Starting From Scratch (19 page)

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Authors: Georgia Beers

Tags: #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Romance, #Erotica

BOOK: Starting From Scratch
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occurred to her that maybe I was perfectly happy inside my

shell and had no need or desire to be pulled from it, that

just because she was loud and fun and never stopped

talking didn’t mean there was something wrong with me

because I was her opposite. We lost touch not long after

that.

Mendon Ponds Park was gorgeous and huge and

sprawling, so that’s where I took Steve for a long walk later

that day to clear my head and regain some of the energy

that had been sucked away by tee-ball. I chose one of the

lesser-traveled walking paths and clipped Steve onto his

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Georgia Beers

retractable leash. I reserved use of it for such walks because

he liked to meander and sniff every conceivable thing he

came across in the woods, so having extra lead kept me

from coming to a complete stop every five feet. When we

were in the city, though, I used a good old-fashioned six-

foot leash so that I had more control, should Steve decide

he’d like to dart after a squirrel or zip across the street to

say hi to another dog.

e thing I like best about walking in nature is the

ability it gives me to just let my thoughts go. My mind

wanders at the same time my feet wander and it’s relaxing

and it’s a relief for me to just empty my head into the quiet

comfort of the trees, let my thoughts drift with the breeze

that slid through the pine needles like gentle fingers. To

say my head was full that day would be to grossly

understate the facts. My head was
crammed
, the majority of

it being taken up by a stunningly attractive brunette who

kissed like a goddess and seemed to be really, genuinely

interested in me. I wondered what I had done in some

previous life to deserve such riches in this one.

My thoughts turned to Maddie. J.T. had been working

that morning, so I’d been Maddie’s ride. She was

surprisingly reserved and actually kept her questions to a

bare minimum as I drove her home. I almost asked her if

she was feeling all right, but I was afraid that would be all

it would take to open the dam and send her queries

flowing out, so I kept my mouth shut and so did she.

Which was weird.

Steve and I spent over an hour just wandering, him

sniffing and me trying not to think of anything in

particular. We got back to the house and I had the sudden

urge to make muffins. e realization that I didn’t have a

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Starting From Scratch

clue what the next step was to be sent me flying into the

kitchen to work off the nervous buzz. Elena had said she’d

catch up with me later. Did that mean she’d call? Should I

call her? Would she pop over? Or should I wander down

the street?

“You’d think having your tongue in somebody’s mouth

would warrant you a little leeway in the surprise

appearances department,” I muttered to myself, but it

didn’t help me with a solution. Instead, I mixed pumpkin

and eggs and flour and greased my muffin pan with

cooking spray. As I slid the muffins into the oven, I

thought if nothing else, at least my house would smell

divine. ough it was more suited for the fall, the scent of

warm spiced pumpkin never failed to soothe my soul.

Waiting for that smell to permeate the air, I’d just

about worked myself into a paranoid frenzy when my

phone rang. I got so few calls on my landline—I used my

cell for just about everything—that I didn’t recognize the

sound right away. Steve cocked his furry head as if he, too,

wondered what on earth that strange chime was. e

number on the caller ID was local, but not familiar…

which meant nothing since I couldn’t remember anybody’s

numbers any longer. Advanced technology was making me

stupid. I picked up the receiver.

“Avery? It’s Elena.”

And just like that, all my stress and worry left me,

running off my body like water to pool at my feet.

“Hi,” I said, my voice softening all on its own.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone mirroring mine.

“I wasn’t sure if you had my number.” Worry number

seventy-five in the past two hours.

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“It’s on Max’s tee-ball schedule. I realize that might be

cheating, but I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t get it

last night.”

“I didn’t get yours either, so I think we’re even.”

Her laugh seemed softer on the phone than in person,

but still just as contagious. “Well, I don’t know about you,

but I was a little…preoccupied last night.”

e memory flash that hit my brain made my legs

weak and my throat dry. If I closed my eyes, I could almost

feel the hard, cold steel of my car against my back and the

dichotomy of Elena’s warm, soft body pressed along my

front. I swore I could still smell her perfume, musky and

subtle in the darkness.

“Preoccupied,” I said. “Yeah. at’s a good word for it.”

“Listen, I know this is kind of last minute, but…do

you want to come down later? Have a glass of wine with

me?” She paused and I swore I could hear her swallow.

Could she be nervous? Did she really think I’d say no?

“Max goes to bed by eight-thirty. You could come by after

that. I just…” She cleared her throat and I grinned. She

was
nervous. “I just would really like to see you again.”

“Well, I don’t know,” I teased. “I need to check my

social calendar. I’m a very busy and popular girl, you

know.”

“I’m not surprised.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh, would you look at that. I just happen to be free

at nine o’clock tonight. You’re in luck.”

“Excellent. ink you can find the place?”

“Let’s see…six doors down…hmm. Well, I have

Google Maps. I should be okay.”

“Let me give you my number in case you get lost.” She

rattled off her phone number and I jotted it on a magnetic

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pad on my refrigerator, suddenly realizing that I had her

number, too, on my tee-ball roster. Although now, it was

official.

“Got it. I’ll see you later then.”

“Yes, you will.”

I hung up with her sexy voice lilting in my head.
Yes,

you will.
My legs tingled, as did other parts of my anatomy.

God, I was in so much trouble with this one. So. Much.

Trouble.

1

I waited until 9:02 before I headed down the street. I

didn’t want to be late, but I didn’t want to look too eager,

either. I could hear Maddie’s voice in my head telling me

to play a little hard to get. at was difficult to do when I

wanted Elena as badly as I did, but I tried my best.

