by Jove Belle

Feedback is always welcome: jovebelle@e-scribblers.com. You can also visit Jove Belle's web site at www.jovebelle.com

Copyright © 2007 by Jove Belle. All Rights Reserved.

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She whistled loud and sharp, calling her horse, Oscar, away from his respite in a tiny patch of shade below a burned-out cottonwood that lightning had blasted last summer. Those storms were beautiful to watch, but the after-effects were ugly. Now the tree needed to come down before it got hit with a wind storm and came toppling over of its own accord. That was another thing on a long list of endless jobs that needed to be done.

Oscar ambled up and nuzzled Brandi’s shoulder as if to say “You called me. Now what?”

Brandi raked her fingers over the long patch of white on Oscar’s nose and gathered the reins. She’d come back later this afternoon with the right supplies and make the repairs to the fence. And if there was enough time, she’d fell the tree and begin quartering it up. It wasn’t good enough for firewood, but it’d been a long while since they’d hosted a bonfire.

A bead of sweat trailed down the valley between her breasts. The white fitted tank she was wearing was sticky with perspiration. Hot day. Brandi raised her left foot up to the stirrup and swung the other up and over Oscar’s back. She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, letting Oscar know it was time to head home. He swung around to the right and followed the promise of shade and water that waited in his own pasture.

A nice, easy pace was all Brandi asked for. Days like this, she considered leaving the saddle at home and riding bareback. Oscar would certainly prefer it. The need to placate her mom won out over their comfort. On the few occasions that Brandi did venture out without a saddle, her mother worried and fretted the entire time she was gone, convinced that her daughter was going to fall off and break her head open without the pommel to hold onto. That would be quite a feat for someone who had been riding as long as she could walk, but still her mother worried. So Brandi used a saddle.

They followed the fence line to the old, rarely traveled two-lane highway. As they neared the blacktop, Brandi spotted a would-be motorcycle rider about twenty feet down the road and headed her way. The woman pushed the presumably malfunctioning mechanical ride along the side of the road. Her helmet and jacket were strapped to the seat with a bungee cord. Sweat glistened and rolled down her shoulders and arms, and the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders above her black tank top shone red from the sun.

The Honda was equipped with soft-side saddlebags. They bulged with their load, clearly filled beyond capacity. The small tent and bedroll strapped to the backrest completed the picture. This rider was not out for an afternoon jaunt turned stranded neighbor in need of a ride home. There was no telling how far from home this woman was and that added up to more than an inconvenient break from her afternoon chores to play rescue squad. All of this translated into an unexpected guest at the ranch and that inconvenience would last longer than the afternoon.

Brandi was simultaneously irritated and intrigued. She didn’t have time to play hostess to a stranded traveler.

Oscar rolled his head, a big, slow loop. It was horse language for “Can we go now?” Brandi ran her hand down his long neck and leaned down to pat his chest. “I would never have to push you up a hill, would I boy?” she whispered into his ear. He blew hot air out his nose and twisted his head to the side and back.

Brandi draped the reins over Oscar’s neck and pulled her Stetson forward and off her head. Her short, spiky hair tended to stick out in every direction, sort of avant-garde dyke. The dyke in her craved spiky hair, but her hair craved creative independence. A wild outcrop of peaks and valleys was the result. Brandi pushed her hand through her sweat drenched locks, slicking it down momentarily only to have it pop back up after a few seconds.

She held her hat in her hands as she spoke. It was the only polite thing to do. “Do you need some help?” It was a lame question, given the circumstance, but it seemed a good place to start.

The woman stopped her forward motion and lowered the Honda’s kickstand. She offered up a rueful smile. “Don’t suppose you have a new set of pistons in your saddle bag, do you?”

“Nope.” Brandi tried for apologetic, but was afraid the word came out more sarcastic than anything. She dropped her hat on her head, pushed way back off her forehead, and swung out of the saddle. She landed with a dull thud a few feet from the woman and extended her hand. “I’m Brandi.”

“Kyra.”

Some things shouldn’t be done in this kind of heat, like shaking hands. The press of sticky, wet skin seemed too intimate for two people who were meeting for the first time. Brandi wanted to hold on and yank her hand away at the same time.

Brandi stuffed her right hand deep into the pocket of her worn jeans and grabbed Oscar’s reins with her left hand, just to keep him from ambling home without her. He was well behaved, but the promise of shade and sweet oats was hard to resist. He shifted side to side, bored and ready to move on.

“So, you planning on pushing that all the way to the next town?” Brandi indicated the Honda by raising her chin in the motorcycle’s general direction. She forced herself to look Kyra directly in the eyes, resisting the urge to linger on the supple black riding chaps clinging to her legs. They were a stark contrast to the soft brown pair that Brandi wore during her rodeo phase. The image of Kyra clad only in her chaps and a matching black Stetson straddling her motorcycle flashed through Brandi’s mind. She hoped that the flush of fire that started in her belly and crept up her neck and face would be mistaken as effects of the hot sun.

Kyra laughed, not loud and boisterous, but free nonetheless. Not the tight, controlled laughter that Brandi was used to hearing from the women she met on the rare nights she ventured into town in search of company. “I figured I’d just keep pushing ’til I happened across a house. Then I’d use the phone or something.”

“Well, you’re headed in the right direction. Next house is mine. Of course, it’s about two miles from here.”

“Two miles?” Kyra whistled, low and short. “That’s a lot of pushing.”

“There is an alternative.” Brandi offered up her best smile, the one she used when trying to convert straight women to the dark side. It’d worked on more than one occasion. “You could leave the bike here and ride back with me. We’ll grab some lunch and come back with my truck and pick it up.”

Kyra looked skeptical, her eyebrows furrowed together. “I don’t know...will it be safe here?”

Brandi thought about it before answering. Odds were it would be perfectly safe. And the thought of Kyra’s front pressed against her back as they rocked along on Oscar’s back made her mouth water and her belly tingle. Still, even on a deserted stretch of southern Idaho two-lane, unexpected things could happen. Brandi sighed as the prospect of Kyra riding with her evaporated into the heat waves rippling off the blacktop. “I can’t promise that.” She twirled her hat in her hands, reluctant to offer the only other solution. No way around it. “Change of plans. You wait here and I’ll come back with my truck.”

“You’d do that? That’d be great.” Relief and gratitude flooded Kyra’s face and overflowed out of her eyes. The look was almost enough to make Brandi forget her disappointment over not sharing the ride. Almost.

