Page 1

CHAPTER ONE

OLIVIA

This is a bad idea.

Heart thudding, I peered through the door adorned with rainbow flags. A group of people sat by a table near the window, looking like they’d stepped out of a queer clothing ad: flannel shirts, button-ups, piercings, tats, and stylish hairstyles.

I looked down at my tan coat, floral jumpsuit, and brown boots. Oh dear. I should come back later, once I’d had a chance to buy a whole new wardrobe and visit a hairdresser. Or not at all. The whole thing was stupid.

Someone cleared their throat behind me. “Are you going in?”

My stomach somersaulted. I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself. Olivia, you’ve been planning this for weeks. Just do it. The clock is ticking. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

“Do you need help opening the door?” The woman’s voice, smooth and calm, gave nothing away. She was either genuinely concerned about my door-opening abilities, or she was just getting impatient.

“No. Sorry.” I pushed the door open, keeping my head facing forward in case the sight of her weakened my resolve to go through with my plan.

Inside, the smell of stale alcohol and the low hum of chatter hit me. Now that I was actually doing this, a buzz of excitement mixed with my nerves, sending my stomach swirling. Trying to exude confidence, I walked with purpose to the bar. I passed the five stylish patrons at the window. To my disappointment, they didn’t look up. Another group of people were gathered around the pool table, laughing. A few couples were seated at the bar. I didn’t recognize anyone. Thank God. Sure, my hometown, Sapphire Springs, might be over thirty minutes away, but Pryde was the only queer bar in the Hudson Valley south of Poughkeepsie—at least the only one I knew that did “Sapphic Saturdays.”

I chose a bar stool away from the couples and clambered onto the high leather seat. Losing my balance, my butt slipped on the smooth surface. I grabbed the dark wooden counter to steady myself just in time and exhaled. Falling on my ass was not part of my plan.

Okay. What now? In my fantasies, a hot queer woman would approach me and strike up a conversation, but now I was here, that prospect seemed less likely. Everyone in the bar was engrossed with their lovers or friends.

Someone slid onto the bar stool two seats down from me. My heartbeat quickened. They were alone. Perhaps waiting for someone? I swallowed, unable to make eye contact. I needed a few minutes to regain my composure before attempting to start up a conversation with a stranger.

I picked up a drinks menu from the counter and stared at it intently, taking nothing in. Sweat pricked under my arms. Fumbling, I unbuttoned my coat and pulled it off. Now, what to do with it? I ran my hand under the bar, smiling when it hit a hook. I bent down and draped my coat over it. The coat fell onto the ground. Sighing, I clambered off the stool, bending down to place it more carefully over the hook. At least since no one was paying me any attention, there was no one to witness my butt sticking in the air.

As I went to stand, my head smashed against the counter. Pain tore through my skull. I took a deep breath, readying myself to climb back onto the stool. I stopped still as my gaze fell on the woman who’d taken a seat near me.

I noticed her clothes first. She’d also missed the dress code. A tailored, navy-blue suit flattered her slim, tall frame. Her jacket was open, and underneath was a white business shirt, unbuttoned part-way down her chest. A hint of cleavage was just visible.

My gaze wandered up, taking in her full lips, high cheekbones, and short blond hair, which was parted on her left side and flopped across her forehead above her piercing blue eyes—piercing blue eyes that were staring directly at me.

Shit. Stop gawking Liv.

She was exactly the sort of woman who’d always turned my head. Androgynous. Older than me. Self-assured. But was it sexual attraction I felt, or just a platonic appreciation for a beautiful woman? I usually hated suits—almost all of my encounters with them had been extremely negative—but somehow I didn’t mind this one. In fact, I might have even liked the suit. On her.

Her intense eyes narrowed.

Heat flushed my cheeks. Fuck. She’d clearly caught me ogling at her and wasn’t pleased.

“Are you okay?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oh god. I recognized that voice. This striking woman was the person who’d witnessed me hesitating outside the bar only minutes earlier.

“Um, yes, sorry,” I mumbled. I couldn’t exactly tell her I’d been mesmerized by her androgynous beauty.

