good together—”
“I sense a very large but coming next.” Geneva frowned.
“No…Well, let’s say I’m not turning down your offer. I’d love to spend some time with you and get better acquainted. I just don’t want to jump into something physical too soon. And first, we have to reach an understanding.”
“About?”
“You know from the dinner conversation that I’ll move on when my trips end,” Emery said gently. “This…this quest I’m on is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”
“I get that,” Geneva replied.
“I don’t make emotional attachments. It’s purely no-strings, mutual fun.”
“That’s how it is with most people I meet up here, Emery. Here and gone, back to their lives. Never see them again. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
“You strike me as the kind of woman I might hurt easily.”
“You don’t think I can do brief affairs? Why?”
Emery didn’t want to confide that Bryson had shared some of her history. She wasn’t sure how Geneva would take that, and she didn’t want to risk sharing something Bryson might have intended as confidential. She put her hand on Geneva’s cheek. “I don’t know if you can or can’t. Just a sense I get, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a tough girl. Bring it on.” Geneva looked at her with longing and resolve, and Emery melted. She always fell for the just-shut-up-and-kiss-me look women gave her now and then, so she reacted as she usually did. She brought her other hand up to cradle Geneva’s face and then, ever so sweetly, kissed her.
*
Pasha tried not to stare at the clock, and when that didn’t work, she shut off the office lights so she couldn’t see the huge one on the wall and stuck a Post-it note over the digital one on her computer. She’d get done when she got done, and she only wasted time when she wondered if Emery and the girls would still be at the Den when she finally got there.
At long last, she hit the Save button and exited the program. Holding her breath, she peeled away the Post-it. Nine-forty. Not horribly late, but well after dinner. Certainly worth a trip to see whether they had left. She shut down the PC, locked up, and trotted to the roadhouse.
With every step, she tried to tune in to her sixth sense. Would it tell her Emery was there? But it was still on a low boil. Nothing like when she and Emery had met.
She assessed the Den’s inhabitants with a quick glance. Only Grizz, the regulars, and two couples she didn’t recognize. No friends, no Emery, and Geneva conspicuously absent. Her heart sank. She nearly turned around to retreat to her apartment, but decided to drown her sorrows with a nightcap first.
As she headed toward the bar, Grizz raised his bushy eyebrows in question. She shook her head, shorthand for “the usual?” and “not tonight.” Once in a while, she changed from coffee with Kahlua if she was at the bar. When celebrating, she splurged on champagne. With a meal, she might order wine. And when she was down, she went for the hard stuff. Cognac.
“Rémy?” Grizz asked in his most sympathetic tone as he set a bowl of pretzels in front of her.
Rémy Martin had soothed some of her most troublesome days, but she was asking a lot of it tonight. She usually went for the VSOP, but tonight she’d splurge. “XO.”
Grizz let out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”
“Bitch of a day. The phone drove me batty and I only now finished the paperwork.”
“’Nuff said. You eaten?” he asked with a paternal tone as he set her drink to her left.
Pasha picked up the snifter and swirled it to admire the thin reddish-gold wave that climbed the sides, considering his question. As her palm warmed the brandy, she drifted it under her nose to inhale its familiar floral-fruity aroma. She’d barely eaten anything all day, come to think of it. Too busy, and too preoccupied every free second with thoughts of Emery. She should be starving, but food
“I sense a very large but coming next.” Geneva frowned.
“No…Well, let’s say I’m not turning down your offer. I’d love to spend some time with you and get better acquainted. I just don’t want to jump into something physical too soon. And first, we have to reach an understanding.”
“About?”
“You know from the dinner conversation that I’ll move on when my trips end,” Emery said gently. “This…this quest I’m on is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”
“I get that,” Geneva replied.
“I don’t make emotional attachments. It’s purely no-strings, mutual fun.”
“That’s how it is with most people I meet up here, Emery. Here and gone, back to their lives. Never see them again. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
“You strike me as the kind of woman I might hurt easily.”
“You don’t think I can do brief affairs? Why?”
Emery didn’t want to confide that Bryson had shared some of her history. She wasn’t sure how Geneva would take that, and she didn’t want to risk sharing something Bryson might have intended as confidential. She put her hand on Geneva’s cheek. “I don’t know if you can or can’t. Just a sense I get, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a tough girl. Bring it on.” Geneva looked at her with longing and resolve, and Emery melted. She always fell for the just-shut-up-and-kiss-me look women gave her now and then, so she reacted as she usually did. She brought her other hand up to cradle Geneva’s face and then, ever so sweetly, kissed her.
*
Pasha tried not to stare at the clock, and when that didn’t work, she shut off the office lights so she couldn’t see the huge one on the wall and stuck a Post-it note over the digital one on her computer. She’d get done when she got done, and she only wasted time when she wondered if Emery and the girls would still be at the Den when she finally got there.
At long last, she hit the Save button and exited the program. Holding her breath, she peeled away the Post-it. Nine-forty. Not horribly late, but well after dinner. Certainly worth a trip to see whether they had left. She shut down the PC, locked up, and trotted to the roadhouse.
With every step, she tried to tune in to her sixth sense. Would it tell her Emery was there? But it was still on a low boil. Nothing like when she and Emery had met.
She assessed the Den’s inhabitants with a quick glance. Only Grizz, the regulars, and two couples she didn’t recognize. No friends, no Emery, and Geneva conspicuously absent. Her heart sank. She nearly turned around to retreat to her apartment, but decided to drown her sorrows with a nightcap first.
As she headed toward the bar, Grizz raised his bushy eyebrows in question. She shook her head, shorthand for “the usual?” and “not tonight.” Once in a while, she changed from coffee with Kahlua if she was at the bar. When celebrating, she splurged on champagne. With a meal, she might order wine. And when she was down, she went for the hard stuff. Cognac.
“Rémy?” Grizz asked in his most sympathetic tone as he set a bowl of pretzels in front of her.
Rémy Martin had soothed some of her most troublesome days, but she was asking a lot of it tonight. She usually went for the VSOP, but tonight she’d splurge. “XO.”
Grizz let out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”
“Bitch of a day. The phone drove me batty and I only now finished the paperwork.”
“’Nuff said. You eaten?” he asked with a paternal tone as he set her drink to her left.
Pasha picked up the snifter and swirled it to admire the thin reddish-gold wave that climbed the sides, considering his question. As her palm warmed the brandy, she drifted it under her nose to inhale its familiar floral-fruity aroma. She’d barely eaten anything all day, come to think of it. Too busy, and too preoccupied every free second with thoughts of Emery. She should be starving, but food
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