Oscar nudged her shoulder, reminding her that she’d promised him shade, water, and a snack. Brandi patted Oscar’s flank and smiled at Kyra, a smile she infused with confidence and trust. She wanted Kyra to know she would definitely return for her. “I’ll be right back.” Brandi set her hat on her head and swung up into the saddle. It was damn near impossible to keep from turning around to wink at Kyra. Brandi was always up for a good flirt. Somehow she managed to keep her ass in the saddle and her head pointed forward.

Brandi made it home, tended to Oscar, and collected her truck, sans trailer, in record time. There really wasn’t anywhere to turn a truck and trailer where Kyra was waiting, so the benefit of taking it was outweighed heavily by the lack of maneuverability. Thirty-four minutes later she spotted Kyra pushing her bike toward her on the opposite side of the road. Perhaps if she’d turned and winked when she was riding away, Kyra would have trusted that she’d return. Nah. Somehow Brandi couldn’t picture Kyra filling the damsel in distress role. She waved as she passed, then flipped the truck around to pull up in front of Kyra.

Kyra had reached a section of road where giant cottonwood trees stretched across the pavement. Light and dark flickered over her skin as the breeze played through the tree tops, making her sweat-slicked skin flash between gold and dark silver. Brandi gripped the door handle white-knuckle hard and gulped down the urge to chase the pattern with her tongue. She stifled the impulse and stepped out of the truck. Kyra pulled up short and rested the Honda against her hip. She greeted Brandi with a slow smile that spread across her face like a hot groove on a slow track. It set Brandi’s gut on fire and the greeting she formulated in her brain crumbled like a desert floor after a much needed rain. Evidence of moisture remained, but none could be found.

“You came back to rescue me.” Kyra pushed her hair out of her eyes. The chestnut mane had been braided when Brandi rode away on Oscar. Now it flowed long and loose down her back, with an errant lock or two falling in her eyes with the help of the breeze.

Brandi walked to the back of the truck, hands held stiffly at her side. She didn’t trust them to stay put. Her fingertips itched to get lost in Kyra’s hair, to pull her close. Brandi’s lips would fit perfectly against the curve of her neck. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. Her brain was misfiring, but it hadn’t crashed completely. She focused hard on what Kyra had said and forced a response. “Of course I did. Couldn’t leave you stranded.”

“Maybe next time I can rescue you.” Kyra winked and the air whooshed out of Brandi’s lungs.

The thought of rescuing Kyra made her insides tingle and throb. The thought of Kyra rescuing her turned them into full-on mush. She wanted to reply with something super sexy cool, but all her tongue would produce was, “Uh...” So much for Casanova.

When all else fails, do something productive. That motto kept Maple Hearth functioning and in the black. Her grandfather hung the sign declaring the name of his family’s homestead to the world in 1932. Now, the burden of keeping the land out of the hands of the local banker fell to Brandi. The original bank note had been paid off as scheduled in the fifties, but when her parents split in the nastiest divorce on record, her mom had been forced to take out a loan against the property just to settle up. It was almost cleared, but not quite. And that “not quite” kept Brandi focused – most of the time.

With her grandfather’s lesson in mind, she sucked in air and lowered the tailgate. “Let’s load ’er up.” She grabbed the ramp out of the back and lowered it to the ground. For this trip she’d brought their old Chevy. It’d seen better days, but it was a two-wheel drive that sat closer to the ground than her four by four. That made the angle of the ramp doable. Plus it had a longer bed, so there was no question about whether the low-slung motorcycle would fit.

She climbed into the bed of the truck to pull the bike into place and hold it steady while Kyra pushed it up from the side. Cruisers like this one were not made to comfortably climb a ramp into the back of a truck. They were designed to hug the road and give the rider an 80mph vibration-induced orgasm. After a little swearing and a lot of straining, they got the bike settled and the tie-downs in place.

Brandi hopped down and debated opening the passenger door for Kyra. She didn’t trust herself to be that close to her so she opted against it. The inside of the cab, even with the windows down, was sweltering when they climbed inside. “We could run the air if you want,” Brandi offered, hoping Kyra would decline. She hated the false cold more than the dry heat.

“The breeze will be enough once we get moving.”

And just like that the edge was off and Brandi was comfortable in the stretched-out cab with Kyra. She felt a little glow at the simple agreement. Lust was one thing, not always entirely manageable, but not life altering. Little things like agreeing about the AC, that’s what made life livable. Brandi pulled back onto the road and headed toward home.

Kyra sat closer to the middle than necessary, not hugging the door like most would in a strange truck with an unknown person. Still, Brandi wanted her closer. She glanced over at Kyra, her hair flying in the wind. One strand – there’s always one that insists on doing its own thing – was stuck to her cheek, locked in place by the fine sheen of sweat covering Kyra’s body.

“Thank you.” It was louder than a whisper, but not by much. “For the ride.” Kyra’s voice had dropped to a lower, more intimate level. Her eyes held a hint of amusement and a whole smoldering dose of lust. She opened her mouth to say more then stopped herself. She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth and released it slowly.

Sweet jesus. Brandi divided her attention between the deserted highway and the heat pulsing off of Kyra, the pull of her dark eyes, the beat of her heart echoing just below the skin at the base of her neck, her long, smooth fingers trailing through her wind blown hair as she held it away from her face.

Brandi almost missed the turn into her driveway. Dammit. She pulled her eyes away from Kyra and focused on the gravel road in front of her. They allowed their dogs to roam free on the property and Brandi would never forgive herself if she hit one because she wasn’t paying attention. The dogs were good at getting out of the way, but you never knew. And she needed a reprieve from the hot scrutiny of Kyra’s eyes. She felt like she was being dismantled from the inside and it was unnerving and soothing at the same time.

“We’re here.” She said softly, reluctant to break the silence threaded between them. They sat in the truck, staring at each other, their faces covered with wonder and surprise mixed with shyness and hope.

Cheyenne reached the truck before the other dogs. An energetic border collie, she bounced up and down. At the top of each jump, she poked her head inside the open driver’s side window to say hello to her mistress. Her yips of excitement sliced through the mood, leaving Brandi feeling open and exposed. She pulled her mental barriers back in place and wrapped herself up tight as she laughed at Cheyenne’s antics. “Come on. We better head in.”

Brandi held the screen door open and Kyra passed through, again a little closer than necessary, but not close enough to touch. The radio was tuned to the local country station and turned up loud. Patsy Cline crooned her way around the room as Brandi reached over to turn it down.

“Hey!” Her mom’s voice came from the back of the house. “I was listening to that.”

“Ol’ man Richter stopped me on the way home to complain about the noise. Took me three hours to get away from him so I could come turn it down,” Brandi joked. Jacob Richter was their closest neighbor, four miles to the east and well out of Patsy’s range.

