Tiny kisses trailed over her stomach. She opened her eyes and found Kendra settling beside her. Long, black lashes framed her closed eyes beneath her relaxed brow. The only evidence of her state of arousal came in the short, shallow breaths she tried to hide.
Michelle couldn’t stop herself from capturing Kendra’s cheek in her palm. She traced one eyebrow with her thumb.
Kendra smiled. “I must be insane.”
Her tone made a Chuckle form in Michelle’s throat. “Why is that?”
“Because, I’m going to leave you now and get your dinner. And then, we’re going to watch a movie.”
Michelle slid her hand over the firm muscles and soft flesh of Kendra’s shoulder and arm until it came to rest on her hip. She played with the fabric of her jeans for a moment before sliding her hand in the direction of the mound at the apex of Kendra’s thighs. Kendra caught her fingers and raised them to her lips. “Not tonight, dear. You have a headache.”
She kissed each of her fingers before she pushed herself off the bed.
“But—”
“No buts. I probably shouldn’t have even done that.” A hint of a frown pulled at the lips that had wrought such pleasure as she pulled the sheets taut over Michelle’s exposed body. “But... I just couldn’t resist.”
“I’m glad.”
Laughing quietly, Kendra ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sure you are. Wait here. I’ll get our dinner.”
When Kendra left the room, Michelle sighed, stretching like a cat in the sunlight. Now that her body had returned to normal, her head did throb a little, and the muscles in her bruised leg rebelled. She sucked in a quick breath and threw the sheets aside.
Black now, with mottled gray throughout, the bruise was just about the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. She made a face and covered it again.
She marveled how she hadn’t felt pain at all when Kendra made love to her, as if her touch could somehow heal her.
It couldn’t last. The marvel and wonder had to wear off at some point. It had for her parents. She could never remember a time when they’d touched each other. No kind words. No loving gestures.
If, by some miracle, Kendra Williams fell in love with her, would the same thing happen to them?
Chapter Ten
“I told you not to overdo it.”
Kendra shook her head when Michelle flopped onto the park bench in the town square. She refused to use the crutches Kendra had found for her—choosing an old cane, instead—and more than once she’d caught Michelle hopping from one place to another when she thought nobody was watching.
“I’m fine, really. It’s just starting to ache some, that’s all.”
“How much longer will this take?”
Michelle shook her head this time. “You’re not a patient woman, are you?”
Patient? Kendra’s eyes narrowed. She must have the patience of a saint. She’d been waiting for Michelle for her entire life.
The thought stunned her and she inhaled a deep breath.
She shook off the hollow memory of her heart before Michelle had filled it. She didn’t need anyone. And Michelle wouldn’t be here forever, she reminded herself.
“I’m just worried about you,” she managed to say. “Do you really need to be here for this stuff?”
Vincent, the wonder director, jogged in their direction. He arrived with a huff of expelled air and sat on the bench next to Michelle. Kendra’s spine stiffened and she crossed her arms over her breasts.
“I was thinkin’, love, that we need to take several stills, as well. We can use them during the opening credits, in a montage. And then combine them with the footage we shot on the way into town this morning. This place is so bloody quaint, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to change a goddamned thing. Although, I suppose I can see the point of making it more of a tourist destination. Everything is so... charming. I mean, look at those two women, there. They must be in their seventies and there they go, walking through town without a care in the world.”
Kendra followed the direction Vincent looked to find Mrs. Mullarney and Mrs. Wicks strolling through the Peace Garden.
Michelle said, “Sounds good to me, Vin. Go for it. My camera is in my bag, over there.”
“I’ll grab it. Wait here and stay off that leg. And then I have a few more questions for you.”
Vincent dashed to retrieve Michelle’s camera. Kendra had come to terms with the fact that Vincent wasn’t a very formidable threat. But the type of person that he was seemed to be more in keeping with what Michelle should have. Someone worldly, accomplished. Excited about visiting new places and capable of finding charm in a small town where there really wasn’t any. Michelle should have someone who could give her everything she ever wanted.
Kendra could take her to Paris, or Milan, or Venice – all the romantic destinations – but it wouldn’t be enough. Kendra would more than likely hate every moment of it. Michelle deserved someone to share her life, not watch it happen with a scowl permanently etched in her face.
As though he could read her mind, Vincent urged, “Smile.”
Kendra turned to face Vincent the very moment he snapped a photograph.
Ah, hell.
“Don’t be such a spoiled-sport, Kendra, love. I just wanted to get a picture of the two love birds.”
“Good afternoon, Kendra.” Mrs. Wicks put out her hand, trembling with age and palsy. “Did I just hear this young man say that this beautiful girl belongs to you?”
Kendra’s entire soul crashed to the ground. Why had Vincent said that so loudly? Here? In the middle of the fucking town square!
She licked her lips, but she still couldn’t find a single reply or the ability to form it if she had.
“I’m Michelle Loving. I’m working with Kendra on a project.”
“I used to bounce this little girl on my knee. I’m Mrs. Wicks, Kendra’s kindergarten teacher. She was such a fine little girl. Always running into something to get her in trouble, keeping up with the boys and beating them at their own game a time or two, to boot.”
