by Julie Cannon
As she exchanged a five-dollar bill for a bottle of Fat Tire, she saw just over the left shoulder of the bartender a woman sitting alone, peeling the label off her own beer bottle. Ordinarily Dillon wouldn’t have even noticed her, experience telling her that someone like her usually sat alone at the bar for a reason, and she always stayed clear. But something was different about this one, and after Dillon squeezed past the other patrons who had crowded behind her for their turn at the bar, she moved so she could see her more clearly.
Propping herself against the wall, Dillon drank her beer, watching the woman do the same. After a few minutes she traded her empty bottle for a full one, subtly appraising the woman as if she were judging her for some type of contest. Nothing about her was special. Even from across the room Dillon suspected her short, wavy blond hair was soft and thick. The sleeves of her royal blue shirt were rolled up to her elbows, and Dillon liked the casual, unpretentious way she had dispensed of them, unlike the perfectly folded cuffs of the woman sitting two stools to her left. The blonde’s arms were tan, revealing hands free of any rings. Her glasses were stylish, perched on top of a slightly crooked nose, and the small hoops hanging from her ears were the kind worn by half the women in the room. The only other visible jewelry Dillon saw was a clunky watch that the woman kept glancing at every few minutes. She was either waiting for someone or deciding whether to go home.
A pang grabbed Dillon’s stomach when a stunning brunette approached the woman. Dillon knew by the intruder’s body language that she was on the prowl for something other than conversation and watched in interest as she was politely but firmly rebuffed. Dillon was relieved but wasn’t sure why.
An overweight dyke bumped Dillon, drawing her attention away from the woman and back to the main reason she was here. She scanned the crowd that had grown in size in the last fifteen minutes, providing her a wide variety from which to choose. The redhead she noticed when she first came in looked particularly interesting, as did the Angelina Jolie look-alike shooting pool. She nodded to a woman she had been with several times who definitely knew what to do with her mouth other than argue a case before the state supreme court. The model-thin brunette in the corner, Dillon knew firsthand, was just the opposite. But her glance kept straying back to the woman at the bar, and when Dillon looked this time, she was paying her tab, apparently about to leave. Before Dillon realized what she was doing, she had crossed the bar and stood beside her.
Callie felt rather than saw the woman and her anger rose to the surface. She was pissed at Audrey for standing her up and making her endure the bar leeches that saw her only as fresh meat. She was tired and her small headache from earlier in the day was competing with the music for space in her head. She was gathering her keys when a voice from behind her asked, “Would you like to dance?”
For an instant Callie was tempted to spit back a caustic reply, but then she realized this woman had asked her to dance, not tossed out a weak, overused pickup line. When she gave the woman her attention, Callie saw that she had not invaded her personal space like the others, had not set her beer on the bar like she had been invited, and was looking at her face, not her chest. This woman and her approach were different.
“Excuse me?” She practically had to shout to be heard over the noise.
The woman standing next to her lowered her head slightly, but didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to step closer. “I asked if you would like to dance.”
Callie wanted to say no, she knew she should say no, but something about the way this woman presented herself made her say yes instead. She had been acting strange lately, and this was another indication that she really needed to get it together before she did something stupid. Not until she rose off the stool did the woman put her beer on the bar. The woman signaled for her to lead the way to the dance floor, and Callie managed to find a small unoccupied space where they could barely move among the throngs of women jostling for a piece of wood-laminate real estate.
They hadn’t danced more than a dozen steps when the lights dimmed and a slow ballad instantly replaced the blaring music. The woman didn’t act like she wanted to leave the crowded floor but looked at Callie as if to say, “It’s up to you.”
Against her better judgment Callie held out her arms and the woman stepped forward. “My name is Dillon.”
Callie had to tilt her head up to meet the eyes of the woman who held her chastely. She was only an inch or two taller than her own five foot six inches, but she seemed taller. “Callie.”
“Pleased to meet you, Callie.”
Dillon didn’t say anything more, and Callie tentatively enjoyed the feeling of being held in her arms. They fit perfectly and danced well together, without the usual awkward stumbling of strangers on the dance floor.
She glanced up and met a strong chin and a firm jawline. Soft curls fell over Dillon’s forehead, and only a hint of lines around her eyes indicated her age. Dillon smiled, and for the first time Callie noticed deep dimples on either side of full lips, making her look like a little girl. But the hard body so near hers was definitely that of a full-grown woman. A flush of heat scorched through her body at the thought, and she stumbled. Dillon pulled her closer, steadying her.
“Sorry,” Callie replied, shaking her head to regain her equilibrium. Her hands were sweaty and she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her upright. Dillon seemed to sense her insecurity and held her a little tighter. It’s the beers, Callie thought. They’re making me light-headed. She hadn’t eaten dinner and had downed three beers. Dillon smiled and Callie stumbled again.
“It’s okay. It’s kind of tough dancing with someone you just met. Maybe we should do it more often, and if we get good enough we can try out for Dancing with the Stars.”