“In that case, turn it back up. He needs a little more music in his life.” Jaylynn Cornwell was a right looker in her day, or so she said. Brandi believed it because at fifty-eight her mom could still turn heads and stop traffic. She bustled into the kitchen carrying a wicker basket full of wet bedding headed for the clothes line out back. She pulled up short when she saw Kyra standing in her kitchen, leather biker boots, black chaps, leather vest and all. She straightened her hair reflexively and balanced the basket on her hip. She held out her hand to Kyra and introduced herself without skipping a beat. “I’m Jaylynn Cornwell, Brandi’s mama. She didn’t tell me to expect company today or I would’ve had a glass of iced tea ready for you.”

Kyra shook the offered hand with a relieved smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cornwell. Don’t be too hard on Brandi. I was a bit unexpected.”

Jaylynn dropped the basket by the back door. “Call me Jaylynn, honey. Or just Jay. But none of that Mrs. Cornwell malarkey. I’m not that old yet.”

“Mama, I’m going to give Kyra the nickel tour. Be right back.” She placed her hand in the small of Kyra’s back and guided her toward the living room.

Jaylynn, her head buried in the refrigerator, waved them on and said, “Good, that’ll give me a chance to pull together a proper lunch.”

They rounded the corner into the large living room and it was time for Brandi to remove her hand. She didn’t. Her fingers had melted into place from the heat and the burn was making its way up her arm to her neck and shoulders. She stood quietly, the task of showing Kyra around forgotten for the moment.

Kyra shifted slightly, turning her face to Brandi. “Your mom seems nice.”

Brandi snorted out a laugh, her hand falling naturally to her side. It ached to reconnect. “My mom is a lot of things. I don’t know that I would count nice among ’em.”

“Watch your mouth, young lady. You shouldn’t count deaf among ’em either.” Jaylynn scolded from kitchen.

“Yes, mama.” Brandi rolled her eyes and stifled a giggle. Time to begin the tour. “Okay, this, as you can tell, is the living room.” It stretched out in front of them, decorated with comfort in mind. Two large, overstuffed couches sat perpendicular to each other in the far corner and two black leather recliners rounded out the horseshoe configuration. They were angled together for comfortable conversation in front of the fireplace. Brandi spent many winter nights curled in the far sofa with a book surrounded by a down-home warmth you can only get from a wood fire.

“No television?” Kyra looked surprised by the omission.

Brandi forgot that other people expected it to be the focal point of any home. “No. We don’t really watch much, but we do have one in the family room.” She nodded down the long hall. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She pointed out the formal dining room as they passed. The layout of the house didn’t match with the open floor plans of houses built nowadays. Brandi liked it better that way. It grounded her in the history of her family. Her grandfather built the place from the foundation up and that was something to be proud of.

The oversized arched entrance to the family room didn’t have a door, unlike the entrance to the dining room. She stepped down into the sunken room and into the sunlight that the bank of greenhouse-esque windows invited in. French doors led out onto a large back deck that was also connected to the kitchen on one side and the laundry room on the other. Oversized house plants held court along the glass wall.

Brandi had majored in forestry at Colorado State. Her plans to go to work for the forestry service had been cut short by the financial struggles at Maple Hearth. In the six years since her return, the few plants she’d collected in college threatened to take over the entire room. To hear Jaylynn tell it, Brandi came back home and brought the forest with her.

In the corner sat a small, twenty-seven-inch television. It looked abandoned and forgotten with one small loveseat pointed at it. “Look, a TV,” Brandi said.

“Forget the TV. Look at that fern,” Kyra said appreciatively. The fern in question sat on the floor in a squat, round pot and stretched up to the top of the window. “What do you feed that thing?”

Brandi shrugged. “The usual, water and sunlight. And a little fertilizer once or twice a year. Nothing special.” Brandi fidgeted. She loved her plants, but she didn’t love talking about them. In her estimation, it took away the power of their relationship. And she couldn’t exactly explain that they grew because she loved them. She’d tried to say that once to a friend. It earned her a hearty belly laugh. Now she kept it to herself, like a treasured secret.

Kyra fingered the delicate fern, a look of concentration on her face. She turned slightly to face Brandi. “You must love them very much.”

And for the second time, the simple tapestry of connection was woven. First the AC, then the plants. Brandi reminded herself to breathe. “I do.”

Kyra nodded once and walked back across the room. She stopped in front of Brandi and held her gaze. She wrapped her hand around Brandi’s, slow and easy. “Show me the rest of the house.”

Brandi laced her fingers with Kyra’s, sealing the connection. A perfect fit. She pressed her palm flat against Kyra’s, the heat forging the two into one. Offshoots of electricity crawled up her arm, slow and deliberate, like a knowing marauder – one that wants to look you in the eye, confident that you welcome the invasion, as she takes everything you offer and more.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur for Brandi, the insistent pulse of Kyra’s hand blocking out the mundane, leaving only the evidence that Kyra was there, with her, in the moment. The curve of her mouth as she smiled – shy and confident at the same time. The flecks of gold in her eyes glinting in the light as she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. The rise and fall of her chest beneath the leather vest. The occasional brush of her arm against Brandi’s as they walked from room to room.

Brandi showed off her bedroom from the doorway, afraid to step inside. The bed was big and soft and inviting. The air between them crackled and popped, and the color around Kyra screamed bold intentions. The rest of the house faded to a muted sienna, not really the absence of color, but not defined enough to grab onto. Brandi tugged gently at her hand, leading them away from temptation. “Let me show you the guest room.”

The next door on the return trip up the long hall held the guest room. Sandwiched between Brandi’s room and the office, it was the smallest of the bedrooms. It still provided the same amount of temptation. Funny how the size of the room doesn’t change anything between two people. Kyra pulled Brandi over the threshold. She closed the door with a deliberate, slow sweep of her arm, her eyes locked on Brandi’s. The soft click as the door slid home signaled her intentions with absolute clarity.

Kyra stepped deeper into the room and faced Brandi. She released her hand and placed both hands lightly on Brandi’s hips. She waited, her eyes asking permission to proceed. Brandi melted under her touch. A wave of molten lava coursed from Kyra’s hands through Brandi’s belly in gentle, unstoppable waves. Brandi gasped, her lips parted, unable to speak and Kyra increased the pressure.

Brandi let Kyra pull her close and guide her back at the same time. With the hard surface of the door at her back and the supple invitation of Kyra molded to her front, Brandi struggled to stay grounded in the day. One more moment in those eyes and she’d be lost.

