Betting the Farm
by Alyssa Linn Palmer
Copyright 2012 Alyssa Linn Palmer
Cover art by Jason Neil (http://www.jasonneil.com)
Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Praise for other works by Alyssa Linn Palmer:
"She writes dark and elegant. I love everything of hers I've ever read." - Tiffany Reisz, author of THE SIREN and SEVEN DAY LOAN
"I love this book! In using the prohibition era for a setting, Palmer takes her novella to the next level, creating a metaphor for things forbidden. Not only alcohol, but the heroine's love for another woman. The sex scenes are sensual and advance the plot. And the historic atmosphere is impeccable." - Donna, Amazon reviewer (for Prohibited Passion)
Betting the Farm
Elly Cole stood on the front porch, facing west into the strengthening breeze. She waved half-heartedly at Jack Collins driving by on his old tractor, pulling a load of hay from the quarter section that adjoined the old homestead. He gave her a brilliant smile but she didn’t want him to think she was being more than neighbourly. He had already approached her several days ago, angling for a more intimate invitation now that she was alone in the house.
She ducked back inside before he could stop to make conversation. Her mother would have loved it if she’d married Jack. She made a face at her mother’s smiling photo in the frame that hung in the hall. She might as well have made a face at herself; her mother’s strawberry blonde hair looked the same as hers, the freckles over their cheeks called cute by her father, their pale blue eyes, a combination that meant sunburns all through the harvest.
“You should marry someone, El,” her mom urged. “Someone sensible like Jack. Then you can stay in the house and keep the land.”
Elly sighed. “I wouldn’t bet the farm, mom.”
“Why not?” Her mother looked puzzled, her brows drawing together. “Jack’s such a nice man.”
“I don’t like Jack.” She forged ahead through nervousness. “I don’t even like men.” Her mother’s puzzlement turned to surprise, and after that, disappointment. The only thing she’d said was, “Don’t tell your father. He’d be heartbroken.”
She wished she’d stayed away, kept to her apartment and her graphic design job in the city, but family came first. She left the display of photos and continued on into the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled but the fridge held too many leftover casseroles for her to want to bother with food. She put the kettle on and made a cup of tea to hold her over until bedtime. Her book sat neglected on the faded sofa and she picked it up, settling into the worn cushions and pulling an old quilt over her knees.
The rumble of thunder drew her attention and when she craned her neck to see out the window, dark clouds hung on the horizon, low over the mountains. The day had been a scorcher and they were more than due for a big storm. She found her spot in the book but the persistent, loud thunder distracted her after she had read only a few pages. The growling grew louder and the raindrops began to spatter on the old porch and the kitchen window. A bright flash of lightning heralded the sudden gush of rain that drenched the house, drumming on the roof. The thunder rumbled steadily and she set her book aside.
That wasn’t right - there should be a break from the noise. She stood up and tossed the quilt aside. The rumbling grew nearer and she heard the backfiring of a vehicle. A light flickered as the motorcycle turned into the rutted driveway, bouncing to a stop. Elly flew to the door, jerking it open just as a soaked figure made a dash up the steps and onto the porch under the covered lintel.
“Come inside!” Elly stepped back. The woman, and she could tell it was a woman from the curves in the snug jeans, drew off her helmet. Elly stared. A wealth of dark hair spilled over the woman’s leather jacket, curling from the damp. Her eyes were a rich brown and she smiled.
“Thanks for letting me in.” Her voice reminded Elly of Lauren Bacall, low and husky. “I thought I was going to skid and lose control out there.”
“What were you doing riding in a storm?” The question came out before she could stop it.
“I thought I’d make it to town before the storm hit. It moved faster than I did.” The woman held out a hand. “I’m Alex, by the way.”
“I’m Elly. Pleased to meet you.”
“Sorry to bother you like this. Hopefully the storm will blow over soon.”
