by Harper Bliss
And in the end, it was just a bit of simple fun, because Maya knew where to draw the line. There were very firm boundaries she would never allow Quinn to cross, even though Quinn might very well be convinced right now, as she was enjoying Maya’s pool, that those boundaries were only there to be obliterated.
That was how Quinn behaved. Like an unruly child. A wild horse that had only begun to learn the rules and bucked against its restraints. Maya found Quinn’s wildness attractive. She was aware of that. But she had something that Quinn wouldn’t come by for years: the kind of wisdom only acquired with age. That wisdom would always give her the edge. And the willingness to say no when it came down to it because, somehow, Maya knew what was coming. It hung in the air, like the damp heat of July, between them. She had allowed it to develop, and she would be the one to cut it short, but not before she’d had some harmless fun with the neighbors’ daughter.
Chapter 4
Just as Quinn deposited an extra-strong margarita in front of Maya, her cell phone buzzed in the back pocket of her shorts.
She smiled apologetically at Maya before checking who was calling. “Oh, it’s Dad.” She walked to the far side of the garden.
“Hey, Pumpkin, how’s it going? Do you miss us?” her dad asked.
“It might surprise you that your twenty-four-year-old daughter, who moved out of the house quite a few years ago, can be without her mom and dad for a few days.”
“That does surprise me,” her dad joked.
Quinn kept an eye on Maya while she listened.
“What are you up to?”
“Cooling off in Maya’s pool,” Quinn said, truthfully, although spending time with Maya had left her much more hot than cool.
“How’s Maya now that Tommy’s off on his big trip?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No need. I just called to check in with you. Send Maya our love and tell her we’ll have a barbecue next week. To take her mind off things.”
“Sure, Dad.” Quinn had her own ideas about how to take Maya’s mind off things.
“Call me whenever you need to,” he said.
“Thanks, Dad.” Quinn ended the call and peered at Maya. Her cocktail stood in front of her untouched. She looked pensive. Perhaps a touch more tense than before. Quinn hurried back.
“How’s Bill?” Maya asked.
“He didn’t say, but I’m sure everything’s fine at the cabin.” Quinn tried to read Maya’s face. “He said he’ll invite you to a barbecue next week.”
Maya gave a slight nod. “You told him you were here?”
“Should I not have?” Quinn arched up her eyebrows.
Maya just shrugged, her face still much tighter than Quinn liked to see it.
“Don’t worry about my dad,” Quinn said. “He calls me every single day. It’s his thing. It’s like he can’t properly relax if he hasn’t heard my voice.”
“That’s lovely.” Maya finally reached for her cocktail. She took a sip. “And so is this. Thank you, Quinn.”
“Has Tommy been in touch?” Quinn felt as though she should ask.
“He sent a couple of text messages, but I haven’t spoken to him on the phone. He’s not the type to call his mother every day.”
“He’s only just left.” Quinn offered a smile. “I’m sure he misses you a lot as well, but it’s different for him. He’s discovering the world. He’s in Europe.” Probably nose-deep in a bottle of French wine, Quinn thought. She’d never been to Europe. She’d been too busy flunking out of college and then trying to make a life for herself in New York City without a proper degree to have a gap year in between—there hadn’t been an in-between.
“I know. It’s fine.” At last, Maya smiled again. “I’m happy you get along so well with your dad. I hope I can have that kind of relationship with my son when he’s older.”
“My dad…” Inadvertently, a smile appeared on Quinn’s face. “He has always been so vehemently against being disappointed in me. Like he’s not capable of it, no matter how hard I try.”
“He’s a good parent, who has let you find your own way. I believe in that as well, although it’s not always easy to not push your child in a certain direction. It happens without you realizing it.”
“I haven’t exactly found my way yet, but I’ll get there in the end.” That was what Quinn’s dad always said.
“When did you come out to your parents?” Maya asked.
“I never really did. I never sat them down for ‘the talk’ and explicitly told them. It’s like they’ve always known.” Quinn twirled her glass around between her fingers. “My dad did tell me at a certain point, I think I was sixteen or seventeen, I don’t really remember, that I was free to bring a girlfriend or boyfriend home whenever I wanted. That’s actually how he said it.”
Maya smiled softly. “What about your mom?”
“You know Mom. She’s more uptight about everything. Especially about the age of my girlfriends.” Quinn snickered.
“It’s probably just fear. As parents, we want to make the life of our children as easy as possible and being in a same-sex relationship is often not the easiest path. Brooke is probably scared that you’ll have a tougher life than if you were straight.”
“Yeah.” Quinn leaned back, chuckling. “I will never forget the look on her face when I introduced her to Rachel. She tried to smile but it didn’t work and there’s really nothing worse than a failed smile on Mom’s face.”
Maya chuckled along gently. “She loves you, that’s all. She wants the best for you and she’s still convinced she knows what is better for you than you know yourself. She’ll grow out of it. Eventually.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore now, anyway. Rach and I are totally over.”
“No chance of getting back together?” Maya asked.
“Zero.” Quinn shook her head. “I don’t even want to. I need to move on. I know that. But it still hurts.”
