Sea Glass Inn (18 page)

Unfortunately, the residual effects of too much tequila were keeping her from thinking clearly, let alone make life-altering decisions. She didn’t know how she made it through the day. Her head didn’t stop aching until dinnertime, and her guests were so cheerful and talkative she wanted to kick them all out of the inn. She somehow got beds made and laundry washed and picnic lunches packed. Pam was scarce all day, leaving for the gallery right after she helped Mel make breakfast.

“You’re throwing those out?”

Mel turned to see Pam in the kitchen doorway, a pizza box in her hands. “Yes. I can’t stand the sight of them,” Mel said as she dropped the bag of key limes in the trash. “No way am I making them into a pie.”

Pam laughed and put the box on the counter. “I missed you today,” she said. She put her arms around Mel’s waist and pulled her close. “Why don’t we take this pizza and some sort of nonalcoholic beverage down to your room and have dinner in private?”

Mel leaned into Pam’s embrace. The weight of a difficult day and the tension she had felt leading up to the wedding all faded in the strength of Pam’s arms. She moved away before she got too comfortable with Pam’s support. She had a few days, maybe another week or two, of Pam’s company before Pam moved on to someone new. Pam didn’t want or expect their relationship to consume Mel.

To manipulate or subjugate her. She should follow Pam’s lead and stop overthinking their affair. After all, Pam had done this before and would do it again. With someone else.

Mel shoved that thought out of her still-tender head. She’d be able to move on and find someone else as well. One of her future guests, a tourist, whatever. For now, this relationship was already miles away from Mel’s previous one. She wasn’t ignoring who she was or what she wanted. And what she wanted right now was to lock herself and Pam in her room, talk about her day, sit down, eat, replenish her energy with pizza and caffeine before she dragged Pam to her bed. She grabbed a couple cans of Coke and followed Pam downstairs to her bedroom. As long as she stayed strong and didn’t get too close, she’d be just fine when Pam finally left.

Pam reached across the bed and came fully awake as her hand slipped over empty sheets. She sat up and stretched. After only a few nights with Mel, she had already changed her sleeping habits and had stayed on the right side of the bed rather than sleeping in the middle. The left side was untouched, the sheets still tucked in.

Instead of the warm, rich colors of Mel’s room, she was surrounded by pale lavender walls and the glint of morning light reflecting off the sea glass painting on the wall.

She stumbled out of bed and into the shower, blaming her edgy mood on the proximity of her painting. She was relieved to have a bed to herself again. Space and privacy. And to shower alone without jostling for room, getting shampoo in her eyes, knocking the soap off the shelf. She braced her hands on the back wall and let the hot spray land on her lower back. How many solo showers would it take before the memory of Mel’s fingers tangled in her hair, Mel’s lips trailing over her wet skin, faded away? Danny would only be here two more nights, and already Pam felt a sense of loss, a craving for Mel.

She was an addiction, but merely a physical one. Spending time apart would break the habit.

Pam trailed down the stairs after Piper. She could hear Mel and Danny talking in the kitchen, but she went straight to the back door and let Piper out without stopping to say good morning. She had planned to sneak back upstairs after Piper’s walk, but Piper made a beeline for the kitchen and Pam, again, followed behind. The smell of her favorite apple-and-cinnamon oatmeal was enough to push her past common sense and into Mel’s presence.

She stood in the doorway, one hand on the jamb as she fought to keep from walking over to Mel and kissing her senseless. Mel was wearing one of her old painting sweatshirts and a pair of fleece pajama pants. She looked as young as her son as she sat at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Adorable.

“Knock it off,” Pam scolded herself under her breath. Mel was sexy. Simply, objectively sexy.

“Hey, Pam,” Danny said.

“Hey, Danny.” He was diverted by Piper’s enthusiastic greeting, so Pam had a few private moments to concentrate only on Mel.

Hearing her voice, her laughter, brought Pam right back to the hours she had spent tossing and turning before falling asleep last night. Too hot, too cold. Window opened, window closed. Flipping restlessly until she had to get out of bed and straighten the sheets.

