by Liz McMullen
Rowan lightly tilted Desiree’s face so that they were once again sharing air. The scent of Desiree’s breath was sweet, a mixture of the hot cider and something uniquely Desiree. She had to taste her.
Rowan caressed Desiree’s jaw and laced her fingers in her dark brown curls. “So soft,” she murmured.
Desiree sucked Rowan’s lower lip into her mouth and moaned her approval.
The cool air in the room was soothing on her warm skin. Desiree moved so she was partially on top. Rowan groaned. She loved how full Desiree’s body was, lush curves balanced with strong muscle. She slipped her hand under Desiree’s cable-knit sweater and groaned again. “So, so soft.”
The heat between them grew and no doubt proved unbearable for Desiree. She shucked her sweater without ceremony. Rowan gasped, unprepared for her mostly nude torso. The bra was a pale blue, cotton, and unfussy. Rowan smiled.
“What?” Desiree asked. Rowan could tell from the way Desiree’s pupils were dilating that her lover was very turned on.
Rowan bit her lip but decided to go with the truth. “Your bra…” She struggled to find the way to express her thoughts as the compliment she intended.
Desiree started to cover herself up. “I know it’s old.”
“No,” Rowan spoke softly, but with authority. “It’s serious and practical. Sexy.”
Desiree didn’t look convinced.
Rowan decided to express her appreciation by reaching out to cup Desiree’s generous breasts. They were full and firm, and Rowan figured that the bra was a practicality, that her breasts would hold up on their own. Desiree’s eyelashes fluttered as she made some incredibly sexy noises.
This time, Rowan’s kiss was hungry, and she adjusted her position until she was solidly on top. Her thigh pressed gently between Desiree’s legs as she undulated, rocking into the intensity of the kiss. She felt dizzy, drunk on the kiss. All clear thought vanished, and there was nothing but feeling.
Desiree matched her intensity, hastily helping Rowan into a similar state of undress, and she one-upped Rowan by removing her sports bra. The kisses continued, each caress of the lips more intense than the next.
When she finally touched Desiree’s bare breasts she nearly came. “You’re making this really hard for me,” Rowan murmured between pants.
“Good, serves you right.” Desiree held Rowan tightly and rolled her flat on her back. Desiree smirked. “And now, I am going to make you suffer.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Attic of the Orchard Inn
Desiree was beyond grateful that her mother was not currently on the property. Granted an awkward conversation with Mason about her mother was on the horizon, but that would not happen today. Today, she just wanted to revel in the happiness of the night before while exploring the attic.
She used a stylus to draw a rough sketch of the layout on the iPad Mason purchased for her. Once she finished her primary survey of the antiques, she would make more precise drawings on the desktop. The technological setup Mason bought for her still blew her mind. It was not only thoughtful, it showed his level of trust and how much faith he had in her abilities.
A rather robust space, the attic spanned the width of the house and was nearly thirty feet deep. Dormer windows brought in natural light and gave the space an airy feel. White sheets, somewhat jaundiced with age, were draped over the larger pieces of furniture, while the smaller pieces were scattered about, with a serious layer of dust.
She opened the windows a crack to air out the musty space and paused at one. Mason was working in what seemed to be a kitchen garden. The fall had been unseasonably warm. She figured no one told the plants they no longer were expected to be in bloom. She’d have to explore that and the formal gardens.
Growing up, she had never been permitted to work in the gardens on her family’s estates. Her mother deemed it below her station in life, and she forbade most anything that could get her hands and fine dresses dirty. She loathed her gilded cage and moved into her dorm as soon as they were permitted on campus. Desiree even stayed on at the end of each year to clean the dorms for graduation and both weeks of college reunions. She liked the quiet and enjoyed cleaning and making each room welcoming. Hopefully, Mason would let her do the same at the inn. Running her own property was a treasured life goal.
Desiree removed a sheet, revealing a simple and well-loved bookcase. There were trinkets from what had to be happy trips. She smirked at the Eiffel Tower and was surprised at the weight of the souvenir. It was made from heavy dark metal and was much older than she originally thought.