“Why are you apologizing? You hit your head, not mine. Or are you concussed?” she asked.

Thank god . She’d been asking if my head was okay, not calling me out for staring at her. Except—my cheeks flamed even hotter—she must have witnessed me fumbling around under the counter with my butt in the air.

“Oh, no. I’m fine, thanks.” I ran my fingers through my hair and then focused my efforts on getting back on the stool without slipping off again.

“I’m not usually this clumsy. It must just be nerves,” I babbled, wincing as the words left my mouth. Very smooth, Olivia.

“Nerves? Are you waiting for a date?” She raised an eyebrow again, her voice silky.

“No…” I said, my mouth dry. I’d bet my best peonies that it hadn’t taken watching Michelle Pfeiffer slinking around on the screen as Catwoman as a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old for her to start questioning her sexuality—and another seventeen years to get around to actually exploring it. She’d probably been born knowing her sexual orientation.

To my relief, the woman didn’t press me further. Instead, she waved down the butch bartender.“I’ll have a double Woodford Reserve, neat, thank you.”

The bartender nodded and turned to me. “And anything for you?”

“Um,” I grabbed the menu, picking the first thing my eyes fell upon. “A negroni, thanks.”

“Good choice.” The woman tilted her head, her eyes lingering on me. “Are you from around here?”

Huh. I hadn’t expected her to keep up the conversation, especially given how lackluster my contributions had been so far. Perhaps she felt sorry for me?

“Um, fairly close.” I wanted to protect my anonymity for the time being. “You?”

She shook her head. “I live in Manhattan. I’m just here visiting my parents and needed… to get out of the house.”

I grimaced. I’d had to move back in with my parents a few times in my twenties, and as much as I loved them, I’d found it a struggle not having my own space. Thank god those days were behind me.

The bartender placed my negroni in front of me, the red liquid lapping against the rim of the glass. “Would you like to start a tab?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll settle this one now.” My wallet was in my coat pocket, so I bent down to unhook my coat, one hand clutching the counter for stability.

“This one’s on me.”

I straightened up just as the woman handed over a fancy-looking Amex to the bartender. “No, that’s okay–”

“To avoid any further head injuries,” the woman said. “I don’t think Brenda wants to have to fill out an incident report.”

“Brenda?” I frowned.

The woman nodded toward the bartender, who was swiping the Amex at the other end of the bar. “Her name is Brenda.”

“Ah. Do you come here often?” I cringed. Could I sound any more clichéd?

“No, just when I’m visiting my parents and need to get my mother off my back. She’ll stop bothering me for the rest of the weekend now that I’ve made an appearance at a queer bar.”

I took a sip of my drink and stared at the woman. I couldn’t quite imagine her having a mother who harassed her into going to a queer bar.

“She’s very eager for me to move here, settle down and have kids.” The woman pursed her mouth.

“Ah, so you’re here looking for a wife?” I asked, a teasing tone to my voice. I twisted on my seat to face her more fully, surprised by my growing comfort.

“Are you volunteering?” She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curving up.

I laughed. “I think we should get to know each other first a little, don’t you?” Either this woman’s company was putting me at ease, or the negroni was. Possibly both.

“Probably,” she said. “But before you start planning our wedding, I should let you know it’s only my parents who want me to find a wife. I’m happily single.”

“Damn! I’d already chosen a color scheme,” I said, pouting.

“My bad.” The woman grimaced and took a swig of her whiskey.

I tilted my head. “So you just make an appearance here to appease your mom and then head home?”

She nodded. “I usually nurse a drink at the bar while I do some work and then wait until it’s safe for me to drive home again.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said, the corners of my mouth twitching. “But not tonight?”

Had she changed her usual anti-social routine to speak to me? I edged slightly closer to her on my seat. Over the scent of stale booze and greasy food, I caught a hint of cedar. Was that her? I resisted the urge to lean in farther to find out.

The woman’s blue eyes flickered for a moment, and then she smirked. “No, not tonight. After witnessing your head injury, for medical reasons I thought it was best to strike up a conversation with you, to ensure you remained lucid.”

