by Radclyffe
“Did you eat?” Mari asked.
“Eat?” Glenn flailed, still lost in the image of Mari with her head thrown back, red lips parted on a full-throated laugh. It wasn’t hard to imagine her fingers trailing down that sleek throat, her mouth covering those full, moist lips. “Breakfast, you mean?”
Mari laughed. “Exactly. You know, the stuff you ingest when you wake up in the morning. In addition to that excellent coffee that…actually, did you have any this morning without my personal delivery?”
Glenn winced. “I’m sorry to report I had hospital coffee this morning. Not bad, but no comparison.”
“Why?” Mari frowned, sorting through her memories of the on-call schedule. “Wasn’t Adams on last night with…Baker, wasn’t it?”
“Uh, as a matter of fact, yes,” Glenn hedged. “Adams was on last night. Baker too.”
When Glenn shifted a little uneasily on the railing, an unusual action for her, Mari took note. Glenn never appeared uneasy, but Mari had an idea she knew why. “And…are we getting to the part where you were there too?”
Busted. Glenn sighed. “I might have stopped over for a quick check on the student and…then one thing or another happened.”
Mari nodded. “Friday night. It was busy?”
“Pretty steady,” Glenn said, relieved that Mari didn’t seem aggravated that she’d gone back to the hospital and wasn’t going to take her to task for it. Nice to not have to defend herself. “I was helping Baker with a knee tap on a young guy with a traumatic synovitis and one thing led to another and by the time it got quiet it was after three. Didn’t see much point in leaving then.”
“Probably not.”
Glenn didn’t add there was hardly any point, really, in her leaving the hospital much after sundown, just to go back to her apartment and read until she was tired enough to sleep. She could do that in the on-call room and frequently did.
“Did you get a run in this morning?”
Surprised that Mari seemed to know her habits so well so quickly, and even more surprised that she liked it, Glenn nodded again. “Just after sunup. Getting too damn hot to run later in the day.”
“Obviously, you have forgotten your Texas roots,” Mari said, knocking shoulders lightly. “Isn’t it hot there all the time, regardless of whether the sun is shining or not?”
Glenn grinned. For the first time in a long time, mention of her past and the home she had steadfastly put out of her mind didn’t bother her. “Your eyeballs burn even at midnight.”
“See there? This weather shouldn’t bother you at all.”
“Definitely not the desert, I’ll give you that.” Glenn looked away. She hadn’t meant to bring that up. Uncomfortable that the past simmered so near the surface all of a sudden.
“Not nearly as bad as that, I imagine,” Mari said quietly, dropping her hand onto Glenn’s knee for just an instant, an innocent gesture of comfort that exploded in the pit of Glenn’s stomach with the force of a grenade. Her spine burned all the way up to the base of her neck, but the shock was pleasure, not pain. “You’re right. This is nothing like there.”
“I know, and I’m glad.” Mari tapped a finger on Glenn’s knee. “So, blueberry or cinnamon?”
“Sorry?” Glenn murmured, entranced by the pulse of energy traveling up her leg every time Mari touched her.
“Blueberry muffin or cinnamon roll?”
“Lila’s?” Glenn dragged her gaze away from Mari’s hand, barely grazing her leg now. Why could she still feel it so strongly? She had to stop looking. If she didn’t, in another second she was going to cover Mari’s hand with hers and press Mari’s fingers harder against her thigh. Pull Mari a little closer.
“Mm-hmm.” Mari’s soft voice slipped over Glenn’s skin, fraying the threads of her sanity.
“Any chance of both?” Glenn whispered.
Mari laughed, fingertips trailing lightly over Glenn’s denim-clad thigh for just an instant. “Not with those two in there raiding the kitchen, but I’ll see what I can salvage.”
“I can wait until later to eat,” Glenn blurted. Just don’t move. Just…stay.
“I’m sure you can, but you’re not going to. Just in case, let me get you something to hold you over.” Mari smiled. “Be right back.”
“Be careful.” Glenn’s voice had a faraway ring, as if she were speaking down a long tunnel. As if she had drifted somewhere else.
