by Kelly Wacker
The traffic was heavy but moving at a good pace. The Front Range had grown significantly since she’d lived there, and it was a strange experience to feel displaced in a place she knew. Aside from the immutable mountains to the west, so many things had changed, and she often didn’t recognize where she was.
Following Sula’s directions, she took the exit to the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge. Fifteen thousand acres of restored grasslands, the prairie landscape was a startling contrast to the dense urban environment that surrounded it. She’d visited it years ago with her parents when it first opened to the public, and it was hard to believe that the site was once one of the most contaminated places in America from the chemical weapons manufacturing facility built there during World War II and operating until the end of the Cold War. Crossing the intersection into the refuge was like going back in time. A small herd of shaggy bison grazed nearby, the cows and calves swishing their tails to keep the flies at bay, and a hawk circled lazily, catching an updraft of air rising from the sun-warmed ground.
Melissa turned toward the visitors’ center and drove past the rows of solar panels that also provided shaded parking, then pulled into the circular drive near the front door. The attractive building, constructed with local stone and stucco walls painted to match the yellow ochre-colored soil, blended into its surroundings.
“I should be done here around five,” Sula said as she grabbed her messenger bag from the back seat. “I’ll text you if it’ll be later than that.”
“Okay.” Melissa leaned toward Sula. “Do I get a kiss for my superb taxi service?”
“Mmm.” Sula looked at Melissa’s lips from under heavy-lidded eyes and almost seemed to purr. “I think you deserve more than a kiss.” Sula glanced over her shoulder as a small group of people walked past the car.
“I understand you’re in professional mode here.” Melissa kissed her chastely on the lips, then whispered in her ear, “You can make it up to me later.”
Sula’s eyes grew wide and her skin flushed pink. Instead of speaking, she smiled shyly and gently rubbed her cheek against Melissa’s. Flooded with desire by the unexpectedly intimate gesture, she resisted the urge to grab Sula by the ears and kiss her fiercely.
“Have a good day, Goldie,” Sula said as she got out of the car.
“You, too, Bear.”
Sula smiled, shaking her head as she turned away. Melissa watched her walk toward the visitors’ center and took a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips, then shifted her attention to navigating toward downtown. It was hard to believe it was only a ten-minute drive away from here. At least the main thoroughfares hadn’t changed, so she turned off the Subaru’s GPS, which wanted her to get on I-70. Instead, after leaving the refuge, she followed Quebec Street to Colorado Boulevard, passed the Museum of Science and Nature, and then turned west on to Colfax Avenue, which didn’t look nearly as rough as she remembered.
The vagrants who used to loiter on the streets seemed to have been replaced with hipsters and brightly colored café umbrellas. Buildings that hadn’t already been renovated for business and housing were in various states of being gutted and rebuilt. Driving through all this urban renewal, she had no idea that in metro Denver, bears would be the theme of the day, nor that she would encounter so many of them before the day was over.
Chapter Sixteen
“Turn on to Eighteenth Avenue,” Sula said, guiding Melissa through downtown Denver. When Melissa had picked her up at the refuge and asked where they were going, Sula had remained steadfast in not revealing their destination. She’d have told her sooner, but once she realized that Melissa seemed to like the intrigue, she decided to draw it out. The light at the upcoming intersection, where five streets came together at odd angles, was red, and their view ahead was blocked by the Bank of Colorado building. “Veer left here on Tremont and we’re there.”
Melissa regarded Sula out of the corner of her eye with a sly smile, “Really? I’m so curious—”
Sula pointed forward. “Green light.”
As they moved forward with the traffic into the intersection, the wedge-shaped corner of the Brown Palace Hotel came into view, its nine stories of red sandstone dwarfed by the tall steel-and-glass office buildings and high-rise apartments surrounding it. But its historic charm more than made up for the height differential. Sula watched with satisfaction as Melissa’s eyes grew big.
“We’re staying there?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re serious?”
