Indelible (9 page)

Angie felt like a French whore and wanted to scrub her face. Her skin couldn’t breathe. “Are you sure I need all this?”

“Stop complaining.” Tori spun her around to face the mirror. “Look.”

“Wow.” It’d been too long since Angie had taken this much time. She’d forgotten about the wonders of Maybelline. “I look beautiful.”

“Sweetie, you always look beautiful.” Tori squeezed Angie’s shoulders. “Tonight you look like a movie star.”

They stared for a few moments too long and Angie had a flash of panic. She’d overdone it. Luna had specified casual. She looked anything but casual.

“It’s too much.”

“No, it’s perfect. Leave it alone.”

The doorbell rang as Angie reached for a washcloth.

“She’s here.” Angie’s stomach fell. Eventually she’d have to figure out where it landed and put it back.

“Yes, so stop fussing and go answer the door.” Tori pushed her out of the bathroom and toward the front door.

Oliver and Jack waited in the living room, looking a bit too happy. Tori stood next to them and they all smiled ridiculously big at her. “Go on,” Tori made a shooing motion, “answer it.”

Angie took a deep breath and turned the knob to find Luna grinning and thrusting out a bouquet of daisies. Beautiful and simple. They were perfect for a first date.

“You’re here.” She sniffed the flowers and cursed herself for sounding like an idiot.

“I am.” Luna looked around Angie into the house, but Angie didn’t invite her inside. She didn’t want to listen to anymore teasing from her family about Luna, now or in the future.

Without looking, Angie held the flowers out behind her and asked, “Tori, will you put these in water for me?” When the flowers left her hand, she stepped out the front door and called out her good-byes over her shoulder.

Luna held the gate open and ushered Angie onto the public sidewalk. There was no car—or motorcycle—in sight. “It’s a beautiful night. I thought you’d enjoy the walk.”

Angie wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. If she left them at her side, would she accidentally brush against Luna? Would that be so bad? The dress didn’t have pockets, so that was out, and crossing her arms felt…wrong. Luna took Angie’s hand, effectively ending the internal debate. Angie savored the feel of Luna’s palm flush against hers—a perfect fit.

“Mmm.” Angie breathed in the cool evening air. “Where are we going?”

“Well,” Luna hesitated, “I didn’t want to take you to a restaurant since you spend so much time in one already. And a movie, while a fun way to pass the time, would get in the way of our actually talking, and that’s the whole point, right? Talking, getting to know each other.”

Luna’s avoidance made Angie suspicious. “Okay,” she stretched the word out, making it last longer than its short four-letters worth, “but
where
are we going?”

“My place,” Luna blurted. “I cooked dinner for you.”

Angie didn’t respond immediately. Her brain was too busy rolling around the implications in Luna’s statement, trying to decide how she felt about it.

“We can do something else if you want. It’s nothing fancy, very portable. We can have a picnic at the park, or—”

Angie squeezed Luna’s hand. “I think it’s lovely.”

“I think
you’re
lovely.” Luna sounded like a star-struck teenager.

“Thank you.” Angie blushed.

Rather than the leather pants Angie expected, Luna wore a pair of soft denim jeans with a broad studded belt. A chocolate-brown men’s button-down tucked in at the waist completed the look. The top two buttons were open. When Luna moved just right, Angie could see the hint of a tank top underneath.

Luna murmured her thanks and they walked in silence for a few blocks. It wasn’t as awkward as Angie anticipated—first dates were always nerve-wracking, and she hadn’t been on one in so long that first-date jitters had grown outrageously in her memory. This felt different from what she expected. She was almost comfortable. Well, as comfortable as she could be with the constant surge of energy that ran between her and Luna.

“I forgot to say thank you for the flowers. That was very thoughtful.”

“I’m glad you liked them.” Luna led them through a narrow alleyway that ran alongside Coraggio. The path led to a small courtyard with a solitary set of stairs, which she ascended, still holding Angie’s hand, then unlocked the door. “Here we are.” Luna stood to the side and let Angie take in the scene.

