A Long Way to Fall, page 16
From the moment they’d met, Kennedy had felt the attraction, but it was so much more than that now. She couldn’t even call it a crush anymore. It was whatever came between a crush and being madly in love. Like a lush. No. That wasn’t right. Besides, she felt the scales were tipping slightly toward the latter due to that crazy hot kiss they’d shared. Kennedy’s insides were still buzzing from it.
They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it or even look each other in the eye, really. When they got back to the cabin, it was all rush, rush to get her feet warmed up and talk to the furnace guy, and take what was now Bridget’s third phone call.
All Kennedy wanted was for Bridget to come back inside and stand in front of her so she could read her expression and get some idea of what she was—or wasn’t—feeling. As if wishes came true, the door opened, and Kennedy’s heart leapt. But it wasn’t Bridget.
“Hello, Sheriff. What brings you up here?”
The sheriff stomped on the doormat and hung her coat on the rack. “You can call me Lola.”
Kennedy shook her head. “Oh no. When you’re looking so official in that fancy uniform, I will definitely use your title.”
“Well, it’s good to see you’re back to your smartass old self again.” She knelt on one knee and looked at Kennedy’s foot. “Bridget said it’s gotten worse.”
Kennedy leaned forward. “I’m worried it’s broken. What do you think, doc?”
“I think only a real doc could tell you that.”
“Right. So why are you here? Sorry, that sounded rude.”
The sheriff stood back up. “I have a friend who owns a B and B. She had a cancelation, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to get off this mountain.”
She wanted to get off something, that was for sure. “Oh. Well, Bridget—”
As she said her name, Bridget walked in and stood next to the sheriff with her arms folded. “What do you think, Lo? Is it broken?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Kennedy feared the worst. She didn’t want to go down the mountain now. She wanted to stay close to Bridget, but only if Bridget wanted that too. And she really didn’t know. No doubt it was a kiss for the ages, but it was impossible to gauge where Bridget’s head was at, given that she’d spent most of their post-kiss time on the phone. She wanted to talk about it with Bridget and maybe, you know, also not talk about it with Bridget. She knew the chatter in her head was reaching peak lesbian. “You know what, I think it’s feeling a little better now that it’s warmed up.” It was a lie, but she’d suffer through the pain if it meant she could stay right where she was. “Besides, you’ve done so much to make this place livable that I might as well stay. Right?” They both stared at her but gave no reaction. “Okay, fine. It hurts like hell, but there’s all that food in the fridge, and, and…”
Bridget turned to the sheriff. “She needs an X-ray. Do you have time to drop her off at urgent care?”
Her tone was so businesslike, Kennedy wanted to wave her hand and say, Hey, it’s me. The girl you passionately kissed about an hour ago. Remember that? But the two of them went over to the door and lowered their voices enough that she couldn’t hear what was being said. And then Bridget was gone. The sheriff grabbed her coat along with Kennedy’s and offered her hand. With a big dose of reluctance, Kennedy took it.
* * *
Bridget stood outside the bed and breakfast known as the Corner Cottage. It was a ridiculously on-the-nose name since it was situated on a corner lot. She didn’t know much about the place. Only that Lola had dated the owner a few times.
It was one of those tall, narrow, Victorian homes with three levels, which didn’t bode well for someone with a foot injury. Or someone like Bridget, who had a weekender bag in one hand and a large pizza in the other.
She carefully navigated the steps, avoiding any spots that looked icy and breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the front door with the pizza still in hand. A sign on the door said to “Come On In,” so she set the bag down and opened the door. She spotted Kennedy sitting at a card table in the living room with three older women, shuffling the deck.
Bridget stepped inside and closed the door behind her. When they all turned, she said, “Don’t trust her, ladies. She’ll take everything you have and smile while doing it.”
Kennedy’s eyes lit up, but as quickly as they’d done so, her expression changed to something far more neutral.