Callie laughed at Dillon’s reference to the popular television show. “But on that show the regular people dance with the stars, not with each other.” Callie started to relax again.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re not somebody famous? I thought you were Leann Rimes.” Dillon leaned back, looking at Callie’s face, their lower bodies touching intimately.
“Very funny. Leann Rimes is a country singer, not a lesbian.” The pressure of Dillon’s pelvis against hers was making her crotch tingle.
Dillon feigned disappointment, then smiled again. “A girl can fantasize, can’t she?”
Callie’s stomach fell at the expression in Dillon’s eyes, which was a combination of lust, humor, and challenge. It made Callie want something she hadn’t had in a long time—to get lost in those eyes. To feel soft hands stroke and caress her body, strong arms hold her after she came. She wanted to stop thinking and disappear in sensation.
She tried to force her thoughts back to reality, but that was almost impossible with this beautiful woman wrapped around her. The lights came up as quickly as they had gone down, and the shriek of an electric guitar pierced the stillness of the dance floor.
Dillon winced at the abrupt transition and made a note to talk to Joanne, the owner, about the DJ’s order of songs. Reluctantly she released Callie and followed her back to where they had left their beers on the bar.
“Thank you for the dance. You’re very good.” Dillon almost choked on her words as Callie tilted her head back, exposing her long neck as she drank the remaining liquid in her bottle. Dillon’s pulse raced and her crotch throbbed. She almost dropped her bottle when Callie laughed.
“Are you kidding? I stepped on your feet and practically fell on my ass, not once but twice. I don’t know who you’ve been dancing with, but she certainly had to be…” Callie lost her train of thought at the barely contained look of desire burning in Dillon’s eyes. She couldn’t pull her own eyes away and was drawn in to the fiery depths. Dillon blinked a few times and the blaze disappeared. Had Callie imagined it? The way her body reacted told her it had been there.
“My niece,” Dillon replied.
“What?” Callie asked, confused.
“My niece. The person I’ve been danc
ing with. She’s six years old, and every time we get together she insists on dancing with me. She’s all legs, with two left feet and a smile the size of Texas.”
“She must take after her aunt,” Callie replied. At the shocked look on Dillon’s face she added, “The smile part. Not the two left feet.” She thought for a moment then looked at Dillon’s legs from the tip of her boots to the top of her thighs. “Okay, the leg part too.”
Dillon flushed under Callie’s direct appraisal and said, “Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter? Maybe get a cup of coffee or something?”
Callie’s breath caught in her throat. “Or something?” Callie wasn’t in the mood for innuendo and idle chitchat.
Dillon’s eyes dilated with obvious excitement. “Yes.”
“And what form of something did you have in mind?” Callie was typically not this forward with women, but she could barely remember the last time she was with one.
“I’d prefer to spell it out where there aren’t so many people around. I’ll tell you exactly what I have in mind if you tell me first.”
Callie closed the gap between them. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was shallow. “All right. There’s no need to beat around the bush. We’re two consenting adults who obviously find each other attractive. Why not act on it?” Callie took a deep breath. “I want to fuck you senseless and I’d expect the same.”
Chapter Three
Dillon’s nagging sensation of unease intensified. Her inner voice was always correct, and it was telling her that something about Callie wasn’t quite right. The hesitation in Callie’s voice, which Dillon detected in spite of the blare from the speakers, made her suspect Callie wasn’t used to going home with someone she had just met in a bar. When she offered exactly what Dillon had in mind, she hadn’t known whether to rejoice or run.
She had been burned in the past by women who agreed to an unencumbered romp in the sack, but immediately became clingy and demanding not long after she left their bed. Callie wasn’t giving off those signals, but Dillon couldn’t determine what she was exuding. So she said, “I was thinking more along the lines of a cup of coffee somewhere.”
The look on Callie’s face told Dillon that was definitely not the response she expected.
Dillon spoke quickly. “Let me rephrase that. I’m flattered, and I will admit that was my intent when I came over here, but as tempting as it sounds, I get the impression you aren’t completely comfortable with this situation. I don’t want to take advantage of it, and I certainly don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Callie wondered why Dillon was saying these things. Was she being honest, or was she playing some kind of weird game? Maybe she shouldn’t have anything to do with someone who gave such mixed signals.
“Please don’t be embarrassed,” Dillon said. “Any other time or place and we wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot. Let’s go get some coffee and we’ll see where it goes from there.”
Callie was mortified. At that very moment she wanted nothing more than to crawl through the seam in the tattered carpet and disappear forever. She had never been so humiliated. How could she have misjudged Dillon so badly? Granted, it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to accept a proposition for casual sex, but she didn’t think she was that rusty. Dillon’s signals had been clear, or at least she thought they were.
She hesitated and looked at the outstretched hand in front of her. It was a meet-in-the-middle gesture. After Dillon’s rebuff, she couldn’t look her in the eye. How would she be able to sit across from her in a well-lit restaurant?
“Please.”
