“Yep,” Sara said, “I ran into her at Moxie this morning and just asked if we could talk.”
“I’m a little afraid to ask,” Sam said, “But how did that go?”
“Actually,” Sara said, “I can totally understand how she felt. I had a fling with one of my instructors in culinary school when I was about her age, so we bonded over that.”
Sam shook her head, trying to take it all in. “So you guys bonded? Seriously?”
Sara nodded. “I wasn’t really angry at her. I just had to know what happened, and I needed to figure out how I felt about you.”
Sam pulled off her gloves and looked up. “And how do you feel?”
Sara reached for Sam’s bloodied hand and held it to her heart. “Like I’m in love with you.”
Sam pulled Sara back into her chest and wrapped her arms around her. She drew in the warm, familiar scent of her hair and whispered, “Good, because I’ve been in love with you since the day you threw a little fit about the boat license in my office.”
“I did not throw a fit!” Sara leaned back with an indignant look on her face.
“You certainly did,” Sam said, “And it was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.”
Sara looked down, laughed, and caught a sudden glimpse of how filthy her white tank top was; barn dust and sweat from Sam’s workout streaked it.
“I look like I’ve gone a few rounds with that punching bag myself now.” She pinched the front with two fingers and held it away from her body. “I may need a shower.”
Sam laughed unwinding the tape around her wrists and knuckles. A stubborn piece of tape refused to let go of Sam’s wrist and Sara paused to loosen it enough to slip it past the knuckles.
“What did you bring?” Sam said, nodding in the direction of a paper bag at the door.
“Just something for later tonight.”
Sam walked over and looked into the bag. Brioche, ham, and raspberry jam.
She picked up the bag and held her hand out for Sara, closing the door behind them. “You’ll make an amazing monte cristo.”
****
Later, after Sara had finished the beer Sam had left on the railing earlier, they watched the sunset from the deck, listening to the first of the night owls start to stir in the trees. The lake was shimmering and dark, reflecting the last of the bright gold sunset, framed by the mountains beyond. The deck lights turned on automatically and Sam started into the house to put away the ham that was still sitting in the bag on the deck.
“Will you turn on the shower for us?” Sara asked, leaning her head back from her chair to look at Sam.
Sam stopped to kiss her and push a stray lock of hair out of her face as she walked into the house, the screen door slapping shut behind her.
When Sara got to the bathroom a few minutes later, candles glowed from every surface, and the shower pounded like a hidden rainforest waterfall from around the corner. Sara stripped off her clothes and walked into the shower room to find Sam naked, warm water streaming in rivulets down her muscular body. Flickering gold light from the candles along the windowsill shone warm and hazy through the steam, and she turned around under the water to press her naked body against Sam. Sam opened her eyes and shook the water from her hair, then wrapped her hands around Sara’s waist, sliding them up and across her nipples.
“Turn around.” Her voice was as hot as the water, sultry and low.
Sara turned to face her and Sam picked her up, wrapping Sara’s legs around her waist and pressing her back against the wet stone wall. Holding her eyes, she slid one hand down between their bodies, her fingers smooth and insistent against Sara’s clit. Her rhythm was steady, building quick and strong until Sara threw her head back and moaned.
“Not yet, baby,” Sam said, slowing her pace.
“Please?” Sara tightened her legs around Sam, her breath still hard and fast. “I can’t take it.”
“I know,” Sam said, pausing and holding her eyes. “But I’m going to teach you.”
Sam sat her gently on a teak bench built into the side of the stone shower wall, just out of the reach of the water, and sank slowly to her knees in front of her, lifting one of Sara’s thighs over her shoulder. She teased her clit, sucking it lightly into her mouth then stroking it with her tongue. When she felt the heat building too fast, she softened her touch, biting lightly across the inside of her thighs or using just the tip of her tongue to brush the edges of her clit, ignoring Sara’s attempts to pull her closer. Then just as she stilled, Sam drew it back into the warmth of her mouth, swirling around it slowly, rolling it under her tongue.
Sam waited until she felt Sara’s nails dig into her arms to put Sara’s other thigh over her shoulder, then buried her mouth into the heat of her, feeling her clit throb under her tongue as she got closer to the edge. She paused just once, to look up at Sara through the steam.
Sara’s thighs started to shake as Sam pushed her over the edge into an orgasm so intense it exploded into her entire body. Sara held Sam’s head hard against her with both hands, her fingers tangled in her hair, the only anchor she had in this intense, spinning pleasure so deep it felt endless.
When she finally started to calm, Sam ran her hands up and down Sara’s slick thighs, and across her breasts. Sara jumped when her thumb started to massage Sara’s swollen clit again.
“It’s too soon, I can’t.”
Sam lightened her touch and looked up at Sara. “Yes, you can.”
Sara’s voice trailed off as she felt Sam’s tongue darting deep inside her while still working her clit. It seemed like only seconds until she heard herself cry out and arched into her second climax. Her body trembled as Sam continued to thrust her tongue inside and back across her clit, drawing out the last tremor of her orgasm.
