by Aurora Rey
“So I take it you’re a dog person.”
Lia, now sprawled on the floor so she could pet Murphy with both hands, sighed. “Yes. We always had at least two in the house when I was growing up. When I left for college, I swear I missed them more than my family because I could at least talk to my family on the phone.”
Alex frowned. “You haven’t had one since?”
Lia sat up. “My ex did not like dogs.”
Alex sniffed her disapproval.
“I know, right? Should have been a sign that it was ill-fated from the start.”
Alex knew it was important to tread carefully. She never wanted to be one of those women who is always bad-mouthing other people’s exes. She said diplomatically, “I’m sure that was hard. I was without a dog during college, too, and I swore when I graduated I would never be again.”
Lia smiled faintly and Alex feared she was going to clam up. It was time to change the subject. “What is it that smells so good?”
“Red beans.”
“Beans? I’ve never encountered beans that smell like that.”
“It’s my Grand-mère’s recipe, with a little bit of improvisation. I didn’t have a ham bone laying around.”
“Well, she must have been a phenomenal cook, and she must have passed it down to you.” She hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick. Lia didn’t seem put off, so that was good.
“She was, and she taught me most of what I know, including the tradition of red beans and rice on Mondays.”
“Why Mondays?”
“It was something the women could leave on the stove while they did the wash.”
“Really?”
“Yep. The funny thing is that you can go to a fancy restaurant in the French Quarter and, without fail, Monday’s special is red beans and rice.”
“That’s cool. I love the stories behind food traditions.” She also loved that Lia seemed to relax and open up when she talked about food. She made a mental note to remember that for future conversations.
Lia smiled. “It was also a way to get another meal out of Sunday’s ham bone.”
“Of course.”
Lia glanced at the clock. “They should actually be ready just about now. I need to cook a pot of rice still, but I’d love for you to stay.”
Things were going even better than Alex had hoped. Still, she didn’t want to press her luck. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hungry. You sure?”
“I’d love the company, and it’s the least I can do to repay you. Besides, as much as I love them, I do not need to eat an entire pot of beans.”
Alex followed Lia into the kitchen, watching as she measured water and rice. It was obvious from the way she moved around the space, handled utensils, that she cooked a lot. She tried to focus on Lia’s hands so that she didn’t get caught staring at the way Lia’s shorts accentuated both her long legs and her exceptionally nice rear end.
They chatted while the rice cooked, about dogs and music and grandmothers’ cooking. Lia set napkins and spoons at one end of the small dining table, poured two glasses of iced tea. When the rice was done, Lia spooned some into two bowls, then ladled over some of the beans. She lifted a bottle of hot sauce and, at Alex’s nod, dashed some onto each serving.
Lia carried the bowls to the table, motioned for Alex to sit. “Normally I’d make cornbread to go with them, but I’ve been eating so much of your bread, I opted to refrain.”
“We never do cornbread at the bakery. I should rectify that.” Alex sampled the beans. They were creamy and savory with a flavor far more complex than she expected. “Wow. These are amazing.”
“Thanks. That’s high praise coming from a chef.”
“Pastry chef. That’s not the same thing. I cook some savory dishes, but nothing to write home about.”
“I find that highly unlikely, but I’ll take the compliment nonetheless. How long have you owned The Flour Pot?”
Alex thought for a moment. “Just over three years. I worked there for three before that.”
“Was that always your goal? Did you know this was where you wanted to end up?”
Alex chuckled. “Not in the least. I went to the Culinary Institute in Hyde Park and we were crazy competitive with each other. My plan was to work my way up to a Michelin-starred restaurant in Boston.”
“But?”
Alex thought about the time she spent climbing that ladder, spending months at a time making nothing but tarts or truffles or sponge cakes. She toiled her way into chocolate work, creating artful flourishes for plated desserts and exotic bonbons for exclusive events. She even did a few showpieces—towering sculptures of perfectly tempered chocolate in elaborate and whimsical designs. “There was this constant pressure to do something new and exotic, things like molecular gastronomy. It started to feel more like one-upmanship than craftsmanship.”
“So everything you see on the Food Network is true.”
“Only less glamorous and with ridiculous hours.”
Lia shook her head. “I can’t imagine keeping that up.”
“Exactly. I decided that wasn’t the life I wanted.”
“And Provincetown was the antidote?”
Alex considered. The decision to move to Provincetown had been an impulsive one, fueled by her restlessness and a blossoming relationship that had taken an unfortunate turn. “Sort of. I came out for the summer, figuring I’d work for the season and then figure out what to do next. I landed at the bakery.”
“And then what happened?”
Alex wasn’t big on talking about herself so much, but Lia looked sincerely interested in her story. “The Flour Pot is one of the places that stays open year-round. I stayed, too, for the next year and the year after that. I got to know Doreen, the owner, and her wife Syd. They were ready to retire to somewhere that was warm more than three months of the year. I think they decided I would take care of the business, run it like they did.”
“And now it’s yours.”
