by Gerri Hill
“They came the year after me. So six years.”
Reese rested her elbows on the bar, nodding at Tracy to refill her mug. “So again, why are you here?”
“Are you saying I should base my whole existence on the possibility of romance? I have little shot of it here, so I should move?” Morgan shrugged. “If I were younger, maybe. But I’ll turn thirty-six this spring, I love it here, I love the people, I’m content with my life. I don’t want to move somewhere just to increase my chances of meeting someone I might possibly have a relationship with. I guess what I’m saying is, at this point in my life, it’s not that big a deal, as long as I’m happy with everything else.” She paused. “And I am.”
“And you get by with the occasional dalliance with someone like Mona?”
Morgan laughed again, an easy laugh that Reese found enjoyable.
“Dalliance? Is that what it was?” Morgan leaned closer and playfully bumped her arm. “Is that what you called it? You and the mayor’s wife?”
“Even though Winter Park is a hell of a lot more glamorous than Lake City, it wasn’t exactly crawling with single gay women.”
“I’m assuming the mayor’s wife is straight?”
Reese smiled. “Oh, yes. Very straight. And I’m afraid I ruined it for her.”
“Rocked her world, did you?”
“She’s fifty-one and had never had oral sex.”
“Oh, my.”
“Yeah, it was quite fun.” Not enough fun to get booted out of town though. She looked up as Tracy placed her bag on the bar.
“Thanks, Tracy.”
“Or did you want to eat here tonight, Chief?”
“No. I should get going.” She glanced at Morgan. “What are you having?”
“Oh, I’ll probably get a burger to take home.” She slid her beer mug over to Tracy. “But I’ll have one more.”
Reese took her bag and moved the barstool back, then tossed a ten-dollar bill on the bar. “Beer’s on me, Zula,” she teased quietly, barely moving fast enough to miss the punch Morgan threw at her.
“I will so kill you.”
“Now, now. Don’t cause a scene.” Reese bowed politely.
“Goodnight, Morgan. See you around.” She nodded at Tracy before escaping out the door, realizing that she was still smiling.
Yeah, she liked Morgan. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to, a friend.
But later, as she sat alone at her table in her quiet little cabin, finishing off the last of the steak fries, she wondered if she could go the whole year with Morgan as a friend. Truth was, she found her attractive. They had easy conversations. Nothing was ever strained or forced. But she couldn’t actually see herself asking Morgan out on a date. For one thing, what would they do?
Where would they go? Sloan’s Bar was the only entertainment in the county.
“Forget it,” she murmured, gathering the remains of her dinner and tossing it in the trash.
She went into the living room, bored out of her mind, knowing it was too early for bed. She turned a circle, looking around the small cabin. When she’d agreed to take this job, it was one of the things she insisted on—a place to live that wasn’t in town. And a place she didn’t have to pay for.
They came up with this little jewel. It belonged to Ronald Brightmen, one of the county commissioners. It was a vacation and hunting cabin that seldom got used, he’d told her. And it suited her perfectly. Six miles out of town, at the edge of the National Forest, no nosy neighbors and absolutely no traffic.
And she was bored and lonely and starting to think crazy thoughts.
Like wondering if Morgan was as feisty in bed as she was out of it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Morgan glanced up as the door opened, smiling when Tina stuck her head inside.
“Hey, guys,” she said as she came in carrying a picnic basket.
“I brought lunch.”
“Bored, are you?”
“Totally.” Tina plopped down beside Morgan’s desk and winked at Berta. “Besides, I’ve been hearing all sorts of rumors. I came to check them out.”
Morgan eyed Berta suspiciously. “What kind of rumors?”
“You and Chief Daniels spending time together.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Good grief. We went skiing.”
“That in itself is big news. You hate to ski.”
“Yes, I know. Charlie made me.”
“And dinner?”
“Dinner? We didn’t have dinner.”
“My source tells me you were seen at Sloan’s together.”
“I know your source is Tracy, and she knows perfectly well that Reese just stopped by and chatted while she was waiting for her dinner.”
“Reese? That’s kind of familiar, isn’t it?”
“Tina, quit trying to read something into it.” She pointed her finger at her. “And do not try to play matchmaker.” Morgan looked at Berta. “And you, I know you’re the one who told her about skiing. And you know very well I didn’t want to do it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Berta said as she stood. “But it is lunchtime. I’m meeting Eloise at the café.”
“I swear, I can’t take a crap without half the town knowing about it,” she said when Berta closed the door.
Tina laughed. “It’s winter. There’s nothing going on. Your love life gets top billing, I’m afraid.”
“Love life? I don’t have a love life.”
“Not yet, no, but we’re working on it.”
“Seriously, you have got to stop it. So we went skiing. No big deal. So we saw each other at Sloan’s. Again, not unusual. She eats there nearly every night. It wasn’t like it was a date or anything.”
She pulled the basket closer. “What’d you bring, anyway?”
“Venison stew.”
Morgan grinned. “How sweet. My favorite.” She pulled out the two covered bowls and placed them on her desk, then put the basket aside. “I love when you bring me your leftovers.”