The single word was all she needed to finally decide to meet the eyes searching her face. “Do you promise to never bring this up in conversation again?” Dillon nodded. “Do you promise to never tell your friends about this?” Again, a nod. “Do you promise—”
Dillon held up her index finger. “I draw the line at promising to love, honor, and obey for as long as we both shall live. And I’m not real crazy about the better-or-worse part, either. I guess I’m selfish that way.”
Callie’s hesitation dissolved under Dillon’s wit and dimples. “All right, but we haven’t even talked about the sickness-and-health part.” She was rewarded with a smile that showed off Dillon’s perfectly white teeth and she accepted Dillon’s hand, surprised at how comfortable it felt. As Dillon led her toward the door, she spotted Audrey leaning over a buxom blonde stretched over the pool table, stroking a pool cue and lining up her shot. A flash of irritation gave way to something else as Callie realized that if Audrey had seen her, she might not have met Dillon. She stepped out the front door into the cool night, unsure if that was a good thing or not.
*
Dillon continued to hold Callie’s hand as they walked across the busy street to the Starbucks. “This okay?” she asked as a car horn blasted behind them.
“Sure.” Surprisingly, Callie didn’t feel ill at ease with Dillon’s firm grip as they entered the coffee shop. She wasn’t one for public displays of affection, but Dillon didn’t seem to want to let go. Dillon was strong and confident, and Callie needed someone to be in charge for once, even if it was only to suggest which coffee shop to go to.
She was tired—tired of making decisions, tired of fighting for every little thing. Everything seemed to be a gigantic issue that would affect the rest of her life, and lately she felt as if she had made more mistakes in judgment than correct ones. The months following the attack and Michael’s arrest had passed in a blur, and she had spent the time since he had been in Lompak attending constant meetings with attorneys. Her bank balance was as dire as her decision-making ability, and neither looked like it would recover anytime soon. Thankfully her boss at the flower shop understood her occasional distraction.
She had worked at Crane Florist for six years, and the owners—Ross and his boyfriend John—had become her friends. They supported her emotionally and even continued to pay her when she had to miss work for Michael’s trial and subsequent appointments. Today had been one of those days that caused her to miss lunch and dinner and drink too much at the bar.
The attorney she hired for Michael charged three hundred dollars an hour for his services, and between her brother’s original defense and now his appeal, the money she had painstakingly saved to open her own flower shop was practically depleted. Ross and John didn’t know it, but she had taken a second job for an answering service at night to help with the bills. This was her first night off in over three weeks. Yesterday she had started the paperwork for a second mortgage on her house, and as she filled in the information she realized that the empty boxes on the endless forms symbolized the emptiness she felt.
“Callie?”
Callie snapped her attention back to Dillon, who had an odd look on her face. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was a mix of concern, tenderness, and irritation. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Do you want coffee or something else?”
When Dillon had turned to Callie for her order, she looked like she was a hundred miles away. Her expression had the same almost-haunted quality that Dillon had seen earlier, and she wanted to make whatever was concerning Callie go away. She certainly had the money and power to do almost anything. Whatever was bothering Callie couldn’t be that bad. Yeah. And she thought Bill Franklin would be a slam dunk too.
And what had been going on back in the bar? Dillon couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth. She had scruples, but when a beautiful woman offered herself, they always flew out the window. Well, almost always.
“Coffee’s fine. Black, no sugar.” Callie brightened and returned Dillon’s gaze with a smile. Her reaction made Dillon even more curious as to what was going on with her.
Drinks in hand, Dillon led them to a round table in the corner that provided a small degree of privacy. The shop was busy, and she wanted to talk with Callie without a dozen pair of ears listening in. Callie still seemed embarrassed, so Dillon d
ecided to keep the conversation light.
“So, what do you do when you’re not out on the town?” She almost said “hanging out in a bar,” but stopped herself just in time.
Callie removed her lid and blew on the hot liquid. “I work at Crane Florist.”
“Doing what?”
“A little of this and a lot of that. I was hired for floral design. You know, putting all kinds of pieces together in an arrangement and making it look fabulous. But lately I’ve just been making deliveries and manning the cash register.” Callie heard how flat and lifeless her own words sounded. And her concentration certainly wasn’t what it used to be.
“What’s happened lately?”
Callie sipped her coffee, giving herself a moment to decide how to answer. Most people would have let her comment slip by, but Dillon hadn’t missed her choice of words. She would have to be more careful with what she said. “I’ve been a little distracted. But you don’t want to hear about it,” she added quickly.
“Why not? Is it something gory? Better yet, is it something seedy?” Dillon leaned toward Callie.
Callie studied the woman in front of her. She had appeared out of nowhere, asked her to dance, and now here they were having coffee together. She was not going to be one of those women who dumped her life’s problems on the first date. First date! Where in the hell did that come from?
“No, but I still don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not? I’m a good listener. Actually, I’m perfect for the part. I’m a total stranger with nothing to gain or lose by hearing your story. I’m not acquainted with any of the players, so you don’t have to worry about me taking sides, and I don’t know you, so I can’t be judgmental. It’s kind of like anonymous sex. We’ll never see each other again, so why not let it all hang out?”
