by BJ Phillips
“Come on, sit down. You might as well stay until the rain passes,” Shawn said, pointing at the tea.
Carrie sat down, put the plastic bag on the floor and took a sip from her glass. “Excellent. You make wicked margaritas and great tea. Not bad.”
“I can make do.” Shawn grinned.
“So, what have you been up to, besides the remodeling going on?” Carrie waved her arm around at the construction zone. “I just realized this is the first time I’ve seen the inside of your house. I see you’re sleeping in the living room. That must be fun.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy, all right. Deadline coming up and I’m not ready. This is the first time I’ve had a break all day other than stuffing something in my face a couple of times. A girl has to eat.” She contemplated her iced tea glass.
“True. Still, don’t you even run anymore?”
“Um, well, you know, it’s getting warmer outside in the afternoons so I decided to run in the mornings, when it’s at least a bit cooler. Clears my head for working.”
“I came over to check on you because I hadn’t seen you in a week or so. I was afraid you might be sick or something. You know, good neighbors and all that. Besides, I missed you.”
“You did? For some reason I figured you were busy, or maybe you and Jess were going out…I mean in her boat or something,” Shawn quickly added. “I figured you wouldn’t miss me.”
“Me and Jess? Nah. Remember I told you she’s a good friend, and that’s all there is between us.”
Shawn thought for a moment while taking a sip of her tea. “I could’ve sworn I saw you with Jess in her truck a week or so ago when I passed your house. I guess I could’ve been wrong. She sure looked like Jess, though.”
“Yeah, we did get a late lunch the other day. Ran into her and started talking, then decided to go get something to eat. That’s all it was.” Carrie blushed deeply. “Um…you didn’t happen to see her trying to kiss me when she dropped me off, did you?”
Shawn felt the warmth rise in her face. “Okay, I confess. I did see Jess kissing you. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was running by when I happened to look down your driveway as I went past. It was none of my business and I shouldn’t have been looking.”
“That was all one-sided for sure. It was nothing, believe me. Hey, that’s not why you haven’t been around is it?”
“Well, a little part of it. I really did need to work. I saw Jess kiss you and I just assumed you were, um, busy.” Shawn felt a huge lump form in her throat.
Carrie reached for Shawn’s hand, holding it in both of her own. “Shawn, don’t assume anything. Ask me. I know we’re just friends, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in more…I mean if you are. Maybe we should just get some things out in the open right now.” Shawn looked up at Carrie, who took a deep breath. “Shawn, I like you. I’m attracted to you. You’re fun to be with and you make me laugh. I’d like to see if this could go anywhere if you’re interested.”
Shawn felt the lump in her throat start to dissipate. “Wow…not what I was expecting to hear, thank goodness. I like you, too.” She paused, looking straight into those brown eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be more than friends with anyone right now. It didn’t work out well last time, and I just don’t want to rush into anything. I’m just getting back to work, and it’s something I have to do alone. And there are times I get on a marathon tear and barely come up for air, let alone another human being. I’m rambling aren’t I?”
Carrie was grinning at her. “Would you mind very much if I kissed you?”
Shawn stood up, bringing Carrie with her. “No, I wouldn’t mind very much at all.”
Carrie leaned in and gently touched her lips to Shawn’s. Carrie’s lips were just as soft as Shawn imagined they would be, still tasting faintly of sweet tea.
“Again, please?” Carrie murmured.
Shawn obliged this time. She held Carrie’s hands as she kissed her again. She could feel Carrie let go of her hands and melt into her arms, and deepen the kiss. Carries lips parted and their tongues explored. Carrie broke the kiss and pulled just inches away.
“Wow. That was some first kiss. And second kiss. ” Carrie looked into Shawn’s blue eyes.
“I could get used to kissing you,” Shawn said, “That was very nice.”
Carrie stepped back, reaching for Shawn’s hand again. “Good start. Now, what do we do? How about we try spending more time together?”
