“One of their own?” she asked uncertain.
She took Deborah’s hands in hers. “Yes, you’re one of us, part of the community. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe.”
She wished she had half of Bridgette’s strength and the belief everything would turn out all right. She didn’t but kept that to herself. Instead, she’d do what Bridgette requested and enjoy the time they had together.
If only she could get past the feeling she was being watched.
Bridgette swiped a finger down Deborah’s nose, where it was damp with sweat. “You know what? I think we should get out of the heat. You must be frying, and I’m ready to wilt. How about we go to my house where I can make you lunch and we can talk about our next move?”
“Our next move?” She wiped her face. “I must smell rank. Maybe a shower first then food?”
Bridgette hopped lightly on her feet, her curls bobbing. Deborah would never get tired of seeing them. She reached out to wrap a curl around her finger. Bridgette kissed her softly on her chin, and as Deborah went to give her a kiss on her mouth, she moved back.
“Shower first, Miss Sweaty. Food, planning then more kissing.” Bridgette’s eyes twinkled.
She finally relaxed her shoulders; they’d been knotted for days. “Let’s go home,” she said, and when they grabbed her bags and walked in the direction toward their street, she couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes watching her—even though she didn’t notice anyone lurking around. She did her best to shrug away that feeling until they were close enough to hear a familiar dog barking and to see the house that gave her a sense of belonging.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
While Bridgette went to her house to check on Rotquel, Deborah washed the grime and sweat away, she combed her hair and put on a different pair of underwear, khaki shorts, bra, and a loose-fitting pink tank top. She walked downstairs when she heard a knock on the front door, and, after looking through the peephole, opened it. Bridgette stood on her porch holding two brown paper bags.
“I was just going to come over.” She almost fumbled the bags as Bridgette passed them to her.
“I thought we could eat here instead.” Bridgette entered, gave her a quick kiss on the mouth, and tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Pink really looks good on you.”
Swallowing a laugh, she closed her front door. “I’d always liked the color, but my wife hated it…sorry, you must be sick of hearing me talk about her.”
Bridgette patted her cheek. “Unless you don’t want to talk about her, I don’t care. Remember, I’m here for you, to listen to what you have to say.”
She entered the kitchen and put the bags on the table. She was still somewhat unnerved by the way Bridgette acted so calm about everything she’d told her. “You’re too good to be true. Another woman would run far away from all my baggage.”
“By now you should know I’m not like other women, Deb. Is it all right if I call you that?” She took out the turkey wraps and chips they’d have for lunch.
“I don’t mind.” As she walked past Bridgette to the refrigerator, she stopped and caressed her cheek with her knuckles. “And I do see you’re not like other women, at least the ones I know. Thanks…for being my friend.”
“You’d better think of me as a friend.” Bridgette winked and set the table.
Deborah almost kissed her but opened the refrigerator instead, closing her eyes and allowing the cool, crisp air to rush over her face. When she glanced at her chest, she softly cursed at seeing her hard nipples. It wasn’t from the refrigerator but something else—most likely desire in Bridgette’s eyes. She’d noticed it the moment she walked in the house: a look she couldn’t get enough of and wanted to see as she lay on top of her, naked and spent from their lovemaking.
* * * *
They ate and talked about her situation. When their wraps and chips were devoured, their conversation led to simpler things, such as when Deborah would start painting the rooms in her house.
“I was going to start my painting project, but then I decided to leave town.” She pushed away the bangs that had fallen over her forehead. “I want to do the kitchen then the bathroom. I’m also thinking my bedroom, but I’m not sure now if the color will work.”
Bridgette tapped her fingers on top of the table. Deborah found this habit—her quirk—cute. She almost grabbed Bridgette’s hand but held back, confused about what she felt for her. The one thing they still had to discuss was the night she’d accused the redhead of rape. They’d have to talk about it soon, to clear the air.
“Would you like a second opinion? I can check your bedroom and tell you if the paint is the right color,” Bridgette offered.
“Sure. I’d appreciate your opinion.” Deborah led the way.
As they reached the landing, a loud sound of thunder erupted around them. She stopped and glanced at Bridgette. “I hate these sudden summer storms.”
“I don’t mind them. I think they’re sexy.” Bridgette rubbed Deborah’s arm and they entered her bedroom.
“You’re sure you don’t want to check on Rotquel? Don’t dogs get upset by thunder and lightning?” She walked to the open window and studied the trees and power lines swaying in the blustery wind. A flash of lightning appeared overhead, and the greenish-gray clouds in the sky churned. A few drops of rain came down, and it started to pour.
“Rotquel will be okay. She usually naps this time of day.” Bridgette stood next to her and bounced on her feet. “I love this…wildness.”
“A storm makes you want to be wild?” she joked and rested her cheek on the windowpane. The rain slashed down sideways and hit her in the face, cooling her off even more.
Bridgette’s arms came around her, and she set her chin on her upper arm. “Yes, it does. I’ve always had a fantasy of making love outside in the rain.”
Me, too. She faced Bridgette, who looked up at her. “What other naughty fantasies do you have, Ridge?” She twisted one of her bouncy curls around her fingers.
“Us making love in your bed over there, feeling your body on top of mine as I make you come. Bridgette placed her lips on Deborah’s.
The soft pull of Bridgette’s mouth on hers made her nipples tighten even more and her inner thighs throb. How could she want Bridgette this way when she had so many issues to still work out?
She broke the kiss and moved away until she sat on the bed. She looked at her hands and shook her head in despair. “Bridgette, I-I’m broken inside. The night we were together and almost made love should prove to you no good can come of us being together. What if—”
“Shh.” She placed the pad of her finger on Deborah’s mouth and knelt in front of her.