Luna’s home was small, but meticulously cleaned and organized. The kitchen table, covered with a long bone-white linen tablecloth, was topped with full place settings, white taper candles, and an open bottle of Chianti left to breathe before dinner. Luna produced a lighter and set flame to the candles.

“I hope you like lasagna. It’s one of the only things I can cook with any kind of consistent results.”

“Sounds good.” Angie had eaten very little all day because of her nervousness about her first official date in months. The delicious smells wafting out of Luna’s kitchen brought her hunger back full force.

Luna poured Angie a glass of wine. “I just need to warm the bread. You can wait in the living room if you’d like, pick some music perhaps?”

Angie took a small sip of wine. She preferred to stay and watch Luna cook, but she nodded and went in search of Luna’s CD collection. Along with the expected rock, Luna had a few surprises. Angie selected her favorite Al Green and swayed with the music as she returned to Luna.

“Great choice.” Luna popped a Kalamata olive into her mouth. “Want an olive?”

“Sure.” Angie reached for the bowl, which Luna quickly pulled away.

“Let me.” Luna held the small fruit to Angie’s lips, the juice dripping from her fingers. Angie opened her mouth, closed her eyes, and extended her tongue. She took it delicately from Luna, and the slight contact as Luna’s fingers brushed against her tongue thrilled her. She savored the eroticism of the moment, along with the rich, meaty olive. When she opened her eyes, Luna was staring at her, her eyes dark and intense.

“You are going to make the three-foot rule very difficult, aren’t you?” It was barely a whisper.

Angie turned away and gulped a mouthful of wine. “Is dinner almost ready?”

“Almost.” Luna set the dangerous bowl of olives on the table next to a small tray of Caprese. Angie loved the simple salad of mozzarella, basil, and tomato.

“Can I help?”

Luna put a bowl of bread on the table next to the lasagna and said, “No, that’s everything.” She held out Angie’s chair for her and waited for her to be seated. With Angie snuggled up close to the table, Luna placed her hands on Angie’s shoulders and spoke into her ear. “I really hope you like this.”

Angie shivered. Luna’s hot breath against her ear and glancing off her neck made her want to turn her head and capture Luna’s lips in a kiss. She remembered the way they felt barely there against her own. That aborted, nonexistent kiss had melted Angie. The memory of it stayed with her, taunting her with how good the real thing would feel. Would it match her imagination?

Angie barely managed to answer. “Looks good.”

Luna lingered for a few moments longer, her lips close to, but not touching, Angie’s skin. Angie held her breath, caught in Luna’s steady inhale and exhale. Luna’s hands eased away from Angie’s shoulders, her fingertips brushing the bare skin of her upper arm, and she stepped away. Angie forced air into her lungs.

“Here,” Luna cut a portion of lasagna, “let me serve you.” She dished it on to Angie’s plate, along with some Caprese.

After she filled her own plate, Luna sat opposite Angie. Thank God. Her close proximity was driving Angie nuts.

Angie took a bite of the lasagna. “Delicious.” She closed her eyes and savored the flavor. It was better than Jack’s, not a small feat. “Who taught you to cook?”

Luna scratched her bicep and hesitated before answering. “My mom.”

“Yeah? Are the two of you close?” Angie took another bite.

“Yes, we were.” Luna tucked into her salad, avoiding eye contact.

Already Angie regretted asking that. The answer was obviously making Luna uncomfortable. Still, she continued. “Were?”

Luna stopped eating and placed her fork carefully next to her plate. “She died several years ago.”

“Oh.” Angie had no idea what to say. Everything that came to mind sounded like an empty platitude. She settled on a simple “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Luna shrugged and resumed eating. “What about your mom?”

Suddenly it was Angie’s turn to be uncomfortable. “She’s around somewhere, I’m sure.”

Luna took a couple more bites, then said, “We should find a happier topic, like…the weather. It’s been really nice.” She offered a weak smile.

