McCall

by Patricia Evans Jordan

  “Let me get this straight,” Sam said, taking her in. “You’re in bed waiting for me, wearing one of my T-shirts, and…” She glanced down, “Jesus, the hottest underwear I’ve ever seen, and you’re reading a book?”

  Sara held her gaze. “Looks like it.”

  Sam took the book out of her hands and laid it on the bedside table. She lifted the hem of the shirt and kissed the soft skin of Sara’s waist, warming it with her breath, then moved up her body to cover it with her own.

  “Come to bed,” Sara said, then turned over and slid her hands under Sam’s shirt to brush her nipples lightly, feeling them harden under her touch.

  “I’ll be back in just a minute. I just came up to grab some clothes for the shower.”

  Sara took her hand and slid it from her waist into the silky wetness between her thighs. “Are you sure?” She said, whispering the words into Sam’s ear, then following them with her tongue.

  Sam groaned, hesitating twice before she stepped away. “You make it very hard to resist you, Sara Brighton.” Her words were soft, and she swept her eyes slowly over Sara’s body again as she climbed down the stairs.

  ****

  Sara was almost asleep by the time Sam got back to the loft with damp hair and skin still hot from the shower. That lasted about three seconds. Sam pulled back the covers and Sara into her arms, then tossed Sara’s shirt on the floor.

  “If you want me naked, you’re going to have to figure out how to get these off,” Sara whispered.

  She sat on the bed, facing away from Sam. The almost transparent black silk, laced together from both sides of her hips with a black velvet ribbon, accented the plush curves of her bottom. Sam loosened the laces and the material fell to both sides, barely staying on her hips.

  Sam’s voice was a low rumble behind her. “Fucking hell, Sara.”

  Sam edged the panties slowly down her thighs and off, then rose to her knees behind her, nudging her thighs apart. She leaned back to sit on her feet and pulled Sara with her, her ass warm against Sam’s thighs. Sam slid her fingers slowly into Sara, facing down, stroking the spot she knew would make Sara’s thighs start to tremble. When she felt her getting close, she slowed, just long enough to let her calm down before she started again. Sara closed her eyes and leaned back against Sam’s chest the next time she felt the wave of her orgasm start to break.

  “Not yet,” Sam said, her voice a warm whisper at the back of her neck. “Hold on to it until I tell you to come.”

  Sam stayed inside her, working her, keeping her at the edge, then started to massage her swollen clit at the same time with her other hand. Sara’s breath caught.

  “Please, baby,” Sara said, her voice raw, muscles tightening around Sam’s fingers. “Please now.”

  Sam rose to her knees and pressed Sara’s shoulders forward into the bed. She cried out in pleasure, pushing back against Sam’s hand as she slid a third finger inside and stroked her to the hardest orgasm of her life.

  Afterwards, Sam pulled Sara into her arms again and covered them both with the duvet.

  “No one has ever turned me on like you do,” Sam said quietly. She ran her fingers through Sara’s hair and then turned over onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “And I’ve already been too damn distracted since I met you. If you could just be less hot, that would help quite a bit.”

  “I’ll work on that.” Sara smiled, trailing her fingertips from the center of Sam’s chest to the waistband of her underwear. She leaned up on one elbow, facing Sam.

  “Can I touch you?” She whispered.

  Sam looked at her, tracing her bottom lip with her thumb. “I don’t usually do that.”

  Sara held her eyes. “I know.”

  Sam pulled her into a kiss, then hooked her thumbs under her shorts and pulled them off, dropping them beside the bed. Sara slid her hand over Sam’s nipples, watching them harden under her fingers until Sam wrapped her hand around the back of Sara’s head and pulled her to her chest, her breath quickening as Sara scraped her nipples lightly with her teeth. She lowered her hand to smooth her palm over Sam’s tight abs, pausing to look up before she slid her fingertips over her clit. She stayed there, not dipping lower, just circling it, feeling it harden under her touch.

