Love Burns Bright

by Radclyffe

  Lacy chuckled, pulled her thong and jeans back on and smoothed her hair. “You’re a freak, ya know?”

  “It’s not my fault you come so damn good.”

  Lacy giggled and wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck. “I’m in love with you, you weirdo.” She pressed a kiss against Sam’s warm lips. “Can I please go to the grocery store now? Your parents are going to be here in less than two hours. Your mom will kill me if I don’t have her favorite red velvet cake. And god forbid I don’t get that chicken cooked in time. Your dad will throw a hissy fit.”

  Sam gave a lazy smile. “Your alfredo sauce doesn’t taste anywhere near as good as you do. Mmm mmm good.” She tightened her grip. “My bad girl gone good.”

  Lacy snuggled into her arms. “Yeah, but my good girl is deliciously bad. And sooooo damn good at it.”

  MY SWEETEST NOELLE

  Rebekah Weatherspoon

  I fucked up. Okay, I fucked up royally. But it was too late to do anything about it. There I was in a gorgeous private condo, surrounded by the snow-capped peaks of Vail, Colorado. My baby shar-pei was asleep in my lap, laid out by a doggy biscuit–induced coma. Home Alone was just warming up on USA. Our tree was decorated, white lights twinkling, and my girlfriend was two thousand miles away. On Christmas Eve.

  I wasn’t going to cry. I would not do it. I wasn’t going to call her back either. She’d made up her mind to leave. Yeah, I hadn’t really helped things along. I was a total bitch when she told me what her mother had wanted. I walked right over to my laptop, whipped out my credit card and booked her a ticket right back to Connecticut so she could spend Christmas with her family. Instead of with me.

  I understood what she was dealing with. We both came from pretty conservative families, but I’d given my parents the ultimatum the moment Noelle and I had decided to see each other exclusively. Love me, love Noelle. No exceptions. It took my mother a little while to get used to the fact that I was lesbian. My father couldn’t give less of a shit. His politico buddies and golf partners would only care if he had a gay son, and my packing up Noelle and moving across the country kept my sexuality out of their dinner parties and church functions. My parents were supportive from a distance and luckily stayed the hell out of my business.

  Noelle’s mother was a different story.

  She was on marriage number four. A ridiculously rich bank tycoon whom she’d met at a charity event for some disease no one she actually knew had. Noelle was her oldest and her only normal child. The only child she claimed had been born out of love, the only one who hadn’t been to rehab, hadn’t been arrested or knew not to bring up husbands one through three in mixed company just to get a rise out of mommy dearest.

  This Christmas was the first with her new, richest husband to date. There were guests to be entertained, another charity function to host, a holiday ball to attend, and the Lady Madam Susan Bishop-Klein-Swathmore-Crane wanted her most competent, most articulate child by her side so she could at least pretend she knew the meaning of family during this symbolic time of year.

  Noelle could have said no. She could have offered up a big ole Pass, maybe next year like I had done with my parents. They were into the same crap, just in a different state, but my mother liked the sauce and liked to embarrass me in front of company once the vodka tonics started flowing.

  For some reason, Noelle could never say no to her mother. Maybe it was some sense of familial obligation or maybe Noelle actually felt bad for the woman. The Grand Duchess of Crane was pretty pathetic, and never kept many friends—or husbands. Her other children hated her. Either way, Noelle had a heart the size of the moon, and whenever her mother wanted to see her, even if it was just to show her off as social eye candy, Noelle couldn’t turn her down. So off she scampered for the occasional Easter, the random Fourth of July, which was all fine and good, but Christmas? Come on.

  I didn’t even care that Susan Crane didn’t like me. I took good care of Noelle. I had a degree. I owned the most successful salon in Beverly Hills. Bought it out from under my boss before the thirty candles on my last cake had even cooled. It would have made a little sense, well, no sense at all, but more sense if she wasn’t cool with the fact that I was a proud Latina or that I took almost equal pride in my Monroe piercing. But no. All that mattered to her was that five- to eight-inch thing that didn’t dangle just below my hips, that I wasn’t a man.