Angie laughed, but felt strained. “Yes, this weekend was gorgeous. Did you have a game?” Angie felt a twinge as she remembered her only sighting of Luna at the ballpark—a pleasant memory until Ruby had teetered in with her heels and swept Luna away.

“No, I hardly ever play.”

“Really? You did very well when I saw you.”

“Thanks, but I usually opt to sleep on Saturday morning.”

Angie broke off a bite of bread that had been brushed with olive oil and garlic. “Then why did you play that day?”

“Because I knew you’d be there.”

The candlelight was the perfect complement to the red flush in Angie’s cheeks. Luna wished she had a hundred more comments just like that one if only to watch Angie blush.

“You came to see me?” Angie’s blush deepened.

Luna nodded and took a sip of wine.

“So why did you bring Ruby?”

Luna’s calm ruptured again. Why didn’t she see that coming? She traced the conversation, took a larger sip of wine, and said, “I didn’t. Her showing up interrupted my plan to talk to you.”

“You didn’t look terribly disappointed.”

She’d set the trap for herself. She could have avoided the ballpark, let herself be patient, and talked to Angie the next time she passed in front of her shop, but she couldn’t do it. She just had to see her, and of course Ruby just had to show up. Luna mustered a defense. She wasn’t committed to Angie, she shouldn’t have to explain. “I’m sorry.”

Angie folded her napkin, set it on the table, and looked Luna in the eye. “We never did finish this conversation the other day, did we?”

“Which conversation?” Luna wanted to sit quietly and enjoy Angie, not talk about Ruby.

“The one about you and Ruby. And me.”

And there it was, all laid out and impossible for Luna to ignore.

“Do you think there is a you and me?” Luna placed more importance on Angie’s answer than she wanted to admit.

Angie leaned in slightly. “You said you planned to talk to Ruby. Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I told her I can’t see her anymore and that’s that.” Luna simplified the story for Angie. In truth, her last meeting with Ruby had been horrible.

“She was okay with that?” Angie asked.

“No,” Ruby’s reaction still shocked Luna, “but what choice does she have?”

Angie resumed eating, but she kept her eyes on Luna. “That depends. What choice did you give her?”

“None.” Luna was done avoiding the subject. If Angie wanted to know what she was willing to give up at her request, Luna would damn well tell her. “I told her I wanted to date you and couldn’t see her at the same time. You wouldn’t allow it.”

Angie’s features relaxed. She swirled her wine, the deep red catching in the flickering light. “You told her that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t have the right to make that kind of demand.”

“I know.” Luna would have liked to give her that right, and the immediacy of the thought frightened her. She barely knew Angie, but couldn’t wait to discover every bit there was to learn.

Angie seemed willing to share a comfortable quiet moment, and she took another bite of lasagna. They had a lot to reflect on.

“Luna.” Angie took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how this will go, or why you’re willing to let me demand so much, so soon.”

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when Angie held up her hand.

“Oliver is my whole world, and I don’t know how you’ll fit. But I want to try.”

Luna set her fork carefully on the edge of her plate. This was an important conversation. She didn’t want to be distracted by food. “Me, too.”

“You may change your mind.” Angie smiled, but still managed to look sad.

Luna shifted closer and debated taking Angie’s hand. She didn’t. “Let’s find out.”

“I don’t know what it is about you. You’re not my type.”

“What is your type?” The answer mattered to Luna.

Angie fingered the edge of her napkin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about that.” She spoke quietly, hesitantly. “I want a woman who loves completely, thoroughly, and forever. I want to fall asleep and wake up in her arms. I want a woman who will dance in the backyard without any music, climb under the sink to fix the drain, and sit in the bleachers and cheer for Oliver whether he hits a home run or strikes out. I want a woman who isn’t afraid to giggle during sex, who makes me feel…everything.” Angie took a sip of wine. “And I want that woman to let me give her all those things in return.”