The kiss was soft, gentle, almost chaste. Just a brush of Kyra’s lips against hers. The room spun out of focus and her knees liquefied. Brandi lowered her eyelids and surrendered to the moment. The exquisite, searing beauty of Kyra’s mouth opening to her. She wove her fingers into Kyra’s hair, pulling her closer. She lingered there, the soft cinnamon of Kyra’s breath filling her senses.

White hot crimson spots danced behind Brandi’s eyes and she pulled away, gasping for air. The distant sound of her mother singing along with the radio edged its way into the room. “We just met.” A weak argument. Her chest heaved and her eyelids were heavy.

“And I’m trying to get to know you better.” Kyra’s voice was low and dangerous. She pushed her thigh between Brandi’s legs and rocked it. A bolt of lightning shot through Brandi and she bucked, clinging to Kyra.

Brandi’s eyes fell closed, a brief moment of surrender, and she forced them open. “My mom is in the next room.” Her hands tracked down Kyra’s abdomen.

Kyra slid her hands beneath the hem of Brandi’s shirt and held her steady as she pushed her thigh home again. “And we’re in this one.”

The buckle at the top of Kyra’s chaps stopped Brandi from moving her hands further south. Chaps. Black leather motorcycle chaps. Reality slammed in on Brandi from all sides. Kyra was here, now, but as soon as her bike was fixed, she’d be gone. Brandi grasped Kyra’s hands and pulled them away, her body rigid with frustration and loss.

“Stop.” The command was quiet but firm. No room for debate.

Kyra stepped back, confusion and desire written across her face. The question clear in her eyes.

“This will be your room during your stay.” Brandi battled to keep her voice level, indifferent.

Kyra reached out and looped one finger in the waist of Brandi’s jeans. The brief contact not nearly enough after escaping the raging inferno that threatened to engulf them . “I don’t understand.”

It was a simple statement. Brandi wanted to explain. But she couldn’t. She’d had anonymous sex before without the promise of happily ever after, but with Kyra she knew that wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t want to lose herself in the moment, only to have it torn from her grasp in a few days. She couldn’t bear it and she knew it before it ever really started.

She turned her face away from Kyra, her jaw twitching with tension. “I’m sure lunch is ready by now.” She slipped out the door and headed to the kitchen, leaving Kyra to follow along or not.

They ate lunch in relative silence, the tension thick and heavy between Brandi and Kyra. Jaylynn, ever the polite hostess, chatted about routine things. Brandi watched as Jaylynn snuck alternating glances at first Brandi, then Kyra. Odd.

“Kyra, tell me. Where’s home?” Jaylynn took a sip of sun tea.

Kyra swallowed the bite of sandwich she was chewing before answering. “I grew up in Dallas. Now my parents are in Louisville.”

Beneath the table Brandi relaxed her leg to the side, coming to rest against Kyra’s outer thigh. Brandi wanted to resist, wanted to pull her leg away, but the gravitational pull was too much. She squirmed in her seat, pressing harder. Dallas. Louisville. Neither one located in southern Idaho. Her heart ached with the thought.

“My, you’re a long way from home.” Jaylynn pushed for details in that subtle inviting way that Brandi had yet to master.

Kyra laughed and it poured over Brandi like a gentle summer rain. “Not really. Home for me is the tent on the back of my bike. That guest room Brandi showed me earlier looks like a five star resort in comparison.”

A sliver of hope crept into the dark around Brandi’s heart. “Really? That tent must get cold in the winter.” The side of her mouth curved up into a lopsided grin and she pressed her leg a little closer.

“When the weather starts to turn, I just point my bike south. I migrate with the birds.”

Brandi wanted the conversation to end. She wanted to sit, her leg pressed against Kyra’s, and not think about what having a tent for a home really meant. She didn’t want to confront Kyra’s gypsy lifestyle through an analogy about birds.

“Tell us about your favorite place.” Apparently Jaylynn had no problems listening to all the details.

Kyra took a long drink of her tea before answering. “I don’t know about favorite, but there is this one place that always stuck in my mind. In California, just north of the border. Immigration patrols all over the place, surprise raids at the drop of a hat.” Her eyes adopted a far away sheen as she settled into her story. “I’d been there less than a day and had already decided to head out. I couldn’t stand seeing people rounded up like cattle and herded into those vans. It was awful. I stopped on my way out of town to fuel up and grab a bite and this old Mexican woman, must’ve been eighty years old, asked if she could read my palm.”

“My natural instinct was to say ‘hell no.’ I just don’t buy into all that crap. But her eyes...” Kyra shivered. “They still cut through me just thinking about them.”

Brandi couldn’t help it. She wanted to know what happened. “What did she say to you?”

Kyra binked, clearing her eyes, and turned to face Brandi. “She said I was in the wrong place. And that I’d find my answer when I stopped riding and started walking.”

Brandi’s breath hitched and caught in her throat. Her mouth flopped open but her voice failed her.

“Isn’t that unusual?” Jaylynn mused. “I wonder what she meant by that.”

Kyra ducked her head and focused on her sandwich. She didn’t look at Brandi for the rest of the meal.

As soon as they finished eating, Brandi cleared the table and washed the dishes like the house was on fire. The quicker she returned to her work on the fence, the better. Her brain was on overload and the flutter in her stomach rioted harder the longer she sat near Kyra.

She made it halfway out the door when Kyra stopped her by placing her hand on Brandi’s arm and asking, “Any idea where I can get parts for my Honda?”

Brandi pushed the slow burn of Kyra’s touch to the back of her mind. Or at least she tried to, but the persistent heat radiated through her body like an echo through a canyon. She turned back into the kitchen to retrieve the phonebook from the drawer. She paused halfway, her eyes caught in Kyra’s probing gaze. The weight of her stare, the silent question begging to be answered, froze them together and they lingered there immobile. Kyra swayed a breath closer to Brandi.

There was nothing else in that one brief moment, just the two of them lost together. Slowly the sounds of life filtered back in. Her mother’s light soprano singing an old Keely Smith tune. The buzz of the ceiling fan in the living room. The hum of the refrigerator in the corner. Cheyenne pressed her face against the screen door and a low whimper vibrated from her throat. Brandi swallowed and dropped her gaze. “Let me get you the phonebook.”

It was only three steps from the door to the kitchen counter. Three small steps. Each made with intense concentration on trembling legs. Brandi pulled the phone book out of the drawer and dropped it on the counter. “There’s only one place that can help you.” She flipped through the pages until she found the correct entry. She tapped it with her fingers. “Here it is. Phone’s there on the wall.”

She felt Kyra at her side before she saw her. She stood close enough to touch, but kept her hands at her side.

“Please don’t leave.” Kyra’s voice cut off Brandi’s second attempt at escape.

