Too Close to Touch (11 page)

“Okay, but I need to pace myself. I have zero alcohol tolerance.”

Gretchen squinted at her. “Um…aren’t you Irish?”

“Yeah.” Kylie had the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Huh. Maybe it
was
the mailman…”

Kylie burst out laughing. “Shut up!”

They headed back to the coolers, Kylie getting stopped no less than three times by various neighbors to say hi. Introductions were made—Kylie was very good about that—and Gretchen shook hands and smiled politely, knowing she’d never remember all the names.

“Aunt Ky!” a small voice called from the direction of the swing set. “Come and play with us!”

Kylie smiled and waved. “Not now, sweetie. Later, okay?”

“Niece?” Gretchen asked.

Kylie nodded. “My sister’s daughter. She’s four and the baby of all the kids.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she reported, “Unplanned.

Oops.”

“Hate when that happens.”

“You have nieces and nephews?”

“Two nieces and a nephew. They’re ten, eight, and two.”

“How many siblings?” Kylie asked.

“Just me and my brother.”

“Is he older or younger than you?”

“He’s younger by seven years.”

“That’s a lot. So, you guys didn’t have much in common as kids, I take it?”

Gretchen laughed softly. “No. He was always getting in my way

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and wanted to hang out with me and my friends. I hated him and used to beat him up.”

“And now?”

“He’s one of my best friends.”

Kylie smiled warmly. “That’s great. You want to have kids?”

Gretchen snorted. “Oh, let’s see…pregnant at forty-seven. I think I’m a little old for that, don’t you?”

“But did you want to?”

Gretchen honestly thought about the question. “No. I didn’t.

Maybe I’m too selÞ sh to have children. I like my independence, you know? I like that I can up and go whenever I want to. I like my quiet time. I like having money to spend on frivolous things.” She glanced at Kylie, who was studying her face with those impossibly blue eyes.

“What about you? Are you the motherly type? Because I think you totally are.”

“I thought about it for a long time, but I feel very much like you do. I like my independence. Besides, being an aunt is really cool. When I hear the old biological clock ticking and I start to panic, I just go grab my little niece and take her out for the day. That usually cures me pretty quickly.”

They both laughed, and Kylie waved to some new arrivals.

“You don’t have to stand here with me, you know,” Gretchen said softly. “I see a lot of people who look like they want to talk with you.

I’m a big girl. I’m okay on my own.”

Kylie studied her. “Actually, I’m good. At least until my mother comes looking for me. I’d like to hang right here with you. If you don’t mind.”

Gretchen held her gaze. “I don’t mind.” She sipped her beer.

v

Mick grumbled as she parked her SUV over a block from the O’Briens’ house. Her intention had been to arrive a good two hours earlier, but she’d slept in after her Saturday night out and Tina was becoming more and more difÞ cult to shake loose in the morning. She was going to have to nip that situation in the bud very soon.

She hopped out of the truck after checking her hair in the rearview mirror and smoothing the sides back over her ears. Grabbing the twelve-pack of Killian’s for Mr. O’Brien and the bouquet of daisies for

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

the Mrs., she began whistling a happy tune and headed up the street, looking forward to seeing Kylie.

This was such a nice neighborhood, the residences way nicer than the piece of crap shed she’d grown up in. It was hard to believe a house of such dilapidation could be found only four blocks away. Mick had her alcoholic mother and absentee father to thank for that. The O’Briens had practically taken her in, not that her parents had noticed. She was sure she’d had more square meals served to her in her childhood by Caroline O’Brien than by her own mother. And she’d spent more school nights in Kylie’s bedroom than in her own.

It used to make her sad. Then there were a few years where it made her furiously angry. Now, she was indifferent. Her mother was long dead and she had no idea where her father was. For all intents and purposes, the O’Briens were her parents and she treated them with the same respect she’d treat anybody who’d taken such good care of her.

“Hi, Mrs. Keeler,” she called to a woman working on her front yard landscaping a few doors before the O’Briens’. “Looks great.”

The older woman looked up. “Oh! Hi, there, Michelle. Good to see you.”

