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“I knew that five minutes after she sat down at La Vida Mocha. Basically, our date was one long session of both of us not tearing each other’s clothes off.”

“And how was the sex when it moved to the bedroom—you know, not out in public on our town’s beach?”

Amy laughed, choosing the dress she was going to wear tonight from her walk-in closet.

“Rach, it was amazing! Of course, I won’t bore you with the details of girl-on-girl sex. I don’t want to make you cringe.”

Shoes…which shoes?

“Whatever!” Rachel said. “I’ll have you know that I am already familiar with descriptions of girl-on-girl sex because I’ve been reading your girlfriend’s book for the past couple of days.”

Amy, who had been crouching in her closet in front of her shoe rack, trying to decide on which heels to select, stood up.

“You have?” she asked. “Which one?”

“The first one, Something Road Fling,” Rachel answered. “It’s really good! She’s a great writer! I’m, like, all into the whole ‘Will Marisol and Karen get together?’ thing. They’d better; I have feelings invested now.”

“Have you read chapter twenty-five yet?” Amy asked, stifling a laugh.

“No, I’m only, like, up to chapter seventeen. Why?”

“You’ll see,” Amy told her.

“Okay, intriguing…Anyway, yay! I’m so happy for you! The dry spell is over! Does she have a brother for me?”

“I’ll ask tonight,” Amy said, laughing.

Chapter 18

Sally made it back from Solana Beach with plenty of time to get ready for tonight’s date with Amy. Walking into her condo, she had to admit that she had enjoyed

meeting Ainsley. For someone from Mount Olympus, Ainsley had been really down-to-earth and approachable.

And sexy as hell!

Sally allowed herself that thought, which seemed a bit sacrilegious considering how much she enjoyed this nascent thing with Amy and was, in point of fact, about to get ready for her second date with Amy, because it was undeniably true. Ainsley was definitely sexy as hell.

Only twenty-four hours…

Sally stopped walking towards her bedroom, thinking about that.

Only twenty-four hours separated Amy and Ainsley. If she had accepted Ainsley’s original suggestion of meeting for drinks Thursday night—one night before her first date with Amy—who would she be getting ready to go on a date with tonight? Ainsley or Amy? Would she have sat in La Vida Mocha on Friday evening with Amy out of politeness, preparing to brush her off and make sure things didn’t progress beyond a friendly cup of coffee?

Only twenty-four hours…

The realization sent a shudder down her spine now, especially as it proved, yet again, that the Universe worked in strange and mysterious ways.

No sooner had she stepped into her bedroom than her phone rang. Her mother.

“You’re a writer?” was Leslie’s greeting.

Fuck my life!

Word travels fast on the Meddling Mothers Hotline and Sally hated it.

“Um…” she began.

“Why have you never told me this?” Leslie screeched.