Three words that said too much for one sentence.

“I have work to do.” Brandi didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay right there beside Kyra and breathe her in. Everything in her screamed at her to wrap Kyra in her arms and hold on tight.

Kyra linked her pinky in Brandi’s, laying claim, but not holding tight. “Just... please. Wait. Let me make my call.” She took a deep breath and twined another finger with Brandi’s. “Just stay with me. For a little bit.”

Brandi wanted to refuse, but she couldn’t find the words. Instead she scooped up the cordless phone and phonebook, juggling it with one hand so she wouldn’t have to release Kyra’s hand, and led Kyra to the kitchen table. She set them down and said softly, “Make your calls. I’ll wait.”

She sat, tracing the lines in Kyra’s palm, while Kyra called the only Honda repair shop within two hundred miles. It was owned by a Carhartts-wearing bear of a man named Roger. He’d repaired the two quads they kept at the ranch on more than one occasion.

Everything raced through Brandi’s mind in a mish-mash of slow motion and fast forward. She tried hard to pick out one thread and follow it. The fence needed repair. She could focus on that. Kyra took her breath away and made her believe in happily ever after. That was absurd. It only existed in Hollywood movies and fairy tales. Certainly wasn’t something you could count on in one afternoon. But, oh, she wanted to.

“Two days?” Kyra nudged her hand, bringing Brandi back to the moment. “And that’s only after I come in and make a cash deposit?” Kyra furrowed her brows together, the universal sign of frustration. “Are you sure I can’t give you my credit card number over the phone?” Kyra exhaled hard and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Okay. Thanks.”

Kyra was poised to hit the release button when Brandi reached out for the phone. Kyra handed it to her with a puzzled look on her face.

“Hello? Roger?” Brandi greeted the old mechanic with a smile in her voice.

“Who’s this?” Roger’s Skoal-laced voice grumbled through the phone.

“Brandi Cornwell.”

“Brandi? What’s going on? You know this Kyra person?” Roger put the emphasis on the last syllable of Kyra’s name, stretching it out like a growl.

“She’ll be staying at Maple Hearth until her Honda gets fixed.” Brandi choked out the sentence and squeezed Kyra’s hand a little harder. “Are you sure you can’t just order the part without the cash deposit, save me a trip?”

Roger cleared his throat and Brandi could picture him scratching his head with concentration. “Well, I reckon so. If you’ll vouch for her.”

That made Brandi pause. How much did she really know about Kyra? Nothing.Yet the thought of Kyra leaving made her ache. “Yeah, Roger. She’ll give you the card number now and I promise we’ll be round to pick ’em up when they come in.”

Brandi handed the phone to Kyra and pushed her chair away from the table. She needed to get to work on that fence. It wasn’t going to repair itself. This time she made it all the way out the door before Kyra stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to finish the fence I was working on.”

Kyra looked through her lashes at Brandi. “I’ll go with you.”

Brandi hesitated. She’d rather Kyra stayed and helped her mom, but there was no polite way to say that. Instead she nodded and held the door open for Kyra. She called over her shoulder, “Mama, we’ll be back later.”

They worked in companionable silence. Neither of them spoke unless the task at hand dictated the need. Brandi was shocked by their synchronicity as they labored side by side. Kyra anticipated Brandi’s needs without the cumbersome use of words. It only took about thirty minutes to repair the fence. Kyra held the newly stretched barbed wire in place as Brandi secured it. With that task completed, they set about the business of bringing down the burned-out cottonwood.

Brandi noticed that Kyra watched her work the chainsaw with open interest. She activated the brake on the chain and held it out to Kyra.

“You ever use one of these?”

Kyra’s eyes flew open, wide with excitement and just a hint of fear. She shook her head emphatically. “No.”

“You want to try? It’s easy.” Until that point, Brandi had wielded the chainsaw, cutting away the dead limbs, and Kyra had dragged them away into a pile. She debated the wisdom of handing over the powerful saw to an inexperienced person, but, then again, she’d been inexperienced the first time she’d used it, also. It was the actual doing of things that gained a person that hard-won experience. Besides, she figured anyone who could handle Kyra’s giant motorcycle could handle a chainsaw. In both cases it was simply a matter of respect.

Kyra set her jaw and held out her hands. Brandi handed over the saw as a ripple of excitement coursed through her. There was nothing sexier than a determined woman set to conquer a new task.

First Brandi showed Kyra how to engage and release the brake, then she showed her the trigger that throttled up the engine. She watched closely as Kyra made her first tentative cuts, going slow and moving with caution. Her movements became bolder, more confident as the afternoon wore on. Brandi busied herself with dragging branches over to the large pile Kyra had started. It was well clear of the fence line and Brandi envisioned the raging bonfire they would enjoy later in the summer.

She lost herself in thought, surrendering to an afternoon of internal debate. It didn’t help Brandi figure out what to do about her uncontrollable attraction to Kyra. She tried to be logical, rational. She told herself that she barely knew Kyra and there was simply no way for them to have a relationship. And it was all true. Brandi knew things couldn’t possibly work between them. But her heart screamed from the depths of her subconscious that she had to try. She couldn’t ignore it. That would be wrong. The harder she tried to resist, the harder her gut throbbed.

Kyra cut away the last limb with a smile and switched the saw off. Brandi’s stomach signaled that it was time for dinner. They returned to the house to clean up and eat.

Brandi scrubbed the thick layer of sweat and dust off of her face, neck and arms. She wanted to take a shower before dinner, but dinner was ready and Jaylynn would provide her with a lecture on manners if she was late. The splash of water against her sun-soaked skin cooled her impatience and brought her emotions to the forefront. She needed to be here, in this moment, simply enjoying Kyra’s warm presence. Two days from now she could be gone. She’d think about that in two days.

Dinner was a light affair of grilled salmon and rice. Not exactly a filling meal after a day of sun and sweat and hard work. Brandi ate two servings of everything and still felt a dissatisfied, hollow rumble in her stomach. She refrained from eating more.

Throughout the meal she snuck sideways glances at Kyra. She’d changed into a light blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was one of Brandi’s favorite shirts. Jaylynn must have given it to her when Brandi was washing up. It filled Brandi with a flush of pleasure to see Kyra wearing her clothes.

Every time she looked over, she found Kyra’s eyes ready to meet her own. The half-shy, half-eager, yet one hundred percent hungry look on Kyra’s face melted Brandi’s good judgment and reserves. She slid her foot across the floor until it touched Kyra’s under the table. Just a subtle hello. A surrender to gravitational pull. For the first time, Brandi cursed her Ropers, wishing instead she was wearing some light, easy to remove sandal. She wanted to run her foot up Kyra’s leg, run it over the hard muscles of her calf and thigh, then bury it at the apex and feel the heat she knew was waiting for her there.

