Second Nature (28 page)

The shower in the bathroom was still running. Apparently, Griffin wasn't the only one who liked long showers.

She pulled her reading glasses out of her shirt pocket, put them on, and turned the laptop so she could see the screen. A red cartoon cat was chasing a ball of wool all over the screen, but it disappeared when Griffin placed a finger on the touch pad. A new scene from Jorie's book appeared in its place.
Ah. I don't think I know this one. Let's see what she's working on.

"What?" Quinn chuckled when her human partner hesitated with their lips just inches apart.

Griffin stopped reading.
Good to see that she's getting some things wrong.
Wrasa usually didn't take human lovers. Not only was it a severe infraction of social etiquette, even worse than having a relationship with a shifter of a different subspecies, but the sexual attraction also just wasn't there. Griffin had never found humans appealing and certainly not for anything but a one-night stand. They smelled all wrong.

Oh, yes? I don't see you pinching your nose in disgust every time you're around Jorie.
Annoyed with herself, she shoved back the unwelcome thought.

Tilting her head and listening for a moment to make sure both Helen and Jorie were still occupied, she continued reading.

"You're not afraid I'll turn into a frog, are you?" She winked and stroked the short hair on Sid's neck with one finger, very aware that she had to be gentle and careful. "Don't worry; it takes more than just one tiny kiss to accomplish that."

Griffin chuckled.
Turning into a frog? Nope, they don't have to worry about that. Although Wrasa legends say we once had the ability to change into any animal we wanted.
But then, the legend said, the Wrasa had become greedy and demanded that the Great Hunter also give them the ability to change into drops of dew glistening on blades of grass in the morning or into the pebbles at the bottom of a lake or fall leaves floating on the wind. Annoyed with their demands, the Great Hunter had taken away part of their abilities, and from that time on, each Wrasa had been able to change into only one specific animal.
But maybe it's different for Jorie's shape-shifters.
Eager to find out more, Griffin glanced back at the screen.

"Then let's find out what it takes," Sid answered and lifted herself up on her tiptoes.

Herself?
Griffin's eyes, still glued to the screen, widened.
Sid, the pastry-addicted lover, is a woman? Jorie is writing lesbian fiction? Why didn't we know about that?
Surely, Allison DeLuca would have to know. An author didn't just go from penning heterosexual romances to writing lesbian fiction without telling her beta reader. It seemed Cedric Jennings wasn't as good at extracting information from suspects as he thought he was. Griffin itched to call him and to pay Ally DeLuca a visit of her own. If the beta reader had hidden this important information, what else did she have to hide?

Thoroughly distracted by the startling revelation, Griffin almost missed the sound of the bedroom door being opened. She wrenched the reading glasses off her nose and closed the laptop before she could stop to think about it.

"Griffin?" It was Helen, not Jorie, who walked into the room. "Did you find the cat?"

"He's here," Griffin answered, trying to appear calm while her heart was pounding and her skin was starting to itch.

Will stared at Helen. His bristled tail twitched, and the hair along his back was standing on end. He settled back down when Griffin smoothed her hand over his soft fur, calming both of them.

"What's going on here?" Jorie, covered only by a towel, stood in the doorway that connected the bathroom to her bedroom. Her gaze darted from Helen to Will, then paused on Griffin, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, right next to the laptop.

"Will escaped, and I put him back into the bedroom," Griffin said and jumped up, careful not to look at the half-naked Jorie. Her nose couldn't help taking in the fresh scent of the bare skin, though.

Jorie's hands clutched the towel to her body. Her brows lowered into a frown.

Oh, wonderful.
Griffin cursed herself.
This is going to be one awkward dinner.

*  *  *

"Did you and Jorie have a fight?" Helen asked as soon as Jorie had disappeared into the kitchen to take care of the dishes.

While Jorie didn't share Helen's blood, it was clear from whom she had learned to read people. Helen had immediately picked up on the awkward silence during dinner.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Helen asked. Worry lines formed on her brow. "I'd hate for her to lose the only true friend she has."

