by Clare Lydon
They all clambered off the bus, spirits high. Ahead of her, Taran was leaning on the bus, a big beam on her face, phone glued to her ear. On the phone to Ryan again, no doubt. Nikita, Frankie, Delta, and Erin were reminiscing with Abby about a time at university when she drank too much red wine and spilt a glass all over someone else.
“Red wine?” Arielle asked, screwing up her face. “I hope they weren’t wearing a white shirt.”
Nikita nodded her head. “They were.”
Abby grinned as they took their seats at the tasting counter, five stools down one side, five stools down another. “That wasn’t even the worst of it. I was very sorry about messing up this woman’s top, and I’d read that white wine was a great thing to remove red wine stains. So with my booze-addled brain, I took this woman to the toilet and poured a glass of white wine down her.”
Now Gloria had her head in her hands. “Did she scream at you?”
Abby frowned. “I don’t recall exactly what she said, but I know I might have shouted if it had been me.”
“Again, there are some things mothers never need to know.”
“We definitely shouldn’t start talking about all of Abby’s university conquests, then.” Delta was stirring again.
Jordan sat up at that.
Abby threw a glance Delta’s way, before shaking her head. “We should not. It’s my hen weekend, and I say we drink more wine.” She put a hand in the air. “Who’s for more wine?”
Cheers all around as the bartender lined up ten shiny glasses, before pouring a generous amount into each glass. Jordan leaned over and put her hand over the top of the final glass, shaking her head.
“Last vineyard, Jordan. You can have a drink, now.” That was Abby, giving Jordan the side-eye.
But Jordan wasn’t to be swayed. It was still only 4pm. The day was young. “I’ll skip this round.”
“Who’s the bride?” Abby fixed her with a knowing smile. “You were never this goody-two-shoes when we were in primary school.” She tapped the base of Jordan’s glass. The bartender still hovered, bottle poised. “A sip. For me.”
Annoyance fizzed up Jordan, but she was cornered. “Okay. A dash. For you.”
The bartender poured a small amount into her glass, before pushing it to Jordan.
Abby turned on her stool, and grabbed the seat with her right hand just in time to stop her from falling. “Oops!” she said. “Wobbly me!”
Jordan put a hand on Abby’s arm to steady her. “Okay?”
Abby raised her gaze, nodding as she took her glass.
Jordan sighed. The sooner this was over and they were back at the villa, the better.
“Everyone!” Abby waved her glass in the air.
Jordan winced, taking a step back.
“I just wanted to say, thank you all for coming to one of my last weekends as a single woman.” She pulled on her top. “Plus, I love my T-shirts. Cheers!”
Whoops from the group, then clinking all around.
When she reached Jordan, Abby paused, then tapped her glass to hers. Then Abby went to drink, missed her mouth, and poured most of the red wine down her white T-shirt that simply said Bride.
She jumped up, distress etched on her face. However, her sudden movement sloshed more wine over the edge of the glass, down her forearms and onto her front. If her face had been contorted before, now she looked like she might cry.
Jordan took the glass out of her hand, as the bartender offered serviettes to wipe herself.
“You want me to throw some white wine on you, Abs?” Delta shouted from her stool.
Abby gave her a steely look, followed by a glimmer of a smile. “A hard no.” Then she slumped. “Look at my Bride T-shirt!”
Jordan dabbed her arms and her top with the serviette, until Abby glanced up at her as she connected with her breast.
Jordan sucked in a breath. “Shall we go to the bathroom?”
Abby nodded. “I think that’s best.”
“You want my arm?” Jordan offered it.
Abby frowned. “I’m not that drunk.”
It took all Jordan’s efforts not to disagree.
Gloria jumped off her stool. “You want me to help?”
Jordan shook her head. “Stay and enjoy your wine. We’ll only be a minute.”
The bathrooms were large and plush, with plump white hand towels, lit candles, and huge mirrors so they could assess the damage.
As soon as she was in front of a mirror, Abby pouted. “At least it’s only my hen T-shirt.”