One of the women stood and said, “Buy-in is twenty bucks. And you must be Lola’s friend. I’m Iris. Come on in.”
Iris had short graying hair and a nice smile. She was also at least twenty years older than Lola. A point she’d have to tease her about the next time they talked. She set the pizza on the desk and made the rounds, shaking everyone’s hand until she came to Kennedy, who still didn’t seem pleased to see her. “I hear you got some sort of boot for your foot.”
Kennedy stuck her leg out. “The doc said it’s probably overkill, but it’ll keep my toe from bending when I walk.”
“So it’s not broken?”
“Hairline fracture.” She gave Bridget a tight smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I brought dinner and some clothes for you. Also, pajamas.”
“Oh. That was nice of you.”
All eyes were on them, so Bridget motioned with her thumb. “Can I maybe see where you’re staying?”
“I gave her the back room so she wouldn’t have to navigate the stairs,” Iris said. “It’s really only big enough for one person.”
She said it in such a way that made Bridget feel unwelcome. And then Kennedy drove the point home when she stood and said, “Don’t worry, she’s not staying.”
The boot, although clunky, allowed Kennedy to walk a little easier. Bridget followed her through the living room and the kitchen to a door that seemed way too short to be the entrance to a room one would rent out. Kennedy opened the door and said, “Watch your head.”
Bridget didn’t move. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope. After you.”
It was a pantry. Lola had moved Kennedy into a pantry that had a twin bed and a tiny sink in the corner. And the light was a bare bulb in the ceiling with a long string hanging off it. She tossed the bag on the bed and turned back around. “I had no idea.”
“Hey, at least I won’t go hungry.” Kennedy took a Mason jar off the shelf. “We’ve got peaches from last year’s harvest, or if you’re hankering for something savory, there’s pot roast bottled in gravy over there on the other wall.”
Bridget grimaced. “I’ve never heard of bottled meat.”
“They call it canning, but it’s really glass jars, which I feel is much more apropos because I find the whole thing jarring. Anyway, I’m happy to say I now know quite a bit about the process. The canasta club out there can explain it to you if it’s something you’d like to take up during the off-season.”
Bridget snorted. “I think I’m good. Is the bed comfortable?”
Kennedy tucked her hands in her back pockets, and for the first time since Bridget had arrived, she smiled. “Wanna find out?”
“I kinda got the feeling you weren’t happy to see me. And now that I see your lodging situation, I can understand why. Although, I would like to remind you that this is Lola’s fault.”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. They actually offered me a non-pantry room, the Martin van Buren Suite, to be exact, which is named after one of their late husbands. Whoever would have guessed Carol was a former First Lady? Anyway, the stairs just felt like way too much.”
Bridget laughed. “Okay, but why the cold shoulder?”
“I just figured you wanted to keep whatever this is on the downlow. This morning with Lola, you seemed hell-bent on acting like you didn’t know me. And then you sent me away to the Elk Mountain Senior Lesbians’ Riding Club. And PS, all of these golden girls have slept with each other at some point in their lives.”
Bridget threw a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. With the other, she waved Kennedy over and pulled her into her arms. Once she got her giggles under control, she nuzzled her ear and said, “I missed you today.”
Kennedy squeezed her tighter and whispered. “Say that again. I didn’t quite catch it the first time.”
Bridget summoned what she hoped was her sexiest possible voice and whispered, “Martin van Buren was a widower.”
Kennedy gave her a playful shove. “That’s what you’re going to whisper in my ear? And also, how do you possibly know that?”
“In sixth grade, we had to do a book report on a president. Mine was van Buren. His wife died before he took office, and the main reason I remember that is because her name was Hannah Hoes.”
Kennedy scoffed. “You are making that up.”
“I’m not. Look it up.” Bridget crossed her arms and made a show of tapping her toe. “I’ll wait.”
“How ‘bout I just choose to believe you?” Kennedy stepped back into Bridget’s personal space, uncrossed her arms, and pulled her back into an embrace.