“You can’t make just a little when you’re making stew or soup. Besides, you know how my kids are when it comes to leftovers.”
“Yes. That’s one thing I miss when you don’t work during the winter, I don’t eat as well.”
“Speaking of eating, you’re going to be on your own for Christmas this year,” Tina said as she pulled the top off each bowl and handed Morgan a spoon. “Paul’s mother is renting a beach house in South Florida for the holidays. She said she refuses to have everyone traveling in the snow, just so we can get together.”
“The beach? That’s not Christmas,” Morgan said. She took a bite and groaned. “This is so good.”
“Thanks. And I know. We’ll be building snowmen out of sand.”
“But I guess it’ll be a good break. The kids will love the beach.”
“I just wish she would have consulted everyone instead of just doing it. It’s so like her, just thinking of herself.”
“Oh, you’ll have a good time,” she said. “You know, I’m from Florida. You just get used to Christmas being warm. It was no big deal.”
“And I’m from Colorado and you get used to there being snow at Christmas,” Tina replied, sticking her tongue out at Morgan. “Don’t try to pacify me. I’m allowed to be pissed at my mother-in-law if I want to be.”
Morgan grinned. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was the control factor going on here. I thought you were just upset you were going to the beach.” She waved her spoon in the air. “Of course, you have every right to be pissed at her for arranging such a horrible, horrible trip.”
“Oh, shut up. See if I bring you lunch anymore.”
Morgan pulled out the bottom drawer of her desk, then leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on top of the drawer, balancing her bowl on her stomach. This was something she missed when Tina got laid off for winter, her bringing in leftovers for lunch. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you to come around more. Just because you’re not working, we could still p
op over to Sloan’s for lunch occasionally.”
“I know. But I’m trying to be the productive stay-at-home mom. House is clean, laundry is done, and dinner is on the table when the hubby and kids get home.”
“How boring. And do you polish the silverware and dust all of the shelves?”
“It does sound boring, doesn’t it? And don’t cringe, but I’ve started watching soaps again.”
“This is the year you swore you weren’t going to get hooked on them again,” Morgan reminded her.
“Well, if you had a love life to talk about, perhaps I wouldn’t have to.”
Morgan smiled sweetly. “Enjoy your soaps, then. After the last encounter with Moaning Mona, I think it’s safer to remain celibate.”
§
Celibate, yes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look. Because Reese Daniels was far too attractive to just skim over.
“Okay, so you’re here first the other night and she comes in and joins you at the bar,” Tracy said as she filled a mug for her. “Tonight, she’s here first, sitting at her usual booth, and you come in and totally ignore her.” She slid the beer toward her.
“What’s up with that?”
“Nothing’s up. But if I go over there and talk to her, then you’ll tell Tina and she’ll tell Berta. Then half the town will think something’s going on with us. Which it’s not.”
Tracy laughed. “Like I didn’t just see you checking her out.”
“I was not.”
“Was too.”
Morgan felt her face flush. “Okay, so I never said she wasn’t attractive or anything. She is. She’s just not my type.”
“Oh, quit being so stubborn and go talk to her. I’ll stall her dinner.”
Morgan sighed. “Again, what’s with you straight women trying to set me up? Am I that pathetic that you all feel sorry for me?” Morgan narrowed her eyes. “And why doesn’t anyone try to set you up?”
“Oh, please. Who would they set me up with?”
“Maybe you should go off to college then.”
“That’s not something you tell someone who is about to turn thirty.” Tracy leaned closer. “Besides, the only eligible guys around here are the seasonal cowboys who work Thompson’s Ranch.” She shook her head. “And I’m just not interested.” She motioned again to Reese Daniels. “But she’s cute. You should go talk to her.”
“Good grief.” Morgan got up and took her beer. “Okay, I’ll go talk to her.” As she walked across the bar, even though conversations went on around her, she felt eyes on her as she approached Reese’s table.
“She finally talked you into coming over, huh?” Reese said without taking her eyes off the magazine she’d been reading.
“She’s trying to play matchmaker, I’m afraid.” Morgan slid into the booth opposite her. “Along with Tina. I’m fairly certain it’s a conspiracy.”
Reese’s eyebrows shot up. “With me?”
“Of course with you.”
“Who’s Tina again?”
“She works with me. Seasonal. She and her husband are good friends of mine.”
“I see.” She tossed the magazine aside and folded her hands together. “And what do you think about this…this matchmaking?”
Morgan laughed. “I told them you weren’t my type.”
“That’s right. I’m brooding or something. Isn’t that what you said?”
Morgan spun her mug between her hands. “Actually, you thought I wanted to sleep with you and you politely said you weren’t interested.”
Reese looked across the table and met her eyes. “Speaking of that, perhaps we should revisit that conversation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe we should reconsider.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “Reconsider sleeping together? Are you serious?”
Reese shrugged. “Why not?”
“For one, you weren’t interested, remember?”
“I’m not interested in dating anyone, no.”
Morgan studied her. “And why is that? Not that I want to date you either,” Morgan quickly clarified.
