by Lucy Eden
“It soothes me.” Tim can be such a drama king when he wants. “You’re not my only friend, you know?”
I flinch at his words.
Is he cutting me off?
Tim isn’t my only friend either, but he is my closest. The first I call to talk about big life changes. The one I’ve stayed connected with no matter how many miles fell between us.
But maybe I should’ve seen this coming.
“I know,” I say, struggling to keep the hurt from my voice.
“But you’re the only one she asks about.”
For a moment, I wonder if I misheard him.
Is he saying…
“We video chat,” he continues when I don’t respond. “Pretty much every other week. Just to catch up. She tells me all those gruesome ER stories. I tell her about my job and what Caroline is up to.” Tim sighs, sitting up and pulling the washcloth off his eyes to meet mine. Then his gaze flicks toward the ocean view, and I notice a familiar shape out on the deck. “Inevitably, in every single conversation, she’ll ask the question.”
“What question?”
My friend, which I’m pretty sure he still is, smirks. “I don’t know if she thinks I’m oblivious or what. I mean, come on. Six years? But she always throws it in like it’s an afterthought. Like I won’t notice she’s asking again.”
“What question, Tim?” I remind myself it’s not good to strangle my friends, even when I really want to.
The guy affects an overly feminine voice and mimes flipping hair over his shoulder. “And how is that buddy of yours, Theo, doing?”
Does North Carolina get earthquakes? Because I think the ground beneath my feet just shifted.
“And you, big idiot that you are, always get this super stupid doe eyed look on your face whenever I mention her. But it still took you six years to come on vacation with us? I practically had to arrange our trip in your backyard. Matchmaking is exhausting! Can you just go make an honest woman out of my hellion sister?” He collapses back on the couch, replacing his washcloth. “And learn to lock a fucking door!”
A grin breaks across my face, and I don’t hesitate.
The glass door gives a muted swish when I push it open.
And there she is.
Olive Buchanan, woman of my dreams, rocks herself on the porch swing and flips to the next page in her novel, seemingly unaware of my return.
She asked about me. I thought I’d be lucky if she spared me a thought every so often after our one and only meeting.
Turns out, I’m not the only one who couldn’t forget that night.
“What would you say,” her head pops up as I start to speak, “if I told you I’m planning on buying a plane ticket to Chicago?”
That secretive, enticing smile sneaks across her lips, and I remember the feel of them against my neck.
“Are you going to come visit me, Theodorenessavain?”
“I think I have to, Oliviadorellamare.”
She sets aside her book and rises from the swing, sauntering toward me until only an inch separates us. A single finger trails down the front of my sweat-damp shirt, and despite the humid heat of the day, I shiver.
“Well then I guess I’d have to tell you my apartment is kinda small. And I only have one bed. So you better be ready to share.”
Capturing her hand, I bring it to my mouth for a kiss.
“We can make that work.”
ONE YEAR LATER
“Come on, Mom. Two pets has to bump us up above one kid.” Olive presses her fists on the heavy wooden table, looming over Mrs. Buchanan. The older woman seems more interested in her margarita than her daughter’s argument.
“You know the rules.”
“Rules change! And might I add, Scoundrel only has the three legs.” She waves at the pit bull lounging in a patch of sunlight by the back door. He’s found one of the best spots, having a beautiful view of the expansive mountain lake this year’s rental butts up against.
I crouch down to scratch behind the ears of the sweet beast Olive and I adopted together two months ago. Jezebel saunters toward us, hisses at Scoundrel, then struts away.
Their friendship is a work in progress.
“Stop whining. I’m on vacation. Theo, come distract my daughter before I make her sleep on the dock.”
My fight against a chuckle fails, and I give in to the laughter as I wrap my arms around Olive’s waist.
“Theo is my ally, not yours, Mom,” she grumps, leaning back into my chest.
Without a conscious thought, my hand sneaks down to find hers, fingering the sapphire she let me put on her left ring finger the day before we went to the animal shelter.