She had told herself it was only the sex. A week of regular—okay, not
regular
, astounding—sex had spoiled her. But even taking care of that need, with the imagined vision of Mel’s hands gripping her thighs and Mel’s mouth on her, hadn’t helped. What she really missed were the moments
after.
Sharing random thoughts, whispered words, intertwined fingers, until they dozed off. Dangerous. A few nights of sleeping alone would be good for her.

“Morning,” Mel said with that intimate half smile Pam had seen so often over the past few days. “Want some breakfast?”

“Um, yeah,” Pam said. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know Mel had missed her, too. She wondered if Mel had thought about her last night. In bed, alone, her hands sliding over her breasts and down…Pam somehow managed to stop the progress of Mel’s imagined hand and step into the kitchen. “No, don’t get up. I’ll take care of it.”

Mel and Danny resumed their conversation while Pam refilled Mel’s coffee and poured a cup for herself. She dished up some oatmeal and poured cream over it and in her coffee. “You’re going whale watching?” she asked in spite of her efforts to remain uninterested.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen holding her breakfast.

“Sit down,” Mel coaxed, waving at a chair.

“A friend of mine said gray whales migrate along the coast this time of year,” Danny said as Pam took a seat opposite him. “I’ve never seen a whale.”

“They’re heading south to winter in lagoons in Baja,” Pam said.

Her thigh brushed against Mel’s and she inhaled sharply. She shouldn’t be here. She wasn’t a good enough actress to keep her arousal off her face. Arousal, because of one simple touch. Focus on the whales. “But the migration doesn’t get heavy until late December. You might see one or two this early, but don’t count on it.”

“You’ve seen them?” Danny asked.

Pam shrugged. “Lots of times. I found a great viewing spot on the cliffs in Ecola. It’s off the main path, so it’s private.”

“We never went to the park when we came here for vacations,”

Mel said. “I’ve been meaning to go, so today’s as good a day as any. I’ll make us a picnic.”

Pam put her spoon down. Mel’s “us” sounded like it included her. She hadn’t volunteered to actually take them to the park, had she? Taking Mel there alone, just the two of them, was fine. The thought of pulling Mel off the trail and pressing her against a pine tree, unbuttoning her jeans, was exciting. But going on a nature walk with Mel and her son? Not exactly what Pam had in mind.

“It’d be better to wait a few weeks. You’ll have more of a chance to see whales.”

“In a few weeks I’ll have guests every weekend. I might not be able to spend a day away from the inn as easily as I can now.”

Danny had been watching Pam and Mel’s interchange with an expression Pam couldn’t quite read. Shrewd? Questioning? But, then, he smiled and rubbed his hands together. “I’m feeling lucky today,” he said, his face changing in an instant. Almost childlike again, like when he played with Piper. Pam couldn’t keep up. “Do you have binoculars?”

Pam sighed. Until she got Mel out of her system, she’d just spend the day thinking about her if they were apart. She might as well go with them on what would probably be an unsuccessful whale-watching expedition. She’d let her hormones make the decision for her today. Just this once. “Upstairs. I’ll need to bring Piper’s leash, too.”“Then it’s settled,” Mel said, putting her half-finished coffee on the table and pushing back her chair. “I’ll make sandwiches with the leftover chicken from last night.”

“Finish your coffee then get dressed,” Pam said. She stood and topped off Mel’s mug. “I’ll take care of lunch. I make a killer chicken salad.”

Mel settled back in her chair and watched Pam rummage through her fridge. Danny even offered to help, and Pam put him to work chopping celery while she talked about whales and whale migrations and conservation efforts. Mel tuned them out and stared out the window while she sipped her coffee. She still felt prickly when Pam tried to help her, to take care of her. Defensive. Afraid she’d start to rely on Pam and stop relying on herself.

Mel put her coffee cup in the dishwasher and left the kitchen without interrupting the whale lecture. Danny seemed interested. And he liked Pam, but Mel wasn’t surprised. Pam was still nervous around him at times—and after the brief revelations Pam had shared about Kevin, Mel was starting to understand why—but mostly, Pam talked to Danny as if he was an adult. No condescension, no dismissal of his opinions. She should be happy they got along. And happy she had Pam in her life as well. A sex partner, albeit a temporary one. So why did she feel so unhappy?

