Fire and Water Read online

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Diane blushed, pressing her tongue against her cheek in embarrassment.

  Michelle laughed, propping herself up on her elbow. “That’s the defense you’re going with?”

  “I don’t swear,” Diane said sternly, fighting a smirk.

  “You’re right,” Michelle said, circling a teasing finger around Diane’s nipple, “you don’t swear—you only yell the mother of all curse words, apparently, when you have a woman between your legs.”

  Diane laughed amusingly and rolled her tongue around in her mouth, nudging Michelle with her shoulder. “Are you finished?”

  “Not until you acknowledge that dirty mouth of yours.”

  “Fine,” Diane laughed again and flipped towards Michelle, skimming a loving touch along Michelle’s face. “I swore. But only because you made me do it.”

  “Oh, really?” It was Michelle’s turn to laugh as she pushed Diane back onto the bed and rolled on top of her. She planted a hot kiss on Diane’s lips.

  “Yes, it was all your fault,” Diane defended herself with a smile. She stared at the woman above her, Michelle’s eyes dark and full of intriguing mischief. She brushed Michelle’s warm, bare skin with a delicate stroke of her fingers, regarding her with an adoring gaze. “I’m completely innocent in all this.”

  “Trust me, there’s nothing innocent about you, honey,” Michelle purred, lowering herself to Diane’s breast. She wrapped her lips around Diane’s nipple and sucked hard, causing Diane to pull in a sharp breath. “And I’ll prove it—again and again and again.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sunlight struck the open acres of farmland, turning the green patches, coated in early morning frost, into prisms of sparkling color. Autumn in Vermont sure knew how to shine. Tearing her eyes from Michelle’s kitchen window, Diane scooped a generous cup of pancake batter from the mixing bowl and plopped it onto the hot skillet. The sizzling scent of pumpkin, cinnamon, and brown sugar drifted into the air in curls of wispy white steam. Diane smiled. For once, she made a batch of pancakes into perfect, shapely circles. For someone so well versed in the kitchen, pancakes were the bane of her baking existence—always asymmetrical, doughy, or tragically burnt. Pressing her elbow on her hip, Diane looked down, clasping a spatula with satisfaction, as breakfast baked beautifully.

  And her audience agreed.

  Diane smiled down at Asher, as he parked himself right underfoot. Pink nose twitching. Puffy gray tail flicking beggingly like a dog.

  “This isn’t for you, Ash,” Diane chuckled. “You do look cute when you beg…just not as cute as your mom. Or as sexy. So, she gets rewarded with all the pancakes.”

  Asher, perhaps realizing his precious feline energy was being wasted on a fruitless endeavor, trotted off into the other room, and plopped himself in the sun. Wise decision.

  The sun was abundant this morning, and the sky a cloudless blue. Diane stirred at first light and, with Michelle still sleeping and snoring lightly, she didn’t have the heart to wake her. Those soft, endearing snorts and mumbles Michelle made in her sleep were too adorable to disturb. She’d looked so peaceful—even with her hair sex-frazzled and tangled atop her head and pillow. Kissing Michelle tenderly on her messy head, Diane breathed in her pleasant warmth and threw on one of Michelle’s sweatshirts and leggings, she found folded neatly on her dresser, and padded downstairs.

  The truth was however, Diane would’ve loved the extra sleep, as she’d rather enjoyed the comfort and company of a woman beside her in bed. Enjoyed her arm languorously slung over Michelle, their bare bodies curled tightly and affectionately together. She couldn’t recall a better night’s sleep. But once she’d awoken, Diane was too high on endorphins, energized by how extraordinary being with Michelle made her feel. How everything about Michelle made her feel. Flipping the pancakes, a grin as sweet and sappy as syrup settled on Diane’s face. No, there was no going back to sleep now. Diane was wide awake, full of energy, and she’d never felt so—

  “Wow,” Michelle interjected from across the room. Crossing her arms, she leaned on the wall with a smirk. “Something looks very good in my kitchen this morning.”

