Chapter Nineteen

The smell of coffee wafted through the air and conspired with a breeze through curtainless windows to gently waken Guin. Her eyelids flicked open and she slowly focused on freshly painted, bare walls, a relief in and of itself. She was entangled in sheets that harbored no memories beyond the previous night’s marathon-session lovemaking, and in their frenzy, no pillow had managed to make it out of a box. In all, it was a nearly perfect morning.

She sat up slowly, surprised at the aches in her body this day for having satisfied a variety of long-ignored aches in the previous eight hours. Considering what good shape she was in, it made her smile. Indeed, April had given her a workout.

She heard low singing and the shuffling of bare feet on the kitchen floor yards away and hoped she would be greeted by her partner bearing coffee, wearing a smile, and nothing more than a T-shirt. Guin smiled, dropped back into the tangled sheets. She calculated the breeze, the smell of new paint and fresh coffee, the sound of distant traffic and nearby feet, committed it all to memory, hoping she could recall a command performance later when she needed it. Like the tennis ball Granny June had given her.

“Good morning, you.” April was suddenly over her, coffee in hand, long T-shirt draped over her athletic, curvy body. It was better than Guin had hoped for. April sat down on the bed, ran her hand along Guin’s sheet-covered thigh. “Ready for some breakfast?”

“Yes, I am.” Guin sat up enough to take the coffee from her. She waved it beneath her nose, breathed it in, took a tiny sip, but then placed it carefully on the floor beside the bed. She lowered her gaze, made a funny crooked smile. “What did you have in mind? The same thing we had for dinner, I hope?”

Guin easily pulled April on top of her, went to work kissing her neck, having discovered it was one of the woman’s most sensitive spots. April lightly moaned, smiled, and then forcibly pulled herself slightly back.

“Our food is going to get cold.” But her protest was weak, at best.

Guin appeared to think it over, shrugged. “I can live with that.” And she kissed April, guided the thin T-shirt up.

“Aren’t you hungry?” April persisted.

“First I’m checking a suspicion. Hang on.” Guin kissed her deeply, breaking only to tug the T-shirt over April’s head. She tossed it aside, looked down and smiled with much delight. “Commando confirmed.”

April playfully swatted her arm, but quickly gave in, all notions of breakfast out the door. Guin gently shifted April onto her back, then began kissing a trail to her toned belly. She’d learned her way around well, knew all the right spots by now, and set out reigniting any smoldering fires left over from the night before.

More than an hour later, breakfast was nearly inedible. Guin ate it anyway.

“I can make something fresh, you know.” April skidded about the shiny kitchen floor in sock feet, stopping in front of the stove.

“No way, this is delicious,” Guin said between bites of soggy toast. “The best I’ve ever had, I swear.”

April narrowed her gaze, as if she couldn’t possibly imagine that could be true. Guin countered with a cross-my-heart motion.

“Now, come over here and sit down, would you?” She patted the only other chair. “You’re making me nervous with your…domesticity.”

“Am I now?” April plopped down on the folding wooden chair next to her. She leaned onto the tabletop, rested her chin on her palm. The breeze from the kitchen window lightly flapped the opening of the button-down shirt she’d hastily drawn around her, fastened by only a single button. It was a splendid robe in Guin’s opinion. April reached over and caressed Guin’s shoulder, tipped her head to one side. “You don’t like girls who take care of you?”

That gave Guin pause. She chewed on her runny eggs, glanced away as she considered the question. Finally she swallowed, lightly shrugged, softly admitted, “I don’t know. I’ve never really had that sort of thing.”

In her imagination, Cheryl would have taken wonderful care of her. This conclusion was drawn solely upon seeing how she’d interacted with her young sons. Very maternal, very loving. Guin hadn’t been the lucky recipient of such one-on-one care from her, but thanks to Cheryl, she’d recognize it now. That same warmth and genuine care now shone in April’s adoring eyes.

“Well now, that just doesn’t make any sense to me,” April whispered.

Guin chuckled softly. “Look, I’m not an easy relationship, April.”

April lowered her gaze, smiled sweetly. “I don’t think there’s anything easy about you at all.”

The double entendre was not lost on Guin.

“And you’re cute,” April continued, taking a sip of coffee. “I’ve always thought so.”

“Always? Always meaning for three weeks?” Guin smiled.

But April only shook her head. “I didn’t want to sound like some kind of stalker, but I’ve seen you at those mandatory city functions. You and your old partner were pretty hard to miss.”

The sun was quickly shifting on its mission toward the midday sky; it beamed through the bare windows and Guin squinted against it. “Why didn’t you ever introduce yourself?”

April looked away, smiled. “Oh, no. I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Too shy?”

“I guess.”

“After being with you last night…” Guin set her cup down, leaned forward, whispered, “I can’t imagine you being shy about much.”

“Well, believe it or not, I don’t do well in groups.”

“You seem to handle those mucks we work with just fine.”

“That’s just my game face.” April grinned. “I’m much better one-on-one.”

“Oh, I can attest to that.”

April picked up a piece of the soggy toast and tapped it on the side of her plate. It wilted and she dropped it back down, looked thoughtful. “So, where do we go from here?”

Guin sensed her concern, knew she needed to be careful. She’d never been solely responsible for making anyone happy. There’d always been another woman (or husband, as the case might be) or a child, once even a Doberman pinscher—something or someone requiring a lover’s utmost attention. Guin had waited in the wings, willing or not, for her turn.

Things were different with April. Neither of them had anyone—what a novel concept. Now it appeared that they had each other. Foreign territory for Guin. Just thinking about it made her nervous. She needed to test the waters.

“Where do you want it to go?”

April shrugged, but Guin thought she knew better. She clearly didn’t want to risk another round of crying in the shower again too soon. Insecurity suddenly emanated from April like fever. Guin clasped her hand. It was a risk worth taking.

“Then we’ll go wherever, whenever you’re ready.” She leaned forward, whispered, “Come here.”

They kissed until April broke contact, pulled back a little. Her smile returned, genuine and brighter than ever. “So, I guess you might actually like me a little by now?”

“I guess,” Guin teased, pursing her lips. “You’re nowhere near as annoying as you were first day on the job.”

April found that somewhat amusing. “I was such a pain in the ass?”

Guin pinched her fingers together demonstratively. “Little bit.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged, turned more serious. “So, do we need to talk about this? How we’ll be at work?”

Another foreign conversation. Nobody had really ever bothered with those details before. Guin mulled it over. Of course they’d have no choice but to keep it on the down-low and hopefully enjoy lots of hot, long lunches…

But unlike with Cheryl, outside work there’d be no need to sneak around; no waiting quiet nights at home with April across town ensconced in the arms of her betrothed. No kids’ school programs to schedule around, no worrying that someone would burst into the room unexpectedly. Aside from the fact that interoffice relationships were forbidden, keeping things on the down-low at work would also discourage the inevitable office gossip. The relationship would be what it was; it would be what they made it.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time, How’s that?”

A bit of worry flickered momentarily in April’s eyes, and Guin wondered if she was the type who required commitment words—forever, together…always…

Too much alien territory to cover at once.

“Okay,” April said at last.

“Good.” Guin sat back in her chair, relieved that the conversation was over. “And we’ll…just see where it goes, okay?”

“God, you are cute.” April’s mood lightened dramatically. Her growing smile was brilliant. “Unbelievably cute.”

Guin blushed again. It was the second time she’d blushed in twenty-four hours; probably only the third time in her entire life.