by KD Fisher
“Okay, well no offense but I feel like most Midwestern IPAs are super hoppy... And kind of gross? I mean, they smell like weed half the time. This is pure juicy goodness. Tons of citrus.” Again, easy as pie, Beth slipped her hand into mine and tugged me away from the bar. Away, I realized, from the whole party. After a quick detour to fill a plate with food, we were behind the cottage, surrounded by neat stacks of firewood and softly swaying forest shadows. It was quiet. Or maybe my ears were just buzzing with nerves.
Beth sat down on the back stoop, a narrow flight of three wooden stairs and gestured for me to sit next to her. Try as I might to leave space between us, it was in short supply and our arms brushed. Heat bloomed on my neck. It had been a long time since I’d been this close to anyone other than Peter or Jay. My body felt weird, sensitized and heavy all at once.
“Okay, so your turn.” Beth turned to me, leaning in a little like we were sharing a secret. Freckles dusted her nose. She smelled like campfires and summertime with a hint of lavender. My gaze crashed down to the weathered wooden slats of the stairs.
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “You already know my name—”
“I don’t know your middle name. Or your sign. That shit is important.” Beth’s voice glimmered with mirth.
“Oh, well I don’t really like it. And I, uh, don’t know what sign I am.”
“Why, were your parents, like, super hippies? Is it something like Storm, or Rainbow? Probably not since you don’t know your sign. We’ll get to that later...depending on how the night goes, I just might do your star chart.”
I barked out a laugh and again my body relaxed just a little bit more. Taking a sip of my beer, which was, as promised, delicious and perfectly balanced, I shook my head. “No way. All of us kids have biblical names. My dad was a pastor.”
“Ah, okay. So is it, like...Ezekiel? Elijah? Sorry, we never went to church.”
“Gosh, no. It’s Delilah. I’m just telling you so you stop guessing. Even I’ve never met anyone named Ezekiel.”
“Aw that’s pretty. I think it suits you. Adah Delilah Campbell.”
I shrugged. “It’s a mouthful.”
“Do you have a lot of siblings then?” Beth asked, bending forward to grab a slice of bread from the plate resting on the ground. The purple crystal she wore around her neck glittered in the waning sunlight.
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to elaborate so I followed her lead and scooped up a piece of pizza. The perfectly baked crust had to be sourdough, with big air bubbles. It was topped with fresh corn, chiffonaded basil, and what smelled like sharp cheddar. I took a bite and couldn’t suppress my groan. It was perfect. The crust was chewy with just enough crunch and the toppings just worked. Simple but really, really good, each flavor bringing out the best in the others. “Holy cow!” I said when I swallowed one more bite. “This is fantastic.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even try to rein them in. Crap. This was Beth. The Yellow House. The dang competition.
As much as I wanted to find flaws, though, it seemed there were none. Even at this casual event, everything from the music to the food was perfect. Effortless, tasteful, and... I grudgingly admitted to myself, delicious.
“I love corn and basil together,” Beth enthused. “What do you think of the crust though? I just started using a locally milled wheat. Does it overwhelm the toppings?”
“Wait, you actually made this?” My voice broadcasted my disbelief.
Beth tipped her head to the side. “Um, yes?”
I stuffed another bite of pizza in my mouth to avoid saying anything else stupid. But Beth’s whole demeanor had shifted, back to the prickly woman she’d been when we first met. I didn’t understand why my brain refused to believe that Beth was capable of all of this. That she could make delicious food, and own her own restaurant, and for it all to be so...perfect. It felt unfair somehow, that a woman as beautiful as her could run an award-winning restaurant and make it seem so easy. Fun even. And crap, now I felt as misogynistic as my dang manager. Of course she was capable of running her own place.
“Sorry,” I groaned, running a hand over my face. “I guess I kinda hoped you were...” I weighed the pros and cons of being honest, but my virtuous upbringing won. “I don’t know. The pretty face and the money behind it. I mean I knew it was your family business and I just figured—”
Beth shot off the stoop in a clatter of bracelets and a swirl of warm summer air. And boy, did she look mad. I hadn’t seen someone that fired up since I left home. My spine stiffened and my heart started racing, unwelcome adrenaline coursing through my limbs.
