awareness Week. Not that cis people can’t wear a trans awareness pin, of course. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other.”

  “Oh.” Heather lightly slapped her own forehead and laughed. “And here I thought it was such an inconspicuous little pin no one would notice—unless, of course, they were staring at my breasts.”

  The piece of chicken Denny was chewing nearly went down the wrong pipe. “I-I didn’t!” she rasped out.

  “God, you’re so much fun to tease.”

  They ate their food in companionable silence for a few moments. The soft strains of a violin drifted over from somewhere in the park.

  Denny peeked at Heather, who seemed entirely comfortable sitting propped up against the oak tree in her elegant dress. “Okay, maybe I was looking a little,” she said with a sheepish grin.

  Heather chuckled, clearly not offended at all.

  “So,” Denny said when her cheeks had taken on a more normal temperature, “how did you end up driving a school bus?”

  The sun had long since set by the time they left the park and strolled toward Heather’s apartment in the Cultural District.

  Heather pointed at a red brick building wit
h wrought-iron fire escapes. “This is me.”

  Denny glanced up at the four-story building. Warm lights shone out of some windows, and she wondered if one of them was Eliza’s. Was she home, or had she gone on a date too?

  “I really enjoyed tonight,” Heather said.

  Denny tore her gaze away from the windows and looked into Heather’s eyes. “Me too.”

  Silence stretched between them as they paused in front of the wooden double doors leading into the building.

  Denny stuffed her hands into her pockets in an attempt not to fidget. Oh God, please don’t let her ask me up—or expect me to kiss her! She had enjoyed their time together and didn’t want to hurt Heather, but the only woman she wanted to kiss was probably upstairs, in one of the apartments next to Heather’s. Damn, Salem was right. She was totally hung up on Eliza and shouldn’t have gone on this date. Now she felt like an ass for putting Heather through it. She deserved better than to be a distraction from the woman Denny couldn’t have.

  Heather clutched the strap of her purse with both hands, clearly expecting Denny to say or do something.

  “So, should we…” Denny pointed back and forth between them.

  “Um…” Heather lifted both eyebrows.

  “Go out,” Denny said so quickly the words ran into each other. “Should we go out again sometime?”

  Heather looked at her for a while. “I’d love to have dinner with you again, but to tell you the truth, I’d rather do it as friends.”

  “Oh yeah, sure, totally. I mean, I’d love to do that.”

  Heather let go of her purse strap and playfully backhanded her across the shoulder. “Don’t sound so relieved.”

  “I’m not! You’re great, really. You’re beautiful and funny, but…” Denny’s gaze went to the illuminated windows again. You’re not Eliza. She bit her lip—hard. Shit. She was screwed. So very screwed.

  “There’s no spark,” Heather finished the sentence for her.

  Denny nodded. “Well, there was definitely a friend spark, but…”

  Heather leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I appreciate your honesty, and I agree. I’d love to have you as a friend, so stay in touch, okay?”