Telling Lies Online

by Miranda MacLeod

  17

  Jamie looked up from her book as a staccato chime emanated from her phone. Her heart skipped a beat until she saw that it was just the latest update from the weather service and not a new message in Jay’s Tech Cupid account. She breathed a sigh of relief. She and Claire hadn’t discussed their late night swim since it had happened two weeks before, but as long as there were no new attempts to contact Jay, Jamie refused to be concerned.

  True to her promise, Claire had not avoided her. They had gone back to spending the evenings together just as they had done before her sister’s visit, often cooking dinner together or putting the finishing touches on the playroom project. The only thing they didn’t do was discuss the fact that Jamie was in love with Claire, or what Claire planned to do about it. It was hard for Jamie to live in suspense, but she preferred that to finding out Claire didn’t love her via an email to her evil nemesis, Jay.

  A loud stomping from outside the front door brought Jamie out of her musings. The door opened with a blast of cold air and Claire stumbled inside, weighed down by several shopping bags in her arms. Flakes of snow clung to her coat and boots as she placed them next to the hall tree, and Jamie was surprised to realize that the snow had been falling steadily enough throughout the afternoon to coat the landscape outside the living room window in a solid layer of white. Remembering the alert on her phone, Jamie checked the message and saw that a major nor’easter was predicted to arrive within the next twenty-four hours. Today’s dusting was just a prelude to the major front that would blow in late on Christmas day.

  “Have you heard about the storm?” Claire asked, setting her array of shopping bags down in a pile by the door. “I think it’s already starting. I just made it back from the store in time.”

  Jamie surveyed the pile of bags in amusement. “This is just a squall. It’ll let up soon. I’m curious, though. Did you leave anything at the store for the other people?”

  “I just wanted to be prepared! I’ve never been through a nor’easter, you know.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just teasing you. Come on, let me help you get these into the kitchen.” Jamie looped several of the bags over her arm and headed to the other room where she started to laugh as she unpacked the contents onto the counter. “Two dozen eggs, three pounds of butter, a box of fifty votive candles…it’s just a winter storm, Claire, not the start of Armageddon.”

  “I admit, I might’ve gotten a little carried away,” Claire replied with a sheepish grin. “There was a shopping frenzy at the supermarket and I was afraid I’d forget something important and they’d be sold out of it when I went back. I wasn’t sure what we’d need, so I just looked in the other carts and bought what they were buying.”

  “The water bottles and bread might be useful, but the baking supplies? I hate to tell you this, but I think maybe the person with that cart was just getting ready to make some last minute Christmas cookies.”

  “Oh no,” Claire moaned, covering her face in embarrassment. “You’re probably right. I was just so nervous about the storm that I couldn’t think straight.”

  “Claire, are you really that worried?” Jamie asked softly, an expression of concern on her face.

  Claire nodded. “I know it seems like I’m overreacting. It’s just, well, you know that my parents died in an accident, right?”

  “Does that have something to do with it?”

  Claire nodded again. “They'd gone away for the weekend and were driving through a mountain pass on their way home late at night. A big storm hit. Their car hit a patch of ice and they went off the road and into a ravine.”

  “Claire,” Jamie said, “I'm so sorry.”

  “Ever since then, big storms always make me nervous, especially snow and ice. Which we don’t get a lot of back in Portland, but here…” Claire’s voice trailed off with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “But you decided to move here, even with our notorious winters. Why?” Jamie’s stomach tightened into a knot as she asked. Please don’t say Jay. If Claire was still stuck on that fantasy after all this time, Jamie had no hope of ever being able to compete.

  “It’s where I’m supposed to be.” She said it simply, like the answer was obvious. “When I came here for the interview and you took me sailing on the harbor, I was looking at the Boston skyline and wanted so badly to stay. And right then, I got the message about the job. It was a sign. I don’t argue when it comes to signs.” Claire smiled. “I just wish I'd get a sign that we’re not all going to die in this storm!”