“Yeah.”
“How about you?” Quinn was genuinely curious. “You’ve been divorced for years now. I bet the single gentlemen of Milbury are lining up to take you out on the town.”
“You’d be very wrong about that.” Maya scoffed. “Men my age aren’t necessarily looking for a woman in their own age bracket.”
“In that case, men your age are all totally and utterly nuts, not to mention blind!”
“You would say that, with your proclivities.” Maya’s lips bloomed into a smile.
“Fair enough and yes, I would. On top of that, I would say it loudly and proudly.”
“Men my age are much more interested in someone like you than they are in someone like me,” Maya mused. “Young, blond, taut skin, girlish grin. The works.”
Quinn knew Maya was right. She’d been tending bar long enough to know what the average man liked. “What about Mr. Mercer?”
“Drew did not follow the stereotypical middle-aged divorced man’s path,” Maya said. “His new partner is even a year older than he is. Imagine that. An entire year!”
“Wow.”
“Not that he deserves a pat on the back for that,” Maya said. “That would be setting the bar very low for middle-aged men in general.”
“You haven’t been on any dates in the past five years?” Quinn found that hard to believe, despite her own preferences, which she was overly aware of as this conversation progressed.
“I have, but it’s all been so… unmemorable.”
Quinn swallowed what she was about to say next—that maybe Maya had been dating people of the wrong gender. It wasn’t a claim that was hers to make. And it might end the evening abruptly, which was a risk she didn’t want to take. She was enjoying this pool-side chat with Maya too much to take too great a risk, at least for now.
“If I’m being perfectly honest, dating hasn’t really been a priority. I’ve been so busy with the studio and making sure Tommy was okay after the divorce.”
Quinn intuited it was one of those moments when her be
st contribution to the conversation was a prolonged silence.
“Now Tommy’s all grown up,” Maya continued. “So my priorities might change.” She fell silent. The rattling of the ice cubes in their glasses was the only sound. “You weren’t kidding when you said you make a mean cocktail.”
“When you work for tips, it pays to be really good at what you do.”
“Where are you moving to when you leave here?” Maya asked.
“Into a friend’s place in Greenpoint. Her roommate’s leaving at the end of the month. It’s not too far from the bar, so it should all work out well in the end.” Quinn didn’t mention that without a monthly check from her parents, she wouldn’t even be able to afford the tiny room in Andy’s shabby apartment.
“I’m sure you’ll find your feet, Quinn. You have that air about you. Like everything will be all right, no matter what.”
“We’ll see.” Quinn drained the last of her cocktail. “Another?” It was Saturday evening and neither one of them had anywhere else to be.
“Let me prepare some dinner first.” Maya peered at the remaining liquid in her glass, as though it would allow her to determine exactly how strong it was by doing so. “I may not make it into the kitchen after another one of these.”
“Can I help? I chop a mean veg.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Maya asked.
Quinn burst out laughing. “Absolutely not.”
Maya sat there grinning broadly. “Why don’t you have another swim. I won’t be long. I’m just making a salad. It’s too hot for anything substantial.”
“I brought a bottle of white wine,” Quinn said. “It’s in the fridge.”
“Filling my fridge with alcohol.” Maya rose. “You’d better have only good intentions.” She shot Quinn a quick wink and disappeared into the house.
Quinn took off her clothes and jumped into the pool. She hadn’t minded that her parents had gone away for the weekend, leaving her alone for a few days. But she hadn’t expected to be splashing about in the neighbor’s pool at this time of the day, with a light cocktail buzz going on and the prospect of an evening of flirty conversation still ahead of her.
Chapter 5
Maya watched Quinn collect their plates as though this was her own house. She had that air about her that made her look at home. A quiet confidence that, at that age, Maya had only possessed when she stepped out onto the dance floor. For that reason, she told herself, she enjoyed watching Quinn’s elegant, easy movement around the table. The gentle swell of her upper arms. The soft shine of her skin. Yes, that was what Quinn Hathaway was: a joy to behold and a joy to be around. Especially during this emotionally trying weekend for Maya. Quinn had succeeded in taking her mind off Tommy as though it had been her job to do so.
Maya followed Quinn with her eyes as she disappeared into the house. In the half-light of the evening, she could see her rinsing the plates in the sink. Quinn’s lack of hesitation had something inspirational about it. Maya could twist or turn it any way she wanted, but Tommy leaving home had ushered in the next act of her life. Maybe she should approach it with some of that confidence that Quinn exuded.
“Can I make you another drink?” Quinn shouted from the kitchen.
“Let’s finish the wine.” Maya reached for her glass. She knew Bill kept some excellent bottles in his basement. She wondered what he would think when he returned from his weekend away and found a few of them missing.
It had startled her earlier when he had called Quinn. It had reminded her of who Quinn actually was, which was easy to forget when she and Quinn were together. That was the other thing about Quinn: she was easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to watch. Earlier, when she’d been preparing dinner, Maya had eyed her through the kitchen window. The way she’d tipped her head back and slicked her hands through her wet hair had made something inside Maya twitch. She had no idea what it was. Maybe a sudden reminder of how deprived she had been of certain things—things that Quinn had somehow come to represent.
