Falling for Summer by Bridget Essex Page A

combed through her long, lanky brown hair with her fingers and put it up in a nicer ponytail, and she reapplied her mascara.  She didn’t normally wear makeup, but she’d put on mascara this morning, and she’d tossed the tube of it in her purse, so why the heck not put on more, she’d thought. 
    Meeting Jo’s date was a big deal, after all.  Jo went on a lot of dates.  Jo was just…like that.  She was charming and funny and she had the confidence of a world leader, so of course the ladies were attracted to her, and she ended up going on quite a few dates with quite a few different women.  So for her to actually call up Max and ask her to meet this date, the woman that Jo had just met last week…Jo must be serious .  And a serious Jo?  That hadn’t happened since Alexandra, five years ago.  And Alex had broken Jo’s heart.
    So Max got out of the car, locking it behind her, and tugged down on her jacket, running her hand through her ponytail as she stared up at the half-lit sign for the Malibu.  If the sign was to be believed, it was really called the “M li u.”  They hadn’t changed the sign’s bulbs since Jo and Max had started going to the diner about twenty years ago, when the word had been complete and readable.  After all, they didn’t need to change the bulbs—the regulars at the Malibu knew it for the good, greasy food and the great diner coffee, and the cute retro booths that Jo and Max always liked so much, and with or without the sign properly lit, the place was pretty much always packed.
    Jo was in their usual booth at the back of the diner, and Max waved to her from the doorway when she walked in.  Jo slid out of the booth, stood and grinned at her, her hip jutting out a little to the side at a cocky angle.  Jo had obviously gone all out for dinner.  She was wearing her close-cropped black hair swept a little to the side, which made her look mischievous.  Her leather jacket was hung up on the little hook between booths, and her navy blue plaid button down shirt had actually been ironed.  Or, knowing Jo, it was made out of that kind of fabric that didn’t need ironing. 
    Either way, she looked good, her wide, infectious grin widening even further as Max trotted over to her and enveloped her shorter best friend in a quick, tight hug.  Jo hugged back just as tightly, and then, with her arm snaked around the small of Max’s back, Jo flopped Max around so that the booth was in front of the two of them.
    “Max, I want you to meet my new girlfriend,” said Jo triumphantly, the buttons on her plaid shirt now in danger of bursting, her chest was puffed up so much with pride.  “Fiona, this is Max—my best friend in all this world, and a great lady.  Max, this is Fiona.”
    Max’s breath caught in her throat as she took the woman’s hand.  Time seemed to slow down, and the air crackled between them.
    Time slowed down…and stood still.
    When Max had woken up, the day had stretched before her as it always did.  Get up, eat breakfast, drive to work, get to work.  Work.  Go home.  Go to sleep.  There was nothing in it that had marked this span of twenty-four hours as anything other than utterly ordinary or normal or as dull as usual.  But as Max looked at this woman, as time stood still, Max’s heartbeat thundering in her chest, she knew that somehow, unexpectedly, things had changed.  The day was no longer normal.
    She hadn’t been expecting this .
    Fiona had bright red hair, what looked like very curly bright red hair, held by a lot of bobby pins and clips to her head.  Her bright green eyes sparkled as she smiled and took Max’s hand.  The corners of her mouth turned up impishly…she had the kind of smile that if you saw it across the room, you wouldn’t even realize that you were smiling, too, but then you would be.  She was wearing a plunging blue v-neck sweater that showed a great deal of gorgeous, curving chest, and tight black pants, and as Max took Fiona’s