It was no bother at all, Elly wanted to say. She took in Alex’s wet jeans. “You must be freezing. Come into the kitchen and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
Alex set her helmet on the floor near the stairs, shucking her leather jacket to hang on the banister with the others. Elly took a careful glance over, not wanting to be caught ogling her unexpected guest. Her eyes slid over Alex’s snug t-shirt, its vee neck showing a hint of cleavage. Her pale skin had a pinkish flush from the chill; it invited caresses and she wanted to offer to warm Alex up in a way that didn’t involve a cup of tea.
It didn’t feel right to be lusting after a woman she’d just met, especially in her childhood home, but it didn’t matter now that her parents were gone.
Alex leaned against the kitchen counter, her slim fingers straightening the crocheted edge of a dishtowel Elly had left askew. She glanced up and Elly knew she had been caught out. Alex smiled and Elly wondered what might happen if she closed the short distance between them and hooked her fingers into the hem of Alex’s white t-shirt. She wanted to drag it up and off, expose Alex’s cleavage and taste the expanse of skin.
“Do you have anything stronger than tea?” Alex asked. “After a ride like that I need something with a bit more kick.”
If Elly had been drinking something, she might have choked. As it was, she tried not to blush as she turned and opened the cabinet above the fridge. Her father had usually stashed his scotch here, until the doctor had told him to stop drinking. She stood on her tiptoes but couldn’t quite reach the bottle. Suddenly Alex was there, her warm, soft body pressed against Elly’s back. She froze.
“Guess this isn’t what you drink,” Alex quipped, holding out the dusty bottle.
“My dad always kept it out of reach of the kids,” Elly replied.
“Will he mind?”
Elly poured scotch into two glasses. “No, he won’t.” Her throat tightened and for a moment she couldn’t speak. Alex waited for her to continue. “Sorry. It’s just -- well -- I’m only down here to close up the house. My father passed away last week.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Alex rested a hand on Elly’s arm, just below her rolled up shirtsleeve. “I’m so sorry.”
She wanted Alex’s hand to stay, to touch further, but she didn’t say a word when Alex released her, only picked up the glasses and handed one to her guest.
“To your father.” Alex raised her glass. Elly managed a smile.
“And to company,” she replied. The alcohol warmed her empty stomach, reminding her of her missed meal. “Are you hungry? I could whip something up.”
“As long as I can help.” Alex set down her glass. “What should we make?”
“I don’t know. I’ve mostly just been eating leftovers and casseroles from Mrs. Calderwood. She brought some over.”
Alex opened the fridge and eyed the contents. “You’re sure these are actually edible?”
“I didn’t dare say no. I’d have been taken to task if I had.”
>
“Well, I can make something better than that. If Audrey Hepburn can make up a meal for Humphrey Bogart out of the leavings of a corporate kitchen, I can make something better than those casseroles.”
Elly watched Alex as she pulled ingredients from the fridge and searched through the pantry, coming out with a handful of spice bottles and a packet of dry pasta. She set them on the counter and bent to grab two pots from a lower shelf. Elly wanted to sidle up next to her and slide a hand into the back of her jeans. Instead, she kept her hands around her glass.
“You’ll get to stir the pasta.” Alex threw a grin over her shoulder. “Maybe more, if you’re lucky.” She winked and Elly thought she must know the effect she had. Her cheeks flushed, but Alex didn’t say anything more as she opened a can of tomato sauce and dumped it into the smaller of the two pots. The gas burner clicked and flared on the stove. Seemingly at random, Alex began adding spices to the sauce.
Elly searched for something to say. “Do you come around here often?” she asked, hating herself for resorting to an overused pickup line.
“Sometimes. I like looking for antiques on my days off and these little towns always have the best. And they’re cheaper.” She chuckled. “Soon my apartment will look like the inside of a farmhouse.”
“Like this one?”
“My apartment doesn’t come with gorgeous girls in button-down chambray shirts,” Alex teased.
“I’ll turn into an antique if I stay here too long.”
