by Lea Santos
Pep nodded.
“They try to make themselves feel better by pushing around smaller people. Better people.” Gia lowered her chin and her tone. “But you, you’re a smart guy, yeah?”
Pep beamed. “Yeah.”
“Don’t ever let them make you doubt what’s inside here.” She tapped the little boy’s chest. “You have love and feelings in your heart, Pep. A family that loves you. Don’t let those kids put their anger inside you. You might have to keep walking away for now. But, eventually, if you do that, they’ll leave you alone. Once they do, forget about them. When they pick on you, it’s their problem, not yours.”
“For reals?” He slanted a glance at Gia. “You for sure think my mom won’t mind if I don’t fight ’em?”
“I think your mom and mama will both be proud if you’re brave enough to use your wits instead of your fists.” She smiled. “I know I would be.”
“What’s wits?”
Gia pointed at her temple again.
Pep brightened. “Same as smarts?”
“You got it.” Gia laid her palm on the boy’s head.
Emie froze to the spot, her chest tight. Was there anything this gentle, sweet, intelligent woman couldn’t do? Emie wanted to hug her. She wanted to shower kisses on her beautiful face. She wanted to climb on her lap and—
Ding! The timer brought Gia’s gaze to the doorway.
Shit. Caught.
Emie stepped into the arch and bestowed a wan smile, forcing back the waves of desire and awe before Gia noticed. She cleared her throat. “The, ah, eggplant appears to be done.”
Chapter Six
The first things Gia had noticed about Emie were her clear intelligence, genuineness, and wit. She respected Emie more than any woman she’d ever met, and she was drawn to her personality, without a doubt. But, the more Gia was around Emie, the more the physical attraction blossomed, and she’d begun to fixate on a deep desire to touch her. Emie had no idea how sexy she was. Gia made no apologies for wanting her, but the forced platonic stipulation in their relationship posed a bit of an obstacle to acting on those yearnings.
Pep and Paloma had left, and Gia was doing her best not to stare at Emie’s shapely ass as she bent over the sink rinsing her hair. She wore low-slung denim better than any woman Gia had ever seen. Not tight, but clinging just enough to provide a mystery to ponder as she fell asleep at night. Baggy enough to maintain the signature demureness that had begun to drive Gia to distraction with wanting her.
She wanted Emie.
God, she wanted her.
The black plastic cape had fallen open, allowing a glimpse of Emie’s trim waist. Tiny, almost invisible hairs dusted her lower back. Dumbstruck, Gia ached to feel them. To slip her hand around Emie’s soft, flat tummy and pull the alluring professor against her own body. Move against her until she understood just how much Gia desired her, how intensely Emie turned her on.
“So, how does it look?”
Gia jerked her lust-filled gaze away. “W-what?”
Emie flipped her head up, wound it in a towel, swami-style, and turned. A delicate blush colored her cheeks. “The eggplant,” she replied, as though it should have been obvious. “Do I look ridiculous? Tell the truth.”
Gia swallowed past her tight, dry throat, thirsting for something that wasn’t hers to take. From what she’d seen of the hair color, it looked rich and shiny. Emie would love it. But Gia was too distracted to care at the moment.
“We have to style it first. But I promise you don’t look ridiculous. Why don’t you go get your blow-dryer?” she suggested, turning away to gather her supplies. She took her time, willing the unabashed look of lust from her expression so she could think clearly.
Gia didn’t know how much more of this pretending to be just Emie’s friend she could handle. She wanted her, damnit. Was that so wrong? Should fate deny her the possibility of a deeper relationship with this amazing woman simply because of their unfortunate beginning? Gia wanted to court and seduce her, to see those bright gentle eyes looking deeply into her own as they made love, connected in that all-consuming way nothing else could replace.
The bitch of it was, Emie didn’t even intend to entice her. But the guilelessness only served to intensify Gia’s feelings. She liked everything about Emie, from her seriousness to her wit. Her neat-as-a-pin house, the strength of her friendships, and the obvious solidity of her upbringing. She was unlike anyone Gia had ever met. She wanted to be Emie’s friend, sure, but she wanted more, too. So much more.
