Page 41 of Last Call (Open Tab #5)

Riley was folding laundry at the foot of the bed, methodically smoothing out shirts, rolling socks, and tucking pajamas into neat little piles. The suitcase sat open on the bench, half-packed and already organized by category.

Fallon leaned in the doorway and watched her.

She should have been helping. She should have been doing something —checking her phone, reviewing contractor updates, or confirming bookings for the winter packages she was launching.

Instead, she just stood there, arms crossed, watching Riley fold a t-shirt like it was the most natural, beautiful thing in the world.

It wasn’t just the quiet rhythm of it. It was the way Riley tilted her head when something didn’t line up just right. The way she muttered under her breath when she found a rogue sock. The way she moved through the moment like she wasn’t rushing to get to the next one.

Fallon had been running for weeks. Then again, Fallon was always moving.

She had always kept her house neat. It wasn't hard.

She ate out more than she cooked. She slept in her favorite chair.

She worked long hours. It didn't matter if her laundry stayed crumpled in a bin or folded haphazardly on her bed.

No one was there to see it. Until Riley.

Riley took care of everything. She'd say that wasn't true.

Fallon moved the lawn, plowed the driveway, and even tended the garden.

She bathed Owen andmade him pancakes and macaroni and cheese.

Riley took care of them—Fallon and Owen—of the things that mattered .

She cooked their favorite meals and insisted they get enough sleep.

She teased Fallon about grass stains and mud in the hallway. Riley never complained.

Laundry helped bring them together. Without Fallon's laundry challenges, Riley might not have agreed to stay with her when she arrived in Whiskey Springs.

"Riley, Jerry will fix the roof as soon as he can. Then you can move into the house. It's only a few weeks. Just stay with me. Your things are there already. It just makes sense."

“No,” Riley said. “I don’t want to ruin a friendship before it even starts.”

“Don’t drink all my coffee, and we’ll be fine,” Fallon said.

Riley wasn't amused.

“Okay,” Fallon conceded defeat. “I’m trying to understand. I am. Real friendships are pretty hard to ruin, Riley. Trust me on that. What could you possibly do? Shrink one of my sweaters in that laundry you promised to help with?”

Riley sighed.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Riley replied. “The point is that we don’t know each other that well. Who knows what I might do to make you uncomfortable?”

Fallon laughed.

“That’s funny?”

“Kind of.”

Riley’s gaze hardened.

“Oh, come on, Riley. Think about it. You offend me ? You’re staying in the token lesbian’s house; who owns the token bar in town? Don’t you think it’s me who should worry about offending you?”

Riley’s expression softened. “Unless you plan on forcing yourself on me, I don’t think you need to worry about that. At all. I don’t care about that, Fallon. I have lots of lesbian friends.”

Riley’s revelation didn’t surprise Fallon.

Riley had taken Fallon’s disclosure about her sexuality in stride.

She had neither raised the point nor avoided it.

It lingered on Fallon’s mind. She could be an incurable flirt, even when she meant nothing by it.

Riley was right about one thing: their friendship was new.

The last thing that Fallon wanted was to offend Riley or make her uncomfortable in any way.

She was relieved to clear the air. Maybe she had avoided Riley a bit.

It was funny; she looked forward to seeing Riley and talking with her.

Their conversations flowed easily and honestly.

“I get it,” Fallon said. “I want you to stay,” she said. “It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other. If you don’t end up thinking I need professional help by the time your roof’s done, I’ll consider it a huge win.”

“You mean like needing a maid?” Riley teased.

“Is my house that messy?”

“Only your laundry.”

Fallon laughed. “So, you’ll stay?”

“You promise. If I...”

“If you drink all my coffee, I’ll throw you out in the snow.”

Riley rolled her eyes.

“Fawon!”

“See? Owen knows a good thing when he finds it.”

“Are you trying to hold up the wall?” Riley asked, never turning from her task.

“You know,” Fallon began lightly, “I’ve been thinking I need to help more around the house.”

Riley’s hands stilled on the cotton shirt she was folding. A smile tugged at her lips, but she didn’t look up. “Oh really? And what brought on this sudden domestic awakening?”

“You always say turnabout is foreplay .” Fallon pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room. “I thought maybe I could help with the laundry. You know, share the load.”

This time, Riley looked up, her eyebrows raised. “Laundry? The same woman who once turned my favorite white blouse into a lovely shade of pink wants to help with laundry?”

“That was one time.”

“And shrunk your own sweater so small it fits Owen.”