“You figured what?” She glared down at me. “That I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m not clueless. And even if I was, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re being an asshole. I work really fucking hard and gave up a hell of a lot to open this place. And some days I don’t even know if I like doing this. If I even want to be here.” She took a deep breath and seemed to be fighting to calm herself down. “Look, my mom ran this place as the local greasy spoon for decades. And my dad was a goddamn fisherman. We weren’t exactly rolling in it. And yeah, I guess I could have gone your route, the whole degree and prestigious restaurant thing, but it really wasn’t for me. And guess what? It wouldn’t make this place any better. You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed to get here. I barely even sleep anymore. And I fucking love sleeping!”
Even though her words made sense, should have made me take back my stupid assumptions, somehow, they had the opposite effect. “Oh, sure. Having to give up your beauty rest sounds real hard.” I scoffed and stood, glad I was a few inches taller than her. Suddenly we were so close I could feel the heat and anger rolling off her skin. “You have no idea what sacrifice is.”
Then her lips were on mine and she was pushing me back until my body slammed against the rough wood of the cottage. Her hands fisted in the fabric of my shirt and for a long moment I was too stunned to kiss her back. Then my adrenaline and anger shifted, softened. I breathed in her taste, herbs and citrus and warm skin. My fingers drifted to brush her bare arms and I shivered to find her skin really was as soft as I’d imagined. Just as I started to relax, a soft groan slipping from my lips as they parted, Beth jerked away. Her hand flew over her mouth and her eyes flared wild, almost afraid.
“Oh my god.” She groaned. “What the hell am I doing?” Her voice was muffled by her hand and she shook her head. Dang, it had been a while since I kissed anyone but I didn’t think I was that rusty. Beth shifted away from me, shuffling backward on the flagstone path. “Um, sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Seriously, sorry. That was a mistake. I should get back to work. Enjoy the party.”
And then she was gone. I was alone, head spinning, lips tingling, heart racing. The sounds of laughter and music drifted back, fuzzy and distant like a radio out of tune. The sun had dipped below the stands of scrubby pines surrounding the restaurant, leaving the sky a deep, clear blue. I lifted my thumb to my mouth, touching my lips like I was checking for proof that kiss had really happened. But I knew it had. I knew because, suddenly, everything around me was brighter, more beautiful. And a heck of a lot more confusing.
Chapter Eight
Beth
The rest of the night was a blur. I flitted in and out of conversations, refilled drinks, and resolved a minor kitchen crisis. But I felt anesthetized. Always, Adah stayed perched on the edge of my mind, but I refused to scan the crowd for her. Twice I spotted her chatting with the person she’d brought with her and my whole body seemed to levitate, hot and hollow. Our eyes met once. Adah’s expression had been intense but hard to read. What the fuck had I been thinking, kissing her like that? For all I knew Jay was her partner. Adah might have brought them here on a date and I couldn’t help but take her behind the restaurant and rage-kiss her. Hell, for all I knew Adah wanted nothing to do with me. She certainly seemed to think I, along with everything I’d worked s
o hard to build, was a phony, pretentious waste of space. So why on earth had I kissed her? Sure, she was hot. But, still, I had some self-respect.
I tugged the elastic from my hair and ran my fingers through it. Food service was done and I was, as usual, exhausted. Typically, though, my fatigue was purely physical: feet throbbing from standing all day, forearms sore from kneading, scalp tight from restraining my mass of hair. Tonight, I had to deal with the added bonus of being emotionally exhausted.
Most of the guests had departed, only a dozen or so remained on the dance floor and another small group hung by the bar chatting with my brother and Ahmed. Night birds chattered in the trees, their soft calls mingling with the low music. Sighing, I cleared a stack of plates from one of the farmhouse tables and started toward the kitchen. I’d given my usual servers and dishwashers the night off so I could funnel as much profit as possible into the Melinda Coulter Center.
