by M. Ullrich
Chapter Ten
Imogene was surprised when her phone rang early on Friday morning. The boutique was a couple hours from opening, and Sophia rarely called during the morning hours. Friends and family never made it a habit to call at all. Imogene preferred quiet mornings where she could lie around and catch up on the latest book she’d purchased or browse the many catalogs she received in the mail. It was eight o’clock and a groggy, sleepy Imogene grumbled as she looked at the bright display of her phone. Her heavy eyes shot open wide when she saw Catherine’s name in bold lettering.
“Hello?” Imogene cringed at how deep her morning voice sounded.
“Good morning, it’s Catherine. I hope I’m not calling too early.”
“No!” Imogene cleared her throat, “No. Not at all. I’ve been up for a while.” Twenty-five minutes is a while, right? She tugged awkwardly at the tie on her terry-cloth robe.
“Okay, good. Listen, Imogene, I was wondering if you’d like to come by the office today. I have another list. This one has a few products as well as Realtors. I’d like to go over it with you as soon as possible. Are you available to meet me at my office this afternoon?”
“This afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“At your office?”
“My office.”
“In the city?” Imogene’s grip on the thick sash increased.
“That’s the one. I can give you directions if you need.” Catherine offered so easily it reminded Imogene of just how oblivious the caller was to her distress.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m very familiar with the city.” She thought about all her time spent there and how her father and brothers on duty chased her around the large firehouse when she was growing up.
“Hey, Cowboy! You better watch out. Your little one is going to be trouble when she gets older.” A rotund man spoke from behind a large, red fire truck. When he stepped out from behind it, the rest of the company started to hoot with laughter at the sight of a six-year-old Imogene hanging from his broad shoulders.
“My Imogene? Never!” Frank Harris ran up and snatched his small daughter up into his arms, causing her to squeal with delight. When her giggles subsided, they looked at one another, eyes locking and faces set in similar expressions. He continued to speak softly. “She’s my little angel.”
“Imogene?” Catherine’s voice brought her back to reality. Imogene was embarrassed to feel tears on her cheeks.
“Yeah.” Her response was soft. She didn’t trust her voice to keep from cracking.
“So I’ll see you around two.” It wasn’t a question; it was set. Imogene could picture her name spelled out in Catherine’s calendar, and her chest felt inflamed.
Imogene fought to calm her racing heart and the familiar feeling of panic and take a full breath. She wasn’t ready. The city was no place for her. It was a collection of intersecting streets that all told the story of a life, many lives taken too soon, and she wasn’t ready to forgive it. Before she knew what she was saying, Imogene blurted out the first thing she could think of to get herself out of her current position.
“I’d much rather cook for you.” I’d much rather what?
“You’d much rather what?” It was the second time Imogene put off meeting at her office for someplace more intimate instead. It was only a matter of time before she would question Imogene.
“I have meetings with sales representatives all afternoon.” Lie. “But I’m free this evening and was planning on cooking up something delicious.” Another lie. Imogene covered her face with her free hand. “Why don’t you change into something comfortable and come over around seven?” Imogene started to make a mental list of all the things she would need to do before then, like food shop. “I’d feel more comfortable talking about my finances at home anyway. It makes this feel more like my idea.” She laughed in an effort to calm herself and sound natural. She failed.
“Okay. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good, home-cooked meal. I’d be a fool to decline.”
“Great! I’ll see you at seven.”
“See you at seven.” The phone went dead.
Imogene released a breath and plopped her body down on her bed with force, earning an evil glare from her furry bedmate. “Don’t you dare look at me like that, Vixen.” A small meow came from the grumpy tabby’s mouth. “Your mother is an idiot.” She reached over and scratched between the feline’s ears. “And now I have to figure out what I’m going to cook.” She sat up suddenly. “I have to clean!”
She spent the two hours before the boutique opened dusting, vacuuming, searching the Internet for recipes, and, finally, showering. She barely opened Cowboy Fran’s doors on time. Once she made it through the busy afternoon, she ran to the store and bought all the necessary ingredients for the simple pasta dish she planned on preparing that evening. She hoped Catherine enjoyed pasta, but she wasn’t riddled with panic and insecurities over the menu alone.
She was afraid Catherine wouldn’t feel comfortable in her simple world. She was obviously used to the finer things in life, from custom-tailored suits made from the finest materials to the sizable diamond studs that sparkled on her ears. Beyond that, Catherine seemed to construct her world within a monochromatic spectrum that left little room for the wondrous prism of color Imogene lived on a daily basis. Being such complete opposites was a recipe for disaster, or at least an evening full of discomfort and awkward moments. Imogene wondered if she had made a terrible mistake, but before she could dwell on it, the bell above the shop door chimed.
“We’re closing in five minutes, but I could help you find anything you may need.” Imogene spoke before looking up from the register she had been trying to balance.
“I’m just looking for a good meal,” Catherine said with a smirk when Imogene snapped to attention. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Imogene replied. She looked at the small clock on the wall. “Are you always early?” She laughed despite the pounding of her heart. Calm down! she told herself.
“Yes, but I think fifteen minutes is hardly that early.”