My little claim. My final acceptance into the Buchanan family.
An announcement to the world that after seven years of pining, Olive Buchanan chose me.
“Top of the hierarchy, or bottom tier,” I whisper in her ear. “As long as you’re in the bed, I’ve got the best one in the house.”
About Lauren Connolly
About Lauren Connolly
Lauren Connolly crafts love stories set in the contemporary world. Some are grounded in reality, while others play with the mystical and magical. She works as a librarian in southern Colorado, and she has a furry family that consists of a cocker spaniel who thinks he’s a cave dwelling troll and two cats with a mission to raise hell and destroy all curtains. Follow her on social media to receive book updates and cute pet pics.
More Books by Lauren Connolly
You Only Need One
Rescue Me (Forget The Past Book 1)
Remembering A Witch
About Uplift
One TV show, One bed, One moment to treasure…
Anvita Khatri thought she knew everything about manipulating emotions. As a TV producer, her career succeeded based on knowing how to make an audience laugh and cry. But her divorce left her wondering if she knew anything at all. She’s determined to take charge of her personal life and stop doubting everything. Homage, her food show, has been wildly successful and her pitch for a new show won over the executives, and it’s time to shoot the first episode. Uplift will take struggling small business owners, match them with a mentor, and teach them the skills they need.
Shazza Barnett didn’t expect to be widowed at twenty-three. Her husband Shane fell off a ladder while doing roofing. The insurance payout allowed her to buy a small apartment for her and her two small kids. Their roofing business has been floundering since Shane’s death. She’s had to learn his trade, but it’s been hard doing it all herself. When she sees an ad for a new TV show, she figures she may as well have a go, to grow the business. The show is a chance to honour him and get her kids out of poverty. When she meets Anvita, the show’s producer, she’s overwhelmed with feelings. Feelings she hasn’t felt for a long time.
This story is set in the Manjimup region of the south-west corner of Western Australia. We visited here over the summer of 2013/14, and it is a truly beautiful part of the world. The local people of this area are the Nyungar and Murrum people of the Nyoongar nation, and I pay my respects to the Elders past and present. I also acknowledge the Wangal people of the Eora nation, the traditional owners of the land where this story was written.
Uplift
Renee Dahlia
“You can’t be serious?” Anvita clenched her teeth together, held back a curse, and imagined sacking her PA. They’d messed up one time too many. She eased a tight long breath out between pinched lips. Logan tried so hard, and was incredibly diligent, but so often they missed the point of what she wanted them to do.
“I’m terribly sorry. We have only one room booked under your name.”
“One room. For myself, my crew, and the contestant we are filming?” Anvita couldn’t believe Logan could get this so wrong. Usually their screw ups involved booking flights in the morning instead of the afternoon—am vs pm was tricky—or booking a hotel too far from where she needed to work.
Tomorrow the crew would shoot the first ep
isode of Uplift at the luxury estate owned by the show’s celebrity host, Aston Lee. He’d built his business from nothing, and now was going to host Uplift, where he advised small business owners on how to grow and improve their businesses. It was the type of heart-warming show Anvita had always wanted to produce, a way to help people help themselves move upwards. Aston was already at his house in rural Western Australia in the pretty Margaret River region, but he didn’t have room for the crew or the contestants. Didn’t have room, or didn’t want to play host? Either way, the outcome was the same. He’d recommended this hotel. Surely, she’d specified more rooms when she sent Logan the email. She opened her phone.
Logan,
I need a hotel booked for next weekend. We are shooting the opening scenes for Uplift.
Anvita
Okay…
This was her fault. Logan had been her PA for nearly six months now. She knew they needed details if they were going to do what she wanted, and she’d sent them a rushed email and expected Logan would be able to work out what she meant. Damned silly mistake, and not Logan’s fault.
“I’ll be needing at least one more room.” Anvita had to make it right. She knew why she’d avoided putting her time into this.
