Tales From Sea Glass Inn

by Karis Walsh

  Jocelyn gave her a wide grin and went to get Ari’s drink. Ari watched her walk away with her long, patterned navy skirt swaying around her bare ankles and the sleeveless white top showing off her toned arms. Ari had come to this town with a heavy weight on her mind, and from the start, Jocelyn had taken up residence in her head. She preferred to focus on the ways Jocelyn irritated her. If she stopped being annoyed by Jocelyn, she’d have to face the even more disturbing fact of her attraction to her. To Jocelyn’s body, her smile, and her wide blue eyes that seemed to look right into her customers’ souls. To her persistence and ability to survive—so different from Ari’s desire to escape and hibernate. And to her grace, whether she was riding her horse on the beach or walking across the store with a glass of water.

  Jocelyn set the glass on the flat rim of the podium. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I have wine for the reception, but I can get you a glass now if you’d like.”

  Ari smiled but shook her head. A drunk reading—that’d be an interesting first for her. Who knew what she’d break down and say in front of the people who came. “I’d better say no, but thank you. I always feel a little anxious before events like this, but I’ll be all right once it starts.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great,” Jocelyn said.

  She put her hand on Ari’s arm, probably meaning it as a casual gesture of comfort, but her expression changed as the contact was prolonged. All at once, Ari couldn’t read what Jocelyn was thinking, but the point of contact between her silk-covered arm and Jocelyn’s bare hand grew warm and drew all Ari’s attention, as if it was the only part of her body that was fully alive. Blood rushing through capillaries, skin shifting and tingling at the friction between fabric and Jocelyn’s palm.

  Ari, fascinated by her response to Jocelyn’s touch, lifted her hand and cupped Jocelyn’s cheek. She usually stayed in her head when she was in moments like these, with girlfriends or lovers. She’d overthink her actions and distance herself from the moment. Now, however, she went with her instincts. Caressing Jocelyn’s high cheekbone with her thumb because it made her tingle deep inside her belly, not because it was what one of her characters might do. She wasn’t remembering old love scenes she had written or planning future ones. She was present with Jocelyn, right beside her in the world the two of them created.

  She stepped closer, bridging the distance between them, and her body twitched in surprise when she felt their lips connect. The time between wanting to kiss Jocelyn and actually doing it was near instantaneous. She hadn’t wondered whether her advances would be welcomed or considered what repercussions might follow. She just kissed her. All her answers came when Jocelyn kissed her back.

  She had imagined kissing her before this, too many times for her own comfort, and she had expected Jocelyn to be as ferocious in romance as she was in business. There was no battle of tongues or shoving Ari against the bookshelves, though. There was only a soft molding of the two of them to each other. Jocelyn’s mouth was pliant against hers, welcoming and accepting her deeper inside until Ari thought she might be swallowed whole by the feelings coursing through her. Ari had initiated the kiss, but Jocelyn moved and brought her body in contact with Ari’s. The touch of Jocelyn’s hand against Ari’s arm had been intense, but feeling the sensation in her entire body was overwhelming.

  The chime of the bell over Jocelyn’s door broke the spell as quickly as it had flared to life.

  “Ouch!” Jocelyn bumped into the bookshelf behind her when she jumped out of Ari’s arms. She hastily straightened the books and smoothed her hands over her hair and her face.

  Ari leapt in the opposite direction and knocked into the podium, barely catching the glass in time to keep all the water from spilling.

  “People are here,” Jocelyn said with a wince. “I mean, obviously they’re here, since the door opened. But I should get out there and greet them. You’ll be okay? We’re okay?”

  “Of course,” Ari said, although her insides were anything but okay. She picked up her scattered notes while Jocelyn went to the front of the store to greet whoever had so rudely interrupted them. Or maybe they were lucky to have been interrupted. Who knew how far the kiss would have taken them if they’d been left alone. Ari had never felt her body and its desires take such complete control over her. She hurried into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She was slightly flushed, but not much more than she usually was when doing a publicity event. She’d expected to see a disheveled and stunned version of herself, but she looked unchanged and perfectly normal. On the outside.