“It is for an unprepared hostess.”
“Then I guess the imposing party will just have to help out in any way she can.” Imogene took a step closer to Catherine, lost in her clean scent. Somehow, just a slight inhalation had cleared Imogene’s mind of not only her work, but all the reasons she had decided to write off her attraction to Catherine.
“Help me close up?” Imogene quietly requested, trying to shake the inappropriate shift in her own thoughts and mood.
“It’s not too early?” Catherine pointed to the small sign that noted the store hours.
“This weather has been killing business lately, so I’ve been closing early.”
“Makes sense.” Catherine shrugged and turned back to Imogene. “What would you like me to do?”
Imogene and Catherine closed up Cowboy Fran’s in record time. Imogene turned the heavy lock into place and directed Catherine to a small alcove to the left, illuminated by a small, warm amber porch light. Switching to another key on her overstuffed ring, Imogene unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside.
“This is me.” They ascended a narrow staircase that delivered them to the landing of Imogene’s small loft apartment. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Between bouts of self-conscious worry, she wondered why the other woman’s opinion mattered to her at all.
Imogene watched Catherine as she scanned the open space, but she couldn’t read much on Catherine’s face until she looked at the large bookcase that separated the living space from the bedroom. Catherine stepped closer to read a few titles.
“I needed some kind of privacy for the bedroom, and I had so many books that the solution seemed obvious,” Imogene said as she stepped up bedside Catherine and placed her hand on one of the shelves. A smile of pure pleasure spread across her lips.
“I can’t remember the last time I read a book for pleasure.” Catherine’s confession tugged at something deep inside Imo
gene. What does she do besides work?
“I’m an addict. All the dignified, classic titles are on this side and the racier ones are in my bedroom,” she said with a wink when Catherine’s mouth fell open. “Can I take your coat?”
“Th-thank you,” Catherine stuttered out. She took off her heavy, black coat and handed it to a waiting Imogene.
“I thought I told you to change into something comfortable,” Imogene gently scolded as she took in Catherine’s formal attire. “My apartment isn’t exactly a black-tie establishment.” She wasn’t sure why she was so pleased to see Catherine blush at her words, but she reveled in the pleasure.
“I, uh…” Catherine looked down at her suit. “I didn’t have time. I didn’t want to be late.”
“God forbid,” Imogene teased as she walked toward the kitchen. “I hope you like pasta.”
“I do. A little extra time at the gym can erase anything.”
“Any allergies?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be quick.” Imogene started to make her way around the kitchen, setting out ingredients and utensils on the counter.
Most of her attention was dedicated to the task at hand, but Imogene couldn’t keep her eyes off Catherine on her sofa. She was struck by the vision of such a dark woman engulfed by multicolored throw pillows. Catherine contrasted with her surroundings, but Imogene was surprised by just how welcome the sight was. Suddenly, Vixen meowed, and Catherine jumped in alarm.
“That’s Vixen. Do you like cats?” Before Catherine could answer, Vixen jumped up in her lap and kneaded her expensive slacks. Catherine’s eyes were wide with fear. “My guess would be no. She tends to be drawn to people who prefer to be left alone.” Imogene went back to inexpertly slicing the red bell pepper.
“Can I touch her?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
As Imogene continued to make dinner, she didn’t hear many sounds from the connected room. Catherine never moved and neither did Vixen. Imogene only heard one hiss over the sizzle of vegetables in olive oil and the boiling water. Imogene considered that to be progress on her feline companion’s behalf. If Sophia were to occupy the spot where Catherine was now, she’d have a few teeth marks on her hands as souvenirs.
“Dinner’s ready!” she announced from the kitchen as she dished several scoops of the fragrant meal into bowls. Imogene giggled as Catherine nearly jumped from the couch and approached. The excitement that lit up Catherine’s eyes added to the prideful thump of Imogene’s heartbeat. “I knew you’d prefer something on the healthy side, but I still wanted some flavor.” Imogene chuckled awkwardly. “Whole wheat pasta, every vegetable I could get my hands on, and a light sauce made from chicken stock, spices, and a small amount of butter. I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll never give up my butter or olive oil.”
“Thank you.” Catherine’s face fell into a sullen, unreadable expression. Her brown eyes softened in a way that was all new to Imogene. She didn’t know how to respond. Instead of focusing on the delicacy of the moment or the way it warmed her stuttering heart, Imogene picked up the bowls and walked to the small kitchen table.
“Let’s eat.”
Catherine poured two glasses of wine before digging into her dinner with an unrestrained enthusiasm that kept Imogene smiling throughout the silent meal. They didn’t talk because they were busy eating. Finally, when there was nothing more than the sound of silverware hitting empty dishes, Catherine spoke.
“That was incredible.” She sat back in her seat and unbuttoned her suit jacket.
“I’m pretty proud of myself.” Imogene smiled as she stood up. “Top off our glasses and bring them over to the couch. I just want to clean up real quick.”
“No.” Catherine stood immediately and took the dishes from Imogene. She jumped at the slight brush of Catherine’s fingers against hers. “You cooked, I clean up. It’s only fair,” Catherine continued. She was already at the sink before Imogene could attempt to protest.