Alex smiled. “And now it’s mine. I honestly don’t think I could have dreamed up such an opportunity if I’d tried.”
“What a great story.”
“Thanks. And now that I’ve talked your ear off, I’ll do the dishes.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—“
“It’s a rule. When I cook you a meal, you can do the dishes.”
Lia looked at the woman now standing at the sink, filling it with hot, soapy water. Lia put her hands on her hips, wondering how things had gotten so cozy all of a sudden. “You cook me a meal nearly every day.”
“That doesn’t count. You pay for your meals at the bakery.”
“How about I wash and you dry?” It occurred to Lia that she was negotiating dish duty with a virtual stranger. It should have been weird, but somehow wasn’t.
Alex stepped aside. “Deal.”
When they were done, she handed Lia the dish towel. “Thank you again for the amazing lunch. I hope I didn’t put too much of a wrinkle in your day.”
“It was great to have some company.” Although she would have said so no matter what—her mama taught her well—she meant it. As disconcerting as it had been to have Alex show up on her doorstep, the company had been nice.
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer.” Alex picked up her jacket and Murphy immediately joined her. “I’ll see you at the bakery soon, I hope.”
“You most certainly will.”
After they left, Lia sat down in the kitchen and looked around. Her eye caught the scarf that had prompted Alex’s visit and she started drumming her fingers on the table. Was it a friendly gesture or was there more to it?
Alex seemed to have everything going for her—looks, brains, personality. Lia replayed their conversation in her mind. It was definitely flirtatious. What she couldn’t decide was if Alex was one of those women who flirted with everyone. That was probably the case. That had to be the case.
Yet, each time they spent any amount of time together, Lia found herself more and more take
n. A not-so-small voice in the back of her mind warned her she was being too open, too easy, that she was dancing on the edge of something more than just friendliness. She needed to rein herself in. It was one thing to enjoy a little banter. It was another thing entirely to be genuinely attracted to someone.
Alex was a blip, a passing distraction. She allowed Lia to forget for a moment the reason she came to Provincetown in the first place. Emphasis on moment. She needed to remember that forgetting could be a very dangerous thing.
Chapter Ten
Alex stole a glance at Lia, who was sitting at a table near the window typing away. It was the table she’d claimed as her own and sat at more days than not for the better part of two weeks. Lia was oblivious to the observation, so she indulged in a longer look.
She was nice to look at. She had a way of wearing clothes that, without being revealing, showed off her curves. Her hair was this mass of dark curls that always looked a little sex tossed. She had a way of biting her lip when she was concentrating on her work. It made her look both studious and sexy, much like a librarian. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to start nibbling on those lips.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t give a second thought to asking Lia out, to finding out whether the attraction was mutual, to seeing where things might lead. There was that nagging feeling in the back of her mind, though. She couldn’t decide what it meant and she couldn’t quite shake it. Alex admitted to herself that she was fretting. She did not fret, nor did she stand around and do nothing.
She’d ask Lia to go out for a drink. It would be casual, neighborly even. Arriving in Provincetown in November was not conducive to a robust social life. Although some people chose to come at that time for just that reason, Lia didn’t give off the hermit vibe. She had, after all, become a regular at the bakery. She also seemed more than happy to chat, not only with Alex but with a few of the regulars who’d taken it upon themselves to make introductions.
Alex nodded to herself. She’d ask Lia to go out for a drink. It didn’t have to mean anything. So what if she found herself consumed by a need to kiss her, to see if her lips were as soft as they looked? She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
At around 2:00, before Lia had a chance to sneak away, she walked over to the table with two cups of coffee. “Care for a little break?”
Lia, who’d been completely absorbed in her work, was clearly startled by the sound of Alex’s voice. She jumped, banged her knee on the underside of the table, blushed. She glanced at Alex with a look that was half smile, half grimace. “Sorry?”
Smooth move, McKinnon. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I seem to have an unfortunate habit of doing that.”
Lia chuckled and made a serious face. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Funny. You’re funny.”
“I have my moments. What was the question again?”
“I asked if you wanted a little break.” She gestured with the two cups.
“Oh, that’s so nice of you. I would love a break.”
Alex set down the cups and pulled out the chair across from her. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“That would be lovely.”
It was a full smile Lia flashed her this time. Alex tried to ignore the warmth that moved through her. “So, is work going well?”
“It is. I’ve got a couple of things in the works. Coming here is perfect. I always get antsy if I don’t leave the house at least once every day or two.”
“Well, we’re happy to have you. And I don’t just mean here at the bakery. It’s always nice to have another soul around in the winter.” It helped that she was a gorgeous, smart, funny soul, but Alex didn’t mention that part.
Lia nodded. “I can imagine. I’ve been here a few times, but only in the summer. I knew it would be quiet, but I underestimated exactly what that meant.”
She chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t help that most of the people still around are heading into hibernation mode. It’ll get worse when the weather really turns.”
“Really turns?”