  Ari returned to the sales floor and let Jocelyn introduce her to the locals as they arrived. She stood at the front of the store and chatted on autopilot. Thanks for coming. Yes, I’ve found Cannon Beach to be a perfect place for a writer’s retreat. Yes, I’m inspired by the beauty around me here. Say what they want to hear, don’t whine about the writer’s block and for God’s sake don’t admit to not having written a single word so far.

  Ari turned around and jumped about a foot when she came face-to-face with a larger-than-life cardboard cutout of herself. She nearly apologized for bumping into the smiling and confident-looking version of herself. She hated being upstaged by a grinning piece of paper, so she moved away and over to the table filled with food. She stood next to Pam, who was watching her with an amused expression, and put some cookies and crackers on a plate.

  “Mel sometimes gets me to do exhibits or painting demonstrations,” Pam said, chewing on a carrot stick. “I resist, but I know they’re good for me. I can get too wrapped up in my own little bubble of art, and I need to get out in the world to get fresh ideas and a break from introspection. I appreciate how she helps me out of my shell, but what I really appreciate is that she’s never made me stand next to an enormous picture of myself.”

  “Yeah, thanks for sharing,” Ari said before she took a huge bite out of a sand dollar–shaped pastry with a lemony filling. She wiped at the powdered sugar on her shirt and groaned. “And now the damned cutout is better dressed than I am. Maybe Jocelyn can put her by the podium and I’ll stand behind a curtain and read, like the Wizard of Oz.”

  “I like the jaunty way you have your hand on your hip,” Pam said, mimicking Flat Ari’s pose. “You can put her at the book-signing table and reach through that space under her arm to sign your name.”

  Ari was about to make a retort when Jocelyn bustled up to the table. “I think everyone’s here,” she said. “We can get started whenever you’re…What’s on your shirt? Hang on, and I’ll get something to clean it.”

  She was gone again before Ari could say anything.

  “Jocelyn is something special,” Pam said. She put a large piece of the carrot cake Mel had brought onto her plate. “Everyone in town loves her, and she’s given back more than we could ever repay. One positive outcome of that awful oil spill was the way it brought everyone together and really showed the true spirit of the people who live here. Jocelyn worked at the rescue center every day, cleaning birds and taking care of them. She couldn’t keep normal business hours and do the volunteer work, so she’d take orders and deliver books in the evenings. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but even though she was as hard off as all of us without the usual influx of tourists, she helped a couple other business owners stay afloat. She’s gorgeous, too, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that already.” Pam took a bite of carrot cake and licked the frosting off her fork. “She’s single, too, although I can’t imagine why.”

  “I’m not in the market for a girlfriend, so you can stop the not-so-subtle matchmaking.” Ari could see Jocelyn’s beauty and she sensed her kindness, so Pam could save her breath. Ari didn’t need to be pushed toward Jocelyn—she was already there. What she needed to do was focus on her writing, not on anyone or anything else. Jocelyn appeared again, a damp cloth in hand, and Ari kept repeating her determination to remain detached in her mind while Jocelyn rubbed her front from collarbone to belly button. She felt heat explode under her skin, not helpe
d at all by Pam’s choking laughter. By the time Jocelyn was finished, after what seemed like hours of intimate contact, Ari felt ragged.

  First the kiss, and now the extended contact. She knew Jocelyn had only been trying to make her presentable for the evening, but she’d taken her damned time doing it. Ari stood off to one side while Jocelyn gathered the guests and herded them into seats near the podium. She had drummed up more attendees than Ari had expected, but still the pile of books she was standing near seemed overly ambitious. She leaned one hand on the table to support herself. It was all too much to handle and she shouldn’t have agreed to come. Writing, Jocelyn, her mother. Everything hit at once and Ari felt sucker-punched as she struggled for breath. Anxiety before speaking was one thing, but this was something new entirely. Something awful. She heard Jocelyn finishing her introduction and the applause from the audience as if they were muffled by the ocean’s roar.