  Sam draped her forearm over her eyes. “Fuck,” she said, the tension showing in her abs.

  Then suddenly Sam covered Sara’s hand with her own and pressed Sara’s fingers against her clit, their hands moving together, harder than Sara would have been brave enough to try alone. A fine mist of sweat was gathering on her chest, and she moved her hips to meet Sara’s touch. Sara leaned in and sucked Sam’s nipple hard into her mouth and Sam groaned, continuing to move Sara’s fingers over her clit. The muscles in her torso started to clench, and when Sara felt her arousal reaching a new peak, she drew her hand away and straddled her, sitting just above Sam’s hips.

  “So you think you can just stop like that, huh?” Sam’s hands were on her thighs, her voice husky and teasing.

  “I won’t stop,” Sara said, looking into her eyes, “Unless you tell me to.”

  Sam ran both palms further up Sara’s thighs, slicking her thumb across Sara’s clit. Sara reached behind her, palm down, the inside of her wrist pressed tightly against her back. She looked into Sam’s eyes and started to ride her, her fingers curved down onto Sam’s clit, setting the rhythm with her hips.

  “Fuck, Sara.” Sam’s voice trailed off, the thrust of her hips starting to match Sara’s.

  She felt Sara’s thighs tighten around her, felt her leaning back, her hand stroking Sam’s clit with the same pressure she’d just shown her. Sara slid her hips back and forth, building the heat between their bodies. She watched Sam’s body start to glisten, her breath ragged as Sara ground her center harder against Sam, arousal quickening her pace. Sam had been close since Sara started, and watching Sara ride her was taking her over the edge. She passed the point of no return and arched her back, her voice guttural and raw, her orgasm almost shaking her body with its intensity. Sara watched until Sam’s body started to relax, still riding her with her hand slick and firm against Sam’s clit, only closing her eyes when the waves of her own orgasm threatened to overtake her.

  “Come for me, baby.” Sam’s words were dripping with sex.

  She wrapped her hands around Sara’s hips and started to move her, then slipped one hand between them just enough to enter her as Sara threw her head back and came hard and hot against her palm, her body flushed and slicked with sweat.

  ****

  They slept late the next morning and woke to find the morning sun streaming through the treehouse window, painting intricate patterns of light and leaves on the walls. Sara’s eyes closed again immediately and a little pouty face emerged as she tried to block out the sun with her forearm draped over her eyes. Sam looked at her, the sunlight dappling her skin, falling over the light pink of her nipples and skin still creased with sleep.

  “Morning, blondie.”

  “Why is the sun up in the middle of the night?” Sara groaned and ducked her head under the covers until she sneezed several times in a row and had to emerge.

  “You look flushed,” Sam said, covering her cheek with her palm. “And you’re a little too warm to be fine, which I know is going to be what you say next.”

  “Sam,” Sara said, burrowing her head back under the covers. “I’m fine.”

  A stifled cough under the duvet underscored her point, or maybe Sam’s, and Sam got up and pulled on some clothes and a fleece.

  “I’m going to make coffee, sickie; don’t move out of that bed.”

  Sara kicked at her from under the covers, unaware she was already halfway down the stairs, and Sam had to stifle a laugh. She had quite a little attitude on her when she was sleepy. Sam started the coffee and sliced some bread to toast in the pan as she whipped some eggs together in a bowl with salt, pepper, and some chili flakes she found in the cupboard. The familiar scent of brewing coffee started to fill the ro
om and when the eggs got to a perfect soft scramble, Sam turned off the heat, and dropped a pat of butter on them to melt while the bread finished toasting. She tried to imagine going back to McCall and carrying on as normal, but she knew it was pointless. The road trip was supposed to have been about the food, but everything was different now and she knew it. She poured a cup of coffee and snapped off the heat under the toast. It would be fine to sit there for a minute. Sam took her coffee out to the deck and leaned against the railing.

