Sit. Stay. Love.

by Karis Walsh

  “They’re obnoxious little shits,” she said with the tone of an exasperated but indulgent mother. She bent down and detached the mostly white male from Tegan’s ankle. “This one’s the leader of the gang,” she said, handing him to Tegan. “Your client Amy and her family have put dibs on him.”

  Tegan held the pup, keeping her fingers out of reach of his teeth. She ruffled his feathery brown ears. “He’s a good choice. He’ll be able to hold his own even though King is bigger.”

  Alana laughed. “They’re worried King will be jealous when he’s no longer an only dog, so they’re calling this one Prince. They can name him whatever they want, but it won’t stop him from usurping the throne.”

  The puppy squirmed vigorously, so Tegan put him down with the others. She looked around the room, seeing the space where Alana lived for the first time.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” she said, taking in the bare surfaces and walls, as well as the old-fashioned furniture that must have been here for decades.

  “I’ve taken the minimalist approach,” Alana said, then she shrugged. “Actually, I’ve never decorated a home of my own, so I didn’t have any idea where to start. I was able to hang posters in my room, or whatever I wanted, when I was little, but as an adult I’ve lived in hotel rooms that already had color schemes and paintings on the walls. Even in college, I was on a tight budget and didn’t put any money into my dorm room.” She jabbed Tegan playfully in the ribs with her elbow. “What about you? I’m picturing a dresser covered with horse figurines, championship ribbons on the walls, and about a hundred stuffed animals on your bed.”

  Tegan laughed. “You just described my bedroom at my grandparents’ farm to a tee, and it still looks exactly the same. My apartment at the clinic is much more mature.”

  “Mature? Meaning you only have twenty stuffed animals on the bed?”

  “Give or take.”

  Alana smiled, and gestured at the couch. “Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Sure.” Tegan sat on the couch and reached over to pet Lace, who was curled up on a soft blanket next to her.

  “The fruit stands are finally open,” Alana said from the kitchen. She came around the corner and back into the living room holding two juice glasses with red wine in them. “For a few hours a day, at least. I got this merlot, which is from a winery in Prosser, and some blueberries.”

  Tegan took the glass Alana offered, with stenciled oranges circling its middle. She loved Alana’s lack of pretentiousness. She seemed to be someone who would be at home anywhere, whether in one of her elegant hotels or in an ancient house in Yakima. She might prefer the former, but she fit just as easily into the latter. “Fancy,” she said, clinking her glass against Alana’s.

  “Consider yourself lucky to have glass and not plastic. If Chip hadn’t supplied me with dishes and utensils when I moved in, you’d be drinking out of one of those red disposable cups.” She took a sip of her wine. “Mm. This is really nice. So, speaking of Chip, did you notice him favoring any of the puppies today? I hope he’s not wanting Prince.”

  Tegan shook her head, scooping up the tiniest puppy that was currently trying to climb her leg. She put the pup on her lap, and Alana reached over to pet her, her wrist occasionally brushing against Tegan’s thigh. She tried to concentrate on the conversation and not on the way her leg felt like it was catching fire each time Alana touched it.

  “He seemed to like them all. I think you should see how many my clients and your neighbors want, and then just give him all the extras. He has plenty of room.”

  “Until he goes bankrupt and loses the ranch, you mean,” Alana said. She draped her arm across the back of the couch and touched Tegan. Just a single finger tracing her ear, the fall of her hair, the path from her temple to her jaw. A slim point of contact that created an exponential response in Tegan until she thought she might explode because of the tension building inside her.

  “He won’t. Not with you around,” Tegan said, amazed at how even and normal her voice sounded, since her body was on a rampage. “He used to lead awesome hiking tours around the area. That’s how I originally met him, when I took his rock-climbing class. His business was really successful but small, and I think he expected the ranch to be a bigger playground, not an endless mountain of work. From the sound of it, you’re practically running the place.”