Mari paused, waiting for the time slip to pass. Waiting to be sure Glenn was completely with her. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Glenn shuddered lightly, as if emerging from a half dream. “I’ll be right here.”
“Good.” Mari left Glenn still perched on the railing, enjoying taking care of her more than she’d imagined. Of course, Glenn had been looking after her pretty much since they’d met, so returning the favor was only natural. And driving the haunted mists from Glenn’s eyes gave her a bone-deep satisfaction she’d never encountered before. She pushed through the screen door, suddenly eager to get back to her.
Blake and Margie perched on stools at the big wooden center island with glasses of milk and guilty expressions.
Mari said, “Did you two leave anything besides crumbs?”
They froze like deer in headlights, each glancing at the other as if for rescue.
“Um…” Margie mumbled.
“I think there’s a couple left.” Blake glanced at the snowy white towel covering the wicker basket on the side counter anxiously. “Maybe.”
“I suppose I could hunt up Lila for instructions on how to make more,” Mari murmured as she checked out the remnants. She found an entire blueberry muffin hidden in a fold of linen and half a cinnamon scone surgically sliced in two. She was surprised to find that much.
Behind her, the sound of wood scraping on the rough stone floor and thudding footsteps signaled the rapid escape of the teenagers. The two of them made her heart hurt, happiness warring with loss. She missed her younger brothers, but the pleasure of being around two such young, vital, and enthusiastic teens warmed her. Smiling, she grabbed a couple of paper napkins, piled her trophies onto them, and carried them victoriously back outside. As she passed Carrie she leaned down. “I’m going to ride over to the barbecue with Glenn, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.” Carrie shot a glance at Glenn and grinned. “You’d better feed her. She looks…hungry.”
Mari glanced over and heat flashed up her throat. Glenn was staring at her, and her expression for once was anything but cool and remote. Her eyes burned, and not with any half-remembered hell, but something clear and present and very much now. Hungry was a mild word for her unmasked desire.
“I have Lila’s muffins,” Mari murmured, transfixed.
“That might not be enough.”
Not enough. Mari jolted. What was she doing, playing at a game she couldn’t fully join. Playing with a woman who deserved so much more than that. “I know.”
Mari pulled her tattered senses together, joined Glenn, and pretended she hadn’t noticed the gathering storm brewing between them for the past few minutes. She held out the napkin to Glenn. “All that remains of the spoils.”
Laughing, Glenn broke the muffin in half and held out a portion to Mari. “Want some?”
You have no idea. Lord, neither do I. Mari groaned and patted her stomach. “I do, but I’ve already had more than my quota. You go ahead. If you were up all night and you ran this morning, you can handle the carbs.”
“Do you moonlight as a personal trainer?” Glenn asked around a giant bite of blueberry muffin. She closed her eyes and gave a small moan of appreciation. “These can’t possibly be legal.”
“I know, that’s why I can’t eat another bite. And no, I’m far from a fitness nut, but I’ve always been interested in nutrition, and after last year…” Mari surprised herself at how easily she talked about her illness with Glenn. Just knowing that Glenn knew freed her in a way she hadn’t imagined would be possible.
Glenn stopped eati
ng. “What? What about last year?”
“Nothing really. Just that nothing much tasted worth eating for a while,” Mari said lightly, determined not to cast another shadow in Glenn’s eyes. “I try to pay attention to what I’m eating, but there’s some things that you just can’t relegate to a calorie count. Lila’s cooking appears to be one of them.”
“I agree. If you can’t indulge in life’s pleasures every once in a while, what’s the point.”
“Indeed,” Mari said softly.
A minute later, Glenn wiped her hands on the napkin, balled it up, and shot it into a milk pail that doubled as a trash can next to the back door. She hopped down and brushed her fingers down Mari’s arm. “Okay? Ready to hit the fairgrounds?”
“Is that where the barbecue is?”
“Yep. The hospital sets up a tent city on part of the grounds.”
“Great. I’m looking forward to it.” Mari waved good-bye to Carrie as she walked with Glenn across the yard to the pickup.
“Whose truck is this, anyhow?” Mari asked.
“The Riverses’ farm truck—anybody who needs it just grabs i—”
“Hey, Glenn,” Margie called from the porch. “Can we ride with you? We’re ready to go.”