  “Good morning,” Diane said, pivoting with a smile. Her eyes fell on Michelle, landing on her denim button down and those tight, black jeans which always made Michelle’s backside look utterly firm and squeezable. Diane turned attention back to the pancakes with a blush. “You hungry?”

  “How could I not be?” Michelle asked, coming upon Diane, she wrapped her arms around Diane’s waist and peppered her neck with kisses, peeking over her shoulder. “Those smell amazing. Pumpkin?”

  “You are correct,” Diane said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Not at all. I’ve got to open shop in an hour, anyway,” Michelle said. Planting another quick kiss on Diane, Michelle crossed the room and settled at the console table near the hallway. She grabbed the milk crate sitting on the floor underneath the table and flipped through a stack of vinyl records. “You mind if I put some music on?” she asked. “I always like music while I eat.”

  “Please do.”

  “Any preferences?”

  “None. Anything you’d like.”

  Stacking the finished pancakes on a plate, Diane carried the food and a pitcher of orange juice to the table, the top of which she cleaned off and set with plates, glasses, and silverware earlier. A jug of Vermont maple syrup served as a centerpiece. Taking a seat, Diane watched as Michelle flipped through her music collection and waited for Michelle to join her.

  “I would’ve guessed your generation would prefer Spotify over old school albums,” Diane teased, resting her chin on her fist. “Color me impressed.”

  “We just haven’t killed the record industry yet,” Michelle said, glancing back at Diane with an annoyed snicker.

  “I see.”

  “We’re still working on murdering fabric softener and golf courses and napkins.”

  “Not napkins,” Diane said, feigning horror with a smirk. “You millenials have no shame.”

  “But we blessed you with avocado toast.”

  “True,” Diane chuckled. “Consider yourself exonerated.”

  “Good,” Michelle laughed too and slid an album from the jacket and placed it on the player, setting the needle down softly. The soothing guitar and iconic vocals filled the kitchen, as Michelle danced her way back to the table. “The real reason I own records is because they were my parents’.”

  Diane’s face fell. “Oh.”

  “It makes me feel close to them, having their music around to listen to, and then, I preferred the sound of records after a while.”

  Diane smiled. “I’m happy you have those mementos of them.”

  “Me, too. And besides that, in case you haven’t noticed,” Michelle said, sauntering closer to Diane, “I kind of have a thing for the classics.”

  Diane titled her head back with a laugh. “Is that your way of calling me old?”

  “Not at all.” Michelle wrapped her arms around Diane’s shoulders and kissed her head. “It’s my way of calling you gorgeous.”

  Diane hummed in pleasure. “Go on.”

  “And timeless.” Michelle tilted Diane’s head and kissed her neck. “And someone I can’t take my hands off of.”

  “In that case,” Diane said bending her head further, giving into Michelle’s affections, “you can call me classic anytime you’d like.”

  “Dance with me,” Michelle commanded roughly in her ear, tugging Diane out of her seat and into her arms. “This song’s my favorite.”

  “I do love Van Morrison,” Diane smiled, latching onto Michelle’s arms, as Michelle pulled their bodies close together. “You’ve got some good taste in music.”

  “Thank you. Apparently, I have good taste in clothes, too,” Michelle noted, raising a brow as she inspected Diane’s attire.

  “I’m sorry,” Diane said, as Michelle held her tightly, swaying to the music. “I noticed it on your dresser, I didn’
t want to throw on my dirty clothes from last night.”

  “You definitely won’t get any complaints from me.” Michelle kissed Diane’s cheek, her hands resting possessively on her. “As much as I like seeing you out of clothes entirely, I like seeing you in mine just as much.”

  A rush of warmth swept up Diane’s body, and she matched Michelle’s intense gaze with her own, as their bodies moved with the beats. “Are you sure you’re not the writer here,” she toyed, “you seem rather quick with these charming lines.”

  “I can’t help it if you bring it out in me.”

  The music played on, flowing with sounds of gentle guitar and mellow vocals, and they danced. Closely. Tenderly. In each other’s arms. It was a simple moment, but without a doubt the most romantic one of Diane’s life, needing nothing more than each other and the beautiful song, urging them on.