  Alana shrugged as her fingertip moved down to explore Tegan’s neck. “I’m taking care of a few loose ends. Mostly because his work is more familiar to me from helping my parents with their hotel. Plus, it keeps me from having to face how poorly prepared I am for my own job.” She laughed, but Tegan heard more stress than humor in it. “It’s like he and I are playing chicken, with the grand opening racing toward us and neither one of us really qualified to handle it. Waiting to find out which one of us will swerve first.”

  “You’re doing better than you realize,” Tegan said. Alana’s hand had come to rest on her shoulder, and Tegan reached for it, drawing it to her mouth and kissing her palm. She smiled at a memory. “The first time we shook hands, I noticed how sexy and soft yours were. It was my first clue that you maybe weren’t the rugged and experienced trail guide I was expecting.” She laced her fingers with Alana’s. “Now I wouldn’t have any reason to doubt you.”

  “Yay. So my hands are more believable, but less sexy?”

  Tegan laughed. “Much sexier, actually. Stronger, and just a little rough. Perfect.”

  She pulled gently on Alana’s hand, drawing her close for a kiss. She tasted like wine and spice and magic.

  Alana pulled back a fraction of an inch, still near enough for Tegan to feel Alana’s breath against her lips when she spoke. “Why don’t we get the puppies settled in their room. Then we can talk about my hands some more, and all the things they’re capable of doing.”

  She stood up and took the juice glass Tegan had been holding—and had nearly spilled after hearing Alana’s suggestion. Tegan picked up the drowsy pup that was still on her lap and another two who were sleeping on her feet.

  “In there,” Alana said, coming out of the kitchen and pointing at an open door. “I’ll take Lace out back.”

  Tegan took her three puppies into their room and placed them in one of the fleecy, puffy beds in the closet. She closed the door behind her in case they tried to follow, and found two more at the foot of the stairs, trying to break through the baby gate. She had to search for Prince but finally discovered him behind the living room chair, where he was chewing happily on an expensive-looking shoe. Yeah, she’d wait until later to tell Alana about that. Much later. She picked up Prince and left the shoe where it was, settling him in the room just as Alana and Lace returned from the yard.

  Alana shut the door and leaned her back against it, watching Tegan with an unreadable expression on her face. Tegan had just been thinking about how homey the scene had been, with her and Alana putting the canine children to bed like parents. She wondered if the same idea had been on Alana’s mind, too, and whether the domesticity of the situation scared her or not. It was nearly impossible to label the evening as a casual encounter when they shared chores first.

  Maybe the question to ask herself was if the situation scared her, not Alana. Alana had talked about being here for the season, maybe a year. If they continued their relationship through Alana’s stay, there would be other everyday activities they’d do together, even though taking care of the puppies was just a temporary one. Shopping, making meals, visiting friends. Tegan felt a wave of panic rising in her, threatening to overshadow desire. She knew herself too well to think she’d be unaffected by the intimacy of having Alana in her daily life.

  She also knew she wasn’t about to let fear stop her from moving forward. She’d deal with the consequences when they came, not before. She crossed the distance between them and put her hands on either side of Alana’s face, holding her gently even though the kiss she gave her was anything but. Firm enough to push away her concerns.
A brief clash of teeth and tongues before they settled into a rhythm with each other and broke away with mutual gasps. Their entire relationship—past, present, and future—captured in a single kiss.

  It broke the spell, and Tegan smiled at Alana. “I wouldn’t mind a tour of the rest of the house. I’m thinking of redecorating my apartment and I’m looking for some tips.”

  “I think the only tip you need if you want to imitate my style is to throw out everything you own except for the bare necessities,” Alana said. She waved her hand in a circle. “This is downstairs. That’s about as detailed as I want to get about this part of the house. We can spend a little more time touring upstairs.”

  Alana led the way to the staircase. The latch on the baby gate was tricky to use, but she hadn’t had any trouble before now. Suddenly, she was clumsy and uncoordinated, and Tegan finally reached past her and opened it with a snap.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly, glancing back at Tegan and seeing the same cascade of expressions she had been cycling through since she had arrived. Alana thought she could read most of them. Tegan’s desire for her was as obvious as if she had the words printed on her shirt. Equally clear, but maybe only because Alana knew Tegan well enough to guess at it, was the battle between the Yakima Tegan—who thrived on the security and community she had fostered in this small town—and logical vet Tegan—who understood that loss was inevitable, but that some relationships were worth the risk.