  She knew everyone assumed she didn’t remember how it felt to be left at that fair. Someone said to her once years later that it must have been so hard to spend the night there and wonder if her mom was coming back for her, and she’d nodded, but really, that hadn’t even happened. She knew as she watched her mom walk away, holding the hand of the new tattooed boyfriend, that she wasn’t coming back. Her heart had started to go numb that night as she curled up between some hay bales behind the tents, blocking out every memory of her life to that point. It was self-preservation in a way, although she hadn’t realized at the time she was doing it.

  For the first year she lived with Gus and Marcy, she woke every morning curled into a ball, her fists clenched. Then slowly, she started to forget, although for years she still sometimes got up and sat in the hall at the door of their bedroom in the middle of the night. She could fall into a deep sleep there because they couldn’t leave without her knowing. It was the only way to be sure she wouldn’t wake up alone. If she was at the door, she knew she was safe enough to close her eyes.

  Marcy died years later when she was in high school; Sam missed her terribly, but she still had Gus and they just became a little family of their own. But the moment she knew he’d died, she suddenly felt the hard ground under her body and the damp stench of the hay bales around her in the dark. Then her heart returned to numb.

  Sam remembered the eggs and ran back into the treehouse to find them cold, but it didn’t really matter. She cracked new eggs into the bowl to start again. She needed a moment before she climbed the stairs anyway.

  ****

  “I’m not sick.” Sara sat in the center of the bed with her legs crossed. “I have allergies.”

  “What you have,” Sam said, taking the empty plate from her, “Is a fever, which I think you’ll find is totally different.”

  Sara peered up at her from under the covers. “What if I was the teensiest bit sick? Would that mean we have to go back today instead of tomorrow?”

  “If I say no, will you let me get you some medicine in town and stay in bed while I do it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Damn, girl,” Sam said, trying to suppress a smile, “You are the most stubborn—”

  Sara hit her with a pillow before she finished her sentence, then reached up and pulled Sam down on top of her. Sam relaxed into the soft warmth of her body and leaned in to kiss her.

  “No way!” Sara turned her head. “I’m not getting you sick.”

  Sam turned her chin back to her with two fingers and kissed her deep and slow before she spoke. “Not an option, Brighton.”

  Sara smiled and wrapped her arms around Sam. “Good, because I didn’t really mean it anyway.”

  They finally got showered and packed up in the late afternoon and headed back into town to grab Sara some cold medicine and restock the cooler before they headed north.

  “Where are you taking me anyway?” Sara said, propping her bare feet on the dash.

  Sam smiled over at her. “Totally not telling you that.”

  “What? Is it against Stalker Code or something?”

  “It’s actually not far; we’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Sam said, “So it looks like you’ll have to wait.”

  “What is it about making me wait do you love so much?”

  “So many things,” Sam teased her.

  Sara took some phone calls on the drive up from the design company that she hired to put the finishing touches on gastropub’s decor, another from the printer in Boise about the menu she’d put a hold on, and still another from a potential manager Sara had contacted for an interview. She scheduled the interview at the diner for the following afternoon, then finally switched her phone off.

  “Sorry,” she said, “I just feel like I’m running out of time to get everything done.”

  Sam nodded but didn’t say anything, just kept her eyes on the road, and Sara sat back in her seat with a worried feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not just about Sam, although getting closer to her over the last few days had only made the diner problem potentially worse. Now she was wondering if she was on the right track at all. The more she went round and round in her head about the menu, the less it came together in the end. And she couldn’t risk another disaster like the last tasting. She knew she could only do so many of those before she generated a bad reputation before her doors were even open.

  Sam finally turned off the main road and onto a rocky side road that seemed to lead straight up the mountain. Sara rolled down her window and stuck her arm out as far as it would go.

  “What are you doing, crazy girl?” Sam looked over at her and smiled.

  “None of your business, Draper.”

  It felt like they were climbing the mountain forever before Sam turned off the dirt road into a small parking lot with a trail marker and a sign. Wampas Pass.

  “Um,” Sara said, coughing for effect, “Please tell me you’re not taking me hiking?”