She’d come to Colorado on impulse seeking a woman who’d intrigued her. But she’d found a woman she knew, in time, she could love. With her whole soul.
Damn, that was scary.
She didn’t even know if she could live up to being the kind of woman Emie deserved.
Okay, deep breath.
She was getting way ahead of herself. Distance. That’s what she needed. Space to gather her—
Emie’s arm snaked around her waist, and every rational thought within Gia ground to a shuddering, mind-bending halt. Emie’s warm, pliant, lavender-scented body molded against her back, and she felt Emie’s cheek press against her shoulder blade. She grew vaguely aware of the wet hair towel dampening her shirt, but didn’t care. She sank into the embrace, closed her eyes.
Was this real or a cruelly vivid mental manifestation of her wishes?
“You have no idea how touched I am by what you did for Pep,” Emie whispered, her breath a warm tickle on Gia’s back.
Gia didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t want to break the spell of this precious moment.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Gia, but I’m so glad I did. I…I have never known a person as kind as you, as selfless as you were to that battered little boy.”
I’m no better than the boys who beat him up.
The insidious thought needled Gia. She pushed it away. “I didn’t do anything special, querida. Please don’t give me credit I don’t deserve.” She reached her arm back and pressed Emie more tightly against her, tilting her head back.
“How can you say that?” Emie murmured. “He wouldn’t open up to his mama or Deanne. He wouldn’t talk to me. But I walk into that room and you have him eating out of your hand.”
“My truck.” Gia cleared her throat. “He just likes the truck. It was a bonding thing.”
Emie sighed. “Whatever it was, I’m impressed. And appreciative. And so…I don’t have words. Just…thank you. So much. You’d make a great mother someday, Gia.”
A raw sensual image of Emie heavy with their child weakened Gia’s knees. She couldn’t formulate the words to respond.
“And, despite how we met, I’m so glad we’re friends,” Emie added firmly, releasing Gia from the unexpected embrace.
Friends.
The word hung in the air like a brick room divider, the moment lost. Before she recovered from mourning the loss of contact, Emie had slipped away and out of the room. Gia whirled around, thinking perhaps she’d imagined it all. But, no. The air cooled the wet spot the towel had left on her shirt. She reached over her shoulder and touched the damp fabric absentmindedly.
Emie had hugged her. Breathed against her skin.
She’d connected. Now she was gone.
Gia bent forward and leaned her elbows on the counter, hanging her head. Her dye-stained hands wound into involuntary fists, she clenched her teeth. What a fool. She’d read more into a spontaneous moment than she should’ve, and now she felt like she’d been tied to the tracks and run over by a high-speed emotional roller coaster. Repeatedly.
“Fuck,” she rasped through her teeth.
Emie wanted to be friends.
And Gia wanted to please Emie.
Stalemate.
So, okay, she’d back off and be her goddamned friend. Fine. But she’d need some emotional and physical distance in order to pull it off. Bottom line, she couldn’t be around Emie any longer and not want more than just friendship. She was that far gone.
; And she needed a shower. Cold.
Not to mention a vibrator. Turbo.
*
Half an hour later, her hair dried and styled, Emie stood in front of the bathroom mirror. “I love it. I really do.” She turned her face side to side and admired the subtle berry shimmer on her cropped locks. “Eggplant. Who would’ve thought…?”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“You know why I like it?” she continued, trying not to be concerned by the fact that Gia seemed so distant and eager to get away from her. Did she resent having been pushed into the position of dealing with Pep? Maybe she didn’t like children. Maybe she didn’t want that much inclusion in Emie’s personal life. “I like it b-because it looks like me, but…better,” she said, trying to hint about the rest of the makeover. She hoped Gia would tone down the original version of exotic a bit.
“Yes, it does,” Gia said, not really looking at her. “Look like you, I mean. But don’t sweat it, we’ll go a little bolder with the style for the fall faculty get-together, maybe with some spikes.”