There was so much Bridget wanted to say. So much she wanted to apologize for. Including the way she’d handled things earlier. After that kiss, her emotions were running so high, she might’ve overcompensated in front of Lola by being downright rude when all she really wanted to do was take care of Kennedy for, like, ever. But she wasn’t ready for that feeling to hit her so hard all at once. And she certainly didn’t want Lola to see it in her eyes or feel it in the air. Kennedy was a Fleming after all.
She felt relieved that Kennedy hadn’t held it against her. She must’ve understood on some level how complicated Bridget’s feelings were, which in her mind was a sign of emotional maturity. And that could only mean that Jerry Fleming must not have been as horrible a father as he was a neighbor. And maybe one day, she’d tell him that.
Her interactions with Jerry had been limited. Bridget’s dad had tried to keep him away from everyone, and most of the time, he succeeded in taking all the verbal abuse himself. But there were times when she’d witnessed his antagonism, especially in the last few years.
Holding Jackass Jerry’s beautiful, kind, warm, smart daughter in her arms almost made it hard to believe that it had ever happened. What she could believe were her own words when she brushed her lips against Kennedy’s cheek and said it again. “I missed you today.”
Kennedy pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Not as much as I missed you.”
Bridget wanted this kiss to be gentle, deliberate. She wanted it to say all the things she couldn’t. Things like, I see you. I know how special you are. My eyes are wide open to the possibilities. She also wanted it to say, I fucking love your tongue and your mouth, and I’ll take good care of your clit if given the opportunity. Who was she kidding? She knew she’d be given the opportunity.
She moved in slow, with a kiss on the corner of her mouth, then a soft brush of their lips, followed by a light peck…and a loud knock on the door that sent them both through the roof like a cat that just spotted a cucumber. It scared Bridget so much, she was sure she’d blurted out at least three swear words in a random order that made no sense at all. Something about God’s ass. And Kennedy was doubled over like someone about to vomit in the street.
“Hey, do you mind if we have a slice of pizza?” someone asked from the other side of the door.
Bridget realized Kennedy wasn’t about to vomit; she was laughing hysterically. “Go ahead,” Bridget shouted.
Once she could speak, Kennedy said, “God, fuck my ass.” And then she dropped to her knees and continued with the hysteria. “I mean, if that’s what you’re into.”
Okay, so maybe Bridget’s profanity unintentionally made sense in a humiliating sort of way. “Uh, no. That was an exclamation related to your roommate’s horrible timing.”
“So not a request then?”
“No.” Bridget laughed and sat on the edge of the bed, which caused the box springs to squeak. She bounced a few times just to make sure that the bed was indeed Pre-World War II before announcing, “We are not having sex for the first time on this bed.”
Kennedy rolled onto her back and brought her knees to her chest. Her face was bright red, and she looked adorable lying there on the floor. “But eventually?” she asked. “Somewhere, when the world isn’t so hell-bent on it not happening, it will…right?”
Bridget bent over and rested her elbows on her knees. “When we’re not surrounded by hungry lesbians, I’d say it’s a good possibility.”
Kennedy rolled onto her tummy and gave Bridget a sexy grin. “I look forward to what will surely be a momentous occasion.”
“I could take you back up the mountain tonight, but I have an early morning tomorrow. Most of the guests are checking out, and we have to get ready for the next round.”
Kennedy waved it off. “Yeah, there’s no way you’d be on top of your game right after a night of…everything I want to do to you for hours on end.”
Bridget cleared her throat. “No. I would definitely not be on top of my game. I’d still be on top of you until you couldn’t take anymore.”
Kennedy bit her lip. “Be still my throbbing…heart.”
Bridget stood. “Would you mind staying down there on the floor until I leave? I’m afraid if you get up, we might break that bed and send a spring flying into one of these bottles and knock the entire shelf down.”
