“Are you—”
“I thought—”
“Please, go ahead,” Janice said, feeling a fool.
“At the funeral—” Carla glanced away and laughed as if she, too, felt a fool. “God, I feel stupid.” She shifted her stance and Janice saw her luggage.
Oh, my Lord.
She pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the front porch.
“You came to stay,” she said, trying to sound calm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“I know,” Carla said, interrupting. “This is unexpected.” She reached for her luggage. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d still be okay with this. I apologize.” She tried to walk away, but Janice stopped her by covering one of her hands with her own.
“Where are you going?” She just got here. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t get her all excited like that and then just walk away. No. She wanted her there. With her. In her home.
“You weren’t expecting me, and I understand.”
“I don’t expect to see anyone on my porch at this hour.” She smiled, a little surprised at how quickly the usually confident Carla Sims had panicked and tried to leave. “You have to remember where you are. Showing up this late in this small town usually means someone’s coming with bad news or someone’s coming for…” she trailed off, embarrassed at what she was about to say.
“Coming for what?”
Janice laughed. “Nothing.”
Carla caught on. “Ohhh.”
She reddened and Janice just about died at seeing her react to the idea of her showing up on her porch for a romantic encounter.
Could she possibly…feel like I do?
Ha. That had only and would only ever happen in my dreams.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” She tried to take the bags from her, but Carla resisted.
“I got it.”
“I insist.”
“There’s no need. I got it.”
“But you’re my guest. I should take them for you.”
“I know that’s been engrained in you since conception, Janice, but really, I can carry my own bags.”
Janice put her hands on her hips. “I realize that, Carla. I’m just trying to be polite and show a little hospitality. I’m not trying to insult your ability to carry luggage. Now, let me help.”
“No, you’re too—”
“Too what?”
“Small.”
“Small?”
“These are heavy.”
“Oh, so it’s you who’s insulting me.”
Carla shook her head and laughed. “I’m just trying to be polite,” she said with a grin.
Janice yanked a bag from her and then stumbled a little from being off balance.
“See?” Carla said.
“Oh, hush. I just lost my balance. I’m not some delicate little lady.” She opened the screen door and motioned for Carla to enter before her. Janice followed her in and closed and locked the door behind them.
“You are little,” Carla said as she took in the living room.
“You’re already testing your welcome, Sims. You might want to stop while you’re still ahead.” She lugged her bag in farther and turned left toward the bedrooms.
“You’re shorter than me,” Carla continued, teasing her. “That’s all I meant.”
“I think a lot of women are shorter than you, Carla. We can’t all be Amazons.” She bypassed her study on the right, which was still illuminated and filled with the sounds of another love song, and entered the guest bedroom beside it. She flicked on the light and set Carla’s bag in front of the closet.
Carla followed, dropping her other bag to the floor.
“Amazon?” She raised an eyebrow. “I may be above average in height, but I am so not an Amazon. I can only wish I had strength like that.”
“You look…pretty strong to me.” Janice heated at her own words, and when Carla looked at her quickly with obvious surprise, she glanced away and cleared her throat.
“So, is this going to be okay?” She busied herself smoothing down the homemade quilt on the bed. “You’ve got a nice queen-size mattress, an empty closet.” She crossed to the dresser. “Plenty of drawers. And,” she picked up a remote control, “your own remote for the ceiling fan and light. If that doesn’t absolutely blow your mind and sell you on the place, I don’t know what will.”
Carla laughed. “It’s pretty impressive, I must say.”
“I aim to please.”
“Yes, it seems you do.”
They fell silent and Janice swore she could literally feel the temperature in the room rise.
“You have your own bathroom,” she said, breezing past her. “It’s here.” She turned on the light in the bathroom which was next to her own bedroom and across from the study. “There are towels and washcloths and all kinds of toiletries in the drawers and under the sink. I even have new toothbrushes should you need one.”
“Wow, okay.” She leaned against the doorjamb to the study. “This is great, Janice, thank you.”
Janice shrugged, hoping she came off as casual and relaxed when she was anything but. “I have the room and you need a quiet place, so it works out. It’s no trouble.”
“Still, it’s very kind of you to have me.”
There was another pause and this time Carla glanced away. “What’s in here?” She stood in front of the study.
“Oh, that’s my study.”
“Can I…go in?”
“Sure.”
Carla walked in and Janice trailed behind.
“This music.” She grinned. “I like it.”
“Really?”
“That surprises you?”
She shrugged. “A little.”
“I can appreciate vocal jazz,” she said, looking around. “Especially the classic stuff. Only, I like to take mine all alone, in the dark, and sometimes with a nice glass of wine.”
“Alone,” Janice said softly. Maurine had mentioned her breakup some months ago, but Janice had assumed she’d been dating since then. Was she? She felt a twisting tightness in her gut at the possibility.
“Here lately, yes,” Carla said.
“You’re—not seeing anyone?”
She let out a short laugh. “Uh, no.” Then she quickly changed topics. “Great posters,” she said, taking in all the vintage movie posters Janice had collected and framed. “You’re a classic sci-fi movie buff. How did I ever forget that?” She moved to the framed Frankenstein movie poster. “And, yes. I remember now. It all started with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Your all-time favorite book. You read that and thus began your lifelong obsession with Gothic literature. And from there you got into the classic Frankenstein films and fell in love with the old horror and sci-fi flicks.” She sank her hands into her back pockets as she studied the Bride of Frankenstein poster. The movement caused her muscles to flex beneath her tanned skin. Janice felt her pulse beat in her neck, and for a second what she was seeing before her seemed surreal. Carla was in her study, scantily clad, deeply tanned and slightly moist with sweat, which set off the cologne she always wore. But tonight, it smelled a little different, and Janice knew it was probably because it had mingled with her perspiration as well as her pheromones for hours, all day long, in the heat and in the sun. Now her skin was coated with their heavenly mixture and Janice wanted to know what that mixture would taste like if she put her mouth there, in the crook of Carla’s neck, where the essence of her collided.