She returned it to the shelf, between a snow globe featuring the Golden Gate Bridge and a tarnished music box. The ballet dancer was missing a slipper. She’d never seen a music box doll that had actual clothes, only ones made from porcelain. She caressed the tulle tutu that was soft rather than stiff, nearly silky. This was obviously a cherished toy and she resisted the desire to wind it. It would be a shame to risk breaking something that managed to survive this long.
The cell phone in her back pocket buzzed. She considered ignoring it. “Maybe it’s Rowan.” Desiree smiled at the thought. Their night had been unusual and exhilarating. The pacing had been difficult at first, but she grew used to the slow burn. She had never been so intimate with someone, not even with the women she chose to make love to.
The phone buzzed again, and Desiree satisfied her curiosity. The first text read, “Thinking of you.” The second asked if they could meet for coffee later.
“I’d like that,” she responded. It was just past noon. “Can we do 4ish? I want to work a bit more.” Rowan replied with a smiley faced emoji followed by a single rose.
“Awwww.” Desiree texted back, along with a lipstick lip print emoji.
Desiree was glad she’d forced herself to apologize to her. Rowan had been a revelation; she was kind, thoughtful, and last night, just hearing her speak French like a native made her toes curl, which was probably the first time she’d ever been so happy to hear her family’s native tongue.
As she scrolled through other happy thoughts—the amazing fragrance of simmering cider, cranberries, and citrus and the tenderness of Rowan’s touch—she reached up and gently touched her own lips. Boy could that woman kiss.
Desiree spent the next few hours exploring trunks and taking photos of exquisite handmade four-poster bed frames, ornate buffet tables, and more than a few antique timepieces that worked fine once wound. She documented where she found each item using a blueprint app and also made rough sketches of certain items with her stylus. She and Mason had tea in his personal apartment, and she cheerfully shared her finds, displaying the photos she took on the iPad. Her luck even held up when she left for the day—Rosalie’s luxury monstrosity was not parked in the lot. As if her mother would ever go off-roading with it. What a waste of four-wheel drive.
She sang along with the radio and grinned when she nabbed a parking space right in front of the Haymarket, nearly unheard of on a weekend. She inhaled happily, looking forward to seeing Rowan again.
Then she saw her, the back of her mother’s perfectly coiffed head. Desiree backed away from the door as if the place was on fire, then crashed into Rowan before she could make a clean getaway. What now?
Chapter Twenty-seven
Northampton
“Whoa there, I’ve got you.” Rowan’s long black hair spilled forward, caressing Desiree’s cheek before Rowan was able to regain her footing.
“Thanks.” Desiree felt more than a little breathless, and the collision was only part of the reason her heart was beating faster.
Once Rowan seemed satisfied they wouldn’t topple over she said, “Follow me.” Rowan led her down a short stretch of Main Street to a slim alley and stole a quick kiss.
Desiree leaned into her tall, muscular frame, enjoying the closeness and the cider and cinnamon scent that clung to her clothes. She smiled, remembering the source of the delicious fragrance. She was so wrapped up in the memory she forgot about her
mother until Rowan spoke.
“It seems she has been holding down a table in there for most of the day.” Rowan sighed. “Jodeci texted me a warning when I told her I would be meeting you at the Haymarket. Thank God she was working today.”
“No kidding.” Desiree had wondered why her mother wasn’t at the Orchard Inn. Now that she thought about it, Mason had a bit of a secret smile when she first arrived at work. Maybe he had engineered her mother’s misconception. “I’m beginning to like Mason more.”
Rowan wasn’t tracking and the skin between her eyes crinkled. She was adorably confused, and Desiree wanted to kiss her nose. Where is my head at? I have the attention span of a gnat.
“Mason’s my boss at the inn, and I think he gave my mother the impression she could find me here.” Desiree grinned. She had forgotten that Mason was close friends with Kat. Kat must have warned him about Desiree’s mother, which was a great relief and meant Desiree could put off their awkward conversation about Rosalie’s intentions. At some point, she’d have to be straightforward. She didn’t like the idea of her mother trying to manipulate the inn owner.