“Okay. What would you like to do? Go out to dinner or a movie? Or would you rather go dancing somewhere?”
“First of all, let’s agree not to go to the Smokin’ Pit on a date anytime soon. Lunch maybe, with friends. If we can’t live without their ribs or pulled pork one night we can always get takeout.” Carrie chuckled. “Tell you what, how about I make some dinner at my house, since you’re working so hard, and we could go out for a little dancing afterward? How does that sound? The Lighthouse is nice. It’s out near the beach, but worth the drive.”
Shawn grinned. “I think I like a take-charge woman. Sometimes. How about Friday? My book is due then, and I really need to buckle down. Once I get my manuscript sent in, I’ll have more time for distractions for a while…meaning you. That is, until the edits have to be done.”
“I distract you. All right, I like that. Okay, how about you come over at seven next Friday night. You aren’t allergic to shellfish or anything like that are you? Just thought I should ask. Don’t want to spend our first date night in the emergency room.”
“Oh, no… nothing like that. I just hate pumpkin anything. Sounds un-American, doesn’t it? I’ve never liked it. And mayonnaise. Don’t like that, either. Other than that, I’ll eat just about anything.”
“All right, it's settled. I’ll make supper for us. We’ll talk before then? Oh, and by the way, casual attire is still good at The Lighthouse.” Carrie glanced over Shawn’s shoulder toward the front door. “Hey the rain stopped. I need to get back home and let you return to work. I’d better go before I want to kiss you again.” She laughed. “Too late.” She planted another soft kiss quickly on Shawn’s lips. Before Shawn could respond, Carrie scooped up her bag of wet clothes and headed for the porch.
Shawn was sure she had never looked as good in that T-shirt and those shorts as Carrie did. She was absolutely positive. She walked to the door, watched Carrie slip her feet into her flip-flops and head back toward her house. Now that was an interesting rainstorm. And I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter Eleven
THURSDAY NIGHT, CARRIE SETTLED in for the evening into the overstuffed chair next to the fireplace with a sigh and a book by her favorite romance novelist, S.K. Richardson. She’d read this book several times, but it was still her favorite. At the end of the book, the two main characters pledged their love to each other on a beach on Sanibel Island, at sunset of course. It was all just so romantic. All of S.K. Richardson’s books were absolutely pure, unadulterated romance.
Even though Carrie knew it was one hundred percent fantasy, she compared every woman she’d dated to that fantasy ideal from those books. What’s more, she assumed the writer who could come up with stories like that had to be the most romantic woman in the world. She had no idea what the author was really like, though, since she rarely did interviews. When she did those rare interviews, they were only about her books. Carrie sighed again and absently turned the book over. This one had a picture of the author on the back cover.
Carrie nearly dropped the book. The picture was of the author walking barefoot alone on a beach just before sunset, her hands in the pockets of her cargo shorts. She sure looked like Shawn, even though it wasn’t a close-up. In fact, she looked enough like Shawn to be her or a twin sister. And so far, Shawn hadn’t mentioned any twin sister.
It dawned on her that Shawn hadn’t said what she was writing—just that she had a deadline. Rich said he thought she was a novelist, but he hadn’t asked what kind of books she wrote. Oh, my God, she thought. It can’t be
. The short bio said the author lived in San Francisco. Why haven’t I noticed this before? I must have looked at this picture a dozen times. I just can’t remember. I’m probably living down the street from my favorite author and even kissed her. Her heart was racing. She jumped out of the chair and began pacing the room. Now what?
***
Following the last period in the paragraph, Shawn typed THE END. Finally done! She’d made one final tweak on the last page, and this book was finished. She e-mailed it off to AJ just after ten p.m. She turned off the lights and turned on the television, lying in bed with her back on pillows propped against the white wicker headboard.