  Jamie’s heart leaped at Claire’s words. She didn’t mention Jay at all! She laughed with giddiness. “I don’t know about a sign, but I do have an idea to distract you from your insane nervousness.”

  “Does it involve one of your magical key cards? You seem to have one for every occasion.”

  Jamie noted the sudden rush of color in Claire’s cheeks and wondered if she was thinking about their dip in the ocean tank.

  Jamie’s body temperature rose a few degrees remembering the feel of Claire’s arm at her waist and the faint scent of shampoo when her damp locks of hair rested against her shoulder. She was reminded, too, of the coy look Claire had first stolen her heart with when they sat in the rooftop garden over the summer, because it was almost identical to the way Claire looked at her now. Does Claire have any idea what that look does to me? She felt a pang of regret that her current plan didn’t, in fact, involve a key. Keys had worked out pretty well for her where Claire was concerned.

  “No,” she answered, “this time it involves using some of these groceries you bought. There’s enough butter here to bake cookies for half the town. We could use some extras to put out when the twins come over tomorrow morning for Christmas, and it’ll keep your mind off the storm.”

  Claire’s face broke into an excited grin, “Perfect! Besides, I've been promising Paul for months that I’d bake for him, and I have yet to deliver.”

  Jamie laughed. “Well, then, there’s no time like the present. Besides,” she added, “if we do get a storm bad enough to need all these supplies, we’ll probably lose power and then the oven won’t work, anyway.”

  “I didn’t even think about that,” she admitted. “No wonder you’re laughing at my storm preparations. I obviously have no idea what I’m doing!”

  “That’s okay. You’re a lot better in the kitchen than I am, so how about you take the lead on the cookies and leave protecting us from the storm to me.” Jamie looked into Claire's eyes and the heat inside her cranked up another degree. “How does that sound?”

  “It sounds just about perfect,” Claire replied softly, blushing as she looked away.

  With dough mixed and cookies baking in the oven a short time later, Jamie scraped the remnants of gooey batter from the mixing bowl, licking her fingers in satisfaction.

  “What are you doing?” Claire asked, clearly horrified. “You can’t eat that!”

  “What are you talking about?” Jamie was equally horrified. “This is the whole point of making cookies. Baking them is secondary.”

  “Aunt Marisol never let me eat raw dough. She said it wasn’t good for you.”

  “Your Aunt Marisol never let you do anything fun. Seriously, I don’t even know how you’ve lived this long without eating raw cookie dough. Here,” Jamie said, offering Claire the metal bowl.

  Claire looked inside the bowl where Jamie’s fingers had scraped bare tracks in the thin coating of dough. With a look of rebellion, she scooped a small glob onto her finger and put it in her mouth. Jamie broke into a grin as Claire’s face transformed in a rapture of ecstasy.

  “See? I told you. It’s the best part.” She grinned devilishly. “Makes me wonder about all the other forbidden things you’ve been missing out on all these years.”

  Claire studied Jamie’s face for a moment, her expression unreadable as her gaze fluttered between eyes and mouth. Suddenly, the bowl was tossed aside and Jamie felt Claire’s arms around her shoulders, pressing into her as she raised up
on tiptoe to press her lips against Jamie’s. As quickly as it had happened, it was over, leaving Jamie’s head spinning as Claire looked shyly away.

  Were it not for the lingering taste of vanilla from the cookie dough on Claire’s lips, Jamie would have thought her imagination was running wild again.

  “Well,” Claire said, breaking the silence, “that was one of them.” She looked at Jamie with wide eyes, her breath quick and shallow. She looked as surprised at the kiss as Jamie felt, like she couldn’t quite believe what she had done.

  Jamie pressed her lips together gently, unconsciously trying to recreate the feel of Claire’s lips against them. Her arms ached with the desire to pull Claire to her, to kiss her again. “That wasn’t really fair,” Jamie told her with a sly smile. “You didn’t give me any warning. I feel like you might have shown a little more enthusiasm over the cookie dough than the kiss, and I don’t like coming in second place. I’m going to need a do over.”