I stood on her front stoop, a plate of pumpkin muffins

in one hand, and fixed my hair, fussed with my top, ran a

fingertip along each corner of my mouth. Finally, I raised

my hand to knock, but the door was pulled open before I

could make contact, scaring the bejesus out of me.

“Holy Christ,” I blurted.

Elena laughed. “I’m so sorry. I saw you walk by the

window and thought I could get to the door before you

had to knock.” She looked a bit chagrined and I happily

wondered if I’d won at the Playing Hard to Get game.

She let me in and I handed over the plate. “I don’t

know how well they’ll go with the wine, but here you go.”

“Oh, my God, these smell amazing.” She
looked

amazing as I watched her unwrap the muffins. e army

green shorts accentuated her skin tone and the pale yellow

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camp shirt tapered in slightly, hugging her trim waist. She

was barefoot and for some reason, I found that incredibly

endearing. “I’m eating one now,” she informed me as she

liberated a muffin from the pile. “You can’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I had to look away when she

closed her eyes and moaned.

“Oh, God,” she said, her voice low and almost erotic.

“ere should be a warning label on these. Sinful. Almost

as sinful as your chocolate chip cookies.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “I believe those cookies

belonged to Max.”

“Did they?” Her expression was all innocence. “Huh.”

I laughed. “I’m glad you liked them.”

“Like is not a strong enough word. Max said you made

the best cookies in the world and he was right.” She held

up a bottle of Chardonnay in question and I nodded. “Do

you bake a lot?”

“I do. I enjoy it. Helps me relax.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen—and that’s not much,

hint, hint—you’re very good at it.”

“ank you. My grandmother taught me everything I

know.”

Elena handed me a glass of wine and we clinked, then

sipped, watching one another over our respective rims. e

lower half of my body was treated to a pleasant flutter. I

had come over to visit with her, talk to her, get to know her

better, but all I could think about was licking every inch of

her body.

“What’s your favorite thing to bake?” she asked,

yanking me from my thoughts as she left the kitchen.

Following her into the living room, I tried to take in

my surroundings without looking like I was doing so. e

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décor was simple and tasteful, with very little on the walls

and a couple of small unpacked boxes piled in a corner. e

well-worn sofa was the centerpiece of the room, its fabric a

subtle pinstriped pattern of light blue on navy. Pulling out

that light blue was a matching armchair, tucked near the

fireplace much like mine, inviting you to come sit, get

comfortable, grab a book. A squat, cylindrical candle

burned gently on an end table, filling the room with

cinnamon. Portraits of Max in various stages of childhood

graced the shelving unit against one wall.

“Brownies and chocolate chip cookies,” I said, picking

up one of the framed photos. “Because they’re easy,

everybody loves them, and I can almost make them with

my eyes closed.”

“He’s two there,” Elena said, gesturing to the picture

as she sat on the couch.

“He’s such an adorable kid,” I commented, and I

meant it. “I don’t know how you haven’t just eaten him up

by now.” Everything about him was dark, even for a

toddler. His eyes and eyebrows, his hair, his skin. He

looked so sweet and innocent and I had the inexplicable

urge to protect him from the world, which scared the crap

out of me. I tried to cover by asking, “What ethnicity are

you? Italian? Latina?”

“My mother’s Greek.”

“at was my next guess.”

“People think I’m lying when I tell them I’m Greek

because Walker doesn’t exactly scream Mediterranean.”

“No, and neither does your dad. What’s your mom’s

maiden name?”

“Giakomopoulos.”

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“Okay,
that
screams Mediterranean. And I’ve seen

your mother. You look just like her.” I shot Elena a quick

glance, then returned my focus to the shelves. “She’s

gorgeous.”

“anks. One of my brothers is also dark like her,

though not as dark as I am. My other two brothers are

lighter, like my dad.”

“And Max looks like you.”

“He does. I was pretty proud of that.” She grimaced in

self-deprecation and it was somehow a charming

expression on her. “Does that make me bad?”

“Positively evil.” I finished my perusal of the pictures,

then turned back to her where she sat alone on the big,

blue couch. A gentle pat on the cushion next to her was all

I needed to get my feet moving.

“So tell me about your day,” she said, sitting back,

pulling her legs up to fold underneath her body. Cradling

her temple with a hand, her elbow braced on the back of

the couch, she studied me intently. As I mirrored her pose,

I wondered at how I could feel so relaxed and comfortable

with her, and so utterly anxious at the same time. It didn’t

seem possible.

“Well, let’s see.” Trying hard not to gulp my wine, I

took a small sip. “After the game, I took Maddie home.”

“Have you been friends with her long?”

“Ten years?”

“at’s pretty long. She seems very nice.”

“She and her partner, J.T., are great. You’d like them.” I

was sure she would. ere wasn’t much
not
to like about

Maddie and J.T.  ey’d like Elena, too. I was positive.

“Anyway, J.T. was working today—she’s a cop—and

Maddie still doesn’t feel confident enough to be driving

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with her knee like that, so I took her home.” Elena’s fingers

found the ends of my hair and toyed with them gently as

she listened.

“I just love the color of your hair,” she said, almost to

herself.

“ank you.”

“It’s like…copper, but with more red. And it’s really

soft.”

“at’s because I use ridiculously expensive shampoo.”

at made her chuckle. “What else did you do today?”

She continued to play with my hair and I continued to try

not to notice. I was completely unsuccessful.

“en Steve and I went for a long walk at Mendon

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