  Ari pasted on a smile to rival Flat Ari’s and somehow made it to the front of the room.

  *

  Jocelyn stood next to Ari and handed her books to sign, introducing her to locals and telling her how to spell names. She had been worried sick about the evening, despite her calm assurances to Ari, and she had questioned her wisdom in pushing so hard for the signing. She wasn’t accustomed to doubting herself, and the feeling wasn’t a comfortable one. Ari had been polite but distant when she’d first arrived, and then their kiss had completely thrown Jocelyn out of orbit. By the time she had stood in front of the crowd and introduced Ari, she had become a sweaty-palmed, weak-kneed mess. Certainly not the Jocelyn she was accustomed to being.

  She handed Ari a copy of her second book, Jocelyn’s personal favorite. “This is Helen, Ariana. She’s the one who made the lemon sand dollars.”

  “Oh, I remember those,” Ari said, opening the book to the title page and writing an inscription. “I was covered with powdered sugar by the time I finished eating one and Jocelyn had to sponge me down before I got up to read, but it was totally worth it. Absolutely delicious.”

  Ari gave Jocelyn a quick wink and chatted a bit more with Helen before finishing her signature with a flourish. Jocelyn didn’t hear a word Ari said after delicious. What was totally worth getting covered with sugar? Getting to eat the pastry or experiencing Jocelyn’s cleanup effort?

  She sighed and took the next ticket in line, giving Ari the appropriate book and name to inscribe. Ari had her in such a spin she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t date women like her, let alone kiss them in her store right before a big event. And she usually didn’t make such a thorough and long-lasting job of wiping a few specks of powdered sugar off someone’s blouse. She’d been aroused by Ari’s unexpected kiss and annoyed when they’d been interrupted. She should have felt relieved, but instead she had sought out another way to make contact with Ari and to determine whether her reaction to the kiss had been a fluke or not. It hadn’t been. The moment she touched Ari, even with a shirt and a cloth separating their skin, she had known she was in deep trouble.

  No matter how personally disconcerting the night had been, the reading and signing had gone better than she could have hoped. Ari read a moving passage from her most recent book and a funny one from her third novel. She had an endearing shyness in front of the crowd and had answered questions as long as the audience wanted to ask them. Jocelyn watched her closely, too damned interested in her for comfort, and thought she could distinguish when someone asked something Ari had answered a million times before from when a question caught her by surprise with its freshness and thoughtfulness, requiring her to think fast and give a heartfelt and less rote answer. Jocelyn was happy with the number of sales she’d made, and she hoped to plan more events like this in the future. Most of all, though, she felt proud of Ari. She’d seemed detached and troubled when they had first talked at the store and on the beach, and Jocelyn had been wondering if the new book was going badly. Tonight, though, Ari had seemed more present during her reading and even more so during their kiss. Jocelyn hoped she had given Ari a break from the stress of her writing, because she seemed more at ease now. She loved the idea of helping Ari with her project, even for a very short time.

  Once the last book was signed and the wine bottles and food trays were empty, Jocelyn felt the same push and pull she experienced so often with Ari. She wanted to be alone with her again, this time with no one to interrupt and no time limit imposed. But her common sense, usually her best and most trusted asset, told her to make sure Ari left along with the lingering guests. Jocelyn would be better off going home alone tonight.

  “Do you want to take a walk on the beach?” she asked when the store was empty and Ari helped her carry the card tables to the back room. “The moon is nearly full and the tide is out. It’s a beautiful night.”

  So much for common sense. Or any kind of sense at all.

  “Um…” Ari looked as conflicted as Jocelyn felt by the offer. She bit her lip, drawing Jocelyn’s attention to her mouth and making her momentarily forget to breathe. “Why not? It’ll do me good to get outside after being around so many people tonight.”

  “You seemed at ease the whole time,” Jocelyn said as they bundled into jackets by the front door. She turned out the store lights and locked the shop behind them. “I guess you’ve done enough of these events to be comfortable with them by now. And this was probably small compared to what you’re used to.”

