Best Lesbian Romance 2014 (15 page)

Too long.

She thought about that long-ago kiss she had almost shared with Casey and her own reaction to it. Had she really been repulsed, or had she been afraid of her own reaction, her own excitement, of half-glimpsed feelings and desires that confused her? As a young girl she'd never known anyone who was gay, and when it was mentioned by those close to her, it was always with a vague embarrassment or even outright distaste. She realized now she had always been intrigued by women who loved other women. Never enough to experiment or to risk her family's and friends' censure, though. Then she had met and married Robert, and all that had been laid to rest.

Until now. Now a stranger had stirred up all those old feelings. Now she was remembering the echoes of curiosity and urges—and yes, fantasies—that she had long suppressed.

After a lonely dinner, Abigail had taken a bath and tried to occupy her mind with the latest mystery from David Baldacci, but found she couldn't concentrate. Finally she had gone to bed, but sleep would not come. She had lain in bed, her eyes closed, and felt again Laura's hand on her shin, the gentle pressure she had exerted as she had leaned into Abigail. She remembered the warmth of Laura's body against hers and even her smell—a mixture of soap and leather and horseflesh.

She shuddered and realized her hand had made its way to her breasts. She gently stroked and pulled first one nipple and then the other. She had always had amazingly sensitive nipples—too much so at certain times of the month—and the thought of Laura's hands on them, of her mouth, lips and tongue and teeth, was almost too much to bear. She slid her hand farther down, over her belly and then farther, between her legs. A moan escaped her lips as she found her clit and began to stroke it
rhythmically. Her excitement rose as she thought about Laura's hands where her own were…her mouth…

What was Laura doing at that moment? Was she lying in her own bed, thinking of Abigail and touching herself as well? That thought was enough to send the orgasm crashing over Abigail, and finally, blessedly, to usher her into sleep.

And yet now, here she was, running down the same road she had yesterday, but in the opposite direction. For once she was not lost in her music. For once her mind was absolutely clear and focused on the here and now. She stumbled to a halt and leaned forward, hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath.

So what the hell was she doing running the opposite way?

Before she could change her mind she spun around and started running back the way she had come.

Laura looked up at a hesitant knock on her office door. Her office was small and in the back of the tack room. Here she conducted the daily business of the management of the boarding stable and riding facility. Today was her day off, but she often came in anyway, to get work done in the peace and quiet or to ride. She loved her job. It was as simple as that. And since she and Carrie had broken up six months earlier, she didn't have anything to stay at home for anyway.

Abigail stood in the doorway, a tentative smile on her face. “Hi,” she said. “I hope you were serious when you said I should come by today.”

Laura stared at her in silence for a moment, long enough to make Abigail wonder if her invitation had just been politeness, then she smiled widely and jumped up. “Of course I was serious! Please, come in.”

Abigail allowed herself to be led into the small office. “Just give me a moment to close this program down,” Laura said.

Abigail sat obediently in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. She had no idea what Laura actually did on the ranch, but she hadn't imagined a desk and computer, nor the shelving unit against the wall that was stuffed to overflowing with books. She stood suddenly and went to the bookshelf, unabashedly curious.

“I thought you said you were off work today,” she said, leaning forward to peruse the titles. The shelves were filled with an eclectic mixture of fiction, poetry and nonfiction titles, many of them having to do with business administration. Most astonishing of all was that the bottom shelf was almost exclusively filled with college textbooks.

“I am,” Laura said, “but I get a lot of paperwork done when no one thinks I'm around. Also, I have a paper due next week and my laptop is on the fritz at home.”

Abigail turned her head to look at her. “So these textbooks—they're yours?”

Laura nodded. “Yup, every one. I just can't bear to part with them after my classes are over, especially when I've paid so much for them.”

She rose and came to stand next to Abigail at the bookshelf. Abigail was acutely aware of her standing so close to her, close enough that she could feel her heat, could smell the scent of her skin and see strands of silver glinting in her hair.

“I'm sure many of them are out of date by now, though,” Laura said, shaking her head. “I've been working on my MBA forever.” When Abigail glanced at her in astonishment, Laura shrugged and grinned self-consciously. “I know, I know,” she said. “What's a forty-seven-year-old cowgirl need with an MBA?”

“No,” Abigail said, “that's not what I was thinking. I was thinking it's wonderful that you're doing it. I wish I had gone back to school.”

“It's not like there's a time limit,” Laura said. “You can go back any time. Look at me—I did.”

Abigail shook her head and laughed softly. “I'm fifty-two—” she started to say, but Laura placed a hand on her arm. She looked fierce and determined at the same time.

“Don't say it,” Laura said. “It's
never
too late.”

It's never too late.
Laura's words rang in her ears, reverberated through her. Abigail took a deep breath. She didn't know what might come of this, but more than anything, she wanted to find out. She ached to feel Laura's lips beneath hers, to taste her mouth, to feel her skin, to
know
her.

And herself.

She leaned forward and put her mouth against Laura's. “I hope not,” she said. Her kiss was as tentative as her knock had been, and just as hopeful.

Laura tasted crisp and clean, like the mountain air. But her mouth was warm, not cool, and opened beneath Abigail's after only a moment. Something like a sigh washed over Abigail as their tongues touched. An ache curled its way up her belly, filling her with a need she hadn't known she'd been missing these last two years. Her heart pounded in her chest as Laura's tongue filled her mouth and their kiss deepened. The world felt as if it was spinning around her, and she leaned back against the bookshelf. Laura's body pressed against hers and she felt Laura's hand at the back of her neck, pulling her close. When they came up for breath a moment later, Abigail stared into Laura's gray-green eyes.