The kitchen was dim and quiet, a peaceful reprieve. I hadn’t seen Adah for a while, but still I wasn’t sure if she’d left and I was hyperaware of her potential presence outside. It was totally legitimate for a grown-ass business owner to hide out in her own kitchen to avoid the woman she’d mistakenly kissed during the heat of an argument, right? Deciding that it was, I began scraping food scraps into the compost bin and hummed a few lines of my favorite Fleetwood Mac song. If Stevie Nicks couldn’t soothe my soul nothing would.
Over the sound of the running water and drone of the industrial dishwasher, I registered the whine of the screen door opening. I braced myself for Nina’s lecture. You didn’t even try, Beth! What’s going on with you? Seriously you need to take a few days off. I wheeled around, prepared with a sigh and invitation for my best friend to give it a rest, only to find myself face-to-face with Adah. With her hands shoved into her jean pockets, perfectly windswept hair, and intent gaze, she looked just as tough and sexy as she had that first day. Before I’d opened my mouth and ruined everything. Twice.
“Hi.” Adah smirked and... Damnit why did she have to look so good?
“Hi,” I replied, shaking suds off my hands and quickly drying them on a damp, questionably clean towel.
“Look, I’m really sorry, okay? What you were saying made sense. I guess it just felt easier to think that you were, I don’t know, some kinda spoiled brat or something. I think I’m just jealous, plain and simple. You make this all look so effortless and I’m having a rough time, barely keeping my head above water. This all seems like it’s so easy for you. Clearly you’re good at this. I saw it tonight. Tasted it. Your food is great. Seriously. Even Jay had to admit that your puff pastry is better than theirs. That mille-feuille with blueberries and...wait, what else was in that?” Adah had been talking rapid fire, her words bumping into each other. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
“Just a Bavarian cream with some fresh mint.”
Adah nodded seriously, then opened her mouth, presumably to continue on with her apology speech.
I cut her off. “I’m the one who should apologize. I had no right to kiss you like that without asking. I don’t know your situation and clearly my timing could use some work.” I forced myself to meet Adah’s gaze and was surprised to find her expression soft.
“My situation?” Her words were slow...almost playful.
“Well, yeah. Is Jay your partner? I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking...” My words died in my throat as Adah stepped toward me.
“No. They aren’t. I want to kiss you again.” Her voice dipped low, caressed my skin. “And then I want to talk. Okay?” She waited.
“Okay.” The moment the word was out of my mouth, Adah’s arms came around me and her lips crushed against mine.
Earlier, I’d been too overwhelmed by the confusing twist of desire and anger to pay attention to the kiss. Now, I let myself savor the firmness of Adah’s lips, her strong fingers gripping my shoulders. She tasted like the mint from the dessert with a slight undercurrent of beer as I licked into her mouth. Everywhere our skin brushed sparked with pleasure. It was as though every fiber of my being shifted, aligned with her. I was dizzy with wanting, pushing up on my tiptoes to kiss Adah harder. I fumbled with her T-shirt, trying to untuck it from her jeans. Adah smiled against my mouth and pulled away gently. I chased her lips, but she stopped me, firm grip still on my shoulders.
“We should talk.” Adah dragged a rough fingertip across my cheek. Talking was pretty much dead last on the list of things I wanted to do in that moment.
“Ugh fine. If we have to. We could totally keep making out though. The choice is yours.” I flashed her my best smile.
“Can we sit down?” Adah asked. “I bet you’ve been on your feet all day.”
She was right, so I led her out of the kitchen into the small, deserted indoor dining area. The hearth was cold and the lights were off. The party limped along outside, but inside it was quiet. I gestured to a small two-top. Adah pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit. I wanted to laugh at her old-school manners but bit my tongue.
I laced my fingers together, elbows resting on the table, and leaned forward. “So...what do you want to talk about?”
“Alright.” Adah sat up a little straighter, like a kid who’d been called on by her favorite teacher. “I have three things I want to say.”
