Chapter 10
Greta
An hour later as she stood in her kitchen making sandwiches for them, Greta admitted, “I feel like all my norms are a little muddled right now.” She was naked still, aside from her boots, which was not how she usually walked around her home.
“Why’s that, darlin’?” Lee leaned against the counter, hands in her pockets, shoulders loose and slouchy like she didn’t have a care in the world. “And do you want help?”
“No.” Greta gave her a look before resuming slicing a tomato.
“Because I’m not sure I can sit at the table and eat a sandwich like it’s no big deal when you just…
” She gestured with her knife. She wasn’t sure of the words, a rare event for her.
Finally, she decided on, “Ravished me? Devoured me? Right there.”
Lee smirked. “I was promised lunch. So I pulled up a chair and—”
“Hush.” Greta laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.
They weren’t even sharing their real names.
For all she knew Lee could be lying about everything, but the app vetted everyone.
Membership required submitting backgrounds, financials, criminal history checks, and annual medical reports.
It was thorough, specifically to look for safety issues and weed out any red flags.
“So … friends talk. Tell me three things about you that are true.”
Lee sighed. “Are we sure about this part? Trying to be friends, I mean.”
“I enjoy your company so far. Maybe you’ll tell me something horrible, but right now, I like talking to you.
” Greta took the drying heart of romaine and switched to her lettuce knife.
She wasn’t entirely sure that bruising the lettuce really mattered, but she had resolved to treat Lee to her best hospitality.
Really it was only reasonable after the way Lee had treated Greta’s body.
“Fine. I was born in the South,” Lee said.
Greta’s laughter came out like a bark. “Caught that when you started letting your accent free. How about something I don’t know?”
“I’m a grad student.”
Greta pointed her bright blue lettuce knife at her. “Really? How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine. You?”
“Thirty-three.” Greta frowned. “How in the world can you afford the app membership if you’re a student?”
“Is that one of your questions?” Lee asked.
When Greta nodded, Lee added, “My grandparents were wealthy. They left me a fund that makes student life affordable. I live mostly like a student, but the app is my indulgence. Plus, there’s the new job.
I can afford it, Marie. I’m not here as a con woman. ”
“Well, obviously. If you were, I suspect we’d be at a restaurant rather than in my kitchen.” Greta held up an onion. “Yes or no onion?”
“No onion.” Lee stared at her. “So you know I’m a student, that I don’t like onion, that I lived in the South, and that I live in DC now.”
Greta rolled her eyes. “The stuff I figure out doesn’t count on the list.”
“Fine. I have my master’s in history, and I’m working on a PhD in another field.
That’s why I read Jane Eyre. I like both lit and history.
” Lee pushed off the counter and walked over so she was standing behind Greta.
Without actually touching her, she stood close enough that Greta could feel the heat of her body.
“I also like naked women making me sandwiches. Does that one count?”
“Nope.” Greta looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Observational notes, Lee. I can tell you like that because you put your hands in your pockets, so you don’t touch me. Your eyes tell me a lot.”
Lee chuckled. “Guilty as charged. So tell me something about Marie, thirty-three, lives in a one-floor apartment, no pets, decent job to afford this place. Wears dresses. Has an exhibition streak. Likes books.”
“Books was going to be my big reveal,” Greta teased. “However can you tell?”
“Just a few overstacked bookshelves in here. Big clue.”
“Ham, roast beef, chicken, or turkey?” Greta asked.
“As one of the three things I am to tell you?” Lee asked lightly.
“Absolutely not.” Greta slid to the side.
“I will observe which you use. All the sandwich things are here.” She pointed at the bowl of tomato, the tidy stack of chopped lettuce, carrot shreds, sprouts, two kinds of cheese, several meats, as well as assorted spreads.
“Steadily gathering information, so you have to reveal something juicy.”
Lee gave her a dirty look and licked her lips. “Oh, I like your juicy—”
Greta slapped a hand over Lee’s mouth. “That’s not what I mean. I know you like that. Observational skills.”
Without missing a beat, Lee licked the palm of Greta’s hand.
Greta giggled and pulled her hand away.
“I must have not been doing a good enough job if you could still observe things.”
Greta stepped back again. “Make your sandwich.”
She thought Lee was going to resume her closed-book stance. Maybe being friends wasn’t possible. They were still lying about their real names, avoiding sharing jobs, and maybe that was enough of a clue.
