She shook her head, the embarrassment still too much. The only calm in sight so far was the distraction of music and the growing drowsiness from hours of overthinking and tossing and turning. She’d finally just got out of bed and dressed, giving up on any possibility of sleep.
Thankfully, though, she’d been alert enough to make sure she’d slipped on an adequately threaded T-shirt with her shorts. She’d still been worried about what all Carla would remember when she emerged from her bedroom and found Carla’s door open and her room empty. She’d immediately checked for her luggage, her guilt automatically leaping to Carla having packed up and left. But to her relief, her luggage remained by the closet. She’d still stared at her perfectly made bed in confusion and disappointment, though. Here she’d been worrying so much about what to do and what to say, she’d felt off-kilter suddenly realizing she didn’t have to. Not until later when Carla returned that is.
She just hoped she wasn’t upset. She didn’t want for either of them to feel uneasy or awkward. That would only make for a long, uncomfortable stay.
“Lord.” She rubbed her temple, her worries jumping to whether or not she could keep her feelings under control. But wait a minute. If Carla really was attracted to her, why would she have to?
Because I’m scared. I’m scared of these feelings, even if they have made me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before. And I’m scared of who I’m having these feelings for. Carla is Maurine’s niece. Her niece. And Maurine has no idea that I’m having these feelings at all, whether they’re for Carla or any other woman. She has no idea. She thinks I just need to find myself a new man.
There were just too many roadblocks on that path for it to lead anywhere other than dreamland.
She sighed and her body slouched, like she’d just exhaled the strength from her bones.
“Haven’t heard this song in a long time.”
Janice jerked, hand to her chest. Carla was standing in the doorway, coated in sweat, wearing nothing but a black sports bra and matching running shorts.
Dear, sweet baby Jesus.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
Say something.
She forced a laugh and inwardly cringed at how fake it sounded. “It’s okay.”
Say something else.
“I love a little jolt of sheer terror first thing in the morning.”
Carla leaned against the doorjamb and laughed, apparently amused.
Janice tore her eyes away from her and stared down at the eggs. She’d gotten a quick glimpse of her and that had been more than enough to weaken her knees and bring her to the realization that her previous use of the word sinewy had not been the adequate one in describing her. Her body was defined and her muscles very well-developed. She did indeed appear to be much stronger than she’d given herself credit for. That skinny little tomboy who had run around in her bare feet trying to catch lightning bugs in a Mason jar had grown up.
Had she ever.
“Your eggs,” Carla said.
“Huh?” She blinked. They were burning right before her eyes. “Oh, damn.” She moved the pan from the burner and stirred, but they were ruined. “Damn it, I don’t have any more.” She’d wanted, even more so now that Carla was there, to have a good breakfast. Carla especially needed one. She switched off the range and tended to the potatoes.
“Don’t worry about it,” Carla said, leaning down toward the pan with the potatoes. “Those smell really good. I love them all fried up with onions and peppers like that.”
Janice perked up a little. “Do you feel like eating some?”
“I am tempted, I must say.”
“I made plenty.”
Why had she made enough for two? Was she somehow secretly hoping that Carla would return for breakfast?
“Is it all right if I grab a water?” Carla asked.
“You’re welcome to everything in this house, Carla.”
Including me.
She flushed. No, I can’t go there.
“You don’t have to ask.”
Carla grabbed a water from the fridge and returned to lean against the doorframe. She drank heartily, and a thin stream of water ran down her chin to her chest.
Janice again had to tear her gaze away.
I can’t even watch her drink.
“Sorry about last night,” Carla said, suddenly bringing Janice to rapt attention.
“Wha—?”
“I was pretty out of it.”
Janice waited for her to say more, to see if she’d let on to how much she remembered, if anything, but she didn’t.
“Oh, no biggie. You were really tired.”
“I don’t even know how I ended up in the bed. I’m assuming you had something to do with that.”
She doesn’t remember.
She doesn’t know what I said or what I did.
But I do.
And she knew she’d never be able to forget what it felt like to touch her skin for the first time, to run her fingers deftly across her face, to lean in and inhale the soul stirring scent of her.
“A little.”
“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”
She spooned the potatoes onto two plates.
“Don’t be silly.” She smiled at her, doing her best to seem unaffected, but Carla was staring at her intently. She fumbled with the spoon.
Then again, maybe she does remember some things.
“I had a little too much wine. I don’t drink often so it doesn’t take very much to affect me. And I tend to get rather honest when I drink and sometimes, a little…forward. Or so I’ve been told.”
Are you trying to tell me that anything you may have said or did was solely the result of too much alcohol?
Maybe I’ve been right all along.
She was simply drunk.
“Ready to eat?” She carried the plates to the table and retrieved the silverware. She was wound tighter than a top and she fumbled with the utensils and dropped them onto the table. She recovered quickly though and forced another smile.
Carla hitched her thumb back toward the hallway. “Sure, I’m just going to go jump in the shower real quick.”
Janice laughed, her nerves right on the edge of hysteria. She couldn’t sit there and wait and suffer through this craziness. And she for sure couldn’t sit there and eat with her after her shower, when she’d smell so good it would make her toes curl.
“Um, no.”
“No?”
She was just as surprised as Carla was at her assertiveness, but she was doing so to protect herself, to somehow try to contain the wild current that was just waiting to burst through the damn and surge through her veins.
“You’re going to eat while it’s hot.” She sat.
“But—”
She needed for this moment to be over so she could escape without spontaneously combusting all over her carefully decorated country kitchen.
“Carla Sims, I know you have manners. So, you need to use them and sit and eat this food while it’s good and hot.” She eyed the chair next to her. “Go on, sit your pretty little hind end down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Carla pulled out the chair and sat, smiling like the devil himself.
“I ain’t playin’ around, Carla,” she said, but her stern attitude was already fading.