“You look young enough to me.” Alex dipped her finger into the sauce. “Try this.” Her finger hovered over Elly’s lips and her gaze held a hint of a challenge. Elly took a breath. She opened her mouth.
Alex’s finger slid in and Elly swirled her tongue over the tip, the sauce a savory zing in her mouth. Alex slowly drew her finger away. “What do you think?”
“Delicious.”
Alex slanted towards her. “I saw you looking at me,” she confided. “All you have to do is ask.” Her lips brushed Elly’s in a clear invitation.
“How did you know for sure?” Elly had never been able to tell. She wanted to close that last few inches, but she didn’t move.
“I knew. Didn’t you?”
“Not quite. I always end up hitting on the straight girls.”
“Not this time.” Alex closed the gap and her lips sought Elly’s, confident but not aggressive. Her fingers slid through Elly’s shorter hair, deepening the kiss as she pulled her forward.
Elly caught Alex’s belt loops and they melded into one. She lost herself in Alex’s softness and when Alex pulled back, she followed, wanting more. Alex turned to stir the sauce and Elly rested her cheek against Alex’s shoulder.
“Want to fill the pot?”
It took Elly a moment to make sense of the words.
“We’ll need to eat first.” Alex chuckled.
Elly let go, though she let her fingertips drag across Alex’s back as she went to the sink. Water gushed into the pot and she heard the crackle of another of the stove’s burners. Alex turned the sauce to a simmer.
“Where were we?” she asked, her hand going to Elly’s belt loops.
“About there.” Elly let herself be pulled forward.
“I always thought the women out here were all contented housewives,” Alex confided. She cupped Elly’s cheek. “If I’d known you were here, I’d have stopped in earlier.”
Elly tried to reply, but Alex’s mouth on hers stifled her words. She moaned, her hands finally sinking into Alex’s long hair. She was able to stammer out a reply when Alex paused in her attentions. “I’m not usually here.”
“Then it’s my good fortune tonight,” Alex replied before moving to trail her tongue down Elly’s neck. Her knees shook and arousal dampened her underwear. She didn’t need food anymore - just Alex, who straightened with one last kiss.
“I need to put the pasta on,” she said in answer to Elly’s agonized look. “I can stay all night,” she teased before turning back to the stove.
“I’ll never hear the end of it, but I don’t care.” Elly laughed.
“Gossip?”
“There’s no privacy in a small town. Just today, Beryl Calderwood -- she’s the widow who lives in that house with blue trim in town -- told me that now my family was gone I really ought to start one of my own.” Elly frowned.
“She means well,” Alex remarked. “Doesn’t she?”
“She means for me to set up house with Jack Collins who lives down the road.”
“So no one here knows?” Alex dumped the pasta into the boiling water and gave it a stir.
“No. And not too many others either.” Elly shrugged, leaning back against the counter.
“Frightened?”
Elly didn’t know what to say.
“It’s not 1950 you know,” Alex said reasonably. “There are a few good bars in the city. You should try them.”
“That’s not really my thing.” Elly knew she sounded pathetic.
“If you promise to come out to the bar with me next weekend -- come to the city even if you need to be here -- I’ll show you the time of your life tonight. And if not...” She shrugged. “I’ll just crash on the sofa and be on my way in the morning.”
Elly stared at her. “That’s blackmail.”
Alex grinned. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want to hang out with you again.” She left the pasta and slid her arms around Elly. “You don’t have to decide this second, but after dinner I want to know.” She gave Elly a quick kiss.
“All right.” Elly set the table, the automatic motions keeping her from feeling too awkward. She wanted to take Alex up on her offer, wanted very much to not spend another lonely night in bed, but to meet a bunch of strangers... She wasn’t sure if she could do it.
“I love these plates.” Alex’s fingers splayed over the cracked flowery design. “They’re perfect.”
“Perfectly old.”
“Exactly.”
“This entire house could fill the store in town with enough clutter to last for years,” Elly replied, glancing at her great-grandmother’s salt and pepper shakers that had been sitting on the cracked Formica of the kitchen table for as long as she could remember.