“Just three?” I couldn’t contain my amusement now.
Adah rolled her eyes. “Yep. Just three. May I?”
“By all means.” I made a sweeping motion with my hand.
“Uh, well okay.” She cleared her throat. “One: I want to say I’m sorry. I was extra touchy tonight because this critic is apparently coming to check us out. Marcus Blanche. He’s doing a profile on New England restaurants.” Adah said this all Very Seriously.
I shrugged. “Yeah I know. Marcus emailed me a few weeks ago to say he’d stop by this fall. I met him last time he was up here from New York. He’s a good dude.”
Color rose in Adah’s cheeks and her calm mask slipped again. “Of course you already knew. My dang manager made it seem like the Second Coming. Told me to tighten things up.” Her knee started bouncing against mine under the table.
I wanted to lean forward and smooth back the lock of hair that had fallen in front of Adah’s anguished face. I settled for a reassuring smile instead. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously. These awards are all such bullshit anyway. And what the hell did your GM mean, tighten things up? Has business been bad or something?”
Adah grimaced. “Yeah, well, that’s easy to say that when you’ve already won them.” Her voice was small. She was right, too. I didn’t know what it was like to be held accountable to anyone but myself, so any accolades we got were easy to shrug off. I’d never cared about external metrics of success. But no one had ever asked me to. And I definitely should not mention that success sometimes felt like more of a burden than a gift.
“Honestly,” she continued, “I don’t really know what Sean meant. He’s always real passive-aggressive with me. I know he thinks I’m not good enough for this job. He doesn’t have the authority to fire me but sometimes I feel like he’s waiting for me to mess up. And I don’t know...” She shrugged. “I mean I do know I’m good at this. I run an organized kitchen, my staff are happy, and my food’s good. But sometimes I don’t think it’s good enough. Not quite mediocre...not quite great. Like why the heck am I still paying off loans from culinary school if I can’t even win a dang regional food award?” Her voice went tight.
Sympathy for Adah bloomed in my chest. Was she always this hard on herself? It seemed an exhausting burden to bear, that heavy load of self-criticism. I reached across the table, gently covering her hands with mine. “I’m not going to bullshit you. I haven’t tried your food, so I can’t sit here and tell you everything’s going to be okay. But I’m here to help in any way I can. We aren’t competition—” Adah stiffened, ready to argue. I shook my head. “We are not. As far as I�
�m concerned, we need to work together. This industry sucks for women and queer folks. I’m sick of all the macho bullshit. You care about what you do, and you deserve the chance to show people what you’ve got. I want to see you succeed. So, look, I know Marcus. He’s one of the first people that gave a shit about what we were doing here. I know what he likes. How about I come to your restaurant and try some stuff? I can think through things the way he does.”
Adah narrowed her eyes, her pretty face the picture of skepticism. “Why?” She lobbed the word at me like an accusation.
I snorted. “Well, for one because you’re hot.”
At this she visibly relaxed, rolling her eyes and waving a dismissive hand.
“And two.” I wanted to continue but was suddenly at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say? I like you? Something about you feels right? There’s a bond between us I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever? “I... I don’t know, you seem good. Like a good person. Or whatever.” My voice had gone all scratchy and weird. Ugh. Really smooth, Beth.
Whatever it was though, I felt my words resonate. Adah softened again, threaded her fingers through mine. “Thanks,” she murmured, so softly I hardly heard the word in the quiet.
“So what were the other two things?” I asked, giving her hand a fast squeeze.
“What?” She paused for a moment before laughing and shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Tell me.”
Adah groaned. “Fine. You’re pretty bossy, you know that?”
“Honey, you have no idea.” I winked at her, hoping it was a cute wink, not an awkward eye twitch. I usually prided myself on my ability to be charming, but with Adah I felt a little raw, a little uncertain.
“Alright. Well, I was gonna tell you that I like you. See if maybe you want to go on a date sometime?” She was a little flushed and wouldn’t meet my eye.