“I don't—” she began. “I mean, I've never—”

Laura placed a hand on her lips. “It's okay,” she said. “All I need to know is that you want to. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

* * *

Abigail hesitated, closing her eyes. As Laura watched the conflicting emotions playing over Abigail's face, she felt her own emotions welling and warring with each other. She'd had casual affairs and a one-night stand or two in her time, and enjoyed them all for what they were. She'd also been deeply in love once and had been in something close to love a couple more times. She didn't believe in love at first sight and wasn't fooling herself that this would be anything more than a vacation dalliance. But she wouldn't sport-fuck this woman. She knew now that she could not live with herself if she caused Abigail harm.

“Do you, Abigail?” she asked again. “Is this what you want?”

Abigail looked up at her. There was vulnerability in her gaze, but also a maturity and a hunger to know more, to experience whatever it was that Laura was offering.

“Yes,” she said. Simply, directly, without hesitation. She kissed Laura, again, without hesitation.

Laura felt that kiss from her toes up, through her belly and right to the roots of her hair. Her pussy throbbed, and when Abigail's mouth dropped to her throat, shivers rolled over her. Abigail reached for Laura's blouse, but Laura grasped her wrists lightly and she shook her head.

A realization had hit her: it could be
her
getting hurt, rather than Abigail. No, she didn't believe in love at first sight, but she couldn't recall a time that she had been drawn so immediately to someone else. Of course it was a visceral, physical, reaction—but there was more than that. She knew that now.

“Abigail,” she said, struggling to bring her careening thoughts and emotions under control. “Abigail,” she began again. “I don't think I can do this.”

Abigail looked by turns stunned and then deeply hurt.

“Not because I don't want to,” Laura hastened to explain, taking Abigail's face in her hands. “But because I want it
too much.
I…I know this is going to sound crazy, but…I don't want to be an experiment to you. I don't want to be a vacation fling. I want…time to get to know you. And you me. I want to be the one you discover this with—god, do I! But I want to know that there is a possibility of more.”

Abigail swallowed visibly.

Laura wanted to shoot herself for her clumsiness. “I'm sorry, Abigail,” she said. “I didn't mean to—”

But Abigail wasn't looking hurt. She smiled shyly up at Laura. “Please, don't apologize,” she said. She laughed self-consciously and shook her head. “Talk about crazy,” she said. “I'll tell you about crazy.” She looked into Laura's eyes and steadied her breathing. “I asked the rental agent about leasing the condo through the summer before I came over here.”

At Laura's bark of laughter, she continued hurriedly, “I didn't sign the papers, but…I just wanted to know that I
could
stay longer, if I wanted to. Laura—I'd like to…take some time. To get to know each other. To get to know
myself.
I have no idea where all this will go, but…I want to explore it. With you. Not as an experiment—never that! But as my friend. As my guide. As my…lover…if you'll have me. Because if nothing else, you've shown me that it's never too late.”

Laura reached and tucked Abigail's hair behind her ear.

“I'd be honored to be your guide, your friend—and your lover,” she said. And then she kissed her, deeply, passionately, and without reserve. She didn't know where this might go either, and yes, she might end up hurt at the end of it. But she would accept the risk. Because, as Abigail had just said, it was never too late.

A STURBRIDGE IDYLL

Lee Lynch

The first morning of their stay, the sun poured warmth into streets that just a few days before had been wintry. Spring leapt into Sturbridge Village like a chorus line of pastel-clad dancers. A soft April rain had come in the night before on a warming wind. All of a sudden, the tips of crocuses poked up through the ground and green grass returned to the world. On the forsythia bushes were noticeable buds. Jays loudly scolded at the tops of thawed trees. Iridescent starlings rasped at one another over scraps of food. Paris felt dizzy with the balminess of noon, wondering if the goddess set the stage for them.

They rolled along a dirt path in a cart, their feet resting on hay, alone except for the driver, horses and a het couple who were way up on the front seat. It was a time to hold hands, to look into eyes, to bask in the romantic perfection of the day, to lay her head on Peg's shoulder, the world smelling of sweet warm hay. She didn't. They climbed off the cart and meandered from exhibit to exhibit. Neither of them said a word for half an hour. A bonneted woman churned butter.

“So,” Paris said, afraid to break the mood, afraid not to. She tried to read Peg's eyes behind her sunglasses. “Who wore the bonnet back then? The butch or the femme?”

“Please, darlin',” Peg answered, lifting her hands as if to a bonnet. “Picture it.”

“You're so true to type,” she said with a laugh. “You'd look ridiculous. That doesn't mean
I'd
be a knockout in a bonnet.”

Peg turned and measured her head, her face, with her eyes. There was such mute affection in them she wanted to be looked at like that forever. “But you would be, Paris,” Peg said.

She sighed. Where was the strife with this one? When they added sex would it come? She caught herself. If—not when. They moved outside.

“I'd like two female goats when I retire,” said Peg, arms folded across the top of a fence. The sheep had backed off, but a lamb bolted from its mom and returned again, curious and scared of the two-leggeds. The warm sun heightened the less pleasant barnyard smells.

“Not a couple of these wooly little things?”

“They don't stay little. And they're not very companionable when they grow up.” Peg bent to stroke the wet black nose poking through the fence. “Goats are feisty and loving and funny.”

Were those the qualities of a woman who could land Peg? Never mind, she told herself, she didn't want to know. The cart returned with a larger load. The horses clomped off and three families headed for the lambs, children filling the air with noise. Paris and Peg followed the cart back. A tinsmith assembled a lantern. A spinner spun sour-smelling wool with a drop spindle. A cooper up to his ankles in nose-tickling sawdust finished up a wooden bucket and handed it to them to examine. They stopped in the general store and bought penny candies. In her cavalier style, Peg offered a white bag of Boston Baked Beans.