“You coming to the party?” Mick gestured with the daisies in the direction of the O’Briens’.

“Soon, dear. I want to Þ nish this up Þ rst.”

“Do you need help?”

“Oh, no, you sweet girl. I’ve got it. Thank you, though.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

As she neared the house, a familiar Þ gure approached from the other direction. Mick was staring, trying to pinpoint the identity of the newcomer, when the Þ gure spoke, conÞ rming her suspicions.

“Mick? Mick Ramsey? Is that you, you sexy thing?”

“Jorianna Elizabeth Victoria Mitchell? Are those really your lovely dulcet tones I’m hearing?”

“You’re the only one who can call me that and survive,” Jori scolded as they met on the sidewalk.

Mick set her packages down on the ground so she could wrap her arms around her old friend in a warm hug. “What the hell are you doing here? I can’t believe you didn’t call and tell me you were coming.”

She held Jori at arm’s length and looked her over. “God, you look fantastic.”

Jori had always been long, lean, and artistically in fashion. How

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they had ended up friends when they were such polar opposites was beyond Mick. The only thing she could chalk it up to was their shared sexual preference. They hadn’t really become close until their junior year in high school. Mick had been sure of her lesbianism and Jori reasonably sure about hers, and Kylie had been Þ ghting hers as hard as she could. The three of them had bonded, Mick and Jori more so as Kylie periodically went off to try dating a boy until she Þ gured things out for herself.

Now, here they stood, close to forty and comfortable in their skins.

Jori’s straight, brown hair was shoulder-length, severe bangs cut across her forehead. Quirky, black-rimmed glasses perched on her slim nose.

She was thin and leggy, wearing a stylishly casual black dress and chunky black shoes. Not quite right for the weather or a cookout, but just perfect for Jori Mitchell.

“Come on,” Mick said, picking up her stuff. “I was about to head in.”

Mick entered the house through the front door, rather than the garage. She wanted to greet Caroline O’Brien Þ rst and knew the chances of Þ nding her in the kitchen were pretty damn good. Sure enough, through the screen of women milling around the room, she could see Caroline at the sink, rinsing the dirty hands of a small girl she held in front of her, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. Mick snuck up behind her and nuzzled her neck.

“Hi there, Mrs. Gorgeous.”

Caroline jumped, then laughed. She put the little girl down and wiped her hands with the towel before patting her playfully on her behind and directing, “Mommy’s in the back yard with Papa. Go get her.” She turned to Mick, plainly delighted. “Hello, Michelle. It’s nice to see you, honey.”

Mick set the beer down and held up the ß owers. “For you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to bring me ß owers so often.” Caroline gathered her into a hug. “You have other things to spend your money on.”

Mick ignored the all-too-familiar chastisement and nudged the twelve-pack with a toe. “I want this in the basement. It’s for Mr.

O’Brien, not the entire picnic.” The American-made version of Irish beer was Matt O’Brien’s favorite, but she knew he rarely bought it for himself.

“You are too good to us,” Caroline said, then noticed the second

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Þ gure standing in the doorway. Her eyes opened wide with recognition.

“Jorianna!”

Looking over her shoulder as she was enveloped in a warm hug, Jori sneered at Mick’s smug expression. “Okay. Two of you can get away with calling me that. But that’s all.”

“What brings you to town?” Caroline asked.

“A college friend of mine got married in Toronto yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Caroline sounded surprised.

“I know. Seriously. Who gets married over a holiday weekend?

Anyway, I Þ gured I was so close, I might as well drive the two hours and hang here for a while. Get some work done, maybe.”

“You still have that lovely little place in the city?”

“My studio? Yup.”

Mick snorted. What Jori referred to as a “studio” was actually a high-end loft apartment in the posh East Avenue area of downtown Rochester. In addition to a dark room and ample space for Jori to set up a photo shoot if she so desired, the loft boasted a one-bedroom apartment nearly as large as the O’Briens’ entire house. She also had an apartment in New York City, where she spent the majority of her time.

Jori shot Mick a look. “I thought I’d stay around for a few weeks.

And then I looked at the calendar and realized it was the weekend of your annual barbecue and thought I’d take a chance.”