I snorted. While she was clearly joking, was she a doctor? My gaze dropped to her hands, taking in her long, slender fingers and short, unpolished nails. She wasn’t a manual laborer, that was for sure. An image of those fingers lightly trailing down my back flickered into my mind, sending a shiver down my spine. I blinked. Straight women wouldn’t have these types of thoughts, would they?

Brenda returned, handing the Amex back to its owner. Her elegant index finger and thumb clamped down on her credit card, then she slid it into a pocket on her phone case.

Stop gawking at her fingers, Liv. She’s going to think you’re a creep.

As she snapped the case shut, I caught a glimpse of a photo of a young blond girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to her. Was it her daughter? Maybe she was divorced, and that was why she was so anti-marriage.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’ll get the next one.”

“Fine. As long as I can hand you your coat.” While her delivery was deadpan, there was a twinkle in the woman’s eye. She shifted her body so she was facing me, and the scent of cedar grew stronger. So it is her.

“We’ll see. You might be falling off your chair soon too.” I grinned and nodded at her glass which contained a very generous pour of whiskey. “I’m Olivia, by the way.”

“Roz,” she replied then raised her glass, those intense blue eyes focused directly on mine. “Cheers.”

Roz’s soft, full lips pressed against the glass, and a flicker of heat licked my core. Oh god. That definitely did not feel platonic.

“Cheers!” I said, taking a larger-than-intended gulp of my negroni.

As the alcohol warmed my throat, I glanced around the room again. Roz was clearly being polite, probably having taken pity on me after witnessing my ineptitude. While she was intriguing and attractive, was her presence scaring off potential suitors who might actually be interested in me? I resisted the urge to chuckle at my own thoughts. Other suitors? This isn’t the 1800s, Liv. My scan of the room didn’t identify any eligible options in any event.

A ring-tone brought my attention back to Roz. She whipped a phone out of her pocket and glowered at it.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes, just work,” Roz replied, pursing her lips.

“On a Saturday night?” I frowned.

“Yes, unfortunately, in my line of work I’m on call twenty-four seven. I was in a video conference earlier today, trying to resolve something. It appears things have unraveled again.” Roz slipped off the bar stool. “I need to take this. Wait for me.”

She turned and strode out of the bar.

Her words rang in my ears. Wait for me . Usually, I’d bristle at someone giving me directions like that, especially in her clipped tone, but instead my neck tingled.

I gazed after her, my eyes lingering on her firm-looking butt encased in navy suit pants that looked like they’d been tailored especially for her. They probably were. Everything about Roz screamed expensive.

Roz wasn’t giving me doctor vibes anymore. Now it was more like political-fixer or ruthless-CEO energy. Something told me I wouldn’t want to go up against this woman in a work context.

“First date?”

I jumped in my seat, turning to find Brenda, the bartender, smiling at me over the counter.

Heat warmed my face. “Um, no. We don’t know each other.”

“You will soon if you two keep up with that flirting,” Brenda said, her smile even wider. “It’s very cute—not that I’m eavesdropping or anything.”

I stared. Flirting? We hadn’t been flirting. Had we? I ran through our interactions in my head. I certainly found her interesting… and attractive, possibly in a sexual way. Shit. Had it been that obvious?

Had Roz been flirting with me ? There had been a definite note of teasing to her voice. She’d said she was happily single, but perhaps she was looking for something more casual. Or just playing with me.

My pulse jumped as the door to the bar opened, and Roz stepped inside, striding over to me. A shiver of nervous anticipation rushed down my spine.

I twisted my body to face Roz as she sat down. “Is everything alri— shit !”

As I turned, my elbow collided with my negroni, sending it skidding across the smooth wood of the bar at an alarming speed. My chest clenched. I shot out my hand to try to stop it, but I wasn’t fast enough. It flew off the counter, splashing over Roz’s shirt and pants before landing in her crotch.

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry.”

Roz’s previously white shirt clung to her small breasts and flat stomach, stained a reddish brown. The outline of her bra was visible underneath. Oh god, I think it’s soaked her bra as well.

I blinked.

Stop staring at her chest, and do something, Olivia.