“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Wicks.” Kendra wanted to vanish. Terror and hints of judgment and shame simmered just below the surface, making her skin burn. “Thanks for stopping by. Mrs. Mullarney is waiting for you on the corner.”
“P’shaw, Kendra. She’s waiting for the County senior citizen’s van. It’ll be along in its own time.” The frail, old woman turned her attention back to Michelle. Mrs. Wicks continued her barrage. “So, how long have you been seeing each other, dear?”
Kendra stared at Michelle with a plea she hoped she could see. Michelle winked.
Oh, God. What was she going to do?
“We only just met a couple of weeks ago. Well, I guess it could be three now. I’m friends with Lacey back home in Las Vegas.”
Good. Make her talk about Lacey, now. She taught Lacey in kindergarten, too. Find out about the buck teeth and the freckles.
“That’s nice. You know, many of us had given up hope of Kendra ever finding a nice girl. She’s far too serious, you know, now that she’s older. When she was a girl, I used to find her in the oddest of places. Once, she tried to climb the flagpole in front of the school.”
Michelle glanced at her over the old woman’s shoulder. “Did she?”
“Oh my, yes. And another time, we found her in an air conditioning vent. She wanted to see if she could get out of the building in the event we were attacked by Indians, you see. We had to explain to her that those books she was always reading didn’t apply anymore. Times had changed, after all.”
“She had quite the imagination.”
Mrs. Wicks nodded. “But I’m glad that times change. They’re still changing, although things happen a bit slower in Utah, you know. Why, it took forever for that horrible law to change so two young people like yourselves can get married!”
Kendra choked on her own spit. What did she just say?
“I think it’s wonderful that the two of you have found each oth
er. I’m no spring chicken and I could tell from all the way across the street, the way you look at Kendra, that you are a wonderful influence for her.” She paused and her brow furrowed. “Did you say something, dear?”
“I said that Kendra must have had quite an imagination.”
“Oh, that’s right. Yes, yes, she did.”
Please, don’t let her say it.
“Kendra?” Mrs. Wicks turned to face her. “Do you still write stories? You were always so good at making things up and writing them down.”
She shook her head, stifling a groan. She said it.
“That’s a shame. In junior high school, Kendra won a writing award. She wrote a story about a small child who spent her summer living in the old west, even though she was born the same time she was. It was very fascinating. It was a time-travel book. Very well done.”
“It sounds like it.”
“I think I still have a copy of it somewhere. Mr. Wicks, he’s been gone now these past four years, taught English at the junior high and could never bring himself to get rid of it. I’ll have to see if I can find it for you.”
“I’d love to read it,” Michelle answered with a patient grin.
“So, dearie. Do you suppose that you and Kendra will settle down and have children? You’ll have to adopt, of course, or perhaps go to one of those banks in the city where they keep the sperm in jars, but there’s no reason why you couldn’t have a family of your own; the two of you.”
“What!” Kendra nearly screamed.
“Oh,” Mrs. Wicks stammered, her eyes suddenly crestfallen and tired. “Oh, dear. I must remember to think before I speak. Am I wrong? I just always thought that you were... I mean, I assumed... You never date anyone, and well, I just thought...” It was obvious the woman was near tears; embarrassed and quite forlorn.
“No, no, Mrs. Wicks,” Kendra spouted. “No, you’re not wrong. I mean, you are a little. Michelle and I aren’t, well, we aren’t together, like that. Or maybe we... Anyway, you’re right about me. I am a lesbian. You haven’t hurt my feelings or anything.”
Mrs. Wicks’ bottom lip quivered and she sniffled like a lost child. “You’re sure. I would never want to hurt your feelings. You can’t tell anyone else, but you were my very favorite student. My very favorite, and I think it’s terrible how people sometimes treat you, or you know, gay people, in general.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Wicks. Really.”
“I should catch up with Mrs. Mullarney. She’s old, you see, and she can’t quite climb into the van without my help. It’s been lovely talking with you,” she continued, her distress vanishing with each word. “And you two children will be certain to send me an invitation when you get married. Don’t forget me, now. Mrs. Roger Wicks. I’m in the book.”
Thick silence, filled only with the roaring engines of passing cars, filled the small square. Mrs. Wicks joined her friend and Kendra watched the pair cross the street.
They were so... old.
Mrs. Wicks had probably been in her forties when she’d taught Kendra’s Kindergarten class close to thirty years earlier. Kendra was thirty-five, and she wasn’t getting any younger. She had no desire to be pregnant, get pregnant or carry a child. She never had. And she was far too old, now, anyway, wasn’t she? But there had been times over the course of her life where she’d wondered about having her own children; leaving behind a legacy of her own.
Did Michelle want children? Not with her, of course, but someday with someone she loved? Technology had come a long way in recent years, and it was possible for Kendra to parent a biological child and not have to be pregnant. Would Michelle be okay with something like that?
She turned her attention to Michelle. She stared forward, supposedly watching Vincent – who had managed to sneak away and return to work without being noticed – and the others set up the main video camera. Kendra knew better.