“Well, I’m so glad you did.” Caroline patted her arm in a motherly fashion. “Kylie will be thrilled to see you.”

At the mention of Kylie’s name, Jori’s face brightened. “Is she here?”

Caroline opened the refrigerator and pulled out a giant salad bowl.

Pointing out the window with her chin, she replied, “She’s out there with that new boss of hers. Very nice woman. Last time I saw them, they were talking to Matt near the grill.”

Mick’s stomach lurched when she realized who Caroline was talking about.
What the hell is she doing here?
She gave in to resentment for a few seconds, then made an immediate pact with herself to be as civil as possible out of respect for the O’Briens.

“Michelle, dear, can you take this out with you?” Caroline handed the enormous salad to her and stuck in a just-as-enormous set of plastic tongs.

“Sure.” Mick gestured with her head for Jori to follow.

She spotted Kylie and
that woman
immediately. They each had

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a beer and were standing very close together, setting Mick’s teeth on edge. They seemed to be enjoying one another’s company immensely, as if they were the only two people there. Through the throng of people, Mick could see Kylie’s dark blond head bobbing as she nodded, then laughed, at whatever it was Gretchen was saying to her. She plunked the salad down on the table and glared. It was unusual for Kylie not to be mingling, to be standing still in one place during her parents’

picnic.
Maybe she feels bad leaving the bitch alone at a party where she
doesn’t know anybody. Why’d she even invite her, anyway?

“Wow.” Jori’s voice summoned her from her reverie. “Who’s that?”

“Who?” Mick asked, knowing exactly who.

“The hot little brunette talking to Kylie.” A gleam appeared in Jori’s eye and Mick fully expected her to go ahead and lick her lips.

“She’s…something.”

“She’s Kylie’s boss.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Yummy.” Jori raised and lowered her eyebrows lasciviously and Mick couldn’t help but laugh. Sexual enjoyment of women was another thing they had in common, as was their ability to Þ nd and size up exactly who they wanted, and nail her. In record time. Mick was very,
very
good. Jori was better. And she’d obviously focused in on Gretchen in about Þ fteen seconds ß at.

Mick poked at the inside of her cheek with her tongue, her wheels turning, weighing her options. Her decision made, she offered, “She
is
family, you know.” Not that sexual preference had ever mattered to Jori. She’d bedded as many straight women as lesbians, Mick was sure.

Still, every advantage could help.

Jori’s eyes lit up. “You don’t say.”

“She’s tough, though.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s no pushover. I don’t see her as the…submissive type. You might have a hard time.”

“Well, you know how I love a challenge.”

Mick held her gaze and smiled. “Come on, let’s go say hi and you can meet the tasty morsel in person.”

As they approached the two women, Mick almost laughed aloud at the completely opposite expressions on their faces. Kylie smiled at

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Mick, and then her face lit up like a Christmas tree as she noticed Jori.

Gretchen smiled automatically when Kylie did, but when she followed Kylie’s gaze and saw Mick, that smile slid right off her face like a pat of butter on a steaming ear of corn.

“Jori! Oh, my God, what are you doing here?” Kylie’s voice was a schoolgirl squeal and she threw both arms around Jori’s neck.

Jori picked her up off the ground and swung her around before setting her down and going through the story again. All the while, she still held Kylie and the two friends looked adorable together. At least Mick thought so.

Gretchen seemed less impressed. Sipping her beer, she watched the interaction with a slightly peeved expression that bordered on bewilderment, as if she was trying to Þ gure something out.

“It’s so good to see you, Kylie Jane. You look…unbelievable.”

Jori’s brown eyes shifted toward Gretchen and she smiled, holding out her hand. “Hi there. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“God, I’m so rude,” Kylie smacked herself in the forehead and introduced the two women, referring to Jori as her “dear, dear friend.”

Jori took Gretchen’s hand and shook it, not letting go right away.

“So nice to meet you, Ms. Kaiser.”

“Please. Call me Gretchen.” Gretchen bit her bottom lip and seemed to hesitate. Then, as if Þ nding her courage, she said, “Jori Mitchell.