Page 51

“Did you learn vehicle mechanics while picking up that PhD?”

“How many times do I have to remind you I’m a woman of many talents?” She leaned into the car, crossing Natalia’s boundary with her sexy cologne. An unsporting war tactic that was followed by an even more unscrupulous darting away toward her car before Natalia could respond.

Natalia sat in the car, debating her next move, while Samantha climbed onto a step ladder and flung the carapace open, revealing her own black luggage inside. It was too much to ask, Natalia decided while getting out of her own car — high heels and wrap dress not nearly as casual as she initially thought.

“Before you double down as you are wont to do,” Natalia said as she strode to Samantha’s freshly washed car and crossed her arms when she stopped at Samantha’s side. “Do you want to know how much I paid for my luggage alone? Not to say anything of all the items inside of them.”

Instead of heeding her warning, Samantha shrugged. “You’re not going to have to send me a demand letter. I promise you and your overpriced goods will arrive in one piece.” She looked down at her, too amused with herself. “Are you going to bring your stuff, or do you expect me to do it because I’m in pants?”

Natalia narrowed her gaze, sure Samantha could feel her ire even if she didn’t see it.

Samantha gave an exaggerated sigh. “Everyone wants to be the top until it’s time to kill spiders, take out the trash, or lug shit.”

Puffed up like a little rooster, Samantha crossed the driveway. When she returned in dramatic fashion, she had a black LV duffle on each shoulder and was pulling two matching suitcases.

“Babe, you know it’s four days, right?” The veins in Samantha’s toned arms strained under the effort. Natalia had to stop herself from imagining how good it would be to run the tip of her tongue along them.

“Babe?” Natalia repeated, the word sounding strange in her mouth. “Jesus. I prefer when you call me Ms. Flores.”

“I bet you do.” Laughing, Samantha pulled the cases up to the car. She hopped onto the stool. “Which one of these contains your femme-dom gear? I want to make sure it makes it to the Keys.”

Caught off guard by the reference to Samantha’s strap-on fantasy, Natalia nearly revealed that she hadn’t thought to bring sex toys to a business trip. Instead, she offered a momentary smirk and replied, “Everything I wear is femme-dom,” she said before leaving Samantha to wrestle her admittedly heavy bags. It was a fair punishment for trying to gain the upper hand.

The moment Natalia opened the passenger door, she recognized her misstep. On her seat, there was a neck pillow. The memory foam was nice to the touch and the velvet cover buttery soft. Natalia recoiled from it, the thoughtfulness of the gesture prickling her skin.

If it had only been the pillow, she might have recovered quickly. Her gaze darted around the pristine interior, inhaling the fresh citrusy car fragrance that mixed with Samantha’s usual cologne.

She forced her attention to the backseat, curiosity winning out over the unease twisting her gut. A picnic basket overflowed with snacks—fresh fruit, trail mix, granola bars, yogurt, cassava chips, and little Ziploc bags of homemade popcorn covered in what looked like pink salt. A small trash bin waited nearby, along with a cooler stocked with various beverages, including her preferred sparkling water.

Natalia stiffened, blindsided by the care evident in every choice. When had Samantha paid such close attention? Catalogued which snacks Natalia enjoyed, which drinks she preferred? The realization cracked Natalia’s ribs, an unwelcome vulnerability seeping into the spaces between.

Struggling to shore up her defenses, Natalia refused to react. She would not be swayed by sentimental gestures, even if Samantha’s thoughtfulness squeezed her lungs, constricting each breath.

When Samantha returned to the car, Natalia saw her chance to escape. “I need my purse,” she announced too loudly, even to her own ears.

“This one?”

When Samantha held up her bag, Natalia realized that her car was gone. Without her notice, Samantha had moved it into her garage.

Not one to be left speechless, Natalia made a sound that she hoped sounded like a huff before getting in the car.

Samantha plopped into the driver’s seat next to her after putting her bag in the back and hit the device on her visor to close the garage. “The tree can attract some lovely birds and less lovely poop,” she explained, but Natalia didn’t trust herself to respond. Didn’t know how she felt about anything happening around her. To her. Inside of her.

Before Natalia could brace herself, music poured from the speakers. A familiar 80s rock anthem blasted through the car. Tightening her grip on the neck pillow in her lap, Natalia cursed.

“Must you deafen us both?” Natalia snapped.

“Rules of the road.” Samantha said with a shrug as she backed out of her driveway. “You have to have a playlist. Just like you can’t drive with the cabin light on or you’ll get arrested and sentenced to federal prison.”

After singing the chorus to Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me with enviable gusto, Samantha mercifully turned down the music.

“I was sixteen in ’89 when my uncle Tito took me to see them in concert. I’ve never been sure whether he knew there would be that many topless gals sitting on dude’s shoulders,” she laughed, “but I have my suspicions.”

“Did he know you were…”

“Gay as the day is long?” Samantha joked and pulled onto US-1, the road that would take them to the southernmost point of the country. “Oh, yeah. I came out at thirteen, but everyone knew before that.” She cleared her throat and put on a professorial tone. “I presented with the classic tomboy traits, you see. Action figures instead of dolls. Pants over dresses. An intense crush on Janet Jackson because I was, in fact, nasty.”

Natalia didn’t get distracted by their mutual celebrity crush. “And your family was just … fine with that?”