True friend.
Griffin rubbed her temples. Guilt and frustration pulsed through them, making her want to run away and prowl through the forest until she forgot this whole mess. Instead, she had to stay and use this conversation to find out more about the situation. "No, we didn't fight. I think Jorie is worried that I read some of the stuff on her laptop."

"Writing stuff?" Helen's fingers painted quotation marks in the air at the word "stuff."

Griffin nodded.

"Ah." Helen gave a nod of understanding. "So she's not just this secretive about her writing with me. I always thought it was because I'm her mother."

"She never let you read one of her stories?" Griffin asked, not sure whether that was normal for a writer. Maybe Rhonda, being a librarian, would know.

"I read one of her short stories when she was a teenager," Helen said with a fond smile, "but since she started writing more... adult stories, she didn't offer to let me read them anymore. Not that I can't understand it. Letting your old mother read what you write about love and sex is just... ew."

Yeah,
Griffin thought with a secret grin.
Especially when the old mother isn't aware that her daughter is suddenly writing lesbian love scenes.
Griffin tugged on her lip.
If this is a sudden development.
She had no idea what was going on.

"I bought and read all of her published books, though," Helen said. "They're not really my genre, but they are well written, and I love them because they are Jorie's." Blue eyes were glowing with pride.

I wonder if Jorie knows that.
Griffin shook her head at herself.
What are you doing? Jorie's relationship with her mother is not important. It's important to see if Jorie is angry with you, and if she is, to get back into her good graces. And find out where she's going with that damn story.
She stood abruptly. "Excuse me. I think I should talk to Jorie."

Helen patted her arm. "Go. And don't let her scare you away. She needs you to keep being her friend."

*  *  *

Jorie was bent over the sink, scrubbing pots. Even though Griffin couldn't see her face, her posture and her scent telegraphed Jorie's tension.

Griffin entered the kitchen. "Want me to dry?"

"No, that's all right," Jorie said without turning around. "You did it last time. Now it's your turn to sit back and relax."

"Yes, but after all that food, burning off some of it might be a good thing." Not waiting for further protests from Jorie, Griffin picked up a tea towel and dried the first pot.

Jorie placed a frying pan onto the dish rack. "I didn't get a chance to say it earlier with my mother around," she said, making Griffin tense in expectation of what might be coming now. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Griffin echoed. That was the last thing she had expected. "Um... for what?"

"For taking my mother out for pancakes this morning. At first, I felt bad about sending her off with you, but when she got back, she was in a good mood and had stopped worrying about me for once." Jorie half turned and studied Griffin thoughtfully. "She wouldn't tell me what you were talking about, but whatever you said to her between decimating your two stacks of pancakes, it finally accomplished what I never could. So thank you."

Her training allowed Griffin to answer with the expected smile. Deep down, she didn't feel like smiling. She was here to spy on Jorie and maybe even kill her. She didn't deserve her thanks. "It was my pleasure. Your mother is a wonderful woman," she said, meaning it.

"Yes, she is." Jorie's dark eyes sparkled with affection. "And I also owe you another thank-you."

"Two thank-yous from Jorie Price in one day?" Griffin gasped in pretended shock.

A self-mocking grin tugged at the corner of Jorie's mouth. "I'm learning that saying thank you doesn't hurt, so bear with me, okay?"

Griffin nodded. She and Jorie were both independent women; saying thank you wasn't the easiest thing for either of them. "So the second thank-you is for...?" she prompted.

"For closing the laptop earlier — before my mother could look at it too closely. This was one scene I didn't want my mother to read," Jorie said, almost to herself.