  They kissed softly. Diane stretched out the contact, dragging her bottom lip across Michelle’s mouth with a needy sigh. She could feel the heat rising in her, the one she was bathed in last night as they made love to each other, over and over again. As if Michelle could sense Diane’s need, she pushed her tongue into Diane’s mouth. Gently. Just enough. Just enough to make Diane’s legs sweep away from underneath her, until she felt like she was falling, completely letting go for once in her life, and falling deeper and deeper under Michelle’s spell.

  “I’d love to see you again,” Michelle said, skimming her fingers along Diane’s jaw. She made no effort concealing her desire, keeping her eyes firmly on Diane.

  “Would you?” Diane asked, lifting a flirtatious brow.

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Where would you be whisking me off to this time?” Diane asked. “Some place where I’ll be required to perform again.”

  “No. I promise,” she said. “Shawn’s throwing a dinner party this weekend at his place. A small thing, nothing big. Just him and his boyfriend. I’d love it if you’d join me.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready to see me again so soon,” Diane teased, “you haven’t even tasted my morning-after pancakes yet.”

  “I haven’t, no,” Michelle laughed deeply. “But something tells me I’d enjoy the flavor just as much as other things of yours I’ve tasted.”

  “Michelle St. Gelais,” Diane gasped and smacked Michelle’s arm playfully. “Did that really just come out of your mouth?”

  “It did, and I’m taking that as a yes.” Michelle kissed her. “Let’s eat.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The moment arrived unexpectedly. Closing her laptop, Diane collapsed against the patio chair with an elated sigh and stared across the lake. Even as the tepid temperatures faded fast those last couple of weeks, Diane still enjoyed writing outdoors. Champlain was pristinely quiet that morning. Smooth and calm. Marbled with an autumn palate of slate blues and grays. The landscape was sublime. Dreaming of this moment her entire life, Diane envisioned hundreds of scenarios. Evoked every emotion she could possibly feel. After hustling after this for so long, there were times Diane thought maybe it would always stay that way—in her mind, trapped in fantasy. But the moment was here. Diane arrived. And it’d felt better than she’d ever imagined.

  Her book was complete.

  Over a hundred thousand words. Several years. And a lifetime of longing, Diane had done it. Placing her hands over her mouth in disbelief, Diane stared at the two, elusive words she’d been chasing after. There they were, finally staring straight back at her.

  The end.

  Pure exhilaration thrust Diane from her seat and, throwing her arms towards the sky, she projected her voice across the lake like a rocket, fiery and fierce.

  “I wrote a book,” Diane yelled. She gripped the deck railings as she hollered, pushing herself on her tip-toes. “Did you hear that? A whole fucking book!”

  Diane blushed as the explicative shot freely from her. She wasn’t sure who she was yelling to. Herself. The world. Anyone. Or perhaps it was a spiteful shout to her ex wherever the hell she was with her hardened heart. And if Michelle were there, sharing that moment with her, she’d be so proud—or jealous there was something else besides her talented tongue which coaxed that curse word from Diane’s mouth. Throwing her head back, Diane laughed at that notion and filled her lungs with the brisk autumn air, catching a determined vee of wild geese, migrating across the sky.

  Lord, she’d never felt like this before.

  So phenomenally good. This whole experience in Vermont was a spiritual liberation—freeing herself from the hurt and animosity from her divorce, the infectious mediocracy and depreciation her marriage scarred her with. The completion of her book was another weight lifted off her, a tangible piece of her hard-fought healing. What a long, difficult and rewarding journey it’d been—but Diane knew, it was far from over.

  The sound of Diane’s phone from behind pulled her out of her reverie, and she looked down at the screen, seeing the very face she’d wanted in that celebratory moment.

  “Well, hello there,” Diane said. She wrapped her sweater around herself tightly and leaned up against the deck, answering with a smile. “You must be a mind reader.”

  “Hey, babe,” Maureen laughed. “Unfortunately, mind reading is not one of my fabulous talents. Why, what’s up?”

  “You’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”

  “Am I?” Maureen teased. “Based on our last conversation, I’d thought your lips would be busy doing something else, too occupied to want to talk to me.”