“Okay, twice.”

“And somehow managed to get grass stains on clothes that were already clean. How many times was that?”

Fallon reached the bed and perched on the edge. “I can learn from my mistakes.”

“Mmm.” Riley’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she set down the shirt. “And what exactly have you learned so far?”

“That watching you fold clothes is incredibly sexy.” Fallon’s hand found Riley’s wrist, her thumb tracing lazy circles over her pulse point. “The way your hands move…”

“Only you could make folding laundry sound seductive.”

Fallon leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Want me to show you what else I’ve learned?”

“Does it have anything to do with this pile of clothes?”

“Maybe. The more I shrink, the less you wear.”

“I see. So, that’s your master plan? Shrink my clothes to get me naked?”

“Will it work?” Fallon asked.

Riley shook her head affectionately. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

Fallon grinned. “Interested?”

“I might be,” Riley said, setting aside the half-folded shirt. “Depends on how convincing you can be.”

Fallon took the opening, sliding closer until their thighs touched. “I can be very convincing.”

“I’m open to your arguments,” Riley whispered, challenge dancing in her eyes.

Fallon cupped Riley’s face, her thumbs caressing her cheekbones. The teasing banter melted away as their eyes locked. Fallon leaned in, brushing her lips against Riley’s tenderly.

“Convinced yet?” Fallon asked.

Riley’s answer was to wind her fingers through Fallon’s hair and pull her into a deeper kiss. The laundry pile shifted as Fallon moved closer, sending a cascade of neatly folded clothes tumbling to the floor.

“Your housekeeping skills leave a bit to be desired,” Riley breathed.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Fallon promised, guiding Riley back onto the bed, the forgotten laundry now scattered beneath them. She hovered above her, drinking in the sight of Riley’s flushed cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Fallon whispered.

“Fallon.”

Fallon lowered herself slowly, pressing kisses along Riley’s jaw, down the column of her throat.

Riley sighed, her hands finding purchase on Fallon’s shoulders. “Is this part of your laundry lesson?" Riley asked, sighing when Fallon found a sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“This is the advanced course,” Fallon replied, lifting Riley’s shirt. “It’s very hands-on.”

Fallon’s lips discovered each inch of newly revealed skin. “I love laundry,” she whispered.

Riley giggled even as she pulled Fallon closer. “You’re ridiculous,” Riley murmured as her hands worked at the buttons of Fallon’s shirt.

“Ridiculously in love with you,” Fallon said, catching Riley’s lower lip between her teeth gently.

Riley’s breath hitched as Fallon’s hands mapped the familiar territory of her body reverently. Every touch was deliberate, as if Fallon were memorizing her all over again.

“Let me,” Riley whispered. She gently pressed Fallon’s shoulders until their positions reversed. She straddled Fallon’s hips, her hair falling like a curtain around them. “My turn to be convincing.”

Fallon’s eyes darkened as Riley’s fingers traced patterns across her collarbone, down to the hollow of her throat.

“You don’t need to convince me of anything,” Fallon said.

“No?” Riley’s lips replaced her fingers, pressing soft kisses along the same path. “What if I want to?”

The question hung between them, loaded with promise. Fallon’s hands found Riley’s hips, her fingertips stroking the soft skin just above her waistband.

Riley lifted herself and shimmied out of her jeans, then swiftly tugged Fallon’s shirt. “Off,” she demanded.

Fallon sat up enough to discard her shirt and help Riley remove her jeans.

As soon as Fallon was naked, Riley pressed her back onto the bed. Their movements became a slow dance of give and take, each touch building on the last.

Riley’s hands explored the familiar landscape of Fallon’s body with renewed purpose. Her fingers traced delicate patterns over every curve and dip. When she reached the sensitive spot just below Fallon’s hipbone, Fallon arched beneath her touch.

“Riley,” Fallon breathed. “I need you.”

“I know,” Riley whispered. She pressed a trail of kisses down Fallon’s torso, pausing at the freckles and scars she knew by heart. Her tongue flicked across Fallon’s nipple. Just enough to make Fallon gasp.

“Riley. Jesus.”

Fallon’s fingers tangled in Riley’s hair as Riley continued her exploration. Each kiss became more deliberate than the last. When Riley’s mouth found the junction of her thighs, Fallon’s hips lifted instinctively.

“Please,” Fallon whispered. Color bled from the edges of her vision until only Riley remained—the warmth of her mouth, the sure pressure of her fingers, the devotion in every touch.