A Shot at Love

by T. B. Markinson

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Josie’s voice came out much too high-pitched, making her sound overly screechy. So much for not judging.

  Nonplussed, Harry explained in her calm Harry way, “We’d been living together for a few years when marriage became legal in the UK. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Josie waited a few ticks for the words to sink in. “Wow. That’s the exact opposite of romance. Who asked whom?”

  Harry slitted her left eye again. “It just kinda happened. We were having dinner. Alice mentioned something about what we should do, and one thing led to another. The next thing I knew, we were getting married.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “But not the right kind of insane according to your pinched face.” Harry methodically rotated a finger in front of Josie’s face.

  Josie attempted to relax her facial muscles. “It’s not the way I’d go about getting married. Is this common in the UK?”

  “Common-law marriage doesn’t exist in the UK.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. Are marriages entered into without a lot of… how do I say this… feelings?”

  “Was that the gentlest way you could think of?” Harry’s smile eased Josie some.

  “Yes. How should I have phrased it?”

  “I feel like we’re getting away from how we felt moments ago.” Harry bit down on her lower lip.

  “How was that?”

  “Happy,” Harry stated simply but conveyed so much more with her piercing blue eyes.

  Josie smiled. “I was and still am, but if I’m making you uncomfortable, I can stop grilling you.”

  “I didn’t say you were doing that. It’s just… I don’t want you to think I’m always so logical.”

  “What’s the last illogical thing you’ve done?”

  “I placed the milk in the cupboard, not the fridge.”

  “That’s being absentminded,” Josie scoffed, but had to laugh over the image of Harry realizing the error.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Most definitely.” Josie punctuated the sentence with an exuberant up and down head motion.

  “Give me an example of something illogical you’ve done.”

  “You mean besides giving up my career? I know I was fired, but my mentor urged me not to flee the country, saying she could get me on to another campaign within twenty-four hours. I just couldn’t face it anymore.”

  “I understand. I did the same when my paper sacked me. Can we count that?” Harry looked genuinely hopeful.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But you just counted it for you.”

  “I set the rules, so I can disqualify what I want.”

  Harry grinned. “You’re not playing fair.”

  Josie hiked a thumb at her chest. “Woman.” After a chuckle, she explained. “You picked up your career by taking over The Cotswolds Chronicles. I’m working in my mum’s pub. There’s a big difference.” Josie held one hand high above Harry for emphasis.

  Harry eased Josie’s hand back down. “Nothing wrong with work.”

  “True,” Josie said, not really believing it. The more she thought about working in the pub, the more she realized how much she missed using her brain and the thrill of having an exciting job. Or was it the stigma she placed on having a service job?

  “Since we’re not counting careers, tell me something illogical you’ve done because of love.” Harry’s question snagged Josie’s attention.

  “From which angle? When falling for someone or when it’s ending?” Josie couldn’t help herself from stressing the last word.

  Harry’s eyes started to bulge slightly. “I’m almost afraid to ask but can’t seem to stop myself. What’s something you’ve done at the end? From the look on your face, I have a feeling it was on the extreme side?”

  “Are you sure you want me to answer? Once you hear things, you can’t unhear them.”

  “It’s like driving by a car crash. I can’t look away.”

  “Okay. The first thing that popped into my head was when I woke up earlier than normal to surprise a woman I’d been dating somewhat casually, but I had thought there could be more. I picked up her favorite coffee from Starbucks and drove to her house before six in the morning. I’d planned to slip into bed with her, and I knew her garage door code. But her ex’s car was in the driveway, and there was no way her ex popped by at that time of day.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I went back to my place, gathered up all the things she’d left in my apartment from the nights she’d stayed over, drove back to her house, and tossed them all onto her front lawn. I texted her saying she’d better get her stuff. Oh, I hung one of her bras, she was a double D and had a thing for lacy underthings, from the antenna of her ex’s car.” Josie ran through a mental check sheet to ensure she got the highlights.