She’d already replayed that kissing scene with Carrie in her head at least fifty times. She could feel the heat between them, and could still feel Carrie’s touch on her hands and on her arm, not to mention on her lips. She knew she wanted more than kisses from Carrie. She also knew that was a dangerous road. Not necessarily with some women, but it would be with Carrie. She could tell Carrie was the kind of woman who wanted you to fall in love with her and ride off into the sunset. Well, she had already ridden off into the sunset once and look what happened—the sun came up the next day, the horse was gone, and so was the damsel. Shawn just wasn’t sure she could do that again. Carrie was sweet and all that, and a great kisser. She had a very sexy body that Shawn would love to explore. She was also a lot of fun to hang around with. But—and this was a big but—Shawn wasn’t ready to fall in love again. Yet. If she were ready, it would definitely be with someone like Carrie.
Chapter Twelve
SHAWN TURNED DOWN HER driveway Friday morning after her run reliving those kisses from that stormy afternoon and the feel of Carrie’s body against hers. And once again she felt like each kiss was attached directly to her core. She was feeling warmer by the minute, and it wasn’t just from running. She needed to take a cold shower to get her mind off Carrie.
***
Carrie was reliving those kisses from just days ago. She was pretty sure she’d kissed her favorite author. Now she needed to find out if Shawn really was S.K. Richardson. There was only one way to find out for sure—ask her.
Carrie didn’t want to be one of those silly groupies who yearned to be able to say she had kissed/slept with/dated someone well-known. S.K. Richardson was special because of the stories she wrote. Carrie wondered if it was true that it took a romantic to write them. Maybe it didn’t. Well, tonight she’d make a nice supper for them and they’d go dancing and see what happened after that. If nothing else, she hoped they could be friends. If something more happened, that was a bonus.
For supper, she was planning popcorn shrimp, baked potatoes, and steamed broccoli with cheese sauce. And of course, there would be biscuits. She had a bottle of white wine ready and some iced tea, since they were going out. Maybe they’d drink the wine later.
At seven p.m. on the nose, Carrie heard Shawn coming up the driveway. By the time she opened the door, Shawn was stepping onto her porch with a bottle of wine in her hand.
“You definitely clean up well,” Carrie teased her. She stepped back and waved her in.
“Not so bad yourself, either. You look really nice.” Shawn stepped into the cool room, reaching out to hand over the wine.
Carrie took the bottle with one hand, then reached her other hand to Shawn’s face and kissed her softly, barely grazing her lips. She hoped it would be enough to make her want more. Then she couldn’t help coming back for a second, longer kiss, her lips parting for Shawn’s tongue to briefly explore her mouth. This one made her knees start to buckle and the bottle of wine almost crash to the floor.
Carrie stepped back and took a deep breath. “Wow. To quote someone else from the other day, I think I could get used to kissing you.” She took Shawn’s hand and led her into the small dining area in the kitchen.
***
Shawn was nearly dizzy from that last kiss. She couldn’t stop looking at Carrie. Her head was spinning from just being so close to her. The tantalizing aromas emanating from Carrie’s kitchen made her stomach rumble, telling her that either she was starving or this was going to be one good meal. So now she could add “can cook” to the list of Carrie’s positive attributes. Jen didn’t cook worth a lick, and had no interest. Shawn had either done the cooking or they ate out. Of course there was always takeout. Carrie, however, was obviously very comfortable in the kitchen. Shawn opened the bottle of wine she had brought and poured each of them a glass before they sat down.
“A toast,” Carrie said. “To us. To wherever this evening takes us.”
“And to good neighbors.” Shawn clinked her class to Carrie’s, their eyes meeting over the top of the glasses briefly. “Thank you for making dinner. All of this sure looks good and smells wonderful. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time that I didn’t make myself.”
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed making it. My grandmother always said feeding people you care about is a very wonderful thing, and I agree. She also said it was an art, if done well.” Carrie grinned. “I don’t know how artistic all of this is, but it’s fun cooking for someone besides myself.”
Shawn reached for a biscuit. “Well, it was very nice of you. Most of the women I’ve known have wanted to be wined and dined on a first date. And here you are, cooking for me.”