Jordan pulled up a chair and sat Abby down, wetting the end of one of the hand towels right away. “Exactly. For now, it’s damage limitation time. You can get the red wine out easier if we soak it up now.”
She leaned over Abby and began dabbing at her top, while also trying not to touch her at all. It was an impossible task. Meanwhile, Abby began touching Jordan’s hair.
“So blond, so gorgeous.” Abby twirled Jordan’s hair around her fingers. “Such a beautiful woman to have come into my life at just the wrong time.”
Jordan froze. What should she do? This was unchartered territory.
“Abby.” Jordan’s tone held a warning she hoped Abby heeded. “Now’s not the time. I’m trying to clean you up.”
Abby gave her a smirk. “You’re not going to do it if you don’t touch me, though, are you?” She took Jordan’s hand in hers and pressed the towel onto her breast. “That’s how you clean me up, Jordan.” She pressed harder again. “I need a firm hand.”
Jordan gritted her teeth as desire shot down her, landing right at her centre.
She had to shelve her desire and do her job. Especially now Abby was back to pawing her face, her fingertips on the tip of Jordan’s nose.
“So perfect, just like a model,” Abby said, her voice a lullaby. “But not for me, because off limits.” She pouted.
Jordan grabbed both Abby’s hands and placed them by her side, before bringing her face level with Abby’s. “Listen to me. I’m really going to clean you up now. I need you to stop touching me so I can do that, okay? People are not far away, and I’ve got a job to do today.”
Abby nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she lifted both hands in the air, palms out. “I promise no more touching. Not allowed. Even though you’re so pretty. And your hair.” She raised a hand to it again.
“Abby!” Jordan was almost shouting.
Abby sat up straighter, putting one hand by her side, the other giving Jordan a swift salute. “Yes, sir!”
Jordan shook her head, suppressing a smile. She wet the towel again and this time, she didn’t mess around. She mopped Abby up as best she could. All the while Abby looked at her like she was hanging the moon. Another time, another place, Jordan might have entertained it. But not here, in this bathroom.
“So strict,” Abby said.
Jordan ignored her, running her gaze over her front. No, she wasn’t going to focus on her breasts.
But Abby obviously had other ideas, as she placed a hand on Jordan’s left cheek. “I wonder if you’d be so strict in bed? But I guess I’m never going to know because that would make me a bad person.” She gazed into Jordan’s eyes.
This time, Jordan let her.
“I’m not a bad person, Jordan.”
Jordan’s heart boomed. “I know,” she replied.
“I just want to kiss you. Is that so bad?” Abby tilted her head, her eyes sad, her lips inviting.
Jordan’s body flushed with want.
She stepped back and held out a hand to Abby, who took it, staring at their connection.
Jordan wasn’t going to let her dwell. She pulled Abby up.
“Come on. Let’s get you back on your wine stool before they send out a search party.”
Chapter 20
Abby woke with a start and squeezed her eyes tight shut. Dammit, her head hurt. She put her palm to her forehead, and pressed down, as if that would make it feel better.
It didn’t. Abby let out a sigh and grab
bed her phone from where she’d abandoned it on the covers beside her. It was 2.30am. She’d drunk far too much yesterday. Day drinking was never a good idea. You could dress it up as a wine tour, a cultural activity, but it was still what it was. An excuse to get a little tipsy. Not that she’d been complaining at the time. It was just now, hours later when she’d woken up gagging for water, that she was questioning her choices.
She rolled off the bed, wobbled, then grabbed a T-shirt and denim shorts. Her wine-stained T-shirt was draped across a chair.
Oh god. Wine stain. The toilets with Jordan. She vaguely recalled it, but she couldn’t quite remember what she’d said. She just remembered there had been a lot of touching from her. Of Jordan’s face, Jordan’s hair.
Fuck.
She closed her eyes as nausea rose in her.
A glass of water would make her feel better. Perhaps two.