  “Did the ex see it?”

  “Not sure. They ended up moving back in together for a hot second before things spiraled out of control again. The bitch had the gall to seek me out when it blew up in her face, wanting to get back with me.”

  “Did you?”

  “We had sex again. She was good in bed.” Josie shrugged.

  Harry laughed.

  “That didn’t bother you?”

  “Should it have?”

  “Not sure. A lot of women don’t really like to hear the woman they just slept with for the first time talking about how they treated a woman in a breakup. Maybe it’s another difference between Americans and Brits.”

  “Hard to know. Should we do some research at the pub? Set up a table for people to sit down and rate how they would react in certain situations.”

  “That could be entertaining. Mum’s been talking about setting up some type of dating game to pull in more villagers. Not just the women sleeping with Clive.” A thought struck Josie. “Maybe it is a British thing. God knows how many Clive has slept with, and from what I’ve seen, the women seem to think it’s all in good fun.”

  “Should that be our target pool? How do I phrase it? Excuse me. Have you slept with Clive Johnson? Do you know he has been with almost every woman in this pub? On a scale of one to ten, how does that make you feel?”

  “Is one not angry and ten is?”

  “Haven’t put much thought into it. Can this be counted in my illogical column?” Harry’s expression was hopeful.

  “Um, no.”

  “That hardly seems fair.” Harry pouted.

  Josie rolled on top of her. “Are you trying to act illogical now to get points in some imaginary column?”

  “Would that count?”

  Josie rubbed the tip of her nose against Harry’s. “Nope.”

  “You’re cheating.”

  “Are you objecting to my methods?”

  “Again, this is a highly unscrupulous method. I mean, you want me to argue against you being on top of me naked, while I’m also unclothed?”

  “Unclothed? Is that a word you say often?”

  “I have no idea. It seemed to fit the situation.”

  Josie stared into Harry’s eyes. “Is it weird that I find your British reserve so fucking adorable?”

  “Again, is this a trick question?”

  Josie kissed Harry’s forehead. Above her right eye. Then the left. Working her way down Harry’s astonishingly straight nose, which seemed to fit Harry’s personality to a T. Josie’s lips landed on Harry’s, their kiss starting off sweet, as if both were still getting accustomed to the other’s preference.

  Soon, though, Harry amped up the passion, biting down on Josie’s lower lip, eliciting an excited moan from Josie, before Harry took full possession of Josie’s mouth. Josie’s knee separated Harry’s legs. Their bodies fully awake now, acting as if they had minds of their own and each part wanted to participate in what was clearly morphing from morning talk to full-on sex.

  Josie’s mouth traveled down Harry’s neck, as she nipped and licked the warm flesh, leaving a trail of desire. Jos
ie landed on Harry’s left nipple, the soft nub taking its time coming alive with each flick of Josie’s tongue. Josie had all the time in the world to breathe life into it, not to mention into Harry, who desperately needed a woman like Josie. Passionate. Loving. Kind. Josie sensed Harry had the same bad luck with women, even if Harry hadn’t come to that realization on her own. Perhaps because Harry didn’t allow much time for introspection. If that was the case, Harry was in for a rude awakening living in the Cotswolds. The sleepiness of the village would offer lots and lots of time for thinking. Living in a place like London kept a person on her toes. Not so much with Upper Chewford.

  Not that it was the time for Josie to calmly explain this theory to Harry. The left nipple hardened, and Josie sucked it deeply into her mouth, giving it one last hard bite before moving to the right one, which was much more eager at first touch.

  Josie laughed.

  “What?” Harry asked.

  “Your nipples are like a warring couple.”

  Harry stared at Josie, the most wonderful, curious expression on Harry’s face. Josie wanted to freeze the moment because Harry had never looked so sweet, vulnerable, and fuckable. Yes, so much so.

  “Your left nipple isn’t all that accommodating and takes much more coaxing, while your right one is jumping at the bit to get into the action.” Josie licked it.