  You’d think I’d turned Noelle gay, which was another layer of bullshit. Noelle was busy playing “Show Me Yours” with the girls at her boarding school way before we met, but after we moved in together her mother realized her daughter’s love for pussy, salsa and merengue wasn’t a phase. We already told the lady we’d give her grandkids using Noelle’s perfectly viable eggs and all. I loved Noelle and I would take care of her as long as we were together. I wasn’t going to beg the lady to accept our relationship, and I wasn’t going to grow a dick. There was nothing else she was getting from me.

  See, I think people, including her mother, always assumed I was with Noelle for superficial reasons. It wasn’t my fault that she was banging hot with the juiciest tits I’d ever seen, that she had an ass that should be against the law in any state with crosswalks. Those were factors that I loved, and not even as much as I loved her pussy. Always waxed to perfection, soft and blushing pink. Always wet for me. She tasted so sweet, and the noises she made when she was trying not to come just because she wanted the attention I was paying between her legs to last—damn. I could go down on Noelle for hours. My hips squirmed in the couch cushions just from the thought of eating her out.

  Her stunning body and my now-damp underwear aside, her smile was the element of her beauty that won me over, and this impossible ability she had to love that made me stay. Susan Crane had no idea what kind of child she’d birthed into this world, how unbelievably amazing Noelle was. Everyone who saw her art was affected by it. Impossible not to be. But there was so much more to her than her talent with a brush. She lived to help others, volunteered her ass off in her free time. Kids, animals, the homeless, war vets. If Noelle could find them, she’d help them, and not just by writing a check.

  God, if Susan would just look at her daughter, just see her once for who she was—a sweet, intelligent angel—she’d know that whoever made her happy was good enough.

  I was there for Noelle when her father died. I was there when she realized she needed to chase her art and not a law degree. I was there through the nights of self-doubt, the days where she couldn’t get a gallery to take her seriously. And the best part of it all, I was there when Noelle sold her first piece. I got to see that smile. I got that first hug, was nearly made deaf by that first squeal of joy. I was there for her, not her mother. And where was Noelle now? With her mother.

  And now I felt like an idiot. I should have just stayed home. I’d spent a hunk of cash on this condo, with its private hot tub and fireplace and its enormous bed. I’d paid extra to have a healthy little tree brought in, and even though I hated skiing, I’d booked a lift package for the whole week, all for Noelle. We’d ski, we’d fuck and on Christmas morning I was going to ask her to marry me. It was the perfect plan, until Bitch à la Crane called.

  There was an unspoken rule that I wasn’t welcome to represent myself as anything other than Noelle’s “friend” within a fifty-mile radius of her mother or anyone who knew her. Noelle did that adorable lip quiver thing she does when she got off the phone, but I said no. I wasn’t going. We wouldn’t be allowed to sleep in the same room. I wouldn’t be allowed to touch her in public without her mother going ape shit. I refused to spend my holidays that way. So I pouted and sulked the whole week before she left. I considered making up with her, a little peace offering and a pledge that I still loved her even if her mother was cunt of the year, and then she made an appointment at my salon.

  All hell would have broken loose if she’d gone somewhere else, I’ll give her that, but I’d spent hours dying her soft brown hair this kick-ass combination of jet black and
royal blue and she just comes walking in the door, asking Carlo to take her somewhere north of blond, with a lot of highlights. To say I was pissed would be a weak way to express how I really felt. I was livid, more so because she actually looked sexy as fuck as a blonde. I got to secretly enjoy the new look for a whole twenty-four hours before she slipped out of my life.

  I may have been a brat and hidden her present in her luggage as a long-distance “F U for leaving me.” Then I sent her to the airport alone. To pour a little extra piss in the vinegar, I’d emailed her yesterday, telling her exactly where I was going. I may have included a link to the resort complete with pictures of the mountain and all our condo’s amenities. Okay, yeah. I was being a huge bitch, but who ditches their girlfriend on Christmas?

