Page 129 of Whirlwind

“Oh. I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

“That’s why I moved here. Started over.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not with Carla looking at her with those liquid eyes.

“I think that you moved here, but I don’t think that you really started over.”

Dammit. Why was Carla so perceptive? Why was he making her dredge up all of these memories? “Yeah, maybe not.”

“So… any other excuses?”

Had she ever been so young and optimistic? “Yeah, the bar. Remember?” She was being snippy. What was wrong with her today?

“It’s your early night. Practically your day off since you don’t ever really take one.”

“I have stuff to do on my day off.” That was a complete lie, and she suspected that Carla knew it.

Carla only seemed amused. “Were you planning on eating tonight? I know you’re sick of the fifteen things on the menu here, even though they’re delicious. Share a meal with me.”

She hesitated. If he was going to keep pushing, how bad could dinner be? They could hang out, she could tell him why things wouldn’t work, and then things would go back to normal.

“I… OK.”

“Awesome!” When he smiled like that, it was like the sun coming out. “I’m making feteer meshaltet and ful medames.”

It sounded tasty and exciting, the way that the syllables rolled from Carla’s tongue. Yet Charlie heard herself barking out a response. “What is that?”

“The ful is a mashed fava bean dip. And the feteer meshaltet is a kind of layered bread with minced lamb inside. It takes forever to make, but it’s soooo good. My grandmother always makes it when I visit.”

Charlie felt her heart fluttering. Carla wanted to cook for her. Not just cook, but make something special. That sounded… serious.

Then she realized the question she should have asked. Were they going to Carla’s apartment? She’d been thinking something casual, like a restaurant. Somewhere public. Definitely nowhere near a bed. Or even a couch.

She could imagine Carla, stretched out decadently across a mattress, inviting her to do wicked, wonderful things.

Things that would never happen in reality.

But oh, did she want it, now that it was a possibility.

“You’ll love it. I promise.” Carla pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

She wanted to press a hand up to touch it. That soft brush of warmth already felt like fire in her veins. To be so close, to smell the scent of his shampoo and feel the warmth of his breath…

She already wanted more, but he’d danced away before she even realized he was there.

She stood rooted to the spot while he hung the broom up on the wall, then stretched luxuriously, silhouetting the graceful curve of his spine and the soft swell of his breasts.

She’d wanted to touch him before, but now she was burning with it.

And equally certain that whatever this was would be doomed before it began.

“Got to get home to start cooking, so I’ll see you at seven!”

Then he tipped his hat and waltzed out the door.

What. The. Fuck.

***

For the rest of the evening Charlie could barely remember a customer order or even pour drinks.