  She hesitated on the landing, feeling the warmth of Tegan’s presence behind her. They both knew what it meant for Tegan to take a chance on a temporary relationship, but Alana was supposed to be the worldly one. The fly-by-night who moved from city to city, high-end hotel to splashy resort, having casual flings and breaking hearts along the way. Of course, she had never actually been that person, but she had always imagined she would be.

  Then why had the easy camaraderie she felt with Tegan made her so uneasy? They had sat on the couch, surrounded by puppies and chatting about Alana’s job over a glass of wine. They had put the little babies to bed together, like a couple getting ready to end the day. She had stood on the back porch and watched Tegan hide her mangled shoe, like a lover who was confident there would be a tomorrow for tears and upset, so why bother letting it spoil the mood tonight.

  She felt Tegan’s arms around her waist, resting with a comforting weight. “Are you okay?” she asked, putting her chin on Alana’s shoulder. “I can go…”

  Alana covered Tegan’s arms with hers, holding her firmly in place. If Tegan was brave enough to be standing here, on the edge of something scary, then Alana was going to be right alongside her. She stepped out of the circle of Tegan’s arms but kept hold of her hand and took her into the bedroom.

  She stopped near the bed and moved closer to kiss her, but Tegan put her hands on Alana’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

  “Wait,” she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. Alana nodded silently, unable to guarantee that her voice would sound unruffled if she spoke. Tegan stroked her thumb along Alana’s jawline, and then along the open V of her shirt. She undid the buttons with an agonizing slowness, treating the flannel shirt with as much respect and gentleness as if she was handling a designer gown. Somewhere in Alana’s mind, she realized that Tegan’s reverence was directed at her, not her clothing, but Alana couldn’t face that fact directly or she would freak out, run downstairs, and hide in the room with the puppies until Tegan left.

  She took a deep breath, which had more of a shudder to it than she expected, and let Tegan slide the shirt over her shoulders and down her arms before tossing it on the chair behind her. The gentle chafe of flannel across her skin gave her goose bumps, but she kept still as Tegan walked behind her, never breaking contact with her hands, and trailed her fingers from Alana’s neck down her spine until she reached the clasp of her bra. It was unhooked and off so quickly that Alana gave a little squeak of surprise, which sounded decidedly unsexy to her but made Tegan laugh in a quiet, self-satisfied way.

  Tegan stayed behind her, reaching around with her arms on either side of her ribcage, and unfastened her jeans with excruciating slowness. Alana swayed slightly, her knees growing weak and threatening to stop supporting her altogether, but Tegan held her steady for a moment before slipping her hands between Alana’s jeans and her skin and sliding them down her legs. And then—oh Lord—her underwear.

  Tegan stood up, still close behind her, and brushed her knuckles along the side of Alana’s neck.

  “I believe I owe you a massage,” she said, her breath warm against Alana’s bare skin. “Lie down.”

  Alana considered simply collapsing onto the floor—Tegan hadn’t said where to lie down—because she wasn’t sure her legs could handle the three steps it would take her to get to the bed. She somehow managed it, though, and got on the bed, on top of the comforter, with her head turned to face Tegan and her cheek pillowed on her crossed arms.

  Tegan removed her own clothes with much more impatience and less care than she had shown with Alana’s, before she climbed on the bed and straddled Alana, sitting lightly on her ass. Alana’s nerve endings were already on high alert, and the sensation of Tegan’s wet heat against her skin was nearly too much to bear. She made a strangled sort of moan and buried her face in the pillow, and Tegan laughed.

  “I like that sound,” she said, running her hands gently down Alana’s spine, then back up toward her neck with a little more pressure. “Let’s see what other noises we can coax out of you.”