Rowan pursed her lips, then bit the lower one as she thought. Desiree was mesmerized; her brain cells were definitely at risk.
“We have a few options.” Rowan ticked them off with her fingers as she spoke. “We can make a clean getaway, which would be great because I missed you. A lot.”
Desiree’s heart melted a bit. “Missed you too.”
Rowan reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. A cloud must have moved aside; light streamed down the narrow alley, illuminating Rowan’s unusual eyes. They were true blue today. It was unfair for her to have such full lashes, the kind Suzie would kill for.
Rowan continued laying out their options. “Two, we could go inside, guns a blazin’. Walk up to her, say hi, and be friendly. It would blow her mind.”
“Too true. She believes Americans are predictable.” Desiree shrugged. “We could use that against her.”
“Then, we could stay and put on quite a show of enjoying each other’s company, speaking loud enough for her to hear.”
“Très gauche.”
Rowan smirked. Desiree loved that Rowan spoke French. She’d have to ask her how she’d learned to speak it with such perfect fluency, especially when Desiree was pretty certain Rowan was black Irish through and through.
“Or, and this is my favorite option”—Rowan brought Desiree’s hand close to her mouth and kissed the knuckles—“go in mature, no bluster but no shame either.” Rowan drew Desiree into a hug, which meant Desiree had to look up to see her face. “Get a hot cup of whatever suits your fancy, then go for a stroll around Paradise Pond. We can even stop by my apartment first if you need another layer to be comfortable.”
Desiree snuggled in but felt a lingering pang of shame for having been so unkind to Rowan. Now, Rowan was helping her get through a potentially disastrous encounter. “I’m so sorry,” Desiree mumbled into Rowan’s fleece-lined plaid jacket.
Rowan drew back and left one arm around her as she tipped Desiree’s face up with her free hand. “What did you say?”
“I’m sorry for being so rude to you.” Desiree had no idea why those simple words made her feel so emotional until Rowan gentled the tears away.
“Please don’t cry.” Rowan kissed her wet lashes. “We can talk about it sometime because I am certain you had your reasons. You don’t strike me as someone who lacks manners.”
Desiree wrapped both arms around Rowan, enjoying the warmth and the delicious way her lover smelled. She was tempted to bite her. “’Kay.”
“So what’s the plan?” Rowan rested her chin on Desiree’s head. “We can even go for option four and hang out at my apartment.”
“Is that so?” Desiree gripped Rowan’s hips and squeezed. Rowan moaned. The sound went right through Desiree. “Jeez, that’s distracting.”
“Coffee?” Rowan asked with a nudge. “I’d really like to have a proper date, and hanging out in my apartment, though tempting, is not the same thing.” She separated their bodies a bit so she could see Desiree’s face. “Your choice. I’ll enjoy your company no matter what path we take.”
“I’m surprised you’re single.”
Rowan got that shy look Desiree found endearing. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but you’re stalling.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Haymarket Cafe
Desiree left the warm cocoon of Rowan’s body but held her hands, lacing their fingers together. “Let’s go in and buy the coffee. If there is a confrontation, we’ll handle it. Running away would only give her a perverse thrill.” She huffed out a breath. “My car is parked right in front of the Haymarket, and if she’s been camping out and watching the door, she will see it.”
Desiree tugged Rowan, guiding them back onto Main Street. “We’ll get the coffee to go and walk around Paradise Pond.”
“Will you be warm enough in that?”
Desiree’s jacket was warm, but the breeze today was pretty strong. “I actually have a down jacket in my trunk. I can switch it out after we grab coffee.” She enjoyed how considerate Rowan was and appreciated the fact that Rowan didn’t try to take over; she just shared what she knew and gave Desiree the final say. It was a refreshing contrast to her mother’s controlling behavior.
“Smart move. No reason to swelter while we wait on our java.”
Rowan’s easy smile and calm demeanor were so appealing. Desiree did her best to channel that peacefulness so she could keep her head in the face of confrontation. How would her mother behave, especially after getting zinged by Rowan in the Thirsty Mind?