“I wouldn’t joke about this,” Sula said with a laugh.
Melissa pulled up to the covered entrance flanked by large brass lamps. A smiling valet strode over and opened the door.
“Good afternoon. Welcome to the Brown Palace Hotel. Will you be staying with us?”
Melissa looked stunned. Sula, realizing she’d better intervene, leaned forward to speak with the young man. “Yes. We have reservations. Thank you.”
They took their bags from the car, and Sula tipped the valet. As they walked toward the deep and elegantly arched stone doorway, Melissa turned to the side of the entrance.
“Look at the faces carved into the archivolts. I’ve never been this close to the building before,” Melissa said and put her hand on the rough red sandstone.
Before Sula could ask what an archivolt was, though she assumed it was the decorative band on which Melissa’s hand rested, Melissa became transfixed by the stained glass above the brass revolving doors. Two sword-wielding hybrid creatures with the head, talons, and wings of an eagle and the body and tail of a lion stood back to back.
Delight flashed across Melissa’s face. “Griffins!”
“You know your magical creatures,” said the smiling doorman, dressed in a black vest and crisp white shirt. He gestured to the revolving door. “You’ll find more inside.”
On the other side of the door, refreshing cool air greeted them. Melissa let out an audible gasp, taking Sula’s arm when she saw the atrium. The ground floor was being used for afternoon tea, and nearly every table was occupied. A man seated at a baby grand in a corner played classical music—Debussy, it sounded like—and aside from the contemporary clothing of the guests nibbling on scones and elegant sandwiches, it looked like a scene from a hundred years ago. Tall arches rose to the mezzanine, and the airy space above their heads went all the way to the top of the building. Each floor was ringed with cast iron, fluted columns, and ornate grillwork painted deep forest green.
“This is so amazing…” Melissa said, looking around quickly and seeming to take it all in before she focused her green eyes back on Sula. “You are amazing.”
Sula beamed. “Why don’t you stay here for a moment and enjoy the view while I go check in.”
“Okay,” Melissa said distractedly, her attention now diverted by the skylight made of stained glass.
At the registration desk Sula confirmed that she had the suite she requested and signed for the room. When she returned to Melissa, she found her taking photos with her cell phone.
“Sorry.” Melissa slid her phone back into her purse. “I’m not sure which has taken control of me, the tourist or the art historian.”
“Maybe both.” Sula laughed. “I’m sure they’re used to people taking pictures. This place has a lot of history and ghosts, too, from what I’ve heard.”
“That’s intriguing.” Melissa tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Sula held up the keycard in her hand. “I was thinking that we could go to our suite and freshen up—I’d like to change out of these work clothes—and then we could come back down for a drink and talk about dinner.”
“Sounds perfect,” Melissa said as they walked to the elevator. “On the drive over here, you said your presentation went well.”
“It did. Talking about it with you on the way down helped it go smoothly. I was asked some of the questions you asked me, so my responses were polished. Thanks for making me look good.”
“You’re welcome. I’m gl
ad I could help, and I learned a lot, too.” Melissa peered at the brass inlays of griffins on the wooden doors. “Just like the doorman said, more griffins.”
Sula pointed to the crown on which the griffin stood. “A royal griffin for the Brown Palace. I think that when the hotel was built in the 1890s, they were trying to evoke a European flair.”
“Definitely. The design is a style of architecture known as Richardsonian Romanesque.” Melissa paused and smiled sheepishly. “I know just enough architectural history to be dangerous.”
Sula knew a few details about the hotel, but she liked learning more about it from Melissa’s perspective. She liked it when she slipped into professor mode, as Melissa called it. Sula respected her scholarly knowledge, and when Melissa’s voice became authoritative, she enjoyed letting her be in command of the conversation.
Melissa pointed up at the mural above the elevator. “You said the hotel was built in the 1890s, but that looks Art Deco, from the 1930s.”