  “Oh, really?” Nervous excitement added a breathless quality to Claire’s words. She inched forward almost imperceptibly as she spoke, a study in contradiction, her chin turned upward as if daring Jamie not to approach, the desire in her eyes begging the opposite.

  Jamie stepped toward her, pinning her back against the kitchen counter. She encircled Claire’s waist with her arms, easing her gently upward until she rested on the smooth wooden surface of the counter. Their heads now level, Jamie lost herself amid the golden flecks of Claire’s eyes, which gazed back at her with equal parts apprehension and attraction. With one finger, Jamie brushed a stray curl from Claire’s face, tucking it behind her ear, then raked a handful of dark, silky curls between her fingers and pulled them gently back to reveal the tender flesh behind her lobe. She leaned closer, nuzzling her face against Claire’s exposed skin as she inhaled the scent of Claire’s shampoo.

  With the softness of a butterfly’s wings, she brushed her lips along the base of Claire’s neck, triumphant at the sudden, sharp intake of breath and involuntary mewling sound she got in response. She felt Claire’s body tremble, felt Claire’s arms wrap tightly around her, the pressure of her fingertips digging into her shoulder blades, pulling their bodies closer. Jamie dragged her mouth at a languid pace along the raised ridge of Claire’s collar bone, flicking her tongue against the hollow of her throat before continuing to nibble with excruciating slowness along the path toward Claire’s jaw.

  Coming full circle, she nipped Claire’s ear lobe with her teeth before sucking it into her mouth, her breath against Claire’s ear once more eliciting tiny kitten sounds.

  Both hands buried in chestnut curls, Jamie rested her forehead against Claire’s, the tips of their noses touching, their breath mixing in shallow, panting bursts. With eyes closed, Jamie could feel rather than see Claire’s mouth part, sense the way she moistened her lips in anticipation. Fighting the urge to devour her whole, Jamie brought Claire’s lower lip between her own, caressing it with the tip of her tongue. The velvet softness of Claire’s upper lip closing over hers sent an electric current coursing through her veins and into her fingertips, making them ache with the need to pull Claire closer. She resisted, sensing that she needed to go slow, instead allowing her lips to slip away from Claire’s with the most exquisite gentleness. It was Claire who pulled her back, eyes shut tight, fingers massaging her short blond hair as she kissed her again, harder and deeper than before, lost in the newness of exploration.

  It could have lasted forever if the front door had not slammed shut, announcing Paul’s return. Claire stiffened at the sound, her eyes flying open as she instinctively pulled away. Her expression registered surprise but not, Jamie was relieved to find, any signs of regret. But her embarrassment was obvious, and Jamie quickly helped her slide back down to the floor. She smoothed Claire’s hair and her own into place and had just grabbed a few utensils to pretend to put away when the kitchen door swung open and Paul entered the room. He stopped short mere inches from Claire and gave the air an exaggerated sniff.

  “What have you ladies been up to in here?” he asked, his voice booming.

  Claire jumped in surprise and tried to answer, but could only make a squeaking noise in response. Paul clapped a large hand on her shoulder and Claire froze, looking very much like a deer in headlights. One very, very guilty looking deer.

  “Are you finally making those cookies you promised me?”

  Claire tried to answer but this time even the squeaking sound refused to come out, so Jamie jumped in to rescue her.

  “Yes, Paul, we’re making you those cookies. But they’re for tomorrow and you have to share with the girls,” she scolded. “Now, let poor Claire go so she can run upstairs and take care of something. Remember, Claire, that thing you were just telling me about needing to do?” she asked pointedly.

  Claire nodded and scurried out of the room without a word.

  “What was the thing she needed to do?” Paul asked after Claire left.

  “I don’t know, Paulie. Probably similar to the thing you needed to take care of a few weeks ago when you skipped out on that movie with me.”

  “Oh,” Paul replied, then, with dawning realization he repeated, “Ohhh. Wait a minute. Did I just interrupt something here?” He pointed between Jamie and the spot from which Claire had just escaped.

