Page 41 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)

Celene’s hooded eyes severed contact first, down to their hands. She shook her head, and it wasn’t clear whether from disagreement or to get her long hair from brushing her face. This lack of response made Skye squirrelly—twitchy, and much more on edge than during the argument.

“I’m here,” Skye emphasized, squeezing those cold fingers as firmly as the tension in her stomach. “I’ve always been here for you.”

Skye pressed a single kiss to Celene’s cheek before leaving the room, striding to Ajay and Elise, who weren’t done bickering.

“Elise, Ajay,” she interrupted, sterner than anticipated. It was effective, though, silencing the room. “You need to leave.”

“Oh my god, you sound like Celene,” Elise hollered, getting riled up all over again. “You don’t have the right to kick me out.”

“I’m not—” Skye held a hand out, her fingernails shiny from Celene’s copper polish. “I’m not kicking you out; does that even sound right?” She shook her head past the rhetorical question. “You and Celene need space. Please, there’s...there’s?—”

Skye remembered Celene’s quick recap of the summer wedding, Elise’s list of tourism ideas, pivoting the best she could. “The cinema on Broad Street. It hasn’t been updated since the nineties, and get this—they feature old movies all day.”

Eyeing the window, Ajay whipped out his phone. “A movie date sounds cool. The rain’s not as heavy anymore.”

Racking her brain to recall the marquee she passed on her work route, Skye knew she sealed the deal when she said, “They’re playing Xanadu this month.”

A grateful smile touched Ajay’s scruffy face. “What do you say, El? You’ve never seen Xanadu on the silver screen, with surround sound. Maybe they’ll let you sing along.”

“ Everyone sings along to the vintage musicals,” Skye confirmed, softening a little at Elise sniffling through a soft sob. “Loudly. Unashamed.”

“Next showing’s in fourteen minutes,” Ajay read from his phone. He pocketed it before tucking in his button-up, clearly hopeful. “Do we have enough time?”

Moving to the kitchen, Skye scooped ginger tea leaves into Celene’s new teapot’s infusing chamber. The tea from this gift was beyond flavorful; she’d brew some for both of them. “It’s a short drive. If you leave now, you’ll have time to get refreshments.”

Elise wheezed in allergic euphoria. “I want a large popcorn! Let me clean my face and find my nasal spray.”

Ajay waited for her to jet off to the bathroom before dramatizing his shoulders dipping, arms flopping in large arcs. “Thank you for that. I’d never seen them so livid.”

Now fairly acquainted with their cabinets, Skye uncorked a glass container of star anise, crushing two pods with a spoon. “It was intense.”

“That’s the Vales for you.”

Skye faced Ajay, contemplating when she assumed he and Celene were involved. What a misfire. “Do you have any fruit I could infuse in our tea?”

“I do,” Elise called from the hallway. She flitted into the kitchen, a total reverse in visual togetherness.

Not a hair out of place, no more smeared lipstick.

With pep, she collected a fruit from the refrigerator’s crisper.

“Bought pears at the organic market and they’re so fucking tasty, Ajay and I inhaled them. All except one.”

Such a contradictory dynamic these sisters had. Skye thanked her and chopped thin slices to split between the teapot and a plate for snacking. When she returned to the bedroom with two mugs of fragrant pear-infused tea, the house had quieted significantly. The effect of fewer family members.

Celene resumed pacing after a quick smile at what Skye prepared.

She’d made a system of walking corner to corner of the wide L-shape of the bedroom, exhaling through lots of breathwork.

Skye maneuvered around her to slide the glass door partially open.

Earthy ambience would aid them better than the sound machine plugged next to the bed.

Though the sky remained gray, it provided sufficient light with the bedside and Selenite crystal lamps. Enhanced tranquility.

After retrieving her book from her messenger bag, Skye settled on the bed and got in on this peace, too.

She’d reached book #3 of The Mistress of Norwood series.

Somewhere amongst the spanking and parade of unrealistic sexual capabilities, she’d been sucked into the storyline and connected threads between each book.

This third installment had a stalker subplot.

One short chapter later, Celene stopped at the table. She sipped from the mug, sighed deeply, uttered a thick, “thank you,” and continued to pace in between sips of tea until it and the pear slices were finished.

It took thirty minutes—including a ten-minute meditation on a cushion near the screened doorway—for Celene to crawl onto the bed, voice crisp and balanced. “Who’s the Mistress converting to a life of lust and wealth this time?”