“But that’s what makes it so interesting.” Alex opened cupboards until she found a plastic colander. “You have history.”
“I suppose.” Elly hadn’t thought of it that way. It was just the stuff her parents had accumulated. Only a few items had any real attachment for her and they were all so small they could fit into a bag. Her grandmother’s jade swan, her great-grandfather’s cap sitting on the shelf near the back door, and the threadbare stuffed frog that still sat on her bed in her room, keeping the patchwork quilts and pink pinstriped wallpaper company when she wasn’t around.
“You have no feeling for any of this?” Alex gestured around the room, the kitchen and down into the living room with its well-used furniture and worn rag rugs.
“Not really. My parents never threw anything out. Dad would be horrified that I’d even considered chucking most of it into a dumpster.”
Alex lifted the pot and dumped the pasta into the colander in the sink. Steam rose and fogged up the window, obscuring her reflection. “Dinner’s ready.”
Elly cleared the table, setting the dirty dishes in the sink. All through dinner she’d dithered, even though Alex had spent the meal driving her mad with “accidental” touches. She’d run out of time and now she had to decide. Alex came up behind her, radiating warmth and need.
“Leave them,” she said, her hand clasping Elly’s, turning her away from the sink. “Have you decided?”
Elly paused and took a deep breath. “Yes.” When Alex still looked expectant, she giggled. “What are you waiting for?”
Alex kissed her. She didn’t want it to end, but when they broke apart and Alex started to pull her toward the sofa, Elly stopped.
“Not here.” It wasn’t her house and she couldn’t imagine having sex on the furniture her parents had sat
on every day. She took Alex’s hand. “Come with me.”
She led Alex up the stairs, ignoring the creaks of the wood under the worn carpet. She turned and went up a small second flight to her room in the gabled peak of the farmhouse. The only place that was truly hers, even if it had been decorated for a much younger version of herself. She flipped on the light.
“Cute,” Alex said after a moment. Elly flushed.
“I never bothered to redecorate -- I’ve hardly been home.”
Without letting go of Elly’s hand, Alex fingered the small jewelry box. “I had one of these too.” She flicked the switch on the small lamp that sat next to the bed. Elly turned off the overhead light. Now the room had a comfortable, soft glow, the shadows long in the corners. The sloped ceiling gave the room a cozy feel. Alex cracked open the window and the fresh scent of rain washed over them. The thunder still rumbled in the distance.
Alex let go of Elly’s hand and started unbuttoning the chambray shirt she’d admired. Elly let her, standing perfectly still while Alex pulled the shirt from the waistband of her jeans and tugged it down her arms. Before Alex could strip her any further, Elly caught at the bottom of Alex’s shirt.
“I want to see you too.” Alex let her pull the white cotton over her head, revealing a surprisingly delicate white lace bra. She could see Alex’s nipples rise through the thin fabric, starting to pucker in the cool air. She bent her head and tongued the tip of one nipple through the lace. Alex gasped and she wanted to hear that sound again. She covered the other nipple and was rewarded with another gasp. Her fingers fumbled the back clasp of the bra but finally it released and the fabric fell from Alex’s breasts.
She sucked a nipple into her mouth, letting her teeth graze over the sensitive flesh. Alex shuddered, though her hands slid over Elly’s back and undid her bra. She let it slide down her arms and drop to the carpet. Alex pulled her up for a kiss.
Alex’s demanding mouth parted Elly’s lips. They were skin to skin and the heat of Alex’s body set off the cool breeze from the window at Elly’s back. Alex’s hand slid down her spine and into the back of her jeans, questing between her buttocks. Elly unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the zip to give Alex better access. Her jeans fell around her ankles and Alex’s fingers found her wet centre. Her mouth swallowed Elly’s mewl of pleasure and her finger pressed and circled between Elly’s thighs, teasing but barely touching her where she needed to be touched. It had been so long since she’d been with another.
Betting the Farm Page 1