  “Aw, yes, my left one has always been stubborn.”

  “You’re aware of this tendency, then.” Josie quirked an eyebrow.

  “It’s been noted before.”

  “Is that right? What to do with this information?” Josie bit down hard on Harry’s right nipple.

  “I wasn’t aware this would lead to some type of action.” Harry moaned when Josie sucked the nipple into her mouth.

  “It’s important to get to know all aspects of your body so I can make every part of you happy.”

  “You’re well on your way to succeeding.” Harry dug her head into the pillow, her back arching some in reaction to Josie’s hip rubbing between Harry’s legs. “Oh…”

  Josie’s mouth was back on Harry’s, kissing the woman hard. One of Harry’s hands held the back of Josie’s head as if not wanting them to ever break free, while Harry’s other hand trailed up and down Josie’s back.

  Josie moaned into Harry’s mouth.

  Their bodies danced in unison, each woman becoming more and more enflamed with desire.

  Josie’s lips broke free, and she began working her way down Harry’s torso, leaving a path of kisses, keeping their connection alive and well. When she reached right above Harry’s pubic hair, Josie took in a deep breath. Harry may be reserved, but the aroma drifting from Harry’s hot zone made it perfectly clear when it came to this aspect, Harry was full of life. And wanting. There was nothing more erotic than a woman who wanted to be fucked.

  Josie raked her fingers through Harry’s coarse hair, while Josie’s mouth continued the trek past Harry’s surging bud to the fleshy part of Harry’s leg. Each lick, kiss, and nip got a rise out of Harry in the most delightful way. While Harry didn’t utter a peep, not any verbal utterances that could be interpreted, the way her body moved and the moans escaping from the usually controlled woman were getting Josie so bloody hot.

  Moving on to Harry’s other thigh, closer to the knee, Josie worked her way north, Harry’s thrashing reaching the point of no return. If Josie didn’t provide a release soon, Josie wondered if Harry would start to address the urgency on her own. While it would be hotter than hot to witness Harry pleasure herself, Josie didn’t want to be a witness. Not this morning. She made a mental note to get Harry riled to this point again to test the theory. While Josie loved to be in the right, she also didn’t enjoy being denied.

  Her tongue separated Harry’s swollen lips, releasing the loudest moan so far from Harry. Josie was determined to hear an even louder one from Harry before she was done this morning. Maybe that could be an ongoing goal. To get Harry to the toe-curling, screaming at the top of her lungs stage each and every time Josie made love to her. Because right at this moment, Josie knew this wouldn’t be the last time she woke Harry up in this manner. Josie had already learned, from the previous experience, Harry wasn’t just a taker, but the most wonderful giver. Warmth pooled between Josie’s legs.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Harriet kissed Josie goodbye and rested her head on the back of the door after it shut, wishing they could have stayed in bed all day. Sighing, Harriet headed to the shower. Before she could flip on the water, there was a loud pounding on the front door.

  She slipped her robe back on.

  The knocking intensified.

  “Coming,” Harriet said, annoyed the person was being so impatient. It was after nine in the morning, but still.

  Harriet swung the door open to reveal a distraught Camilla. “I wasn’t expecting you until later this afternoon. What’s wrong?”

  “Everything!”

  Harriet put an arm around Camilla’s shoulders. “Come in. Let’s have some tea.”

  “I don’t know if I can drink tea,” Camilla said in a dramatic fashion and placed her head on Harriet’s shoulder.

  “Are you ill?” Harriet deposited her cousin on the sofa.

  “Worse.”

  Harriet perched on the edge of the coffee table. “What’s worse than being ill?”

  “I don’t know if I can say it.” Camilla wheezed, as if she were trying to breathe through a clogged snorkel tube.

  “Say what?”

  Camilla flung herself against the back of the sofa and pulled a throw pillow to her face. “Oh, Harriet. What am I going to do?” The words came out garbled.