I grabbed the napkin Brenda had served with my drink. I reached out, almost patting Roz’s chest directly before I came to my senses and handed it to her instead.

Roz, who had frozen for a moment, took the napkin and began to dab herself.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I repeated.

She pursed her lips. “I’ll chalk that up to the head injury.”

“I usually have a spare t-shirt in the car, just in case I get dirty while I’m working. I’ll go grab it.”

“Dirty while you’re working?” Roz raised an eyebrow. Was there something slightly suggestive in the way “dirty” had rolled off her tongue? “But yes, if you have a spare t-shirt, that would be appreciated.” She stared down at her soaked torso.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a moment.” I slipped off the bar stool.

Roz placed the napkin on the bar. “I’ll head to the restroom to clean myself up.”

I jogged outside to my car parked on the dark street, breathing out a sigh of relief as I opened the trunk and spotted my t-shirt poking out of a bag in the corner. I pulled it out of the bag and gave it a sniff. Thankfully, all I could smell was the faint scent of laundry detergent.

I pushed open the door of the bar to find Roz’s seat still empty, so I headed for the restroom. There I found her standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, patting a half white, half brown-splattered bra with paper towels. I took in her toned, pale upper body and the curves of her breasts. My heart stuttered. Okay, surely that wasn’t the reaction of a straight woman.Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“Um, here’s the shirt,” I said, trying to avert my eyes while throwing her the top. It was a shocking throw, and it was only thanks to Roz’s quick reflexes that she caught it before it landed in the overflowing trashcan behind her. Roz shook out the t-shirt and inspected it, her eyebrows shooting up.

A twinge of defensiveness needled my chest. “Sorry. I don’t keep any formal shirts in my car.” Or anywhere else, for that matter.

“Are you serious?” Roz continued staring at the shirt.

I frowned. It wasn’t as fancy as her negroni-splattered shirt, but surely it was fine as a temporary solution.

Roz held the t-shirt out so I could see the front.

Oh.

Heat warmed my cheeks. “Oops, sorry. I forgot it said that.”

The words I wet my plants over a pot of flowers seemed twice as big tonight. It was perfect for me to wear around Sapphire Springs as the local florist, but perhaps it wasn’t quite as funny when you’d just had a drink spilled on your chest and crotch, especially not when you were a bit fancy like Roz.

“I’d offer you my jumpsuit, but I think it would give you a wedgie,” I said, gesturing toward Roz’s extra few inches of height.

Roz pressed her lips together. “This will have to do.”

“Well, at least you’re not trying to pick anyone up tonight. And if you wanted, you could tell your mom a hot woman at the bar gave it to you. That might get her off your back for a while.” I slammed my mouth shut. I hadn’t thought through just how flirtatious that would sound.

“A hot woman?” Roz smirked.

“Well…” I dug my teeth into my lower lip.

We gazed at each other. Was it my imagination, or were her eyes smoldering?

Heat sparked low in my belly.

There was absolutely nothing platonic about that sensation.

Roz’s tongue slipped out, wetting her red, full lips. I watched, transfixed. It was only as my tongue slid back into my mouth, my lips now moist, that I realized I’d mirrored her movements.

My heart thudded.

Was I reading this situation right? Were we about to?—

Roz tossed the t-shirt on the restroom counter and stepped forward, her stunning, lean, shirtless body now only a foot from mine.

Oh god, I think this is actually happening.

Adrenaline rushed through me as Roz took another step toward me, now so close I could feel her soft, warm, whiskey-scented breath on my face and smell the hint of cedar I’d detected at the bar.

I swallowed.

“I think you’re very hot, Olivia,” Roz murmured, her voice low, “despite your terrible taste in t-shirts.”

The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

I leaned forward, my nerves overcome by a bolt of desire for the woman in front of me.

My whole body quivered as we gazed into each other’s eyes, our heads moving closer in unison, as though a magnetic force was at work.

Oh shit. There was no doubt about it. This was sexual attraction alright. And on a completely different level to anything I’d experienced.

Our lips met, and my mind tipped off a ledge.

Our tongues tangled as our hands grabbed at each other’s bodies, hers on my butt and waist, mine on her upper back and neck. I was breathless, dizzy, completely into it. Hunger roared through me. This kiss was unlike any other’.