Emie’s hands froze in mid-primp. “Spikes?”
Gia nodded, a muscle in her jaw working as she swept Emie with an objective, assessing look. “Maybe shimmer spray, too. We want you to stand out so Elizalde can’t help but notice you.”
So much for the idea of toning down. Clearly, Gia found these subtle changes in her appearance too boring compared to the va-va-voom women from El Chapultepec she’d liked so much.
Emie stifled a sigh. Ridiculous or not, it irked her to think about Gia lusting over those overblown seductresses. Gia might think they looked exotic, but Emie thought they looked phony. Desperate. She could never look anywhere near as…ripe. She didn’t even want to. How had she gone from being a career-focused, confident woman into someone so fixated on her damned appearance? Ludicrous.
None of this fluff should matter. She’d already told Gia she didn’t want her, and judging from the woman’s current distant attitude, Gia had obviously realized Emie wasn’t her type either. Well, what had she really expected?
Enough, Em. She had revenge to seek.
Gia’s feelings about her were inconsequential in the scheme of things. Besides, if she just accepted the woman’s judgment about the makeover, no matter the results, maybe Gia would start to see her in a different light, unobstructed by guilt or pity or whatever it was that had prompted her to quit her job and drive to Colorado, of all things. And, with any luck, she’d stop looking as if she’d rather be anywhere but here.
Emie turned, resting her butt lightly on the vanity. “You know what? You’re right. I’d love spikes.”
Gia’s brows rose, almost startled. “Yeah?”
“The bolder the better.”
Suspicion claimed Gia’s expression. “Since when?”
“Since, I don’t know”—she shrugged—“now. What have I got to lose? Bring on the spikes.” She grinned. “Show me the leather.”
The room fell silent, but for the drip in the old sink that she’d kept meaning to fix. She’d expected a more effusive approval reaction. Instead Gia stared at her, face completely devoid of expression.
Emie spread her arms. “What? I thought you’d be glad I decided to go for it. Isn’t that the point? Don’t you want me to look exotic?”
After another moment, Gia cleared her throat and touched Emie’s arm. “No, I do. I want you to be happy and look…exactly how you want to look. You just surprised me, that’s all.” A wry smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “You seem to have a knack for that.”
*
The afternoon sun beat down as Emie marched toward the carriage house with a mission and a goal: to find out why Gia had been avoiding her and to make her stop. Damnit, she missed Gia’s company. She hadn’t seen her for more than a couple of minutes at a time in the past several days, and Gia had yet to comment on her contact lenses.
Why?
What had she done?
It seemed ever since Gia’d gotten roped into the middle of Pep’s problems, she’d made herself conspicuously scarce. Instead of hanging out with Emie, Gia split her time between holing up in the carriage house and repairing things around her house. While Emie appreciated all Gia had done, she’d gladly keep her squeaky door, dripping faucets, and loose porch slats just to get inside Gia’s head a little bit, figure her out.
Knock, knock, knock.
She stepped back from the arch-top front door of the carriage house and tried to slow her breathing. Shuffling accompanied by muffled Zydeco music sounded beyond the entrance. Footsteps approached, the deadbolt jangled, then—
Pause. Awkwardness.
“Hey,” Gia said, blinking, distracted. Clearly she was surprised by Emie’s unexpected appearance on her stoop.
An overpowering odor of paints and turpentine wafted out, burning Emie’s eyes. She stepped back and inhaled fresh air.
“Are you okay?” Gia whipped a glance over her shoulder, then squeezed out the door and closed it behind her. “Sorry about the smell. I just get used to it, but I know it can be pretty bad.” Barefooted, Gia wore those torn Levi’s jeans she loved so much, an equally tattered tank top, and not much else unless paint smears counted as accessories.
“It’s okay. I’m fine. I just…haven’t seen much of you.” Pathetic. Emie’s shoulders raised and dropped. “We’re neighbors now, so I thought I’d come over and say hi.” Okay, this was uncomfortable as hell. Was Gia going to invite her in? Didn’t seem like it. Emie crossed her arms. “So…hi.”