Glenn glanced at Mari, one eyebrow quirked. “I guess I was wrong about there being plenty of room. You good with it?”
Mari laughed and nodded.
“Yeah,” Glenn yelled back, “but you’re gonna have to squeeze in.”
“No problem,” Margie and Blake said in unison as they tore across the yard.
Glenn opened the passenger side, pointed to the running board, and cupped Mari’s elbow. “It’s a big step. Slide over to the middle. Those two will have to fit themselves in next to you.”
“All right.” Mari grabbed the handle just inside above the door with one hand. Glenn pressed close beside her, her hand strong and firm on Mari’s bare skin. As she climbed up, Mari pressed her other hand to Glenn’s shoulder to steady herself. Muscles bunched and tightened beneath her fingers. When she looked down, Glenn was looking up at her, the fierce intensity back in her gaze. Mari settled her hip onto the seat and slowly took her hand from Glenn’s shoulder. Glenn’s hand fell away from her arm. Mari’s throat was oddly tight. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Glenn swung around the cab of the truck while Margie and Blake jumped in next to Mari and slammed the door. Glenn trailed a hand over the edge of the dusty hood, her gait not quite steady. Her thighs trembled as if she’d been running a half marathon and had just hit the wall. Mari had just neatly kicked the feet out from under her, and she’d never seen it coming. Mari was a constant surprise—beautiful, tender and strong, and somehow able to slip at will inside Glenn’s defenses. Glenn didn’t even have to ask herself what she wanted whenever she looked at Mari. She knew with every atom of her being. She’d wanted to kiss her.
Glenn yanked open the door, jumped in, started the engine. “Buckle up, everybody.” She glanced over and saw Margie on Blake’s lap. “That means the two of you too. Figure it out before we get to the road.”
Beside her, Mari had already strapped in. Glenn kept her eyes face front. She wasn’t quite ready to look at her again without broadcasting every damn thing she was feeling. “All set?”
“Yes, fine.”
Mari’s thigh pressed against the outside of Glenn’s, but she had nowhere to move to escape the soul-singeing pressure. She needed to keep her foot on the gas if they were going to go anywhere, but even the slightest movement reminded her that Mari was next to her, very close. She could smell shampoo or perfume or something—a flowery sweet spicy scent that twisted her up and made her want to rub her face over the soft skin that smelled so good. She gripped the wheel until her fingers ached, and even then she could still feel them trembling. She hadn’t been hungry before, but she was ravenous now. And she couldn’t be. Couldn’t do anything about satisfying the need clawing at her insides. Hell, she couldn’t convince herself she wanted to.
Chapter Twenty
Mari watched the fields blur by, an artist’s palette of gold and yellow beneath patches of brilliant blue and gleaming white. The truck bounced rapidly along over ruts and dips in the cracked macadam road, throwing up clouds of dust that coated the windows and slowly hazed the view. On one side of her, Margie and Blake chattered on about their soon-to-be first day in the ER. Mari only half listened, and the two teens didn’t seem to notice they were the only ones talking, oblivious to the rest of the world as only the young could be. On her other side, Glenn had turned to stone. If she became any more rigid, she’d shatter like a statue left unshielded from the elements for so long its substance had begun to crumble. Mari wanted to touch her, to ease the festering tension, but instinct warned that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Instead, she clenched her hands together in her lap and stared out through the windshield, seeing nothing.
A cluster of long barns, random shed-like buildings, and an oval track with a grandstand climbing upward beneath a half roof came into sight. Handmade cardboard signs written with black Magic Marker posted on stakes in the driveways of houses along the way offered parking for five dollars. Glenn passed them all by and turned into the fairgrounds, stopping to pay a woman wearing a Rivers Hospital T-shirt holding a big white plastic collection bucket. A line of signs with arrows proclaiming Parking directed them to the five-acre lot behind the fairgrounds buildings. The grassy lot was three-quarters full, and Glenn drove slowly down a narrow lane between two rows of parked vehicles, following the directions of a line of teenagers waving orange batons to a free spot between a minivan and a pickup truck.
“Thanks, Glenn,” Margie said.