Suddenly, my back was against the wall, Roz’s thigh pressing between my legs, sending a delicious pressure to the place that needed it most. Oh god. The need to be as close as humanly possible to this woman was all consuming. Nothing else mattered. I moaned.

An image of Roz tearing off my clothes, falling to her knees and satisfying my desires with those long, elegant fingers shot into my head, and I moaned even louder. Yes, we were in a public place, but I didn’t care. In fact, the thought of being discovered sent a small, surprising thrill of excitement shooting down my spine.

As if conjured by my fantasies, a creaking noise stilled our bodies and sent my eyelids shooting up.

The door to the restroom had opened, and a woman stood in its frame, her eyes widening as she took us in. Despite my earlier thoughts, I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I dropped my hands and Roz stepped back.

“Sorry,” said the woman as she edged into a toilet stall, averting her gaze. “Don’t mind me.”

“Perhaps we should continue this somewhere more private,” Roz murmured, swiping my t-shirt off the counter. “If you’re okay with this just being a one-night thing?”

“Yes,” I said, ignoring the urge to grin wildly and pinch myself. This gorgeous, sophisticated older woman wanted to sleep with me ?

Roz pulled my shirt over her head. Even though I was still buzzing from the kiss and from Roz’s invitation, I had to hold back a laugh.

Roz looked in the mirror and frowned. Her refined, sophisticated vibe was seriously undermined by the unfortunate pun.

The woman who’d interrupted our kiss exited the toilet stall, quickly washed her hands, and left.

I readjusted my jumpsuit, which had gotten out of alignment. “You’re more than welcome to come to my place, unless you’d rather parade me in front of your mom at your parents’ house.”

Roz snorted. “As appealing as that sounds, your place is preferable—assuming you don’t live with your parents.”

I allowed myself to grin. “Nope, I live alone.”

“Your place it is, then.”

My stomach flipped. Only an hour ago, I wasn’t even sure whether I was interested in women. Now, I’d just had the best kiss of my life and was about to take an extremely hot woman back to my apartment.

“I might just use the restroom before we head off. I’ll meet you out there?” I didn’t need to pee, but I wanted a minute to take stock.

Roz nodded and left the restroom.

I sat on the toilet seat, my mind racing. This evening was going better than my wildest dreams. Roz was perfect: attractive, older, more experienced, and only available for a one-night stand. I’d have a single, hopefully mind-blowing night with her, and then she’d go back to Manhattan. My worries about whether it was ethical to try to meet people to work out my sexuality didn’t apply here. There was no risk of leading anyone on or having them feel like I was “using them” with a mutually agreed upon one-night stand. In the—now admittedly unlikely—event I reached the conclusion I was straight after all, no feelings would be hurt. And if I was terrible in bed, I’d never have to see her again.

I exited the stall and washed my hands. Staring at my brown eyes in the mirror, I took a deep breath. “You can do this.”

I skipped back out to the bar then stopped.

My coat still hung where I’d left it, but Roz, her phone, and her jacket were nowhere to be seen.

I frowned. We hadn’t spoken about how we’d get to my place. Perhaps she’d just gone to get some things out of her car so I could drive us to my apartment and then drop her back here tomorrow.

At the bar, I looked around for Brenda, but she had disappeared. In her place was a brunette drying glasses.

“Excuse me, have you seen a tall woman with short blond hair, wearing a t-shirt that says I wet my plants, by any chance?”

The woman chuckled. “No, sorry. I definitely would’ve remembered that t-shirt if I’d seen it.”

“Thanks. Could I get a Diet Coke?” With a tightness in my chest, I slid onto my bar stool to wait.

Each time the door to the bar opened, my head shot up. With every stranger that came through, I deflated more. Had I completely misunderstood the situation? I didn’t see how I could have. Roz had very clearly proposed a one-night stand. So why had she left without a word? If she’d changed her mind, she could have at least had the decency to tell me. My grip tightened around my glass.

After another ten minutes, I stood and gathered my belongings.

Roz had vanished. And she’d stolen my t-shirt.