Then Lee said, “I saw the first Darbyshire book on your shelf. Have you seen the show?”
For a moment, Greta froze. She considered admitting that she saw it before it was public, that she had read the sequel, that she had edited both of those books. But Lee was staying so close-lipped that Greta couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell her what her job was. Yet.
Instead she said, “Not a fan of the book or show?”
“History major. So yeah, I was definitely a fan. I even went to one of her signings. She lives in DC, you know.”
“Which do you like more, the book or the show?” Greta asked.
“The book is better, although the show is good, too. That lead actor…” Lee had an odd smile. “She’s something.”
The urge to defend Addie flared in Greta. She was something. She was a sweet, loyal, incredible woman, and she kept Toni happy in a way that made her easier to deal with. Greta felt like she was going to have to spill everything.
Then Lee said, “The author is a lucky woman. I’ve seen them around the city a few times. They seem perfect together.”
And Greta relaxed and said only, “They really are. I’ve seen them in Manhattan. We have associates in common, actually.” That wasn’t a lie, but it really wasn’t the whole truth either.
What am I to say? That I know them? That I edited the book?
Lee hip-bumped her. “Make your sandwich. Want to watch an episode of the show while we eat?”
“Are you trying to avoid chatting with me?” Greta asked, tone as nonthreatening as possible.
“Nope. I have it on good authority that friends watch shows together.” Lee smiled disarmingly. “In fact, I have watched the entire first season at least twice because so many of my friends are invested in it.”
“Same.” Greta fixed her sandwich. “Water? Wine? Juice? Soda?”
“You don’t need to wait on me,” Lee said a little sternly. “How about you point out the cupboard, and I’ll get us both a drink.”
Greta pointed. “Wineglass for me. In the fridge is a bottle of white I opened last night. Pour me a glass?”
Lee nodded and got them both a glass of wine.
Greta tried not to think how nice it was to have someone at ease in her space the way Lee seemed to be.
She wasn’t as crude as she tried to seem either; she knew exactly which glasses to use.
Lee pulled out white wine glasses, smaller bowls like a champagne flute, but shorter overall than either red wine glasses or champagne flutes.
Greta had all three, as well as martini, margarita, cocktail, and highball options, and, of course, water tumblers.
She hadn’t been able to throw them out when she and Tasha split, although the last time Greta had anyone over in a group had been several years ago—with Tasha.
Thoughts of the life she thought she would have put a damper on Greta’s mood.
Tasha’s decision to upend their lives shouldn’t mean that memories of her could intrude as often as they were lately.
At least now they were not tinged with rage or betrayal, merely a sense of letting go, but Greta was ready to skip over this whole process of healing.
But not so much that I can be friends with Tash. Not now. Hopefully someday …
Being around Lee and the emotions she evoked triggered something for Greta, some urge to move on, and she wasn’t ready to face what that meant.
I need to get my head together.
Greta walked past Lee and went to the bathroom to grab a robe. She washed her face and stared into the bathroom mirror. “I am overreacting. Lee is nothing like Tasha. I am not dating her. Everything is okay.”
She’d never felt so emotionally unsettled by a hookup, but she’d also not made a habit of inviting people to her home.
When she came back, Lee looked at her, expression open and worried. “Are you okay?”
“I was just realizing you’re the first woman who’s been in my kitchen since my ex.” Greta shook her head.
“How long ago?”
“Two years.” Greta cinched the robe belt tighter.
“Do you want me to go?”
“Not at all.”
“You got dressed.…”
Greta shook her head. “No, I put on a robe. I didn’t want to sit there and shiver while we watched a show. Plus, I am not going to sit on my sofa naked while you’re still fully dressed.”
Lee removed her shirt, leaving her in a sports bra and jeans. “Better?”
“Some.” Greta walked to the sofa and sat on one end and looked back at Lee.
Lee followed with the drinks and her own sandwich, and Greta took in her ease at carrying everything else and asked, “How long did you wait tables?”
“You’re good at this game.” Lee sat and gave her an appraising look.
“About three years during college. Flexible hours, no taxes on tips meant more in my pocket. I was on my own by then, and every dollar mattered.” She took a bite of her sandwich, and after she finished it, she added, “I pay all my taxes now.”
They ended up chatting rather than watching the show, and afterward, Lee took away the dishes and went to the bathroom while Greta wondered if this was the end of their night.