  She’d called and texted few times since she’d left, when Susan wasn’t looking, of course. She’d been blowing up my phone on and off all day. I’d been too busy playing with the dog, Noelle’s “Here, have a puppy so you won’t be completely alone on the holidays” parting gift. I would have been really mad if the dog wasn’t so damn cute. I’d been talking about getting a shar-pei for years, and did Noelle deliver. Little Prince Michael was the only thing keeping me from a crying jag and case of wine.

  My bit of John Hughes heaven went to commercial and suddenly that little black box on the coffee table had my attention. I picked it up and flicked the lid open. One solitary diamond secured in a thick platinum band. I was still gonna ask her. I loved her too much to want her as anything less than my wife, but we had to do something about her mother and then I had to plan another romantic weekend to get down on one knee.

  I should have asked her to stay. I should have done a lot of things differently, but it really was too late. I was already showered and changed for bed. I’d already binged on the resort’s four-star cuisine. I’d finish my movie and fuck myself to sleep. In the morning, maybe I’d just go home.

  A little growly whimper in my lap made me jump and then I heard boot steps on the stairs. Prince Michael yelped this time as a light knock sounded on the door. For a moment my chest cramped with irrational fear. People didn’t just show up at your door at this hour, and I hadn’t called for room service. I stood and tucked PM under my arm, ignoring his attempts to gnaw on my thumb. Just then the doorbell rang.

  “Who is it?” I yelled in my most threatening, scary tone.

  A tiny voice came through the thick panel of wood. “Ronnie?”

  “Shit. Shit!” I was halfway across the room when I realized I’d left her ring right out in the open. I dropped the dog on the floor, then practically dove for it. I threw the little box in my purse before I booked it back to the door. I swung it open and there was my baby on the other side. Standing in the cold. Crying her eyes out.

  I couldn’t hold in my gasp. I’d never seen her looking so upset before, never seen her looking so beautiful either, her gorgeous face all pink and blotchy—partly from the wind, I’m guessing, and partly from the tears. Fat snowflakes stuck to her hair and her down jacket, refusing to melt.

  She hiccupped, her adorable button lip quivering. She held a box of hair dye in her bare hand, Raven Black No. 21. “Can you dye my hair back?”

  “Baby.” I grabbed her and pulled her inside, out of the cold.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. I shook my head, begging her to stop apologizing. I’d already forgotten everything that had happened. I didn’t care anymore why she’d left and when. All I wanted to know was what had brought her back and what the hell had made her cry.

  I grabbed her cheeks and kissed her full on her soft pink lips. She dropped her bag and the box of dye right there on the floor and kissed me back just as desperately. After a moment, I pulled away with a shiver. I could feel the cold night air all over her.

  “God. You’re freezing.”

  “I was waiting for a cab forever,” she sniffled. I unzipped her jacket and watched her as she pulled it off. She toed out of her big boots, making us the same height again, then let me tug her to the couch. I ignored how cold her jeans were against my flannel-covered legs and threw a fuzzy plaid blanket over us both. Then I just held her with her cool cheek tucked against my neck and rocked her and kissed her until she stopped trembling, until the tears started to slow.

  Finally she gazed up at me with her wide brown eyes, now all bloodshot and puffy. This had to have been an all-day episode. She’d never even bothered with makeup, not that she needed any.

  “I missed you so much,” she whispered. Before I could tell her how much she had been missed, Noelle kissed me. Slower this time than the kiss we’d shared at the door, letting me feel that my attempts at sharing some warmth were working. The tip of her tongue teased me gently with light flicks over my upper lip. My lungs released a deep breath that brushed across her mouth as a long sigh. I’d just let her play as she wanted. I’d give her anything to make the crying stop completely, and she was making me so wet I’d be a fool to tell her to explain first.

  I shifted my weight and pulled her closer into my lap. The taste of her tears mixed with the subtle hint of lip balm as I kissed her deeper. My nipples came to life against the cold knit of her sweater, but it was being with Noelle that made my sensitive buds hard. Having her near me again made my whole body tingle and ache.