Shazza.
The overly bogan name of her first contestant for Uplift had been part of the appeal when she’d read her application because the concept of Uplift was to help small business owners become successful. A bogan name equalled potentially great television. But she hadn’t been prepared for meeting her.
Shazza should’ve been everything that was mediocre; medium height, light brown hair, slightly sun-kissed white skin, and amber brown eyes with tired shadows under them. To complete the picture of Shazza the tradie, her jeans had dirty hand smears across her ass. But Shazza had the perfect shape of a plump woman, with a fat round ass, thick thighs, and large breasts that strained against her work shirt. Anvita shouldn’t want to bury her face between those tits until she couldn’t breathe. She really shouldn’t.
But it was Shazza’s smile that really did Anvita in.
Shazza had sauntered into the studio for her interview and grinned at the camera with such joy and hope and a little bit of underlying nervous stress that Anvita had needed to clear her throat before speaking. And so, she’d fobbed the organisation of tonight onto Logan and was now paying the price for her inability to manage their need for clear information. Fuck she missed Molly. Her previous PA had been a law student who’d been brilliant at anticipating what Anvita had needed. The problem with Molly was that she was aspirational and had left as soon as a better opportunity came about. This job was the perfect one for Logan’s level of capability. Anvita just had to get better at working with them.
“Sorry, we are fully booked. It’s the cherry festival this weekend.”
Just her luck. Besides, none of her introspection was going to solve this problem.
“Give me a moment, will you?” Anvita walked out of the hotel to breath in some fresh air. The hot dry wind blowing from inland dried her eyes and she blinked. A grubby ute turned into the driveway, and parked. Shazza leapt out.
“Anvita. How’s it?”
“Yeah, not great.”
Shazza frowned. “Oh. Can I help?”
“The hotel is full, and my PA only booked one room.”
Shazza shrugged one shoulder. “It’s cool. We’ll top and tail.”
A shiver of desire raced down Anvita’s spine. “Um.” She coughed. “It’s slightly more complicated than that. There’s only one room for everyone. The camera crew too.”
Shazza screwed up her nose. “Hmm. I suppose the crew could have the room and we’ll sleep in the back of my ute. It’s not going to rain, and I have a couple of jackets in the back we could use as bedding.”
Yeah, that was not going to happen.
“I’ll talk to the hotel.”
“Be brave. It’ll be an adventure.” Shazza’s optimism rubbed Anvita the wrong way. But after a couple of breaths, a night in a ute under the stars compared to hanging out with the leery glances of her cameraman, Brooklyn, sounded bloody good. She’d better go and sort out their dinner tab and make sure they knew how to get to Aston’s house for the morning’s shoot. Brooklyn might be a bit of a creep, but he was magic behind the lens.
Shazza stared at Anvita’s back as she strode back inside the reception of the hotel. Hotel—huh, it was really overstating the quality of the typical small-town motor-inn to call itself a hotel. Who’d have thought a shitty little town hotel like this would be booked out. It was odd to see Anvita so dishevelled, like she’d been running her hands through her usually perfect hair. Shazza had only met Anvita once, when she interviewed for this tv show, and couldn’t help but be impressed at the contained focused elegance. She wore strong colours, bold and sassy, and there could be zero doubt that Anvita knew exactly what she wanted. That’s why this was so weird. Okay, offering the back of her ute as a solution was probably not going to dispel any idea about Shazza being a poor tradie. But shit—she was a poor tradie. None of that fancy fucking shit for her.
Plus, Anvita was missing the best part. With the ute, they didn’t have to stay here in shitsville hotel carpark. They could park anywhere. Find somewhere with a cracking view, cook some snags over the little gas bbq she kept in the back of her ute. Yeah, that might be weird. She only ever used that to boil water for coffee, and occasionally to toast marshmallows with her kids. It was much safer than a real fire, and fuck, half the time, the place was under fire bans anyway, so she was hardly going to make a proper campfire.