Do I let it go and just leave it at that?
Griffin hesitated.
No. This is my only chance to find out what's going on with the book — and with Jorie.
After reading the scene, she had wondered if Jorie was writing lesbian fiction to earn some extra money but quickly rejected that thought. Jorie had told her she wasn't in it for the money. Not that there was a lot of money to be made in lesbian fiction anyway. No, Jorie's motivation had nothing to do with money. Her writing was personal to her. So either Jorie was a lesbian or bisexual, or she wanted to explore a new genre with greater freedom to create strong female characters and equal relationships.

Griffin decided to take a gamble. "Not out to Mom?" she asked as casually as possible.

*  *  *

The question sent a shockwave through Jorie. Suddenly nerveless fingers let go of the sponge, and it fell into the water with a splash. "You read the scene?" she asked instead of answering Griffin's question. Her voice trembled.

"Sorry. I couldn't help but skim it." Griffin looked away guiltily.

"And?" Jorie held her breath as she waited for the answer. She had been upset when she had found Griffin in her bedroom, right next to her laptop. Her writing was her own; it was personal, and she didn't like people anywhere near her laptop without her permission. But as soon as she had remembered on which scene she had been working before she left the laptop behind, nervousness had replaced her anger.

Griffin winked at her. "Well, let's just say that I liked it better than the romantic scenes in your other books."

Surprise slashed through Jorie. She grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter and stared at Griffin. "You mean...? You...?"

"You couldn't tell?" Griffin asked with amusement.

Jorie's gaze slid up and down the solid body, then stopped when she realized what she was doing. "Not really," she said. "That damn gaydar thing came with instructions in Japanese, so I can't figure out how it's supposed to work." She tried to be as casual and relaxed about it as Griffin was. It wasn't easy when your heart thrummed a nervous rhythm. Other than the women she had been with, Griffin was the first person to whom she had come out. She had postponed telling her mother again and again, always backing out at the last moment. Finally, she had given herself one last ultimatum: she would tell her mother when she had published her first lesbian romance novel. That way, she could wait and see whether she could write successfully in this new genre or her writing career was going down the drain and she needed to add yet another job to her long list of "accomplishments." One disappointment at a time would be enough for her mother.

Griffin slung the tea towel over one broad shoulder and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. "So if you're a —" At Jorie's sharp glance, she lowered her voice. "So if you're a lesbian, why did you write books about heterosexual people falling in love with each other?"

Tension seeped back into Jorie's body. This was one of the reasons why she had hesitated for so long to come out. She didn't want anyone or anything, not even her sexual orientation, dictating what she could or couldn't write. "I also wrote books about vampires, soldiers in World War II, medieval knights, spaceship captains, and even a serial killer, and I'm not any of these things either," Jorie said.

"You're not telling me you wrote hetero romances just because it pays the bills, are you?" Griffin sounded skeptical.

She has really been listening. She knows writing is more to me than just a way to pay the bills,
Jorie realized. "I wrote most of these books before I figured out why romance only ever existed on the pages of my books, not in real life for me."
Not that I have really experienced it now either,
she added to herself.

"So your mother doesn't know yet?"

Jorie's lips pressed together as she shook her head. "It just seemed like one more thing for her to worry about, so I never told her. Do your parents know?"

"They know."

She sounds so calm, so at peace with it
, Jorie thought
. I wonder if I'll ever sound like that when I talk about coming out to my mother.
"And?" Jorie was eager to learn how they had reacted.

"Well, they are not exactly overjoyed at having two gay daughters," Griffin said, shrugging muscular shoulders, "but in the grand scheme of things, it's the least of their concerns."

"Two?" Jorie echoed.

One corner of Griffin's mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. "My sister is gay too."

"Wow." Jorie tried to imagine what it would be like to have a gay sister — or any sister at all. Growing up, she had always dreamed about having a sister, someone like her, someone who would understand her. "Mom should be glad that she only has one daughter to worry about."

"I do worry about you," Helen said from the doorway, making Jorie flinch. "But only because I love you, and I'd gladly worry about a second daughter if I had one."

"Mom..."
Damn. How much did she hear?