  Diane laughed, shrouding her reddened face with her hand. “Why do I tell you things?”

  “Because I’m your best friend and you love me, and you know I live off of hearing about your wild sexcapades.”

  Diane let out a deep laugh. “Sexcapades?” she exclaimed. “You certainly have a vivid imagination.”

  “You’re telling me, since the last time we talked,” Maureen said, incredulously, “when you were dousing yourself with the kitchen faucet, mind you, that nothing escalated between you two?”

  Grabbing her laptop, Diane retreated back inside and allowed Maureen’s accusation to stew before she answered. It wasn’t that Diane didn’t want to tell Maureen what had happened between her and Michelle. But it was still fresh. Still new. Still…uncertain. Was there anything to say? It was only one night—one fantastic, amazing, and unforgettable night. Or would admitting everything aloud somehow make her emotions too real. Because as much as Diane tried not thinking about Michelle and their time spent together, that’s all she had done those past few days, her feelings for Michelle becoming undeniable and deeper than she’d ever planned for.

  “Is there a particular reason you called?” Diane asked, steering the conversation away from that topic. She pulled out the tea kettle and filled it with water, placing it on the stove. “Or simply only to harass and embarrass me?”

  “Both?”

  Diane turned the stove on with a chuckle. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” Maureen said. “Which is why I am calling. Just checking up on you. Seeing if you were still on schedule to come home this week as scheduled.”

  “Oh.” Diane paused. “Actually, speaking of which, I finished my book.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, right before you called.” Diane smiled as she plucked her favorite ginger and lemon tea and a mug from the cabinet.

  “Why the hell didn’t you start with that?!”

  Diane laughed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Diane!” Maureen screamed. “Congratulations. I’m so freakin’ proud of you.”

  Diane blushed. “Thank you.”

  “So, how does it feel?”

  Diane sighed. “Surreal. Amazing. Like, I’m floating,” she said. “But mostly, honestly, I feel like an utter rock star.”

  “As you should,” Maureen chuckled. “So, what happens next? What are your plans? This means you are coming home this week, right?”

  That was the original plan. But after Maureen asked her, Diane took
a surprising pause in responding. For a woman who followed plans and schedules her entire life, why was it distressing sticking to one now? Diane knew the reason. Michelle. Her vibrant neighbor came into her life and challenged her beliefs, making Diane realize how darn good it felt living in the moment. Surrendering to passion. Romance. Spontaneous happiness. Parts of her life Diane missed out on and put aside for far too long. The thought of returning to Florida, and abandoning those things now, made a sinking feeling settle into Diane’s stomach.

  “Not to be a bubble buster,” Maureen continued, “but there’s still work to be done even with your book completed, yes? The spring semester on campus just around the corner.”

  “It is.” Diane massaged her forehead, tension building between her brows.

  “When’s your reappointment package due?”

  “February,” Diane groaned. “God, I haven’t given that any thought recently.”

  “You should. I know you better than anyone, Dee,” Maureen said. “And as much fun as you’re having up there, which I totally support by the way, I don’t want you realizing how much work you’ve got and come back home more overwhelmed and stressed than you left. Otherwise, what would be the point of Vermont to begin with?”

  Maureen was right. A flood of panic washed over Diane. She paced the room, as a to-do list a mile long formulated in the forefront of her mind. There were agent queries to send out. Syllabi to revise for next semester. Text books to choose. Department emails to catch up on. And yes, her reappointment evaluation which was swiftly approaching. Diane loved the liberating feeling and emotional restart she’d received in Vermont, but the thought of being unorganized and ill-prepared and unplanned for the life she needed to return to made Diane feel incredibly unbalanced. Finishing her book wasn’t the time to be whimsical and flighty. Practicality needed to be Diane’s number one focus. There was so much to do and so little time left of her sabbatical.

  “You’re right,” Diane admitted. Stopping in her tracks and snapping herself out of her thoughts, Diane hurried to the stove, hearing the howling whistle of the kettle and removed it from the heat. “I made a plan, and I need to stick with it. For my own sanity.”