Before the truck had even come to a complete stop, Blake pushed open the door and jumped out. Margie hopped out on his heels.
“Take it easy out there,” Glenn called.
“Thanks, see ya,” they yelled in unison and jogged off in the direction of a cloud of smoke that smelled of roasting meat and hickory.
In an instant the two had disappeared, and Mari and Glenn were alone. Mari’s entire being focused on the spot where her leg still pressed against Glenn’s. She had no excuse to be so close and didn’t want to move away enough to break the contact. Glenn looked straight ahead, her fingers loosely clasping the wheel.
“What shall we do,” Mari asked after a moment that stretched forever.
“I thought we’d walk around a little bit, and I could introduce you to some of the people you’ll be working with.”
“That would be great, thanks.” When Glenn made no move to get out, Mari said softly, “Are you all right?”
Glenn turned to her, eyes glinting feverishly. “I’m not exactly sure.”
Mari’s heart double-timed in her chest. A breathless, light-headed sensation made her feel as if she might be about to float away. Glenn’s eyes bored into hers as if she was trying to read her soul. Glenn’s gaze fixed on her mouth. Glenn looked anything but calm and controlled. Mari swallowed. “Have I done something to upset you?”
“You have no idea,” Glenn muttered.
“I’m sorry,” Mari whispered, and she was. She hadn’t a clue what she’d done, but she would never want to—
“You don’t need to be sorry. I should be”—Glenn cupped the back of Mari’s neck, ran her thumb over the delicate column of her throat—“but I’m not.”
Glenn couldn’t be sorry for desire so pure it felt like a prayer. The air in the cab of the truck was still and hot. Glenn’s pulse beat in her ears like the rattle of machine gun fire. She held completely still, her fingers pressed to supple flesh, waiting for Mari to pull away.
But she didn’t.
“Yes?” Glenn whispered.
“Yes.”
Glenn pulled her closer. Mari’s skin was smooth and soft and warm, like her mouth promised to be. The pressure in her chest pushed up into her throat and her breath stopped. But she didn’t need to breathe. She just needed to kiss her.
Mari’s lips were as sweet and soft and hot as she’d imagined. A low groan churned in her chest. She wouldn’t take much. Wouldn’t presume she was welcome to more. Just a brush of her lips over Mari’s, just a second’s taste to dull the ache of hunger. The whisper of lips turned into something longer, something fuller and firmer and deeper. Mari whimpered and her fingers feathered into Glenn’s hair. Glenn dragged her against her chest, and the kiss wasn’t soft anymore. Her mouth wasn’t nearly as gentle as she wanted it to be but Mari met her, stroke for feverish stroke.
Glenn kissed her until there was no room for breath. She didn’t care if she died just like that, with Mari’s hands on her and the hot taste of her in her mouth. Mari was so pliant in her arms, so wild and welcoming. She needed more. She was starving.
Mari pushed a palm against Glenn’s chest and pulled a little away. Glenn froze.
“Glenn.” Mari’s voice trembled. She shivered, her breathe ragged. “Glenn, we’re sitting in the parking lot. Anyone can see us.”
“I don’t care.” Glenn leaned closer, respecting the space Mari had made between them, until she could kiss just the corner of her mouth. “God, you taste so good.”
Mari’s fingers brushed over Glenn’s mouth. “You have the softest lips.”
Glenn flicked her tongue over the tips of Mari’s fingers. Mari’s eyes widened.
“I feel so strange,” Mari murmured. “Like I’m flying apart, and if I don’t kiss you again, I’m going to go wing off in a thousand directions.”
“Will you come with me somewhere private where I can kiss you again?”
Mari wasn’t thinking, couldn’t think, was so tired of thinking. Her lips tingled, her skin vibrated, and a huge aching ball of need filled her. So many sensations pulled at her—thirst, hunger, want. Want. Oh yes, she wanted that kiss. “Yes, oh yes, let’s go.”
Glenn reached across Mari, grabbed the handle on the open door, and yanked it closed. Only when Glenn gunned the engine, backed out into the narrow lane, and headed toward the exit did Mari manage a coherent thought. “What about the others. Aren’t we supposed to meet them? So you can drive them all home?”