“What did you do today?” Jaylynn asked, a forkful of salmon paused in front of her mouth.

The question caught Brandi off guard. She’d relaxed into the quiet and wasn’t prepared to break the spell. “Repaired a section of fence and brought down that ol’ tree – the one the lightning got.”

“I loved that tree. It had sort of a haunted poetry to it.” Jaylynn shook her head slowly. “Too bad.”

“Had to come down, mama. It was going to fall down on its own accord if I didn’t do it. And it would have taken the fence with it.” Brandi knew exactly what Jaylynn meant. The tree looked like something out of the imaginations of the Brothers Grimm. “I thought we could have a bonfire and mourn its passing.”

Jaylynn perked up at that suggestion. “Let me know when it’s ready. I’ll make the arrangements. Oh, and you’ll need to plant another tree in its place.”

They believed in a reciprocal relationship with the land. If you take something, be prepared to give something back in turn. Mother Nature had taken this tree, so the principle didn’t really apply. Still, it was the right thing to do. “Mama, I already planted one this spring for it.”

Jaylynn raised an approving eyebrow. “Really? That’s my girl.” She patted Brandi’s arm. “Plant another one.” Her tone adopted that “I have spoken” air and Brandi knew argument was futile.

She nodded in agreement and stood to clear the table. Jaylynn stopped her.

“I’ll get these if you girls get the sheets in off the line.”

Kyra stood and walked toward the back door. “It’s as good as done, Mrs. Co...er...Jaylynn.”

Before Kyra could make it to the door, Brandi redirected her down the long hall to the laundry room. “We need to get a basket first.”

Kyra walked close behind Brandi. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for Brandi to feel the heat stretched tight between them. She wanted to turn and take her in her arms, hold her close. She continued down the hall. When she crossed the threshold to the laundry room, Kyra placed her hand on Brandi’s shoulder and spun her around. Face to face, she took a step closer, her feet between Brandi’s. Brandi gasped and leaned back against the dryer.

“When are you going to talk to me about what’s going on?” Kyra’s breath was uneven, making the sentence come out in choppy sections.

Brandi wanted to kiss Kyra. Hard on the mouth. Hard enough to take the question out of the air and force it back where it came from. She stared at Kyra’s lips. Soft, inviting, begging her to do just that. She gulped air and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. It’s real and it’s happening and no matter how you deny it, I can tell how you feel every time I’m near you.”

“I know.” This time Brandi didn’t stop herself. She moved fast and hard, not giving Kyra time to back up or move away if that’s what she wanted. She wrapped her hands in Kyra’s hair, pulling her closer and kissed her with the stored up heat of the entire, frustrating day. It was hard enough to bruise and Brandi didn’t care. She just wanted more. Instead she pulled back as fast as she’d gone in, leaving Kyra open and whimpering at the loss.

“Come on,” she said gently. “We need to get the laundry in.”

With a wicker basket on one hip, she took Kyra by the hand and led her out into the cool evening air.

The white sheets billowed and danced on a light breeze. The fading sunlight played across the surface in alternating bursts of fiery red and dark shadow. It was one of those beautiful, only in a movie does it look this good, kind of moments. Brandi wanted to push pause on the sunset, hold time there for just a little longer. But the sun was fading fast and a job needed to be done. She pressed forward, breaking the spell.

They fell into sync with one another, working together in harmony. It was comfortable, like a pair of faded blue jeans – perfect fit and worn soft in all the right places. Brandi reminded herself that Kyra was temporary. She’d just arrived and she’d be leaving soon.

“Tell me about your ranch. What do you do here?” Kyra’s voice was low and quiet, like she was hesitant to break the silence that enveloped them.

This was an easy question. She could answer it without thinking about Kyra’s fleeting touch. “Everything. Mostly cattle. But we also have a small herd of horses and several acres in hay, wheat, barley, and oats.” She pointed toward a metal barn in the distance. “That’s where we keep the bulk of the farming equipment. We’re thinking about adding a field of hops. They grow well around here and the market is always good.” Brandi couldn’t help it. Talking about Maple Hearth made her excited. She talked a little faster and gestured a little more, forgetting the sheets.

Kyra smiled and moved closer to Brandi. “What about that?” She pointed to a building just to the left of the barn. From the outside it looked like a small college dormitory.

“That’s the bunk house.”

“I thought those only existed in Steinbeck novels.”

Brandi laughed. Before they built this one five years ago, she’d thought the same thing.

“Tell me more.” Kyra closed the gap between them and wrapped her arm around Brandi’s waist. Brandi dropped her arm around Kyra’s shoulders without even thinking. It belonged there.

“Everything we do depends on the season. In the spring we plant. And the calves are born. It gets crazy for a few weeks. Just wait, you’ll love it.” The sentence was out and Brandi couldn’t take it back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to take it back. So much for a topic that didn’t lead straight back to how long Kyra would stay.

Kyra didn’t respond right away and Brandi heard her breath catch. She tilted her head toward Brandi, her eyes clear and bright. “I bet I will.”

Will. Not would. Brandi wanted to pump her fist in the air and shout “YES!” She did neither. She squeezed Kyra’s shoulder a little tighter and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Let’s finish the sheets.” It would have been easy to fall deeper into the moment, to lose herself in a long, lingering kiss. But Kyra deserved better than to be a distraction sandwiched between the sheets in the fading sunlight.

Kyra held onto Brandi, prolonging contact a few more moments. “What’s up with all the sheets?”

Brandi inclined her head toward the bunkhouse. “Gotta put something on the beds in there.” She released Kyra and returned to the clothesline. “What else did you think we’d do with all these? It’s not like my mom and I need twenty-five sets of white sheets.”

“I had no idea. Maybe your mom is into expressionist art and the next time these sheets appeared they’d be covered in paint and glitter.”

Brandi arched her eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

In no time at all they finished taking the sheets off the line, folding as they went. Brandi told Kyra stories about life at Maple Hearth. Then she asked about Kyra’s life on the road. “Tell me where you’re going.”

“Nowhere.” Kyra looked across the open field toward the horizon. “And everywhere.”

Brandi picked up the basket and started toward the house. “Care to explain that?”

Kyra fell into step beside Brandi. “You really want to hear this?”

“Mmm hmm.” Brandi should have said “Not if you don’t want to tell me.” That would have been the right thing. But, god help her, she really wanted to know. She pulled open the door to the laundry room and held it for Kyra.