Quinn was still not wearing anything over her bikini top, completely unafraid to show herself off. And why would she be? Maya bet Quinn earned quite a few tips just because of how she looked—very girl-next-door but with an extra layer of natural glossiness. She had this spark about her that Maya had never noticed before. Or maybe it was the kind of weekend she was having that was adding the spark. How Quinn reminded her of herself when she was in her early twenties and had her entire life ahead of her. How she made her feel like she was so much more than a divorcée whose son was leaving home. Maya knew she was much more than that, but still, being around Quinn made it so obvious. Because Quinn clearly saw something in her and Maya’s only response to that, apart from the necessary caution, was utter delight.
“I never understood why my parents always refused to put in their own pool, but…” Quinn fixed her gaze on Maya. “Today I’m very happy that they didn’t.” She pulled her lips into a grin. “Otherwise, I might have never made you those cocktails.” She picked up her wine glass. “Thank you for letting me use your pool, Maya.”
“You’re welcome to use it any time you like.” Maya looked forward to welcoming Quinn over and over again.
“What does the rest of your summer look like?” Quinn asked.
“I’m going to Puerto Rico later this month.” Maya rejoiced at the prospect. “For a week of non-stop salsa.”
“You’ll be teaching Puerto Ricans how to salsa?” Quinn whistled through her teeth.
Maya shook her head. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m doing a refresher course.” Not that her salsa needed a lot of refreshing, even if she said so herself.
“I don’t suppose you can show me a few moves?” Quinn sat there looking relaxed, except for her eyes—they were sparkling with some sort of secret delight.
“It’s too hot,” Maya protested.
“And it won’t be in Puerto Rico?” Quinn flashed her tongue over her upper lip.
“Yes, but that’s different. It’s part of the atmosphere.”
“Ah, right. I see.” Quinn nodded as though she knew exactly what Maya was talking about. “The sweat. The heat. The well-toned men twirling you around the floor. It’s not the same as your suburban backyard.” She slanted her head. “Maybe later, after it gets dark.” She gave the softest of chuckles. “Although there’s honestly nothing that could make my day more than seeing you dance, Maya.”
How did Quinn, with her mere twenty-four years of age, know so precisely what to say? By bringing up dance, she knew she was tapping into one of Maya’s greatest passions. If she was hoping that Maya wouldn’t be able to resist, she was betting on the right horse. Maya took a sip of wine and resolutely pushed herself out of her chair. “Come on. Get up.” She walked to the side of the patio where there was more unencumbered floor space.
Quinn’s smirk, which bordered on self-satisfied, didn’t bother Maya in the slightest. Quinn might be very good at flirting—which was basically an exercise in intuiting what the other person wanted to hear in that moment—but Maya was very good at dancing.
“The basic steps of salsa aren’t that difficult.” She wouldn’t say that to any other student—but Quinn wasn’t her student. “Just watch.” Maya counted herself down and then, much slower than she usually would, showed Quinn the steps. Despite the slow movement, a jolt of fresh energy coursed through Maya. It was what moving her body in this way did to her. Since she’d been able to walk, she’d loved to dance. She always had a beat going on inside her, a constant thumping in her blood that provided rhythm to her life, that accompanied her and, whenever she felt like it, which was often, allowed her to transform her gait into a dance step. “Why walk through life if you can dance through it?” she had a habit of asking her students.
She repeated the steps but didn’t succeed in doing so slowly for very long. Maya was showing off now, perhaps, also, because when she danced, her age was of no significance. On any dance floor, she could easily pass for a woman ten years younger.
Then Quinn, without being prompted, mimicked Maya’s steps. Maya did slow down then, to allow Quinn to watch the steps in more detail.
“One—two—three—four,” she repeated and repeated, until Quinn was dancing the basic salsa step in sync with her. “Very good. You’re a natural.”
Teaching dance instead of competing hadn’t meant that Maya had downgraded her life. She loved showing other people how to dance, how to find the beat of the music and move to it as though it was flowing through their body. It gave her such joy to watch her students improve after their first hesitant steps, because dance was such a universal language that everyone, if they gave it a chance, could speak and understand.
Maya stopped but encouraged Quinn to keep going. “I’ll put on some music,” she said. “Then we can dance together.” Again, not something she would say to a student in a regular lesson, especially not a first lesson. But this was not a lesson either.
Maya brought out a portable speaker and hooked up her phone. She scrolled to a salsa music playlist and pressed play.
Quinn’s feet had come to a stop. She looked only very slightly out of breath. She was barefoot, and wearing jeans shorts, and a bikini top which consisted of nothing more than two scant triangles covering her nipples, offering no support to the natural bounce of her breasts when she broke into a salsa rhythm. Quinn didn’t seem to care about that one bit.
“Okay.” Maya held out her hand to Quinn. “Let’s try to make this work together.” Quinn took her hand, and her touch gave Maya pause. She glanced at their joined hands as though it could be the start of something, before she pulled herself together. They were going to dance together. That was the only thing it would be the start of. “I’ll move my left foot backward while you move your right one forward. All right?”