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“That’s some culture shock. I love things about here, but I miss the Southwest sometimes,” Miriam admitted. “The beauty, and the history, and the traditions.”

“I get lonely for the mesas sometimes,” Noelle said. “I miss the city itself, you know? Well, maybe you don’t. Nobody misses Phoenix.”

Miriam laughed out loud. It was true. She might miss the desert, the saguaros, the food, but she had never once, in all her life, missed Phoenix.

“Some cities have a soul,” Noelle continued, “and I miss Santa Fe’s. But my life is here now.”

She wanted to know more, everything, all the pieces that had shaped the woman she was now. But she also wanted to parcel the knowledge out, find out a little at a time so she never ran out of morsels.

And for the love of Sappho, she wanted to have some fun. All the time they’d known each other, they’d been learning each other’s trauma histories, existing in crisis mode, living at high alert. So, she made a mental note to come back to Santa Fe, and said instead, “Hey. I have a serious question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“You have a much better reciprocating saw than mine in the work shed. Do you think I can borrow it to work on a piece?” Miriam batted her eyelashes.

“I don’t know if we’re at the sharing power tools stage of our relationship, Miri,” Noelle said, her expression surprised but delighted.

“Pleeeeeease? I’ll let you play with my good chain saw when it gets here from Charleston. It’s so choice. You’re going to be jealous.”

“I own a tree farm,” Noelle reminded her. “I have many, many chain saws. But, because a beautiful girl holding a reciprocating saw was a teenage fantasy of mine, yes, you can borrow it.”

Miriam grinned and snuggled in even closer.

The rest of the ride was quiet, as they let the world go by and just existed together.

An ASMR video was playing softly on the phone next to Miriam’s head that night, dimly lighting the pillow and her curls, when someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called out, sitting up to turn off the sound.

Noelle peeked in, her hair pointing in every direction. She slipped inside.

She was wearing men’s flannel pajamas, pink and covered in flamingos that were—Miriam squinted through the dark—snowboarding? She loved Noelle’s collection of weird pajamas. She also loved Noelle’s breasts pushing against the buttons on her pajama top, creating a gap that Miriam very much wanted to slip her fingers into.

Miriam scooted over on the bed, patting the spot next to her.

Noelle propped herself against Miriam’s pillows. “This is an abundance of pillows,” she observed.

“Did you really sneak into my room in the middle of the night to judge my pillows?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about you all alone, lonely, in this big bed down the hall from me,” Noelle teased. “I thought you might need someone to keep your feet warm.” While she spoke, Miriam’s hand crept up her hip, under the fabric of her pajama top, and onto her stomach.

“That’s so altruistic of you,” Miriam whispered as her fingers danced up Noelle’s ribs. “I can’t imagine how I could ever repay you for your thoughtfulness. Maybe I could help you fall asleep? I hear massages are good for that. Also orgasms.”

Noelle’s stomach muscles jumped involuntarily when she saidorgasm, and Miriam laughed. Noelle caught her hand, bringing it to her mouth. She kissed the palm and then nipped the pad of the thumb. Miriam gasped, not feeling as in control of this seduction as she had a moment before. Noelle rolled smoothly over so that she was holding Miriam’s hand above both their heads.

Poised on top, her thigh thick and warm between Miriam’s legs, she met Miriam’s gaze and grinned cockily, and Miriam wasn’t sure why she’d ever thought she was in control.

Noelle dropped her forehead to Miriam’s and whispered, “I certainly think orgasms are going to help someone fall asleep tonight.” Her mouth dropped to Miriam’s neck, and she breathed lightly into the crook there, then bit gently. “I really, really, really want you tonight. I mean, every night, and also all day, but…Do you? Want to?”

“Holy shit yes,” Miriam said. “Please, now.”

Chapter 19

Noelle

Noelle woke up in Miriam’s bed, with Miriam tracing the tattoos on her arms.

“Tell me the stories of these,” she said, her voice sleepy and sexy. “Medusa, Clytemnestra—who is this with the axe? Lizzie Borden?”