Damn it.
Michelle’s eyes held that same distant expression as they had that day in the truck beside the road. Wounded. Defensive.
Was Michelle falling in love with her? Her gut gripped and twisted on itself, threatening to send her to her knees. She wanted her to, even though the part of herself that knew Michelle was too good for her argued to let her go. Now. Before it was too late.
She also knew that she wouldn’t.
Michelle slid from the truck and hobbled toward the house. She smiled through the pain in her leg and glanced at Kendra. Mrs. Wicks had been enlightening, to say the least. She never would have guessed her surly cowboi had the heart of a poet. What she wouldn’t give to see that story; to see into the mind of a fourteen-year-old Kendra Williams.
“What are you grinning about?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about Mrs. Wicks. Does it surprise you that she would be so open minded? I mean, the last person in the world I would expect to be in favor of marriage equality would be an old lady in the high hills of Utah.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s just an old free-love hippie. I can only imagine what she might have been like during the summer of love, if you know what I mean. But that’s not what you were thinking about. I’ve seen that look in your eyes, before, little missy. You’re up to something.”
“Nah. Not me!”
Vincent’s van pulled into the yard behind Kendra’s truck, drawing her attention. An unfamiliar sedan followed them.
Michelle followed her gaze. “Who’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
Leaving her on the porch, Kendra descended the steps to meet the visitor. A short, balding man who reminded Michelle of Danny DeVito stepped out of the car and met her in the driveway. He carried an envelope and a clipboard.
Kendra took the envelope and scratched her signature on the board. The stranger left with a friendly wave.
Kendra opened the envelope and slid a sheaf of papers from it. “Goddamnit!”
Michelle groaned. Not good news, apparently. “What is it?”
Kendra crumpled the envelope and its contents and then turned back toward the house. Her long stride spoke of barely contained frustration. Gaining the porch, she threw open the door and held it open, obviously waiting for Michelle to enter the house. Even when she was pissed off, she was still a gentleman. Michelle limped inside and settled herself on the sofa. “What is it!?” she repeated.
“It’s a contract. A sales contract for my land. That arrogant bastard.”
“Mason sent a contract? But you’re not selling...”
“He doesn’t seem to get that, does he?”
Brent slid into the room and leaned against the piano. “Who was that guy?”
“A messenger.” Kendra handed her brother the paperwork.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Kendra. So he sent you a contract to look over. Don’t sign it. Decline the offer. Simple.” Brent shrugged.
“It can’t be that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Nothing is that simple. Why would he send it without any negotiations or discussion, first? Who does that? Nobody does that! Do you remember that guy that Mason and his goons were shoving around at the auction?” Kendra focused her gaze on Michelle.
“Yeah.”
“This may be what he was talking about. He said that Mason went to the county and the land management board and claimed that he’d been in negotiations with that guy for the purchase of his farm. Mason had damn near convinced everyone that the farmer had reneged on their deal, and that they had a binding verbal contract to sell.”
“Send him a certified letter stating that you reject the offer. That way there is a record of you turning it down.”
Kendra brushed a hand over her jaw and cursed. “That’s what he wants me to do. He wants me to turn it down so that it looks like we’re negotiating and that I’m actually interested in selling.”
“That guy has some nerve.” Brent folded the wrinkled sheets and set them on the coffee table.
“Yeah, he does. I have no idea what i
s worse, ignoring the offer, or answering it.”
“We won’t do either one.” Michelle adjusted her position to take the weight off her injured leg. She stretched her back slightly to relieve a bit of growing tension in her ribs, as well.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, honey. So, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll scan every page of the offer contract and put it on the website. We’ll ‘answer’ it in the public forum with an explanation of how the land is not for sale, and never has been, to anyone, for any price. Then we’ll paste the link on every newsfeed and blog within a hundred miles of this place.”
“He’ll just claim that we’re smearing him to get more money.”
“Let him. We’re posting a challenge for him to make public all previous written offers and details of conversations. When he slips up and says he spoke to you at a certain time and place, we’ll provide proof you weren’t there.”
“It’s not slander, or libel, or whatever to post it in public?”
“It’s only defamation if it’s not true. If you call a one-legged whore a one-legged whore, she hasn’t got a leg to stand on.”
They sat in thoughtful silence for a moment before Brent asked, “You guys want some lunch?” He moved in the direction of the kitchen.
Michelle shifted position again. “We grabbed a bite in town. Thanks, anyway.”
Kendra stood and began to pace. “Yeah, thanks.” She paused. “I’ve got work to do.”
Michelle frowned as Kendra headed out the front door. The great disappearing Kendra.
What did she expect? That Kendra would share everything with her? Hell, she wasn’t even her girlfriend. According to Kendra, they weren’t together at all.
In fact, Michelle didn’t even know what they were to each other.
Or maybe she knew exactly what she was to Kendra, as much as it hurt.
Nothing.
They were fooling around, at least in Kendra’s mind, apparently. Her frown deepened. Kendra’s reaction in the town square, when that cute old lady had mentioned settling down and having children, proved it. She’d been shocked. No, not shocked... appalled by the notion.
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