  “Yes, Paul. You interrupted us making cookies. Claire’s nervous about her first big winter storm. I was trying to distract her.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” he said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, well, that’s all you are going to hear about it.” The timer on the stove beeped and Jamie grabbed an oven mitt. “Seriously, Paulie, don’t say anything about it to her, okay?”

  Paul nodded. “I swear.” He swiped a cookie from the spatula before Jamie could slide it onto the cooling rack. “But, I’m taking this as compensation.”

  “Paul,” Jamie said in a warning tone.

  “I know, I know. Not a word. Geez.” He popped the cookie into his mouth, then let out a yelp of pain.

  “I was just going to tell you to be careful,” Jamie said, shaking her head. “The chocolate chips are hot as molten lava when they come out of the oven.”

  After Paul left, Jamie stared at the counter where Claire had sat and felt a fresh wave of heat crash over her. She could hardly believe it had happened.

  I kissed Claire.

  And Claire had kissed her back, and not just a little. Jamie’s knees went weak at the memory of Claire’s fingers raking across her scalp, her teeth nipping at her lips. Should I go upstairs and talk to her about it? Jamie wondered, but then thought better of it. Claire probably needed some time alone to recover, and if she stayed in the kitchen, Jamie could just about manage to allow her that space. Her self control might not be up to the task without both flights of stairs that currently separated them. She could be patient, though. For perhaps the first time since the moment Claire had walked into the Marine Institute asking for Jay, Jamie felt completely confident that everything was going to turn out just fine.

  18

  “Come on girls,” Vanessa’s voice rang out from the foyer. “Mommy and Daddy are waiting!”

  Claire straightened up from giving Zooey a piggy back ride and let her slide gently back to the floor. “You heard your mom, kids. Time to go.”

  “Yeah, kiddos, time to go,” Jamie chimed in from the hallway, poking her head through the playroom door. “But first, what do you say to Claire for this super special Christmas present?”

  “Thank you, Auntie Claire,” the girls said in unison, clamping her legs into a vice-like squeeze before racing each other out of the room and down the stairs.

  “Merry Christmas, Abbey and Zooey!” Claire called after them, her heart full to bursting at the way they had started calling her auntie. She couldn’t remember feeling so happy on Christmas, not since before her parents had died. Even back home with Theresa and her family, Claire usually felt a little like an outsider. But today’s celebration, with Jamie and the people who
were like family to her, left her feeling complete. It’d been a perfect holiday.

  Claire could feel Jamie’s presence behind her without turning to look. She sensed the heat of Jamie’s body against her back, smelled the spicy scent of her sandalwood soap. She could hear her steady breathing and almost feel the warmth of it against her neck, as she had felt it yesterday in the kitchen. The memory made her tremble, and she knew Jamie was standing so close that she would notice. Claire realized with some surprise that it didn’t embarrass her that Jamie might know the effect she had on her. She wanted her to know.

  They hadn’t talked about what had happened between them, but it was all Claire could think about during the night. It had filled her dreams while she slept. She had struggled all through the ritual of opening presents with Jamie, Paul, and Paul’s family, and then playing with the girls in their new room. It was all she could do not to dissolve into a big, sloppy grin at any moment. The site of the freshly baked cookies arranged on a tray that morning had overwhelmed her to the point of needing to leave the room. All she could think about was Jamie, and kissing Jamie. Wanting to kiss her again. She turned her head toward Jamie almost unconsciously, and was surprised at the gentle brush of lips against hers, like an answer to an unspoken prayer.

  “What was that for?” she asked, her voice quiet and shy. She wondered if Jamie had read her mind.

  “I thought I saw mistletoe,” Jamie said innocently.

  “I didn’t hang any mistletoe in the playroom.” Her words came out more defensively than she had intended, but Jamie had been teasing her all week for over decorating.

  “Oh, my mistake.” Jamie's expression turned devilish. “You should have, though, don’t you think?”

  “Oh?” Claire said, pretending not to know what was on Jamie's mind.

  “Of course. I think there needs to be mistletoe in every corner of the house.”