Sula had always thought the well-dressed woman in the painting stepping through the door of the propeller-driven airplane looked like Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca. “It is. The hotel was renovated in the 30s. You’ll see more evidence of that on our floor.”
“You’ve stayed here before?”
“Many times. This is my favorite hotel in Denver. It’s such a young city and so much of the architecture is modern, I like the sense of history here.” The brass floor indicator below the painting dropped from 2 to L, and the elevator dinged. When the doors slid open, they stepped in together, and Sula reached across Melissa to push the button for the ninth floor. “I can’t wait to hear the details of your day.”
“I can’t wait to tell you all about it. But it’s going to take a while, so I’ll wait until dinner, when I have your undivided attention.”
“Oh, I think you’ve had that for a while.” Sula kissed her, and would have continued doing so, but after the elevator stopped and the doors opened, the sound of a man loudly clearing his throat interrupted them.
“Excuse us.” Melissa suppressed a giggle and grabbed Sula by the hand, pulling her off the elevator.
“Have a nice day,” Sula nodded to the glowering man as she stepped past him.
Melissa regarded the wall of glass bricks that replaced the cast-iron grillwork on this floor only. They glowed with an ethereal white light. “These glass bricks are so early twentieth-century modern, as are those Art Deco style numbers on the doors, but this hallway feels claustrophobic. And the light is so cool, institutional—like a hospital—it’s a little creepy.”
“Funny you should say that. This floor and the eighth floor below are where the ghostly occurrences have been reported.”
“Ghostly occurrences? What does that mean? This is the second time you’ve mentioned ghosts.” Melissa frowned and slowed her pace.
“Oh, nothing terrible—voices in the hall, footsteps, that sort of thing. But when you look, no one’s there.” Sula glanced over at Melissa, who appeared unsettled. “Are you afraid of ghosts?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met one, so I don’t really know. And I’d kind of like to keep it that way.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve stayed on this floor several times, and I’ve never had anything unusual happen…well, except for that one time.”
“What do you mean ‘that one time’?” Melissa asked quickly. When Sula couldn’t suppress her laughter, Melissa slapped her playfully on the shoulder. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“I am. Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” Sula said with a chuckle and stopped at the door at the end of the hall. “Room 922.” She waved the keycard across the lock and opened the door. “Here we are.”
The sitting room of the spacious suite was bright and elegantly modern, its clean white-and-gray color scheme accented with pale blue and yellow, the same hues found in the terrazzo floor on the first level. The wall in front of them curved, revealing that they were at the front of the triangular building.
“Very nice.” Melissa glanced around the room, nodding with what seemed to be approval. She looked to her left at an open door leading to a bedroom and then to her right, to another open door leading to the second bedroom. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Separate rooms?”
“I…uh…” Sula hesitated, suddenly fearful that changing her reservation from a single room to a two-room suite wasn’t a good idea. The way Melissa was staring at her threw her off balance. She didn’t want Melissa to assume or feel any pressure that they would sleep together tonight, though the thought of kissing Melissa, slipping her out of her clothes and feeling her bare skin against her own, hadn’t been far from her mind for days. Even so, as much as she wanted Melissa, she hadn’t fully worked out the consequences of such intimacy. She had real feelings for Melissa, deep feelings. This wasn’t some dalliance, and when she paused to think about it, that fact terrified her. She was unmoored in uncharted territory and acting on an instinct that seemed to keep poking and prodding her to get closer and closer…The jumble of thoughts went through her head in a flash, leaving her unable to form a coherent reply. Having Melissa stand there, waiting for her to say something, just made it worse. She coughed and cleared her throat.
“You’re really cute when you get nervous. You know that?” Melissa smiled gently and gestured to the glasses on the counter next to a minibar. “Would you like a glass of water?”
“No. I’m fine.” Sula took a deep breath and let it out. “I, um, was trying to say that I didn’t want to make any assumptions…about us today…I mean, tonight.”