“Dating leads to being a couple. That leads to living together.”
“Have a problem with monogamy, do you?”
“No, no. That’s not it. It’s just a big cycle is all. You live together a few years, you grow bored, you split up, you start all over with someone else and do the same thing. I just don’t see the point.”
“That’s crazy. The point is, if you fall in love with someone, you want to be with them, which means living together.”
“Yes, well, I’m not interested in that.”
“But you are interested in sex?”
Reese smiled. “I like you. I think you like me. We’re both of age and single.”
“So…so you want to have sex…with me?”
“It’s the middle of winter and I’m thinking we’re both bored out of our minds already. I know I am. What harm would there be for us to get together on a cold night and release a little pentup energy? No strings. Just a physical, sexual relationship.”
Morgan stared at her, stunned by her words. “And you’re serious?”
“Look, if the idea of sleeping with me is disgusting, just say so. I mean, we’re friends. Or we’re becoming friends. So if you think we can’t still be friends—”
“With sex on the side?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Yet you have sex with a perfect stranger?”
“I was drunk. And lonely.” She leaned forward. “So would this be like a once a week thing or what?”
Reese picked up her soggy paper coaster and twirled it between her fingers. “I don’t know. Whenever we like, I guess.”
Morgan grinned. “So, do we have a secret sign? You know, to let the other one know?”
“So now you’re making fun?”
“No. I’m just shocked that I’m actually considering this. Because you know, I’m not certain I even like you.”
“Now that’s not true.”
“No, it’s not, I guess. I haven’t thrown my beer in your face yet because of this proposition.”
Reese leaned closer, her voice low. “Look, if we try it and find it’s not going to work, then no one has to know. We’ll just go about our business. If it’s enjoyable to both of us, then what’s the harm? I’m here eleven more months then I’m gone. And frankly, the thought of spending eleven months without female company is not all that appealing.”
“Tell me, Chief Daniels, do you make these kinds of propositions often?”
Reese looked up as Jeff brought over her dinner. “Thanks, Jeff.”
“Sure thing. Can I get you anything else? Morgan?”
“I’ll need another beer, Jeff.” Or perhaps she should switch to something stronger. A no strings affair with Reese Daniels? Good Lord…
Reese stood and placed her money under the empty beer mug. “And no, I’ve never made this type of proposition to anyone. I’ve never been in exile before.”
Morgan watched her walk away, her eyes lingering on her backside. Oh, my. Dare she agree to this? To this crazy plan? It was a long, cold winter, she reasoned. And there was no Jackson at home to keep her company. Perhaps Reese was on to something.
What harm could it be?
She shook her head. Surely to God she wasn’t seriously considering this? Was she that lonely, that starved for physical contact that she would consider having sex with Reese Daniels just for fun? No commitment. No attachments. Hell, no rules.
Just sex. Sex for the sake of having sex.
She thought she should be embarrassed—or better yet, disgusted—by the proposition. But she wasn’t. Because, yeah, Reese Daniels wasn’t really her type, no. But she was cute, attractive, and Morgan could just imagine what her body would look like naked.
Oh, my.
“Hey.”
She jump
ed, startled, as Tracy held her fresh beer out to her. “Gonna come back to the bar or sit here?”
She stared dumbly at her. Should she tell her? Good grief, no!
So she nodded. “At the bar.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You look a little pale. Did the Chief upset you or something?”
“Or something,” Morgan murmured as she followed Tracy back to the bar.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Reese stared out the window into the darkness, listening absently as the coffee slowly dripped into the pot, spewing steam from the top occasionally. The restlessness she’d been feeling for the last couple of weeks had not diminished and here she was, staring out at the deserted street, the lone light flickering over Sloan’s Bar, not even a hint of the morning sun to penetrate the darkness.
She shook her head, wondering what had possessed her to make such a preposterous proposal to Morgan last night. Was she that lonely? That desperate for female company that she’d proposition the only other lesbian in town?
“Apparently.”
Of course the fact that Morgan hadn’t tossed her beer in her face—or worse, slapped her—was a bit intriguing. Was Morgan actually considering it?
Reese let out a sigh, wondering what her reaction would be should Morgan show up on her doorstep, fully prepared to accept the proposition. What would she do?
She turned away from the window, heading toward the smell of the freshly brewed coffee. Oh, she knew exactly what she’d do.
Morgan was attractive and she stirred enough sexual interest to make a physical relationship appealing. She assumed the same was true for Morgan.
§
It was just cold enough this morning to be uncomfortable and Morgan turned the heat up just a little in the truck. Truth was, she was glad to get it back. As much fun as she had in the Jeep, it wasn’t airtight by any means, and she had a heck of a time getting warm. The Forest Service uniforms were not meant for winter, and she could only layer so much beneath the cotton shirt. Of course, they weren’t meant for summer either and she ended up sweltering in the drab green cotton. Charlie had gotten used to her breaking the uniform code though—jeans in the winter and shorts in summer. Except when his bosses paid a visit, then she dutifully donned the drab green cotton pants that matched the drab green shirt.