  Some of Alana’s arousal eased—it didn’t go away, it just ebbed for the time being—as Tegan worked on her tense muscles, giving her an actual massage and not, as Alana had first thought, using it as an excuse to pounce on her. Alana was all for pouncing and hoped Tegan would get to it eventually, but she felt herself relaxing into mush under Tegan’s hands. She moved up and down Alana’s spine, with her thumbs on either side, and squeezed out the stress hiding there. She used the heel of her hands on Alana’s shoulder blades and forced her to release the stiffness she had been carrying there since she had gotten fired and had been trying to pretend she was handling it just fine. Tegan spent most of her time kneading the muscles on the sides of Alana’s neck and over the tops of her shoulders, where she carried the weight of her responsibility to the ranch and her constant awareness of how short she was falling.

  As the knots inside began to come undone, Tegan moved to Alana’s lower back. Her desire reawakened, ravenous and aching for more of Tegan’s touch. She stretched, arching her back slightly to press her hips into Tegan’s, turning her head to the side again.

  “A little lower would be nice,” she suggested.

  She felt Tegan’s lips press against the back of her neck. “That sounds like an excellent idea,” she said.

  Tegan took her time, stroking every inch of Alana from her bottom, down the outside of her thighs, and back up the inside of them. After what felt like hours, she felt Tegan’s fingers between her legs. She felt soaked and so ready for Tegan’s touch she thought she’d climax at the first hint of pressure from her fingers, but Tegan had other plans. Her massage here was just as thorough, tortuously meandering around before moving inside her.

  “Oh yes,” Alana said, unable to speak beyond the two syllables, ending with a drawn-out hiss as she moved her hips in time to Tegan’s insistent rhythm. She came hard, and Tegan held her as she trembled through her powerful orgasm.

  She lay still, fighting to catch her breath and regain at least some control over her muscles. As soon as she felt capable of doing anything more strenuous than inhaling and exhaling, she shifted onto her back and saw Tegan staring at her with something resembling wonder in her eyes.

  “Wow,” Alana said, reaching up to cup her hand around Tegan’s neck. She used the other to push against Tegan’s hip until she was sitting on her again. “That’s the most inadequate word, but…wow.”

  Tegan leaned down and kissed her, and Alana felt Tegan’s control fade away until s
low and sensuous became desperate and hungry. Alana returned the kiss fiercely, bending her leg slightly so Tegan was riding against her thigh, and taking charge of Tegan with her tongue and hands until she climaxed, calling Alana’s name.

  * * *

  Tegan lay on her back in the darkness with Alana against her right side, her head nestled in the hollow between Tegan’s shoulder and breast, and her hand splayed on Tegan’s stomach. Holy shit. Tegan was in more trouble than she had anticipated. All her internal whining about how much she would miss Alana when she was gone seemed naive and foolish to her now. She’d had no idea the extent to which Alana was about to burrow into her soul after only one night—hell, only a few hours. How many more of her cells would be permeated by Alana by the morning, let alone by wintertime, until they belonged to Alana more than her? She wasn’t sure whether she was about to burst into tears—something she hated doing—or hysterical laughter, which seemed wholly inappropriate at the moment.

  Alana’s breathing was quiet, but not regular, and Tegan sensed she was awake, too. Hopefully feeling the same immensity of emotion and not thinking something along the lines of Now how can I get her to go home so I can get some sleep?

  Alana’s hand moved on Tegan’s stomach, the texture of her palm etching small circles deep into Tegan’s belly and her fingers moving in a whisper along her trembling skin. Spiraling downward in a way that was clearly not indicative of someone who was wanting to get someone else out of her bed. This was someone who wanted her to stay.

  She inhaled sharply when Alana’s explorations continued down her thigh, skirting the area where all of her cells that hadn’t yet succumbed to Alana were congregated and waiting to be claimed by her. Tegan shifted as Alana’s hand generated an energy inside her far out of proportion to its small, fluttering movements. Where Alana’s cheek rested against her, Tegan could feel Alana’s smile. Just when she decided she couldn’t remain still any longer and was about to pounce, flipping Alana onto her back and underneath her, Alana hooked her ankle around Tegan’s right calf and pulled it toward her abruptly, spreading her legs and sliding her hand between them.