by Sandy Lowe
I’d gone into the business of cooking because I’d found it had a strong calming effect on my soul; when I became engrossed in a recipe, my mind finally quieted and I was able to gain some resemblance of control of my body that so often felt completely out of my control. Most days it was simply a matter becoming fully engaged with a recipe to get me through the moments of sheer terror. Tonight, Riley helped me back into the Ambrosia Tart recipe, and I soon forgot all about the panic that had caused me to call her in the first place. We worked together in the kitchen as the Indigo Girls cycled through repeat on my iPod. I melted mounds of sweet marshmallow while Riley set up rows of my hand-molded graham cracker shells with flowery edges. Soon the recipe came together.
I caught a glimpse of the oven clock: after midnight. “So much for your Friday night,” I said. “Sorry, Riley.”
She shrugged. “Work comes first, right?”
In so many ways, Riley was my opposite; she liked to comb all the clubs from Wednesday through Saturday nights where a string of women followed, swooned, and argued over her. And rightly so. Riley was one of the most handsome women I’d met, and given her part-time career as a firefighter, she was nothing short of flaming hot. Add in that she could cook the meanest and fluffiest farmer’s omelet in the state of Ohio, and you had a gorgeous and talented butch to wake up to in the morning.
My anxiety didn’t allow for many relationships in my life, and I’d only been with one woman, my high school sweetheart, Anna. Unlike Riley, I wasn’t made for one-night stands. I didn’t have the ability to “meet and play hard,” as she called it, and then move on to the next woman. Still, I liked to hear about Riley’s adventures in the lesbian world, and she always said her playing would end the minute the love of her life recognized her.
I spooned out creamy marshmallow to build a small, fluffy base into each shell. Riley followed, layering in the crushed pineapple. We worked together this way for a few hours, me filling in the sweet as Riley followed with the tart.
“You doing okay?” she asked. “I know we see each other a lot, but we don’t really get the chance to talk.”
“Yeah, mostly.” I rubbed my tired eyes.
“Still missing Anna?”
Anna was the familiar I’d moved back to Columbus to be with, and it was only recently that my body didn’t stiffen at the mention of her name. It had been two years since we were over, and Anna’s presence sometimes lingered around my house like an unwelcome ghost. “Not really.”
“Honestly?”
I nodded. “We got together so young,” I said. “I was holding on to what we had out of some sort of loyalty, but she never really understood my need to feel safe. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t get that.”
Riley understood my need for safety. After Anna and I split, I’d regressed, and my anxiety and panic kept me at home even more than usual. Riley had been the one to tell me it was time for some help. When I finally decided to take Riley’s advice, she sat in the therapist’s waiting area while I was in session and left the office with me, reminding me how good this would be for my health. With a relatively low dosage of anti-anxiety medication and talk therapy, anxiety attacks came on less frequently and I was getting out of the house more. I felt stronger than I had in a long time.
“I’m glad you’re finally over Anna,” Riley said.
“I don’t miss her, but I do miss being with a woman, you know?”
“Life can be lonely,” Riley agreed and teased me with the bump of her hip against mine. “It’s only been two years, Kate. About freaking time to get back out there, huh?”
I had to agree—it was about freaking time. I desperately missed a woman’s touch, her tender kiss, and the excitement of her fingertips trailing down my navel. And for the first time in a very long time, my imaginings of these actions didn’t include Anna.
“What about you? How are things going with…what’s her name again?”
Riley laughed. “It doesn’t matter. Whoever you’re thinking of, it was short-lived. Besides, I’m interested in something more long-term these days.”
I almost dropped the spoon. “Seriously? I never thought I’d see the day.”
Riley’s eyes twinkled at me with her grin. “That day is here, Kate. It’s exhausting, you know? All the playing and the dyke drama that goes with it. I need something stable, something real.”
I wasn’t completely surprised by Riley’s sudden need for stability. She’d recently had her thirty-seventh birthday and had been rethinking a lot in her life. Suddenly an image flashed across my mind, a picture of the two of us entwined with our bare legs entangled in sheets. The clear image caused my breath to catch inside my throat and threw a sharp spike in my heartbeat.
“You okay?” Riley came closer to me.
I nodded. “I’m just tired of messing with this stupid dessert.”
Riley stood so very close to me; I was sandwiched between her and the counter. She reached over and cupped my face in her hand. “You have some marshmallow on your cheek.” She caressed my skin with her thumb. I leaned into her, feeling the folds of her warm palm with her gentle touch.
“Kate…” Riley started. “I…”
Her cell phone interrupted us, the chime way too loud in the small kitchen, and I jumped with surprise. I turned away when she answered the phone, and went back to work. While Riley’s touch ignited everything inside me, I feared she had been on the brink of telling me she only wanted me for a night and nothing more. Sure, she’d said she was looking for long-term, but that didn’t mean I was that woman. Riley had her choice from just about any woman, why would she pick someone like me?