  “I have no idea, considering I don’t know what’s wrong. If you tell me, I can try to help.”

  Camilla tossed the pillow to the side, took in a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the drawstrings of her cranberry jumper. “It’s hitting me hard. I mean, when I saw… it… I didn’t believe it. So, I did eleven more. They all turned out the same.”

  “Okay. Whatever it is, then it’s… happening. What exactly is that?” Harriet tried to ask in a calm voice.

  “It doesn’t have to, but I just don’t know. I think it has to. You know what I mean?” Camilla’s watery eyes stared into Harriet’s.

  Harriet chomped down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from screaming just bloody tell me!

  “Are you sure you don’t want tea?” Harriet popped off the table. “I’m going to make a cup.”

  “Herbal, please.” She added, “Rooibos if you have it.”

  “One rooibos coming up.”

  In the kitchen, Harriet filled the electric kettle and flipped it on, smiling over the thought of her weak attempt yesterday to ditch Josie on the walk. Oh my, things really worked, and Harriet thanked Josie for calling her out on her bullshit excuse. The thought of Josie made Harriet miss her, and she texted: Camilla is here acting stranger than usual.

  Josie responded: Just because?

  Harriet punched out: No idea. Something happened, but she can’t face telling me. Something tells me it’s going to be big. But Camilla can be a drama queen, so maybe she has a pimple on her right tit.

  Josie shot back: LOL. I really hope that’s what it is. Good luck.

  While waiting for the kettle, Harriet researched rooibos on her phone, quickly learning it wasn’t a true tea. The African plant, after picked and dried, could be brewed into what the tea industry dubbed red bush tea. It didn’t become commercial until the 1930s. Harriet wanted to call Josie to share this info, but the kettle was done, so she prepped herself an Earl Grey with a splash of milk and then Camilla’s drink.

  When she returned, Camilla was curled up in the fetal position on the sofa.

  “Cam, please tell me what’s going on.”

  Camilla sat up, sniffling. “I’m pregnant.”

  Harriet almost dropped both tea mugs onto the floor. “What?”

  “Pregnant.”

  Harriet blinked.

&nbs
p; Camilla made a rock a bye baby motion to hammer home the news.

  Harriet set the mugs down on the coffee table. “I… not… I… wow.”

  “Exactly,” Camilla said as if she was thinking the same thing.

  “Do you know the father?”

  “Of course, I know the father!” Camilla’s expression showed her betrayal for Harriet asking such a question. “In fact, so do you.”

  Harriet narrowed her eyes. “Is it your ex-husband? I didn’t know him well.”

  “It’s not John!”

  “Matt?”

  “No! I wouldn’t have a child with either of them.”

  “What was the name of the bloke you broke things off with recently? It started with an N, I think.” Harry tapped her fingertips against her chin.

  “Neil.”

  “Yes, Neil,” Harriet said, feeling comforted by latching on to a simple fact. “Is he the father?”

  “Nope.”

  “Who, then?”

  “Clive.”

  “Clive?” Harriet parroted, not truly believing she’d heard Camilla correctly. Or, perhaps, Harriet was dreaming and she’d wake laughing about the ridiculousness of the situation.

  “Yes, Clive.” It was as if Camilla had to keep saying it for the news to truly sink in.

  “How is this possible?”

  Camilla’s eyebrows shot upward, seeming to land in a different galaxy. “Surely, I don’t need to explain how a man impregnates a woman.”

  “I’m versed in the subject, but Clive? How did you let this happen?”

  “Me let it happen?” she protested.

  Harriet splayed her fingers on her chest. “I didn’t let it.”

  “I knew you’d act this way.”

  “If that’s true, why’d you come here and tell me?”

  “Because I have no one else to tell.”

  Harriet picked up her tea mug, holding it in both hands, needing the warmth and a moment to gather her thoughts. “Have you told Clive?”

  “No!”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Do I have to?” Camilla seized her mug. “What good would it do to tell him? He’s not the settling down type.”