“After December, the Nor’easters start to blow in. There’s something about when it’s five below and snowing sideways that makes people want to hunker down.”
Lia swallowed. “That would do it.”
Alex studied the woman across from her. Her eyes were as big as saucers. It was hard not to laugh. She wondered what on earth Lia Brooks was doing here. “Well, before that happens, a lot of the locals take advantage of their free evenings by having drinks and getting cozy down at the Crown & Anchor. If you’re going to winter here, you should make an appearance sooner rather than later.”
“That’s very friendly advice. Thanks.”
She couldn’t tell if Lia was shutting her down or looking for an invitation. “Always happy to help out a newbie in town.”
“So when does one go? What’s the attire? I don’t want to look like some intrusive tourist.” Lia sounded so earnest, like she was trying to understand some foreign culture.
“Weeknight crowd tends to be a little on the early side, and it’s definitely casual. If you’re not busy tonight, we could head over together around five. I’ll know just about everyone there and I’d be happy to introduce you to some of the usual suspects.”
Lia went from smiling to looking like a deer in the headlights. Clearly, the invitation was a surprise. From the looks of it, it was an unwelcome one. “Um…”
Alex’s brain kicked into high gear, trying to find a way to backpedal that would give them both a graceful exit. “Or some other time. It’s no big deal.”
Lia seemed to regain a little of her composure. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you. Tonight’s not good, but yes, maybe some other time.”
Alex shrugged, trying to keep her tone super casual. “Sure. Whenever. Open invitation, no pressure.”
“Great. Thanks. Really. I, um, should actually be going. Thanks for the coffee.”
“Of course. It was nice to take a break with some company.”
Lia nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely. Have a good afternoon.”
Alex watched as Lia picked up her things and scurried out of the café. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why there’d been such an abrupt shift. It was just a casual, friendly invitation, right?
She got up and started her end-of-shift cleaning. As she went about her routine, Alex found herself mildly irritated. What she couldn’t decide was whether she was irritated with Lia or with herself.
*
Lia walked home, berating herself for being such a flake. Alex had done nothing more than invite her to the neighborhood bar. Friends, even casual acquaintances, did that sort of thing all the time. Even in the context of their semi-flirtatious chatting, it wasn’t a big deal. Why did she freak out?
There was no reason to think Alex was trying to make anything of it. She might have even done it out of pity. Oh, God. What if Alex had invited her out of pity? Okay, now she was just being dramatic. She needed to calm herself down. A little perspective wouldn’t hurt either.
Lia walked in the door of her apartment and set down her bag. After checking the time, she picked up her phone and dialed her best friend.
“Hey!” Sally drawled the greeting in a way that was unique to Southerners; it managed to be both languid and enthusiastic at the same time.
“Hey, Sal. Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all, sugar. I was in court all morning and am just finishing a late lunch.”
“Oh good.” Lia hesitated. How should she frame this?
Sally had been her best friend since they were five. They’d been in the same preschool class and, within days of knowing one another, were inseparable. That continued throughout elementary, middle, and high school. Both the only girl in a family of boys, they became the sister neither of them had.
Sally was the first person she came out to. With sweaty palms and a knot in her stomach, she told Sally about her crush on the captain of the girls’ b
asketball team, about liking girls in general. She was convinced Sally would no longer be her friend, that hugs and sleepovers and confidences would become suspicious or, worse, repugnant.
To the contrary, Sally found the entire thing delightful. It was, by her estimation, one of the more exciting things to happen in their quiet, small town existence. She cheered Lia on in coming out to her parents and brothers; she consoled her through her first heartbreak. Going to college nearly a thousand miles apart had been a difficult decision for them both. Armed with email, instant messages, and weekly phone calls, they managed to remain one another’s cheerleaders, confidantes, and more. Lia was the maid of honor in Sally’s wedding and godmother to her sons.
“I get the feeling you aren’t just calling to chew the cud.”
“Well…” Lia paced back and forth across the kitchen.
“Spill.” As a lawyer and a mother of two little boys, Sally was an expert at getting people to do just that.
“A woman invited me to have a drink with her and I freaked out.”
“I’m going to need a little more than that.”
Lia took a deep breath. “Almost every day since I got here, I’ve been going to this café to work. The woman who owns it has been really nice and welcoming and today she invited me for a drink at the bar where all the locals hang out.”
“I gather this woman is a lesbian?”
Lia thought about Alex—her looks, her casual confidence, the unmistakably flirtatious banter. “Oh, yeah.”
“I see. So, did you freak out because she asked you to join her for a drink or because you’re attracted to her and you don’t know what to do about it?”
In addition to being highly persuasive, Sally also had a laser-sharp intuition. Occasionally, it caused Lia serious vexation, but mostly, it was really nice. She stopped pacing. “I suppose it’s the latter.”
“That’s good. If you’d lost pleasure in a friendly cocktail and the local bar, I’m not sure what I’d do with you.”
“You’re so right.” Lia told her about Alex showing up with her scarf, how the initial awkwardness gave way to easy conversation.