“Sorry.” She slipped her phone in her back pocket. “Where were we?”
“Finishing up with the cream and sprigs.”
While I spooned the handmade whipped cream into the cups, Riley hesitated but eventually followed with thin slices of orange and rosemary sprigs. She placed them in a semicircle, a spray of orange with a touch of green. For the first time, I noticed the delicacy of her strong hands and felt the pull toward her taut, muscular body. I wanted to slip my hand into hers, I wanted to feel the warmth of her skin against mine, and I wanted those strong hands all over me.
Whoa. Where were these feelings coming from? Maybe it was the heat or closeness of her body to mine. Whatever it was, I needed to get my mind back on business. But there was something different about Riley tonight, something I couldn’t quite place.
“We’re done,” Riley finally said. She high-fived me, but didn’t release my hand.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I didn’t trust myself to look Riley in the eyes, unsure where my desire would take me.
“Team Culinary Creations. The perfect blend,” Riley teased. She wound her fingers between mine as she pulled me closer. My heart slammed in my ears as my breath quickened.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered.
My body screamed for her touch, and I was too tired to be anything but honest with her. “I can’t be another one of your women,” I said. “It would break my heart.”
“Seriously? One of my women?” Riley asked incredulously. “Kate, it’s been four years and I’ve always been at your side. Waiting.”
Now it was my turn to be incredulous. “Waiting. For me?”
Riley nodded, her forehead nearly touching mine.
“How long have you felt this way?”
“Since we the day we met,” Riley said. “There was always Anna, though, so I never said anything.”
I thought about that undeniable pull I’d felt toward this strong woman before me. There had always been this fierce loyalty between Riley and me, along with a strong desire I’d forced myself to ignore.
I’d wanted her, I realized, from the very beginning.
“I’m afraid I won’t make you happy. I’m afraid of so much in this world.” The truth-filled admission brought tears to my eyes.
“I’m a firefighter, remember? I’ll keep you s
afe.” Riley pulled me into a hug, her strong hands caressing my back. When we parted, her lips lingered near mine, the heat between us nearly unbearable. “Besides, how could you make me anything other than happy?” She reached for a long sundae spoon. “You make a killer whipped cream.”
I giggled as she filled her mouth full of the white fluff and then held out the remaining cream on the spoon for me. Closing my mouth over the cool metal, I let the sweet mixture explode against my tongue.
I reached for a mandarin orange and slowly fed it to Riley. Her tongue teased my fingertips as the juicy pleasure ran down my fingers.
“Have we found it?” Riley asked. “That perfect blend between the sweet and tangy?”
“I think so.”
“Thankfully, you’re messy in the kitchen.” Riley pointed out a string of marshmallow that had wound itself from my mouth down my chin. “Let me help you with that.”
Riley’s warm lips slowly kissed away the gooey dessert. I shuddered as her lips slipped down the line of my neck. She kissed and licked away the sticky marshmallow from my skin as the crisp odor of oranges and pineapples engulfed us.
“I’m not going anywhere, Kate.” She gave me her boyish grin that I couldn’t resist. “I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said, near breathless.
Riley reached for the nearby bowl. “We’ve got quite a bit left over,” she said with a playful smile. “I love the whipped cream, but it tastes so much better off you.” She dunked her finger and spread the cream across my mouth. “And I’m starving.”
Then Riley kissed me, soft and hard all at once, both of us so very hungry for more.
Welcome to the Neighborhood
Aurora Rey
Gina drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter. She hadn’t felt this inept since that time in eleventh grade when Tracy Malone kissed her while they were studying for the chemistry final. Tracy’d been as pretty as she was smart, and Gina had harbored a colossal crush on her for the better part of a year. That kiss left her both exhilarated and fumbling.
Since then, Gina had figured it out. She wouldn’t consider herself a master of romance or anything, but she’d learned how to flirt. She’d even managed a couple of epic seductions in college and grad school. She liked to think of herself as savvy, confident without being cocky.
Until Kel Monroe moved in next door. One day, her life had been going along just fine and the next, she turned into a blushing, blathering idiot. At least she did anytime she happened to come within fifty feet of Kel. And given how close together the houses were in her neighborhood, that happened quite a bit.
It was demoralizing. It was wrong. It was—
The knock on the front door interrupted Gina’s internal rant. She opened it, relieved to see Olivia standing on her front porch. Olivia had been in the Cornell English Department for exactly three days when Gina discovered she was both queer and a femme. That had been less than two months ago, and they were now, to be a bit clichéd, besties.
Gina glanced over toward Kel’s house, a gorgeous Craftsman that was much nicer than her Victorian duplex rental, then ushered Olivia inside. “Did you see her?”
“Who?”