Sam smiled and moved up her body, pulling Sara into her arms and held her for a few minutes before she pulled her up and reached for a white towel from the cabinet in the shower room. Sara stood and held the towel to her body.
“I think my legs are shaky,” she said.
Sam wrapped her up in her arms again and Sara reached up and ran her hands through Sam’s wet hair.
“What?” Sam asked, pulling the bath sheet tighter around her. “I can tell you’re thinking about something.”
Sara dropped her eyes, her voice low. “How do you make me come like that?”
Sam smiled, running her fingers through Sara’s hair, then down her back, pulling her closer.
“It only gets better.”
****
“Okay,” Sam said, looking at the disheveled mess that was Sara’s first attempt at flipping a monte cristo sandwich. “I think what’s going wrong here is just a tool issue.”
She handed Sara another spatula. “After you have it put together and dip it in the egg mixture, it’s really soft, so flipping it usually takes two of these.”
“What?” Sara said, holding them both up together. “What do I do with the other one?”
Sam set the last attempt aside and built another sandwich, layering together the ham, bright raspberry jam, and cheese. She turned the sandwich over a few times in the egg and milk mixture and settled it back into the pan, where a large scoop of butter was melted to the perfect temperature.
“Now,” Sam said, “What you want to do is slide one spatula underneath when you’re ready to flip it, then put the other spatula on top.”
“Ah, I get it.” Sara took both spatulas and slid them into place. “Like this?”
“Perfect. Now flip it.”
Sara held both spatulas firmly against the sides of the sandwich and turned her wrists smoothly, so that the golden brown side was facing up and the other side was frying.
“Genius,” Sara said, “How have I not done this before now?”
“It’s actually easier to do it at a diner where you have a deep fryer you can just plunge it into; it cooks the egg instantly and seals everything in. But this method works when there’s no fryer.”
“This was more
complicated than it looked.” Sara slid the sandwich from the pan to the cutting board and sliced it diagonally before she put it on two plates. “I bet this took some time to learn.”
“All I wanted for my birthday one year was to learn how to make a monte cristo and serve it to someone in the diner.” Sam smiled and caught the jam dripping from her sandwich onto her fingers. “Dad let me practice until I had it down pretty well; I still remember the huge stack of failed attempts on the counter when I was done. It was a disaster for a while there until I got the hang of it.”
“Who did you serve it to?”
“I just picked someone at random and set it down on his table like I’d just won a Michelin star or something.”
Sam laughed, and looked over at Sara, who was licking jam from the tips of her fingers.
God, she’s beautiful, Sam thought.
She looked tiny in the hoodie she’d given her, and her hair was still damp and falling around her face. She tucked it behind her ears just before she picked up her sandwich. A few freckles were scattered across her cheeks and the gold flecks in her green eyes sparkled as she looked at Sam, waiting for her to say what was on her mind.
Sam smiled. “Still going with that name on the window?”
Sara thought back to Sam walking into the final sale of the diner, all guns blazing, her eyes flashing fire about the Alchemy Gastropub logo Sara had hired someone to paint on the windows.
“Nope.”
Sam smiled, and Sara took the opportunity to steal the last bite of her monte cristo.
****
The next morning, they overslept and Sam drove her into town on her way to work.
“Will I see you tonight?” Sam traced her chin with her finger, pulling her into a kiss.
“Definitely,” Sara said, “Come over to the cabin after work. I’ll cook.”
“About seven?’
“Perfect. I have to meet Mary this morning, then train the kitchen staff this afternoon, but I should be home well before then.”
Sara leaned over and kissed her again, then jumped out of Sam’s truck and headed up the street from the station to the diner. Sam watched her in her rearview window until Murphy knocked on her window.
“Jesus, Murphy, you scared the shit out of me,” she said, climbing out of her truck. She reached in for her bag and shut the door. “You’re an idiot; I’m armed and I’m quicker than you.”
He laughed, falling into step beside her as they walked into the station. Behind the front desk, there was an elderly woman in polyester pants and sensible shoes, with one pink curler stranded in her gray hair. It wasn’t clear whether it was intentional or she’d just forgotten it was there.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, looking at Sam and Murphy. “How can I help you?”
Murphy coughed into his hand in a failed attempt at hiding a laugh, and Sam held out her hand to the new receptionist.
“Good morning,” she said, stifling a completely inappropriate urge to laugh. “I’m Sam Draper, the Captain.”
“Oh!” She said, squinting her eyes and peering at Sam, “I thought the Captain was a woman.”
Murphy wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter at this point. Sam shot him a look.
“I assure you…” Sam paused as she looked for a nametag on the woman’s shirt.
“Margene.”
“I assure you, Margene,” Sam said, “I am a woman.”
Sam looked behind the desk and pressed the button that opened the security door to the hall.
“If there are any calls for me, can you just put them through to my office?”
Margene looked at the phone, pressing several of the function buttons at once. “How do I do that?”
“No worries,” Sam said, smiling and opening the door, “Murphy here is going to spend as much time as it takes to show you everything you need to know.”
Once in her office, Sam dropped her bag and jacket in the chair across from her desk and picked up a note. It was from the Chief of Police.