“Gird your loins,” Rowan teased her.
“What movie is that from?”
“I forgot, but it seemed appropriate.”
Desiree took in a deep breath before opening the glass front door to the Haymarket Cafe. The space was narrow, but rich in flavor. The mingled fragrances of coffee brewing and the sweet and savory dishes made for quite the bouquet of scents. The café walls were covered with an eclectic mix of framed paintings and antique mirrors. She was amazed at how the varying shapes, sizes, and colors didn’t clash; instead, they fit well with Northampton’s artsy vibe.
On her first visit to the Haymarket, her cheeks pinked at the names given to their famous smoothies. She had tittered a bit while ordering a “Spanking.” The shockingly named drink had quite ordinary ingredients: raspberries, banana, frozen yogurt, mango, and cider. It was positively delicious, though it took a few months to get over the juvenile desire to giggle each time she ordered a “Spanking.”
Her mother turned their way, snapping Desiree’s nostalgic connection.
Rosalie’s gray eyes were sharp and unforgiving. A silver screen movie quote popped into her head: “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”
“All About Eve.”
Desiree turned to look up into Rowan’s eyes. “Just one more reason to like you.” Desiree didn’t have time to enjoy Rowan’s endearing reaction. Her mother was closing in on them.
“Desiree,” Rosalie had only spoke her name, but the way she said it gave Desiree chills. She braced herself.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Desiree had to decide how to play this. She could be defiant, her standby as of late, or she could shock her mother by being friendly and kind. She looked up when Rowan pressed her hand on the small of Desiree’s back, lending her strength and support. Once again, she felt lucky to have Rowan in her life and would have liked to show her just how much she was appreciated, but this was not the right place to do so.
Matching her mother’s aggressive attitude always left her feeling dark inside. She didn’t like the way seething anger made her feel. She wanted to escape her mother’s manipulative clutches, not become a twisted version of her.
“Maman,” Desiree welcomed her cheerfully, then kissed her mother on both cheeks. “What a pleasure to see
you. Are you enjoying your stay in the area?”
Her mother was more than a little stunned by Desiree’s attitude. Her forehead wrinkled briefly, as much as the Botox would allow. “Very well, and even better now that your manners have improved.”
Desiree didn’t rise to the bait. “Have you been here long? They have some amazing vegetarian dishes, though you have to be careful what you order—the portions are huge.” Desiree doubted her mother would indulge. “You could even bring it home with you. Your room has a small fridge hidden in the wardrobe, along with the TV.” Mason hid some modern conveniences in antique furnishings, just in case a guest was looking to get away from it all. The fridge, safe, and television set would have ruined the Victorian vibe of the inn. Desiree thought it was rather ingenious.
“Ah yes, your quaint obsession. Americans are always striving to forge a connection with the past. This start-up of a country will never catch up with France.” She gestured to the décor. “And this busy mess, it seems you are not the only one who stupidly flouts convention.”
Although her mother loathed the comparison, she resembled Victoria Beckham, including her posh short hair and attractive yet unsmiling face.
“While it’s been a pleasure to see you again, Maman, I’m sorry to say I can’t linger. We have plans.”
Rosalie bristled at being dismissed. Her slate-gray eyes grew sharp and flinty.
“Rowan and I are getting some coffee to go.”
Rosalie had been completely ignoring Rowan, not even glancing in her direction as they spoke. Desiree figured she probably had no idea what to do with her. Desiree actually enjoyed seeing her mother ill at ease, though a stranger would have to look very closely to see the signs: excessive proper posture, a subtle tenseness in Rosalie’s hands as they rested by her sides, a slight tightening of her mouth when Desiree said Rowan’s name.
“Oh, Mother, how rude of me, you remember Rowan.” Desiree glanced up at Rowan as if she too had forgotten her presence, though that would be some trick, considering Rowan was about six feet tall and built like an NBA star forward. Another striking feature was Rowan’s long, silky black hair that flowed past her shoulders down to the small of her back. Instead of softening her female masculinity, her hair gave her the appearance of a warrior.