“Kel. Obviously. Jeez. Pay attention, woman.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “I was being facetious. I know who you’re talking about. She’s the only thing you’ve talked about in the last week and a half.”
Gina might have argued the point if it weren’t true. “So did you see her?”
“I did. I parked up the street so I’d have to walk by her house. She was in the driveway with someone who looked to be delivering a lawn mower.”
“And?”
Olivia lifted a shoulder as if conceding something. “And from what I can tell, she’s seriously hot.”
“I told you.” Gina’s voice rose with exasperation. “What am I going to do?”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Not beyond exchanging names and a couple of passing hellos.”
“Why not?”
“Because I haven’t figured out what to say.”
“Gina, you’re an English professor. You figure out what to say for a living.”
“But this is different.”
Olivia’s eyes got huge. “Oh, my God. Are you a wallflower?”
“No!” Gina crossed her arms. “Who even uses that word anymore?”
“I do. And you’re deflecting.” It was Olivia’s turn to cross her arms. “So, what’s the problem?”
“If I knew that, I’d be asking her out instead of wringing my hands with you.” Gina hated being so awkward, especially in front of Olivia. Hopefully, Olivia would have some words of wisdom and the embarrassment would be worth it.
“I’d bake.”
“Excuse me?”
Olivia’s expression grew serious. “If you want an excuse to talk to her, bake. Show up with something delicious to welcome her to the neighborhood.”
Gina made a face. “That’s such a straight girl thing to do.”
Olivia planted her hands on her hips. “I find that exceedingly offensive. Not to mention wrong. Baked goods have landed me several dates. And the upside is that, should the conversation go horribly, you can let it stand as a neighborly gesture and nothing more.”
“Huh.” Olivia’s suggestion was the last thing in the world Gina would consider, but it might work. “That actually makes sense.”
“I’m pretty smart, you know.”
“There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t bake.”
Olivia looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Like, at all?”
Gina glowered. “I am an independent, academic, lesbian woman.”
“Honey, I am, too. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to whip up something sweet and seductive.”
“Honey,” Gina drawled in an exaggerated version of Olivia’s Georgia accent, “I whip up plenty of sweet and seductive. I just don’t do it with sugar and flour.”
“Maybe you should give it a try.”
Gina considered. She didn’t have anything to lose. And it wasn’t like she had any better ideas. “I might. Are you willing to be my coach?”
Olivia beamed. “I’d be happy to.”
They spent the next twenty minutes debating what to make and drafting a grocery list. Despite Gina’s initial hesitation, Olivia convinced her that cookies were not childish, but rather perfectly ambiguous. “They show effort without being presumptuous,” she insisted. “You might have made them special for her or they might be extras from something else.”
“I had no idea there’d be so much strategy involved.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “That’s because you’re an amateur.”
They went to lunch as planned, then the store. There was no sign of Kel when they left or when they returned. Gina didn’t want to keep Olivia from any other plans and offered to do the baking some other time. Olivia, in turn, accused her of chickening out and assured her she had nowhere else to be.
Gina pulled out mixing bowls and measuring cups that she’d bought but never used, and they got to work. In just under two hours, they produced two dozen of Olivia’s signature chewy triple chocolate cookies. As far as Gina was concerned, they looked like they belonged in a bakery case. “I can’t believe we made these.”
“You made them. I helped.”
“That’s generous, but I’ll take it.” They sampled one that looked less than perfect, after which Gina concluded, “I don’t know about Kel, but I’d go to bed with me.”
“Me too.”
Gina raised a brow. “Dr. Bennett, are you propositioning me?”
Olivia laughed. “I love you, but you’re not my type. I’m going home now. You should go deliver these while they’re fresh.”
“You know,” Gina mused, “I feel markedly more confident.”
Olivia offered her a smug smile. “You’re welcome.”
Olivia left and Gina took a moment to fuss over the arrangement of the cookies on the plate, then another moment to fuss with her hair. Knowing she was stalling, she picked up the plate, squared her shoulders, and headed out the door.
Much to her relief, Kel had reappeared and was fiddling with what appeared to be a brand-new John Deere lawn mower. Gina started up the front walk, admiring the view of Kel’s ass as she bent over the motor. She paused when Kel stood and yanked the starter rope. The mower made a pained coughing noise. Kel yanked three more times, each time eliciting a worse noise from the machine.
All the nervousness she’d been harboring melted away. “What on earth are you doing to that poor, defenseless lawn mower?”
Kel looked up, scowling. The snug gray T-shirt and smear of dirt across her cheek made Gina’s heart race. “The mower started it. I think I bought a lemon. Hey, are those for me?”
The rapid progression of the conversation made her smile. “I’m sorry it’s giving you trouble, and yes, these are for you. I wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“That’s nice. Thank you.”
The smile Kel offered dispelled any notions Gina had about baking being a straight-girl tactic. “I’ve been meaning to stop by. I’m sorry it took so long.”