Mel got dressed quickly. Warm layers so she could remove some as they hiked through the woods. During breakfast, she had enjoyed the feeling of sharing a secret with Pam. Meaningful glances, the touch of Pam’s thigh, the intimate smile on Pam’s face. Shared memories. And last night, the sweet tension of being in the same house, but rooms apart. Her old fantasies of Pam—made much more pleasurable because Mel now had the remembered reality of Pam’s touch to fuel them. Wondering if Pam was upstairs, thinking of her, too. All very exciting. Arousing.

And then Pam had offered to make lunch.

Just
lunch
. She wasn’t taking over the inn. Not taking over Mel’s life or even telling her how to hang a painting. Mel was silent while she drove them the short distance to the park. She had discovered the definite advantage of letting Pam take care of her in the bedroom.

Over the past few days, she had been able to let go of some of her control and be the recipient for once. Enjoy the attention of a tender and enthusiastic…what? Lover? Friend-with-benefits?

Whatever Pam was to her, Mel still felt Pam’s distance, her walls.

She knew Pam’s body, every beautiful inch of it. And she had learned about some of Pam’s wounds, her difficulties with painting. But only glimpses. Pam had been talking easily since they’d left the house, but there was none of
her
in what she said. Never a comment about a lovely tree. Only a discussion about the shape of the Sitka spruce’s cones and needles. Never a hint that she was moved or touched by something around her. Only a definition, a description of what she saw. Mel trailed after Danny and Pam as they left the parking lot and followed a dirt path into the forest. She should have been relieved by Pam’s distance. How many times had she said she didn’t want to lose herself in a relationship? So why did she feel so angry because Pam didn’t want one, either?

“Wow, look!” Pam pointed toward a hill. “A peregrine falcon.”

“Where?” Danny asked. “I don’t see anything.”

Pam handed him the binoculars. “See the tall, bare tree? Look at the tree to its left, about a quarter of the way down.”

Mel squinted at the tree. She could make out the shape of a bird on one of the branches, but she had no idea how Pam knew what kind it was. She stood back and watched Pam and Danny standing on the trail, and her breath caught with the effort of keeping her face and movements controlled. She was outdoors, the wide expanse of ocean and huge trees around her, and she felt as stifled and suffocated as if she were trapped in a windowless room. She fought down the urge to scream. So many months of tears and effort and she had come full circle, back to a relationship of strain and silence. She wanted to talk to Pam about her conflicting desires, her desperate need to be independent vying with her insistent cry for intimacy, but Pam was the last person she could tell.

Pam finished describing the falcon’s tapered tail and dark cap of feathers. They walked a few yards along the trail before she stopped again, to point out a flock of cedar waxwings. Mel faked an interest in the pointy-headed little birds. She was angry with Pam and she had no idea why. Mel felt her body coming alive after years of neglect and stifled desires. She bent down and picked up a fallen tree branch. She
felt
again. The rough bark and silky needles of the pine, the uneven path under her feet, the salty breeze off the ocean. Her shell had turned back into skin. With Pam’s help. Pam had opened up a new world of sensuality for Mel, had filled a void after years of isolation.

But sex wasn’t the only thing Mel had been missing over the years. Support, trust, a companion, a partner. Love. Pam offered some of them, but with limitations. She supported Mel and her efforts with the inn. She was fun company, a helpful friend. But Mel knew Pam was here for now, not forever.

Did Mel even want something deeper than what she and Pam shared, a real commitment, a lifetime of love? No. Not when she couldn’t even let someone pack a lunch for her without panicking about her lost sense of self. Not yet, when she still had so far to go before she felt secure in her ability to take care of herself, her business, her goals and dreams—but, maybe, someday. Because pushing past her fear and trusting Pam completely in bed had been gloriously worthwhile. How much more rewarding would it be to push past her fears of committing to a loving partner? Could she find some middle ground between being fiercely independent and subjugating herself to a relationship?

Mel felt a wave of irrational jealousy as she watched Pam and Danny fight playfully over the binoculars. She liked seeing Danny and Pam form a tentative friendship. She liked it more than she’d ever admit to Pam because intuition told her Pam would freak if she thought Danny was getting attached to her. Getting close with Danny, like Pam had with Kevin, would be a sign of looming commitment, a warning to back off.