  “Well, I should since you’re still insisting it’s just allergies, but we’re going to drive.”

  Sam continued past the parking lot to a small access road Sara hadn’t noticed. There were several signs warning hikers it was a restricted area, but Sam drove past them.

  “Why do I get the feeling you know everyone in law enforcement around here?”

  “Because it’s true,” Sam said, smiling and pulling Sara’s hand onto her thigh and covering it with her own.

  They finally parked under a cluster of spruce trees and Sam unloaded Sara’s bag and another large duffle bag from the back of the Land Rover. Sam put the two bags over her shoulder and pulled out the handle to the rolling cooler. She handed Sara a flashlight.

  “This is all I get to carry?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Luggage dispersion is covered on page 387 of that butch handbook I was telling you about.”

  “Ah,” Sara said, “I see. I’m liking that thing more and more.”

  They walked about fifty yards further and around a sharp bend, where endless blue summer sky and white clouds came into view above the edge of a cliff, as if the earth had just broken off underneath it. An eagle glided across the treetops and came to rest on the ragged edge, but then Sam guided them down a path to the right with stone steps leading down, then around, to reveal the huge mouth of a cave. About fifteen yards beyond was the cliff edge, and beyond that, an incredible view of the sky and outlying snowcapped mountains.

  “We’re facing west here, so the sunsets are pretty spectacular,” Sam said, pulling Sara into her chest and kissing her neck.

  “This is gorgeous,” Sara said.

  It was then that she saw it over her shoulder. A tent set up just inside the mouth of the cave. Fairy lights twinkled inside, and in the semi darkness of the cave behind it. Tiki torches were set up at the entrance and the cliff’s edge. A circle of stones formed a fire pit a safe distance from the tent, and a bottle of wine and two glasses sat beside it.

  “How in the world did you do this?” Sara spun slowly, taking it all in, then turned and sneezed directly on Sam’s shirt. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Sara covered her face with her hands.

  Sam laughed until she had to stop and catch her breath. “No,” Sam said finally, “That was actually perfect.” She pulled Sara into her arms and kissed her, running her hands up her back and into her hair.

  “Wait,” Sara said, leaning back to look at her. “You never told me how you did all this?”

  “It’s no big deal,” Sam said, nodding toward the
cave. “Someone owed me a favor.”

  Sara turned to look back out at the endless sky. “Well, to me it’s a big deal,” she said quietly. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

  She looked back at Sam, whose eyes reflected the same powder blue as the sky. And at that moment, suddenly everything in her life became a lot more complicated.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I can’t believe this stuff won’t light.”

  Sam shook the wet paper, as if that would make it less waterlogged. Whomever had set everything up in the cave had set the wood and fire-starting supplies directly under a spring water drip. It probably hadn’t seemed damp when they were there, but by the time Sam and Sara had arrived, everything was waterlogged.

  “Unfortunately,” Sam said. “It looks like we may be fireless.”

  A short rain in the morning had left everything in the surrounding woods just damp enough to render it useless as well, which was why Sam had asked for paper and dry tinder when she’d finalized the plans by text when they were on the road.

  “I don’t care a bit,” Sara said, looking around. “But if I had to guess, I’d say there’s a good chance you have a knife somewhere?”

  “I do,” Sam said, “But don’t get your hopes up about finding dry wood; everything got soaked this morning with the rain.”

  Sara took the pocketknife from Sam and gathered the pile of kindling and sticks that were left for the fire. Sam watched as she sat cross-legged by the fire pit, chipping the bark off the sticks until they were bare, the wet, discarded bark in a pile to the side. The sun was starting to fade; they had more than an hour until sunset, but the hints of it were starting to pile up on the distant indigo horizon. Sara carefully carved, then bent, thin layers of wood along each stick, curling them out from the center like a pinecone. When she’d layered one to be as fine and airy as possible, she moved on to the next. After ten minutes or so, she had a small pile of sticks that now more closely resembled wooden feathers, the edges raw and thin.