“It’s really not very interesting. My parents...well...they just weren’t very comfortable as parents. They’re both very good as bankers. So I left. Just got on my bike and rode away. That was ten years and three bikes ago. They keep paying the credit card bill, so I keep riding.” Kyra’s eyes adopted a distant look and Brandi knew there was much more left unsaid. “I knew there had to be something better than what I left behind.”

“Still think you’ll find it?”

Kyra looked into Brandi’s eyes. Not that uncomfortable dash of eye contact that most people do when they’re talking about things that might hurt. She made contact and held it, looking deep like she was searching for more than just a moment’s connection. The scrutiny burned Brandi deep down, starting low in her abdomen and flashing its way back up.

Kyra nodded. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Jaylynn’s voice drifted to them from the kitchen. “Girls. I’m getting ready to head out.”

Brandi smiled apologetically at Kyra. She hated to postpone the rest of their conversation, but she couldn’t ignore her mother. “Come on.” She grasped Kyra’s hand and led her back to the kitchen where Jaylynn stood at the kitchen table checking the contents of her purse. “Where to tonight, mama?”

Jaylynn wore navy blue slacks and a matching blazer. Tailored lines and pressed smooth. She looked mighty fine, much younger than her fifty-eight years. Brandi noticed the matching flats and was surprised. Five years ago Jaylynn swore she’d never wear flats. She believed that if a lady couldn’t wear a nice set of heels, no matter how low, she should just stay home. “It’s karaoke night at the Elks. Sure you don’t want to come along?”

The last thing Brandi wanted to do any night was hang out with a group of old, straight people at the Elks lodge. Brandi straightened Jaylynn’s collar, then kissed her cheek. “No, you go have fun with your friends.”

“Don’t wait up for me.” Jaylynn laughed and headed out the door. It closed behind her with a satisfying click.

Brandi considered her options. She was alone with Kyra. There would be no interruptions. All the reasons she’d been saying no seemed weak and insufficient. Still, it would be rude to pounce on Kyra the second Jaylynn left. Any other night she’d curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. Or perhaps she’d check her email and catch up on the financial aspects of running a ranch. Neither seemed terribly romantic.

“I’m going to grab my bag so I can change.”

It wasn’t exactly what Brandi had hoped for, but at least they were in motion. “I’ll help.”

Kyra climbed into the back of the Chevy and removed the bungee that held her jacket and helmet in place on the back seat. “Might as well take these in.” She handed them down to Brandi. Then she unbuckled the saddlebags and turned those over, too.

“What do you have in these things? They weigh a ton.” Brandi faked an exaggerated stagger when she settled the saddlebags over her right shoulder.

Kyra jumped out of the truck. “Not much. Just my life.”

Her life. Brandi tried to imagine fitting her life into two small bags. She couldn’t picture it. She couldn’t decide what she’d leave behind and what she’d take. Two days. That’s how long she had to convince Kyra that her life no longer fit in such confined spaces. She slipped her arm around Kyra’s shoulders as they walked back inside. The hot throb started in her belly and radiated out. It didn’t catch her by surprise like it had every other time Kyra had touched her, but it still overwhelmed her. It was impossible to think beyond the moment.

Brandi paused outside the guest room door and Kyra pulled her farther down the hall. “I’m not staying in there.”

Kyra pushed open the door to Brandi’s room and drew her inside. Brandi hadn’t invited Kyra to share her room, but she was ridiculously pleased at the prospect. She placed Kyra’s belongings on the top of the old cedar trunk at the foot of the bed. “My grandfather made this.” She said it with love and devotion. Giving the history of the furniture in her room seemed a little inane, but Brandi couldn’t help herself. She wanted Kyra to know all the little details, all the things that defined who Brandi was and where she came from. She was proud of her heritage and wanted to share every last drop of it with this woman.

Black chaps – Kyra’s black chaps – were folded over the high-back chair. She must have left them there when she changed her shirt earlier. They looked good there. At peace. Brandi wondered if Kyra thought so, too. She led Kyra to the bed and gently pushed her into a seated position. She kneeled down and removed Kyra’s riding boots. One at a time, slowly, while she stared into Kyra’s eyes. She was making a promise in that moment. A promise that Kyra would never need to ride away again. Her search was over. Brandi set the boots on the floor beneath the edge of the chair. The picture was complete.

Music and candlelight. That’s what was missing. Brandi pushed play on her bookshelf CD player. Nina Simone. Bluesy angst about Nina and her man didn’t exactly fit what Brandi was hoping for, but it had a slow grind behind it and was made for dancing close. Besides, she didn’t want to fiddle through her CDs looking for something more suitable. She lit the candles in the wall sconces and the three-wick mulberry masterpiece waiting on her chest of drawers.

While Brandi was lighting the candles, Kyra moved to the light switch and turned it to the off position. She wrapped her arms around Brandi from behind, her hips swaying to the music. “Dance with me,” she whispered in Brandi’s ear. The light nip followed by hot, exhaled breath brought Brandi’s skin screaming to high alert. She turned in the circle of Kyra’s arms and gathered her closer.

One day, Brandi would take Kyra dancing properly. In a club full of stale smoke and dim lights. She’d work for it then, really move Kyra around the dance floor. Tonight, however, she simply wanted to hold her close – close enough for their skin to melt together and all worries to fall away like unwanted clothes.

They swayed together through several songs, neither of them breaking the contact. They didn’t kiss, didn’t talk, didn’t explore. They just held each other tight and surrendered to the music.

Brandi pulled her body away, just enough to work her hands between them. She started with the top button. Slow and steady, with deliberate motions she opened one, then two, then three. She waited between each button, watching Kyra’s reaction. “Is this okay?” She traced the inside edge of the shirt where the buttons had already been undone, barely touching skin. She expected to find another layer of cotton or lace, but instead of a bra, she found only smooth skin.

Kyra didn’t say a word. She guided Brandi’s hands down to the next button and helped her unfasten it. Two more and her shirt fell open. Brandi slid her hands beneath the light cotton and pressed her palms flat against Kyra’s abdomen. Kyra gasped and quivered under her touch. Brandi held her hands there, prolonging the contact, then slid them up to Kyra’s shoulders.

The shirt fell to the floor and Brandi was overwhelmed by the site of her half-naked in the candle light, her eyes begging for more. Her lips parted in anticipation. Brandi didn’t know what to do first. She wanted to do it right and she wanted to take it slow, savor each and every morsel.

Kyra tipped her head to the side, waiting. Wanting. Brandi traced the curve of her neck, from just below her ear to the rounded part of her shoulder, with her index finger. Bumps rose to the surface of Kyra’s skin in the wake of Brandi’s touch. She followed a reverse path with her mouth, starting at the shoulder and ending just below her ear. Soft and light, not pressing hard enough to even be a kiss.