Abby slipped on her flip-flops and walked to the kitchen in the dark, trying to make as little noise as possible. She wasn’t sure she succeeded as she felt her way along the walls. She hit the kitchen spotlights over the dining table, and decided that was enough to illuminate the kitchen. She didn’t want too much light, and she was only getting a glass of water.
The detritus of their night was still covering the surfaces: glasses, empty wine bottles, some crisps and nuts still left in bowls. Abby’s stomach growled. They’d had a big dinner cooked for them by a visiting chef, but she could still eat. She opened the fridge and spied some fancy potatoes - were they called hasselbacks? Or was that the bloke who used to be in Baywatch? No, that was Hasselhoff. Were they Hasselhoff potatoes?
She shook her head, smiling at herself, and shoved a potato in her mouth. While she chomped, she opened a few cupboards, locating the glasses on the third try. She didn’t know where anything was in here. Princess Abby. She’d been waited on hand and foot all weekend. By her whole crew, ably led by Captain Jordan.
Those two words conjured up an image of Jordan in a sailor suit, all tight belts and pressed white fabric. Abby gulped. She focused on glugging the water. If she wasn’t so taken with Jordan, she might not have got so drunk. Then again, this was what a bride-to-be was meant to do on her hen weekend, wasn’t it? She was just following protocol. Just as she would have done if Jordan was in front of her in uniform and doling out the orders.
When she looked up, her heart caught in her chest and she almost stopped breathing. Jordan was standing in the kitchen doorway, although thankfully, not in a sailor suit. That would have been a little too much to handle. Instead, an orange singlet top and navy shorts adorned her sleepy form.
“What are you doing up?” Abby glanced at the clock. “It’s the middle of the night.” If anything, she looked even more appealing in the semi-darkness. As Abby walked towards her, she spied a sleep crease indented on Jordan’s cheek. Her skin was probably still hot to the touch.
“I’m aware.” Jordan went straight to the right cupboard. “Water,” she said, filling a glass. She drank some, before settling herself on the other side of the large white kitchen island.
A safe distance away.
“How’s your head?” Jordan squinted at Abby.
“It’s been better. Good thing I drank a lot of water when we got home, or I’d be way worse.”
“Like Delta and Nikita?” Jordan offered. She found a cloth and wiped something from the island.
Abby smiled. “Yes, like them.” She paused. “Did they go to their separate rooms?” They’d always been each other’s fallback at university, although they hadn’t slept together for a couple of years as far as Abby could remember.
“I’d be surprised if they did.”
Abby smiled. At least someone had got lucky on her hen weekend. Good for them. “Meanwhile, I woke up thinking what a fool I made of myself in the toilet with you at the vineyard. After I spilt the wine.” Her stomach flipped as her gaze connected with Jordan’s. Abby stilled as everything at the edges of her vision went into soft focus. Now, all she could hear was the tick of the kitchen clock, along with the thud of her heart in her stomach.
Jordan shook her head, her blond hair brushing her collarbone. What would it feel like to lick along…
Stop it.
“You didn’t make an idiot of yourself. You were just a little drunk.” Jordan paused. “And a little cute, if I’m honest.” Jordan winced. “Which I’m trying really hard not to be.”
Abby licked her lips. Jordan had thought she was cute. Sexy cute or annoying cute? “We’re both too honest, that’s our problem. Most British people would have just avoided this altogether, wouldn’t they?”
Jordan gave her a half-smile. “Undoubtedly. It’s not in our nature, is it? I wonder what the French would do?”
Abby patted the kitchen island. “Have sex on here, then smoke a fag?”
Jordan’s laugh was like a bullet, piercing Abby’s defences. “You’re probably right. They’re a bit more carpe diem as a nation, aren’t they? Whereas we sweep it under the carpet, hoping it’ll all go away.”
Abby nodded. It all sounded terribly familiar. “The trouble is, I’ve been doing that most of my life.” It was only when she uttered the words, she realised their truth.
She swigged some more water. Her head was still full of cotton wool.
“I’m going to miss you when we get home.”
Jordan smiled. “You won’t. I’m still working for you until the wedding.”