Carrie reached for a biscuit at the same time Shawn did, their fingers touching for just a second as they reached for the same one. They both said ‘go ahead’ at the same time, too, then laughed. Shawn felt herself relax. She hadn’t realized she was nervous until she began to breathe normally.
She was sure she showed considerable restraint in not heaping her plate, even though she was ravenous. “This is really good. So did your grandmother teach you to cook?” Shawn asked in between bites of cheese-covered broccoli.
Carrie smiled. “Yes, she did. Mom wasn’t that great at it. I spent a lot of time with Grandma and she used to let me help her in the kitchen. Those are some of my happiest memories.” She popped another shrimp in her mouth.
“That’s so amazing. It’s great that you have those wonderful memories and a very useful skill, as well. I never knew my grandparents. My mom was a late in life baby and her parents died when I was too young to remember them. My dad’s parents died in an accident before my mom and dad got married. So what you had with your grandmother is very special. I’m glad you recognize how precious that is.”
“I really do, believe me. All, right, then, what about you? You said you cooked too, so who taught you? Your mom?”
“Nope. Me.” Shawn grinned.
“Seriously? You taught yourself?” Carrie put down her fork and put her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. “How did that happen?”
“Starvation, actually. I never cared about learning anything in the kitchen when I was growing up. I was too busy doing other stuff, and my mom didn’t really push me. Being an only child does help like that.”
“Yes it does. I’m sorry you didn’t have kitchen time with her. It’s a great opportunity to talk and just be together.”
“She was one of those who’d rather do it herself and I would’ve just been in the way. Once I was out on my own, I had to learn to cook or starve, since I couldn’t afford to eat out all the time. So I went to the library, checked out a basic cookbook, and taught myself. Amazing what you can learn from books, isn’t it?” She laughed. “I don’t do anything fancy. It’s sustenance cooking only, believe me. I can follow the directions on a frozen food package and make spaghetti and stuff like that.” She grinned. “And I make great garlic bread.”
“Garlic bread, huh? Do you make that for your dates?” Carrie leaned forward, grinning back. “Is luring them in with garlic bread a dating ploy for you?”
“Um…yeah…hey, I figured if both of us ate it, no big deal, right?” Shawn laughed as she found herself trying not to stare down the front of Carrie’s blouse. She dipped another shrimp in cocktail sauce and popped it in her mouth to distract herself befo
re picking up her fork again. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can teach you to make margaritas and you could teach me how to cook more things. Do you know how to make country fried steak? I love that stuff but always have to go to a restaurant to get it.”
“Believe it or not, it’s one of my specialties. I just don’t make it very often because, well, it’s not really that healthy. I’ll admit it’s delicious though.” Carrie grinned again. “Tell you what, I’d be happy to exchange recipes and techniques with you. I’m sure we could learn from each other with some hands-on teaching. I’d love to learn to make margaritas.”
“True, hands on is much easier. And much more fun.” Shawn grinned back. “Maybe we could make a meal together some time and learn from each other. How does that sound?”
“I think that sounds like a deal to me.”
After supper, they tidied up the kitchen. Carrie insisted they leave the dishes, saying they should get to The Lighthouse before it got so late there wouldn’t be any tables left. The place was quite busy even during the off-season.
As Shawn drove to their destination, she looked over at Carrie, and found her looking back, smiling at her. Shawn reached over and took Carrie’s hand in hers, stroking the back of Carrie's hand with her thumb absently as she drove. Looking back a couple of minutes later, she found Carrie almost staring at her with a quizzical look on her face.
“What’s up?” Shawn squeezed Carrie’s hand for a second before letting go.
Carrie blushed a little. “I was just wondering something.”
“What would that be? Something I know the answer to, or one of those ‘why is the sky blue’ questions?” Shawn grinned and glanced back over at Carrie again before looking back at the road.
“Well, this might sound funny, but you look an awful lot like my favorite author. By any chance have you ever heard of S.K. Richardson?”