Brandi held her mouth close to Kyra’s ear, her breath ragged and hard. She whispered a one word benediction. “Beautiful.”

A groan filled with desperation and impatience rumble out of Kyra. She turned her face and dug her fingers into the short hair on the back of Brandi’s head. Kyra’s mouth was demanding and fiery as she pressed her lips hard against Brandi’s. The time for tenderness ended with the possessive thrust of Kyra’s tongue.

Kyra’s skin was soft. Soft enough to warrant a lifetime of devoted worship. Brandi moved her hands down the smooth surface and gripped Kyra’s waist, just above the cut of her low-rise jeans. Her fingers splayed out over the top swell of Kyra’s hips and she lingered there, immobilized by the probing insistence of Kyra’s kisses and the shiver beneath her fingertips.

Brandi moaned into Kyra’s mouth. She slid her hands to Kyra’s ass and pulled her closer. She grinded against Kyra, slow, but colored with urgency. She needed more. More skin. More moans. More sweat. She wanted to be three fingers deep in Kyra and she wanted it now.

Levi’s have buttons. Under normal circumstances, Brandi loved them. She loved the way they looked, the way they felt. But with a heavy-duty button and zipper between her and Kyra, Brandi hated Levi Strauss and his whole damn button-making company. Her fingers fumbled with the thick fabric.

“Let me help.” Kyra spoke into Brandi’s mouth, not breaking their kiss. She grabbed her jeans and yanked, the button and zipper both flying open under the pressure. Brandi pushed them down over her hips and they fell to the ground, pooling at Kyra’s feet.

Brandi ran her fingers along the top edge of Kyra’s panties. Not lace. Plain white cotton. Sexy. Kyra trembled. Brandi slipped below the elastic edge and eased them down to the floor, kneeling in front of Kyra. She urged Kyra to raise first one foot, then the other as she removed the clothes from around her feel. The scent of Kyra’s arousal reached out to Brandi, inviting her closer. Brandi raked her fingers along the backs of Kyra’s legs until she reached the tops of her thighs. She pressed her face into the soft curls at the apex of Kyra’s legs and inhaled deeply. Kyra moaned and wrapped her fingers in Brandi’s hair, holding her tight.

“God, I want you.” Brandi exhaled.

Kyra tugged on Brandi’s hair, pulling Brandi up her body. “Bed,” she growled, low and sexy, “Take me to bed.”

Brandi wrapped her body around Kyra and shuffled back until her legs hit the edge of her queen-sized bed. She was about to pull her down onto it when Kyra stopped her.

“You have entirely too many clothes on.” She fumbled with the edge of Brandi’s tank top, then yanked it up and off. The bra soon followed. “Oh, god.” The edge of urgency dropped off of Kyra’s motions as she cupped Brandi’s breasts lightly in her hands. She dipped her head and kissed the top of the left one, then sucked the nipple between her lips, grazing her teeth across the sensitive flesh. The bolt of lightning shot from Kyra’s mouth straight to Brandi’s clit and she pulsed against Kyra. She was lost to the electric current, all else forgotten, until Kyra pushed her hand down the front of Brandi’s jeans, sliding one finger into the slick folds. Just a quick, exploratory dip.

“So wet...” She abandoned Brandi’s breasts and reclaimed her mouth, her fingers fumbling over Brandi’s belt buckle.

Brandi worked with Kyra to remove her belt and unfasten her jeans. They fell off her hips in a slow ripple. Kyra pulled her panties down with an impatient jerk, then pushed Brandi back onto the bed. The room swirled out of focus, then back again with a jarring thud. Kyra knelt at her feet and unlaced her Ropers.

With her boots and clothes out of the way, Kyra pressed Brandi’s legs open and slid into her. The rush of being filled shook Brandi. She wanted to go slow, be sweet, show Kyra how she felt. The pounding invasion left her breathless, panting, begging for more. The passion gathered in her like a storm cloud desperate for release. “Please...”

Kyra pressed her tongue along Brandi’s clit in long, languid strokes. Brandi clutched the sheets with one hand and Kyra’s head with the other. Kyra coaxed Brandi’s nerves to attention, her muscles stretched piano-wire tight, her toes curled in anticipation. She silently begged for more. Kyra rose with Brandi, her tongue now focused and demanding. Brandi rode the wave to a pounding crescendo as she went up and over the edge. Completely shattered.

Brandi lay, gasping for breath, her hips settling back onto the bed, and waited for the room to come back into view. Slowly the pinpoints of light took form and she looked up to see Kyra smiling down at her. “My god.” She didn’t know what else to say. She’d started out in control, pleasing Kyra. Next thing she knew she was on her back with her legs spread wide, crying out for more. “Amazing.”

Kyra collapsed on top of Brandi. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, her eyes glazed over and half-lidded. Brandi felt a new surge of primal energy as she flipped Kyra onto her back. She tried to go slow, to explore every part of Kyra’s body. Tried. Kyra wrapped her fingers around Brandi’s wrist and pushed her hand between her legs. The slick, wet heat engulfed Brandi as she slid two fingers easily inside Kyra. She pulled out and added a third, desperate to fill her completely. Brandi moaned. Perfect.

Eyes locked on Kyra’s, Brandi settled over her. She grinded her hips slowly against Kyra, in time with her thrusts. She used her whole body to worship the woman beneath her. Kyra wrapped her legs around Brandi’s hips, forcing her closer still, urging her to go faster and deeper. Kyra’s body tensed and she arched up to capture Brandi’s lips in a pounding kiss. The she fell back, glistening and spent.

Brandi gently removed her hand and gathered Kyra close to her. They fit together, naked and glowing, like old lovers, comfortable in each other’s arms. Brandi couldn’t wait for morning when she’d get to hold Kyra in the early morning light.

She felt Kyra stir against her. She dropped a light kiss on the line of Brandi’s jaw. In a semi-sleepy voice she said, “I was thinking...”

“Hmmm?” Brandi kissed the top of Kyra’s head, inhaling deeply. Lavender and chamomile. She could get lost in that forever.

Kyra traced lazy figure eights on Brandi’s abdomen. “If you don’t mind, maybe I can stash my tent in your closet?”

Brandi tightened her grip on Kyra and forgot to exhale. After several moments, she remembered the basics of breathing and said in what she hoped was a casual tone, “That could be arranged.”

“Good.”

Brandi knew that Kyra could pack her tent and leave at any time. That didn’t matter. The longer she stayed, the longer she had to convince Kyra that she’d found her better place.

The End

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