Found a replacement for Lily. Do me a favor and try to stay away from this one.
Sam groaned and balled it up in her hand, tossing it into the wastebasket at the end of her desk.
****
Sara hurried into the drugstore, ten minutes late to meet Mary. A cinnamon roll was on the counter for her already, and Mary handed her a coffee as she pulled a stool from behind the counter to the end and sat down.
“What’s your rush?” Mary put a bite of her cinnamon roll into her mouth and looked at Sara.
Sara tried to catch her breath. “Sorry I’m late, I—”
“You were getting out of Samantha’s truck,” Mary said, pushing the sugar in her direction. “I saw that. And you’re not leaving until I get details.” Mary smiled at her and sat back in her stool.
“It’s been in the works for a while,” Sara said, “But it’s official now; we’re together.”
“Well,” Mary said, “Sam’s a lucky girl. I was hoping that would happen.”
“There’s only one problem,” Sara said.
“The diner?”
Sara nodded. “I was hoping you had some magic solution to make this go away,” Sara said. “I can’t just give up the diner, and honestly I shouldn’t have to, but Sam won’t step foot in it and refuses to talk about it.”
“God, she’s the most stubborn little thing, always has been.” Mary paused. “Well, certainly not little anymore, but you know what I mean.”
They both sat, sipping their coffee, trying to come up with the answer that wasn’t there.
“Well,” Mary said finally, “She’s stubborn, but not stupid; she’ll probably sort this out by herself.”
“Hopefully sooner rather than later. I open in two weeks.”
“Is it that soon?” Mary said, getting off her stool and gathering the cups to hide under the counter. “Then we’d better be getting over there. I’m not opening the store until noon so we have some time.”
“I’d love your company,” Sara said, “But I thought you’d just gotten me some recipes?”
“Well,” said Mary, locking the door to the drugstore behind them, “Maybe a little more than recipes.”
It was a quick trip across the street, and Sara unlocked the door and turned on the lights, stepping aside for Mary.
“Wow…” Mary said, after a long few seconds. “I’m speechless.”
Sara laughed. “Now that’s saying something!”
Everything in the dining room gleamed. The walls were painted a pale blue with white trim, black and white checked vinyl booths surrounded white Formica tabletops, and new chrome tables and chairs sparkled under the lights. Sara had gone for a classic retro diner feel, but softened it somewhat with overstuffed hounds-tooth sofas along two walls, each with its own floor lamp and coffee table, in addition to a large mirror on the wall encased in a vintage frame. Cheerful pillows in hot pink, orange, and lime brightened the sofas and the lamps cast a soft gold light down on each sitting area, instantly making it cozy and inviting.
“This is beautiful,” Mary said, “How did you even do all this?”
“Actually, I decided what I wanted and had an interior designer contract out the labor so I really didn’t have to do anything but keep tabs on the progress over the last few months. The kitchen was easy, everything there was turnkey, but what took the longest was the outside.”
Mary turned and looked back at the door they’d just opened and sidewalk beyond it.
“No.” Sara laughed. “Other direction. The deck in back.”
They stepped out the side door of the dining room onto an expansive wood deck, built on two levels. The lower deck had a gas fireplace set into a hand laid stone hearth to the right, and a staircase to the left led to the covered upper deck. The tables were natural wood, and the chairs were a mishmash of antiques that mirrored Sara’s kitchen.
“There are heaters along the floor in the upper level, and clear vinyl curtains that we’ll pull to keep
the heat in and the snow out in the winter.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Mary said, still looking around and taking everything in, “Except that you’ve done this place proud. Gus would have loved it.”
“That’s high praise,” Sara said. “It was important to me that you like it.”
“Like it?” Mary said, glancing at Sara, “No, I love it. And that girlfriend of yours is a horse’s ass for not being here.”
After Mary had looked around the deck, Sara opened the kitchen, and the second she walked through the doors, she smelled food in the oven.
Mary nodded towards the ovens in answer to Sara’s unasked question.
“I asked around with some of the old regulars to the diner, and everyone was so excited about contributing a recipe that they sent along the actual dish as well as the recipe. Everything was already cooked and ready to go; I thought I’d put them in on a low temperature so we could taste them while we looked at the recipes.”
When she opened the three ovens, eleven different dishes, all covered with foil, were warming on the shelves.
“I’m so excited!” Sara said, getting a stack of saucers and a pen and paper. “So that means I can skip the trial and error process and go straight to what we want on the menu.”
“That should be your decision,” Mary said, pulling out the first dish and setting it on the stainless steel prep table in front of them. “I don’t know anything about restaurants.”
“Mary, I love your cooking, and I need your help whether you like it or not. My restaurant was fussy fine dining. I’ve always loved more casual food, but I’m not exactly a diner expert.”
“Well, if you insist,” Mary said, looking very pleased with herself. “Let’s taste the meatloaf first.”
She dished steaming squares of meatloaf onto two saucers and handed Sara a fork.
“What’s the sauce on the top?” Sara said, getting a taste on her fork and touching it to her tongue. “Is it tomato based? I love how it’s gotten darker around the edges, almost caramelized.”
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