  We both broke away when a familiar yipping noise from the floor brought us back to reality. Prince Michael was feeling a little left out. I scooped him up and nestled him in the blanket between us, petting the soft gray fur around his face.

  “What happened?” I asked gently.

  “Hi, Blanket.” She ignored my question, choosing to play with PM’s wrinkled belly instead. I wanted to be patient with her, but now I had to know.

  “Noelle. Please tell me what happened.”

  She sighed, then looked me in the eye. I knew this couldn’t be good. My girl was a chatterbox. She only hesitated when she had news that would piss me the hell off. “So...we had that ball last night and you remember that guy Preston Tripbeck?”

  “Yeah.” The poster child for all that was wrong with yuppie America.

  “Well, Mother had him seated next to me, and he was acting all nice and normal. Then he fucking kissed me.”

  My mind short-circuited for a moment, but when it came back online it still hadn’t fully processed what she had just told me. My body understood this shitty news just fine, though. A sinking feeling made room for a huge lump in my stomach and heat shot up my spine, across the back of my head.

  “Wait. What? Go back. He kissed you at the dinner table.”

  “No. Sorry. He asked me to dance and I figured sure. It’s the waltz. He’s not asking me to bend over so he can shove bills in my G-string. So we were dancing and he made some joke about how we should start calling a square dance just to break up the monotony. So I laughed ’cause it was funny and he just kissed me. He wasn’t fresh with his hands or anything, so I didn’t slap him.”

  My confusion and my anger were in a very heated argument. At the moment it felt like it would be a draw. “He kissed you?” I asked again hesitantly.

  She swallowed and looked down at her hands. Another thing I had to blame Susan for. Noelle always thought everything was her fault. “Yeah.”

  I wasn’t angry with her. I was pissed at Preston. Noelle was charming as hell, but she wasn’t a flirt and she wasn’t a tease. Screw all the mixed signals in the world, he had no right to touch her. And yes, I was the poster child for jealousy. I took a deep breath and kissed her cheek. She sighed a bit, melting into me. I traced the back of her hand as she traced our puppy’s fur. She’d only been gone three days, but I’d missed those soft, strong hands and all the amazing things they could do. I kissed her again.

  “I told him I was seeing someone and he apologized, but the rest of the night was awkward as hell.”

  “Then what, baby?”

  “God. So this morning, Judith, the housekeeper, wakes me up telling me I have a call. It was Preston, and he says Mother told him I
was single and interested in him, but I was just shy about making any advances. I cleared things up right then and he apologized like ten times.”

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t all bad.

  “But when I came down for breakfast Mother threw a fit and told me I had just ruined things. I couldn’t even—I just left. Well, I charged my ticket on her card and then I left. I told her I’d be back when she accepts me for who I am and who I love.”

  My head snapped back at her serious tone and the giggle that followed. “Bullshit. You did not.”

  Noelle smiled. “I did. Alexander just snorted. He didn’t even look up from his paper. I kinda think he’s on my side. Anyway. Screw her. I love you and I’m sorry.”

  “Why doesn’t she—how…” I bit back my insults. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. And I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I should have answered my phone. You could have been hurt. I mean, you were, and I won’t do that again.”

  “You had every right to. I just, I left you for nothing. Really, though, can you dye my hair back?”

  “Yes, baby.” I laughed, tucking her long bangs back behind her ear. “You know I will. Not using that box shit, but when we get home I’ll fix it. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving, but I want to shower first. I feel so gross.” She stood up and got her first glimpse at the living room. The tree. The festive little doggy bed I’d picked up for Prince Michael. The fireplace with a strategically placed faux-fur rug.

  Noelle turned back to me, her eyes glistening again. “You did all this for us?”

  “For you, yeah.”

  She looked away again, hiding more tears, I guessed. I jumped up from the couch, keeping the puppy in my grip, and walked right to her. Gently, I swept my thumb under her eyes while cradling the baby-soft skin of her face. Prince Michael helped by licking her chin affectionately. “Hey. None of that. You’re here now, and Blanket won’t need to go out for another three hours. That’s what matters.”