“You have quite the imagination.”
“You have no idea.”
Kennedy rolled onto her back and threw her arms above her head. “I’m just going to leave you with this image. Do with it what you will.”
She looked lovely lying like that. Sexy. Beautiful. Ready. Bridget took a deep breath to try to calm her desire. She wanted Kennedy, but she didn’t want their first time to be a quickie in the pantry of the Corner Cottage with four nosy lesbians on the other side of the door. She also didn’t want it to be in the Fleming cabin. She wanted it to be perfect. Which was why she might have already told Harriet that she couldn’t book the penthouse suite until after Christmas.
She reached out with one finger. Kennedy did the same, and for a few seconds, they locked those fingers together. “I have a meeting down here tomorrow afternoon. Can I take you to dinner afterward?”
“You know the answer to that,” Kennedy said.
“Good. I’ll be here around five thirty.” Bridget’s lawyer had called earlier that day saying they needed to address some things related to her dad’s estate. Her desire to attend yet another probate paperwork meeting was nonexistent, but the promise of dinner with Kennedy afterward made the whole thing seem downright appealing.
“Are you sure I can’t have one more kiss?”
“I couldn’t stop at one. Could you?”
Kennedy dropped her hand. “Get out of here, Bridget Berg. And don’t come back until you’re ready to see what’s under these clothes.”
Bridget watched intently as Kennedy ran her hands down her sides and back up again. She slapped a hand over her eyes when it looked like Kennedy was about to pull her shirt up. “You’re evil, Kennedy Fleming.” She went to the door and didn’t look back before she shut it.
Chapter Nine
With several bags of newly purchased shoes and clothes in hand, Kennedy went back into the T-Mobile store to pick up her new phone. It was her last stop before heading back to the B and B to get ready for dinner. The salesman’s eyes widened when he saw her. “Wow. You got a lot of shopping done in two hours.”
She dropped the bags by her feet. “Which begs the question, why does it take so long to get a new phone?”
“I had it ready an hour ago, and it’s been dinging ever since.” He handed it to her and not two seconds later, Michael’s face popped up on the screen. “Hey, bro. Are you a daddy yet?”
“Where have you been? I’ve called a million times. I even called the hospital.”
“There was an incident with a snowplow. My phone didn’t survive.”
“You should’ve called.”
“I’m fine, thanks. And I just picked up my new phone. But you’re right. I could’ve used someone else’s, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied with having no food and no heat in the cabin and a huge snowstorm blocking the roads.” So what if she failed to mention a certain redheaded preoccupation. Was there a law against omission? No. No there wasn’t. Besides, it was none of his damn business.
“I know. And I’m sorry it’s been so rough. I promise I’ll make it up to you. But I’m glad I finally caught you. I need to give you some info about the meeting. You know it’s in forty minutes, right?”
“Right. The real estate agent. Of course I know.” The truth was, she’d completely forgotten about the real reason she was there. She’d been so wrapped up in one Bridget Berg, the rest of the world had stopped mattering.
“Ken, you’re not meeting with a real estate agent.”
* * *
The bathrooms were on the left, the lawyer’s office on the right. Should Kennedy go in there and vomit first, or just get the meeting over with? Would it be better to have her heart broken with a tummy full of strawberry crepes or devoid of everything? Did it even matter? Because either way, the outcome would be the same. Heart. Broken. Bridget. Gone.
She sucked in a breath and opened the office door. “Kennedy Fleming,” she announced at the front desk. “Would you mind watching these bags for me?”
The receptionist took the bags and set them behind her desk. “Second door on the right. They’re waiting for you.”
Bad things happened in lawyers’ conference rooms. Marriages ended. Contracts were broken. People who shouldn’t be having sex on a conference table after working hours had sex on a conference table after working hours. Of course, Kennedy would think of that since all day long, she’d been thinking about having sex with Bridget. She’d even bought a sexy new bra and matching panties.