Anvita turned around, her face resigned, although her brown eyes sparkled. “Fine. The crew can have the room. It’s twin share plus a couch, so it fits them all. We’ll take the…” Anvita shuddered. “Ute.”
Shazza couldn’t contain the grin. “Sweet. This is going to be such fun.”
Anvita blinked once and stared at her as if she’d lost the plot. “Yes, right. Fun?”
“We just need some supplies. How about I sort that out, while you do whatever you need to do with your crew?” Shazza had no idea how television worked, but if crew were like staff, they couldn’t just be left to fend for themselves with no instructions. Only yesterday, she’d spent the day apologising to a client because one of her apprentices borrowed a ladder from the client, and then thoughtlessly loaded it onto his ute and drove off. She’d returned the ladder with flowers, and an apology, but it was going to fuck with her online reviews.
Anvita closed her eyes for a long moment. “I’ll be ready in an hour.”
Right on the hour, Shazza tried not to cringe as Anvita sauntered out of the reception room. She’d gone a little overboard at the shops, buying a couple of blankets, some yoga mats, and way too much food for the two of them. A bottle of wine, some cheese, marshmallows, salad, fancy bread, and lamb cutlets for her little bbq. Shit. She should’ve asked Anvita if there was anything she couldn’t eat. She’d probably fucked-up by buying something she was allergic to or couldn’t eat for religious reasons. Not that she was assuming Anvita’s religion or anything, but she should’ve asked. Better to ask than assume, especially when it came to allergies. When she was nervous she tended to bluster through a situation, and now she was convinced she was going to hurt Anvita.
“Hey there. Ready for the adventure of a lifetime?” Fuck, Shazza, tone it down a bit. She was used to making things more exciting for her kids. Nah, that was an excuse too. She blew out a long unsteady breath.
“Of a lifetime? Sure.” Anvita’s tone backed up Shazza’s cringe-worthy thoughts and she knew she’d overstepped.
She lifted her chin and breathed in. “May as well make the best of a bad situation.” That’s what life had taught her, and she was done trying to fit in with other people’s expectations.
“I like that philosophy.”
“Wait, what?”
“It’s a good idea. This isn’t ideal, obviously, but the crew are happy to stay in the same room.”
Shazza nodded. “Good. Jump in.” She hauled herself up into the driver’s seat and waited for Anvita to sit in the passenger seat. Her ute was usually a shambolic mess, and she’d spent some time cleaning out all the kid’s rubbish before she’d done her shopping.
It still smelled like cookie crumbs and rotten apple cores, overlaid with sweat and sawdust.
“Where are we going?” Anvita clicked her seatbelt in and glanced over at her.
This was the closest Shazza had been to her, and she could see the lighter brown flecks in her dark brown eyes. A fresh perfume of light florals and mint filled the air, a welcome scent against her ute. Suddenly, a rush of warmth in her torso came with understanding. She didn’t just admire Anvita for her elegance and presence of mind, she desired her. She hummed under her breath. That’d be why she’d nervously spent way too much money on making tonight comfortable. It wasn’t just about trying to impress the television producer with her practical knowledge.
“You okay?”
Shazza cleared her throat. “Yeah. You?”
“Let’s go adventuring. I’ve never slept under the stars before.”
“Really?” Shazza turned the key and the growly diesel engine kicked into gear. “Not in your backyard as a kid? Or camping?”
“No.” Anvita’s tone didn’t invite further discussion. Shazza twisted to look over her shoulder as she reversed out of her carpark and tried to ignore the heat from Anvita. It’d been years since she’d felt this desire for a woman.
No, that wasn’t quite true.
It’d been years since she’d let herself feel this. Being married to her childhood best friend, Shane, had been great, really great, but it had essentially erased this part of her. Or buried it for convenience sake. She straightened up, turned the wheel, and drove out of the hotel carpark towards her destination. They sat in content silence for a few minutes.