Gia’s eyes warmed and a slow smile spanned her face. “Hi.”
“Are you busy?” Emie’s gaze darted to the closed door behind her, then back to her face.
“I’m, uh”—Gia rubbed her jawline with the back of her hand, then jabbed a thumb over her shoulder—“working.”
“I figured as much. How’s that going?”
“Great.” Her expression sparkled. “I have a couple of gallery owners interested in looking at a few of my pieces. I might get a few showings, maybe some sales.”
“That’s wonderful!” Emie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Suddenly she didn’t feel so ignored. If Gia established herself in the arts community, that just might give her incentive to stay after the makeover agreement ended. Hell, she’d keep her around however she could. “When will you know more?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been working like a madwoman to get everything ready.” Her gaze darted to the ground. “I guess that’s why I’ve been…uh, not around.”
“It’s okay,” Emie said, not quite believing the excuse. “You don’t owe me an explanation, and what better reason?” I just miss you so desperately, she wanted to add. But didn’t. “I’m proud of you.”
Gia searched her face, then reached out and ran the pads of her fingers down Emie’s cheek. The touch was unexpected and brief. Devastating and sexy, too. “Are we still on for makeup shopping tomorrow?”
Emie’s face tingled and her mouth had gone dry. “Of course, if you have time, that is.”
“I wouldn’t want to spend the day any other way.”
Really? Yeah, officially confused. Gia didn’t seem to be angry with her; in fact, she seemed almost happy Emie had come by. So why had Gia stopped meeting her on the back porch for coffee each morning? It couldn’t just be the artwork. Everyone had to take a break now and then. “Okay. Good.” She hesitated, wanting to say more but feeling unsure. If she’d done anything to insult Gia—
“Something on your mind?”
“No.” Emie paused. “Well, actually, yes.” She laughed a little. “I just thought you might like to come up to the house for dinner.”
For a split second, Gia looked stricken, then it passed. “Oh, you know, I’ve got so much work…”
“Come on, Gia. Paloma and the kids are coming over. Iris was going to join us but she had to cancel.” She assessed Gia’s reaction to this, but she didn’t seem put off by the idea of a group get-together. In fact, her regal features fell into somet
hing suspiciously reminiscent of relief. “I know Pep will be disappointed if you aren’t there. You’re his new superhero, you know.”
Gia scoffed. “Trust me, I’m no superhero.”
Emie lifted her chin, ready for disappointment, but her words barreled forth. “We could rent a movie afterward. It’s probably not a night on the town like you’re used to, but—”
Gia laid her fingers across Emie’s lips to stop her words, then said, “Stop convincing me. I’d love to come.”
“You would? Really?”
“Really.”
“Great.” She fought to tamp down her enthusiasm. No sense looking like she was used to rejection. “Okay, then.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “Seven o’clock?”
Gia reached up and braced her arm at the top of the doorjamb, molten gaze boring into her. “How about six?”
“Six? Oh. Well. I won’t have everything ready by then. Everyone else is coming at seven.” She moved to nudge her glasses up. They weren’t there. Instead, she wound her hands into a clasp behind her back and pasted a wan smile on her face. “Can’t get used to the no-glasses thing.”
“Understandable. But six is even better. I’ll help you cook.”
“Cook?” Emie balked. “Are you sure?”
“Em…” Gia said, the word sounding more like a sigh.
Emie wasn’t quite sure what Gia meant by breathing her name out like that. She only knew she needed to get away and do a little breathing herself. The woman really disconcerted her. “Okay, you win. Six o’clock.”
“Great. Can I bring anything?”
“Just…you, G. Just you.” That’s all I need. She started back up the path toward her house, feeling giddy-to-bursting, like she’d won a prize and was fighting not to gloat. Her body wanted to break into a run but she wound tight fists at her sides and concentrated on measuring her steps.
“Querida.” The word, Gia’s caressing voice, stopped Emie cold. Her heart began to hammer. “I’ve always been fond of your glasses, you know that. But the contacts look great, too.”