Skye laughed, laying the paperback on the table with a feather bookmark. “An airline attendant.”

“That’s pretty hot.”

“It is.”

“I heard you out there,” Celene said, leaning in the gap between Skye’s legs. “How long until they come back?”

Skye grew dizzy when Celene pulled her down so they could lie facing each other. “Um, an hour. Two at most, if they don’t do anything afterward.”

“You’re so good to me.”

“Tea and reading time? I’ve hardly done anything.” Really. This was a small fraction of her tasks for Luce.

Celene smelled alluring, and she looked as such, in slim lounge pants and a matching top. “Being cared for is kind of nice. You don’t make it annoying.”

Skye balled a shaky hand into her sleeve. “Well, I like you, so...”

“I like you, too.”

Not that Skye bottled up her feelings, but nobody ever compelled her to clutch at her chest, upended by a flutter. It physically ailed her to take in the dark, relaxed eyes focused solely on her.

Celene tinkered with Skye’s necklace. Her fingers avoided any brush against the curve of Skye’s chest, and still, her pores seized in the sensation.

“I’ll be back in a week.” Celene’s long eyelashes followed slow, deliberate blinks. “Alone.”

The implications there weren’t vague. “What changes are next for the house?”

Smirking at her subject change, Celene said, “We noticed a draft in two bedrooms on windier days, especially that weird blue room.”

“Aw, I like that weird blue room.” Thinking of the mid-sized space with a developer’s overzealous six-window vision, Skye frowned on its behalf. “It has character.”

Celene rolled her eyes and continued. “I called Gertrude’s team to replace every old window with energy-efficient alternatives.”

“Careful, you’re going to make your neighbors look bad.” Lake Harrier Reserve members—depending on their level of retirement or boredom—treated home improvement like a competition. “Getting a blank check to restore everything is starting to sound fun for you.”

“I like to see a responsibility through to the end, with the best results.” When Skye screwed her face in disbelief, Celene laughed. Breathy and exceptionally subtle. “It’s a little fun. Don’t tell anyone.”

A far cry from Celene’s use of deathtrap and eyesore weeks ago. Hope ticked at Skye; she chose to ignore it. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Celene sighed. Maybe her version of a swoon. “I’m sorry you saw me and my sister like that. I emailed Mavis and cleared everything up, but Elise is such a child.”

“It’s okay to be angry. I’m glad I showed up when I did.”

“When I found you stranded on the side of the road...” Celene got this wry whenever she mentioned that lapse in Skye’s judgment. “You called me a savior. Do you remember that?”

Skye hummed, nodding. “I remember you looking pissed about it.”

“Because I was. I’m always rescuing or bailing people out, only for them to turn around and call me the problem.

” She paused as if she didn’t mean to say that.

And when Skye slotted her fingers into a no longer cold hand, more truth came spilling out.

“At Elise’s wedding, I relinquished my bridesmaid’s duties to stand in as her planner’s assistant.

I ate after all the guests, missed speeches, and I’m absent from most of the photos. ”

This was deeper than what Celene told Skye before. The rage in Celene’s eyes during the fight made even more sense. Skye murmured, “Shit. That’s...that’s horrible. Being a wedding guest tires me out, so I can’t imagine.”

“She never gave me a proper thank you.”

“I’m getting mad all over again. Have you told her this?”

“No. She should know. It’s not my fault she’s inconsiderate.”

Guiding them from family issues, she snuggled into a pillow, asking, “Have you seen Beaker around?”

Celene propped herself on an elbow, sliding her fingers along Skye’s in leisurely drags. “Downy woodpeckers love our trees out front. I like to think one of them is Beaker.”

How the hell did she doubt Celene was her type? That’d been some elite denial. Skye could only stare as this sweet, conscientious New Yorker who challenged CEOs and bonded pressed flowers into epoxy. More layered and misunderstood than anyone she’d ever met.

It’d probably been a blessing that the Vale family hadn’t returned for so long because Celene would’ve hooked Skye, and she’d never want to be saved.

Solidifying this thought, Celene seized Skye’s lips in a slow, assertive kiss. One of someone tender after showing her wounds, who demanded control again. Skye didn’t shy from giving it to her, gaping her mouth open for their tongues to entangle decadently, wetly.

Celene drank so much tea that Skye began associating any brew with their kisses. Peppermint, chamomile, ginger, especially the erva-doce Celene’s mother brought from her last trip to Brazil. All stimulants to Skye’s palate, reminders of their connection.