Five minutes later, Catherine sat beside Imogene and took a sip from her freshly poured glass of wine. As if on cue, Vixen plopped herself atop Catherine’s thighs. Imogene giggled at Catherine’s thinly veiled look of annoyance.
“You’re really not an animal person, are you?”
“No. I’m not.” Catherine cringed. “Sorry…”
Imogene dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “No need to be sorry.” She wiped her palms along the front of her skirt. “Did you have any pets growing up?” Imogene tried to hide her earnest curiosity by focusing her attention on her own hands.
“We weren’t allowed pets, and when I got older I just didn’t feel the need to get one.”
“I’d be so lonely without Vixen.” Imogene picked up her adored tabby from Catherine’s lap. “She’s always here for me when I get home, makes me laugh when I’m down, and she’s a great listener.” They both laughed. “When the silence gets to be a little too much for me to handle, I can count on her to knock something over and cause a much-needed ruckus.” She scratched below a pointed ear and smiled sadly. When she looked over at Catherine, she saw the same indescribable softness she’d seen before, shimmering in her deep mahogany eyes. “So,” Imogene said roughly through the overwhelming emotion she felt at the way Catherine was looking at her. Something about the look shook her very foundation. “Let’s talk business.” She released Vixen and folded her hands on her lap.
Catherine launched into a thirty-minute-long proposal, listing several buildings and storefronts available to rent if the business owner was looking to expand, as well as a few other fitting opportunities. Imogene listened with rapt attention, and when the words became too technical for her to really understand, she just stared at the lips they fell from so poetically. She found herself wondering where such a passion came from.
“Did you always want to do this?” This was her chance to learn more about the woman behind the suits. Imogene rested her head in her hand and burrowed her elbow into the pillowed back of the couch. She turned her whole body in order to face Catherine more fully. She tucked her legs beneath her and let the wine relax her further. She waited for what she hoped would be a detailed, lengthy reply.
“Yes. Well…” Catherine took a deep breath. “I come from a family of lawyers. My grandfather, my father, my brothers.”
“How many brothers?”
“Two older that both followed in my father’s footsteps. The old man expected me to as well, but I didn’t.” Catherine’s face set into a hard façade.
“A house with no pets and full of lawyers, sounds exciting.” Imogene’s light tone got Catherine to smile, a sight that caused a torrent of feelings to course through her and settle low in her belly.
“Yeah, well, I broke that tradition,” she said curtly with a resigned finality. “What about you? Did anyone influence Imogene Harris’s path in life?” Catherine mirrored the smaller woman’s position.
“I had planned on going into design—fashion or interior, I wasn’t sure—but I was interested in it all,” Imogene stated wistfully.
“What happened?”
“I had just started my junior year when my dad died, and I decided to come home to be with my mom. Thankfully I had enough credits to get my associate’s. I took a couple business courses, and those certainly helped me when it came time to open Cowboy Fran’s.”
“Do you ever think about going back to school?”
“Every once in a while, but the shop has been so busy that I don’t want to risk splitting my attention and letting something slip between the cracks. Ultimately, I’m very happy with my decision. I have no regrets.”
“You’re a very wise businesswoman, much wiser than most of the clients I meet with on a daily basis. Multimillion-dollar corporations included.”
“From Catherine Carter, that has to be quite the compliment.” Imogene blushed as she tried to deflect the effect Catherine’s words had on her with humor.
�
�Do you mind me asking about your dad?” Catherine tried.
“I don’t mind, but I’d much rather talk about happier topics.”
“That seems fair.” Catherine reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and retrieved a small elastic ring. She captured her abundant curls in both hands and secured them atop her head in a haphazard bun. Imogene’s eyes were drawn once again to a long throat sculpted of fine muscle that dipped down into a defined clavicle. The half-moon of flesh that peeked out of the collar of her black shirt caused Imogene to lick her pink lips. “But for once, I’m tired of talking about numbers.”
Catherine poured the last few drops of wine into their glasses, and they continued to talk about the unusually long winter. Imogene talked about how she lost three deliveries already due to the snow, and Catherine countered with how many nights she spent on the leather couch in her office. They laughed and they drank, each passing moment bringing them closer together on the sofa. Imogene indulged in the feel of Catherine’s muscular thigh where it met her knee more times than she could count. Soon enough, the topic of conversation turned to their disastrous first meeting.
“I’m sure I sound like a broken record at this point, but I am really sorry for how rude I was.”
“It’s long forgotten.” Imogene waved her hand about. “I’m used to skeptics saying things like that. I was just so angry because I was really starting to like you.” Imogene’s heart started to race. Her words were so innocent, but the implications were anything but.
“Really?” Catherine’s eyes dropped, and she started to fidget.
“Really. My grandfather had just died, and I was in a really bad place. Sophia asked me to assist in an attempt to take my mind off things, and before I almost tackled you, I was bored out of my mind.” They shared a small smile at the memory. “You were charming, a great listener, and willing to feed me as many shrimp as I wanted. It was exactly what I needed. You were my hero.”
“Hardly! I went on to insult your best friend!”