“I know. But it’s not the same as having morning swims with you. Late night drinks. Hot tub chats.”
Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Not forgetting middle-of-the-night hydration sessions.” She eyed Abby. “Probably for the best.”
Abby should think the same.
But she didn’t.
Jordan refilled her water, then walked towards Abby, stopping when she drew up alongside her. “You coming?”
Abby raised her eyes to Jordan’s. As she did, an explosion of want rippled through her. In the dim light, Jordan’s eyes were no longer an invitation to dive into the sea. But they were still vibrantly alive, and speaking to Abby. As was Jordan’s whole body. She could feel its warmth, the electricity jumping between them.
Abby snaked out a hand. She was acting on impulse. She couldn’t let this go. She had to know. What Jordan tasted like. How she felt in her arms. Her hand gripped Jordan by the waist and pulled her close.
Carpe diem.
Jordan’s face spelled surprise. She didn’t say a word.
Abby stared into her eyes, then dropped her gaze to Jordan’s lips. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Jordan.
The effect was like thunder inside her. As her lips slid across Jordan’s and drank her in, Abby’s whole body shook as a rumble rolled through her.
Abby had dreamed of this. The reality was ten times better.
Jordan gripped her waist, pulling her closer.
Their breasts melded to each other.
Abby groaned as desire slid to her core. When Jordan’s tongue snaked into her mouth, she wilted more.
She hadn’t been sure what she’d wanted to achieve. In her mind, she’d just wanted to finish what they started in the hot tub. A kiss. Just one. Just to know. To put her mind at rest.
But she knew now that was a complete lie. Because where the fuse had been smouldering, it was now well and truly lit.
Abby’s heart gave a kick, and her body flushed with total, overwhelming hunger. This kiss was pure dynamite. Pure lust. Pure her. Sliding her tongue into Jordan’s mouth was everything.
Abby’s fingers clawed at Jordan’s breasts, teasing her nipples through the skimpy cotton fabric. She breathed in Jordan’s warm, sleepy smell. She never wanted her to leave.
The kiss might have lasted two minutes or a day. Abby had no idea. All sense of time and space left her once their lips connected.
The primal intensity gave way to slow, sensual kissing. Abby was a wreck. The sound of their lips, the beat
of her heart, the slow, sure intensity of it all. It was almost too much.
Jordan must have sensed it too, because she pulled back.
They stood like that, mouths open, panting at each other for what seemed like another eternity.
Until Jordan blinked and pulled back a fraction. Just like that, the spell was broken. They were back in the room. The kitchen island. The bowls of snacks. Their abandoned water glasses.
Abby cast her gaze down as they untangled themselves from each other. Her feet were suddenly so interesting. She gulped, her heart still slamming against her ribcage, the torrent of butterflies in her stomach swirling around and around, with nowhere to go. When she eventually looked up, Jordan’s face was flushed, her sleep crease intensified.
What was she thinking? Abby wanted to know, but then again, she didn’t. Abby stared into her eyes for a few seconds, before it became too much. If she carried on staring at Jordan, she’d step closer. If she stepped closer… yeah, that couldn’t happen again.
She’d done it now.
It was out of her system.
That’s what she had to keep telling herself.
“I’m not sure what to say.” She ground her flip-flop into the floor.
Jordan’s feet were bare. Her feet were really pretty. Just like her.
Abby internally rolled her eyes.
“We should go to bed.” Jordan bit her lip. “I don’t think talking is going to help tonight. Do you?”
Abby shook her head. They were beyond talking now. They’d entered a totally new realm.
Jordan began to walk, but Abby placed a hand on Jordan’s arm. Her whole body tingled anew at the touch.
“I’m sorry. That was completely my fault. We’ll sort it out when we get home.”
The look Jordan gave her was so hot, it left a mark on her skin. Then she left the room.
Abby clutched the island. This was a crossroads. Either a beginning, or a full stop. Static noise began to fill her brain. She pushed herself towards the door and snapped off the light.
Had that really just happened?
She walked up the stairs, glancing at Jordan’s door as she passed it.