  “I was surprised by the turnout, actually,” Ari said. She walked close by Jocelyn’s shoulder, without touching, as they crossed the street and headed up the beach access road. “I’ve been to a few with more people, but this was a great group. They were engaged and interested, and I liked the questions they asked. Like they’d spent time thinking about writing and my books and really wanted to understand more.”

  “I told you the people around here are big fans. What a shame it would have been if you’d refused to do a signing for them while you were here.”

  Ari bumped into her and Jocelyn staggered a few steps, laughing. “You sound very smug,” Ari said. “I’m sure everyone would have survived the trauma of not meeting me.”

  She sighed and grew quiet soon after, and Jocelyn tried to keep up with the sudden shift in mood as they walked along the beach. Moonlit ocean waves curled and foamed along the shore, and Jocelyn felt sand fleas bumping into her ankles as they jumped around in the sand. Maybe Ari was tired after being in the public spotlight—she didn’t seem to seek it out as much as Jocelyn would have expected.

  “We’ll have to have you make a return trip once your new novel is published and on the best seller list,” she said. She felt a stillness from Ari, as if she’d stopped breathing.

  “Hardly worth the trip here from California,” Ari said.

  Jocelyn stopped and faced Ari. She felt a frown crease her forehead, and the resulting tension threatened to give her a headache. She had put a lot of effort into making the night perfect for Ari. Despite the distraction of the kiss, she had tried to be an ideal host, keeping both Ari and her guests happy and relaxed. She had mingled, starting conversations when there were lulls, and had served food and wine to anyone who had an empty plate or glass. What the hell more did Ari want?

  “What’s your problem tonight?” she asked, her voice louder than usual to be heard over the waves. “What more do you want? To be adored and complimented more? To make more money on sales? You seemed fine a few minutes ago, and now you’re back to sulking.”

  Ari listened to her little speech with raised eyebrows. “I meant the book won’t be worth a trip here because it probably won’t get written. I didn’t mean your event wasn’t worthwhile. I couldn’t have expected any more from you,” she said. “I appreciate what you did for this event, and I managed to forget myself while I was there. Especially when we kissed. But it’s over now. I have to go back to work, and I can’t make it happen. I’ve written some version of the same damned sentence over and over for three weeks, and I’ve deleted it every time.”

&nb
sp; “Oh,” Jocelyn said. Ari’s books flowed with prose that seemed effortless and natural, so Jocelyn would never have guessed the process of writing would be anything but easy for someone with her talent. Jocelyn was the person in charge in her career—of course, she couldn’t stop tragedies like the oil spill from ruining the tourist season, but she could rebuild her business with hard work and smart choices. Ari lived in a different world. Creativity couldn’t be forced or scheduled, and Jocelyn could imagine the frustration of being out of control and unable to perform tasks. Being sick was the closest she’d ever come to feeling the way Ari sounded when she talked about her inability to write. Then no amount of wishing or organizing made any difference. She suddenly felt guilty for forcing Ari to do this signing when she was obviously having a difficult time with her writing, but a small part of her wondered if the event had been good for Ari. A chance to be around people, to focus on something besides her struggling project and maybe get unstuck. At least Ari was talking about her problem now, and not hiding the real reason for her reluctance from Jocelyn and everyone else around her. Jocelyn started walking again, hoping to keep Ari talking. “Do you know why you’re having trouble writing?”

  She felt Ari’s shrug once they were walking side by side again. “I might be too close to the subject. I never felt this before, though, and I’ve always been able to use writing as a way to understand and cope when I’m sad or hurt or confused.”

  Jocelyn remembered what Ari had said about the premise for her book. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and curled her fingers gently around Ari’s arm. “You lost your mom?”

  “Yes,” Ari said so quietly Jocelyn barely heard her answer. “Almost a year ago. I’ve been stuck since then, I can’t write anything. I thought if I faced it head-on in a book, I could finally get to a point where I’m still sad, but I’m writing, too.”