Melissa’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Sula, I think you should assume that whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, between us, it will be mutually agreed upon.” Melissa kissed her on the curve of her neck, her lips warm and soft, and then unexpectedly, she felt a sharp pinch that made her flinch and take a quick breath. The jolt was like an electric shock yet pleasurable. It shot through her, coursing along her nerves to her extremities and the place in between, where it settled into an aching need. Melissa sauntered toward the bedroom nearest her. Before closing the door, she paused and locked eyes with Sula. “Give me about twenty minutes to get ready. And don’t think I don’t appreciate that you’re a sensitive bear.”
Sula put her hand on her neck, over the spot Melissa had just kissed…and bit. Her skin pulsed under her fingers. Hell, her whole body pulsed now. She told herself not to think too much.
Melissa wasn’t sure exactly what had come over her. She had acted on a wild impulse nipping Sula. It was out of character for her to do something like that. Even so, she relished the look of shock and desire on Sula’s face as she closed the door. She took her phone out of her purse and tossed her overnight bag onto the bed. It had been vibrating repeatedly, and while checking it, she found five messages from Beth, responses to the photos she’d sent of the hotel atrium and one brief text about where she was and who she was with. She laughed out loud when she saw Beth’s last message.
Call me when you come up for air.
While changing into her outfit for the evening and freshening her makeup, she pondered Sula’s behavior. Damn, she was hard to read. The woman checks her into a historic five-star hotel, kisses her on the elevator, and then invites her into a suite with separate bedrooms. Not exactly what she’d expected. She’d have happily continued that kiss all the way down the hall and into the plush bed in front of her. Professional Sula—cool and confident—was a different creature altogether from personal Sula, the one who stammered and blushed and reined herself in. Melissa really wanted to see Sula just be herself and had an uncannily strong feeling that she’d like that Sula very much.
She brushed her hair and pinned it back loosely. She wanted to leave it down, but it was hot here in the city, much hotter than the mountains, and she’d be more comfortable with it off her neck. She put on lipstick, carefully accentuating the shape of her lips, and reapplied her summer fragrance, a light floral perfume with
subtle notes of sandalwood that she knew Sula liked. More than once, Melissa had noticed Sula unawares catching her scent with her chin lifted slightly and nostrils flaring gently, a veiled look of pleasure on her face. Sula’s almost animalistic response to her had an equally powerful reciprocal effect. Just thinking about it gave Melissa a rippling thrill.
Melissa turned away from the bathroom mirror with its terribly unflattering cool fluorescent light. Why did they always install those in hotel bathrooms? They made your skin look washed out and your hair gray. In the warmer light of the room she appraised herself in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. She straightened the hem of the tailored sleeveless shirt, a cool hue of sage that brought out the color of her eyes. Having paired it with mossy-green pants and loafers, she’d be appropriately dressed for wherever they went. Denver prided itself on its casual attitude and dress, but it was a city nonetheless, and she was about to go out on a date. It was a date, wasn’t it? As soon at the question crossed her mind, she clucked at herself. Sula’s vacillations between confidence and reticence were starting to rub off on her. She shook her head as if that would shake off any doubts, grabbed her purse, and left the bedroom. This was going to be a date.
When Melissa walked through the door, she saw Sula standing by the corner window, looking down on the streets below, and she turned and smiled. Wearing light-gray denim pants with low-heeled boots and a silky black shirt with the sleeves turned up, she looked dressed for a date.
“You clean up nice,” Melissa said as she crossed the room, becoming distracted by the golden beads of Sula’s matching necklace and earrings. “Is that amber?”
“It is,” Sula said.
Melissa examined the beaded necklace, and while comparing its color to Sula’s eyes, she saw her pupils dilate. Melissa took satisfaction in witnessing the subtle response. “Mmm…it matches the highlights in your eyes.”
“Why, thank you,” Sula said, scanning her from bottom to top. “You look very nice yourself.” She smiled and leaned forward, kissing her lightly, then brushed her lips along her cheek to her ear. “And you smell so good.”
