6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Hope, it turned out, was having a glorious evening. Alison Hartmann had not only shown up for dinner with her, but she’d arrived looking like pure unadulterated sex. Hope had worried momentarily that she’d lose her own nerve, utterly sideswiped by the appearance of her dining companion crossing the bar towards her in a dress so tight there was no way Alison was wearing underwear under there.
All the blood had rushed from her head and she’d had to remind herself that the two of them were free-floating in the nebulous world of is this a date or is this just dinner? Not to mention the incredible, walking complication that was Alison herself. Drooling would be ill-advised about now, but for god’s sake, Hope was only human, and not remotely the strongest one either when it came to beautiful women.
Alison was as beautiful as they came, but it was quickly clear that she was slightly off balance herself. Before now, Hope hadn’t been quite sure if the verbal sparring they couldn’t seem to help themselves from stemmed from the nagging tension of mutual attraction. But tonight, the way the otherwise exceptionally poised older woman could not stop herself from gazing into Hope’s cleavage every time she had the opportunity was making rapidly clear that it was.
Excitement beat in her bloodstream as the power dynamic slowly shifted, from Hope’s creeping sense of lust for someone intriguing and unattainable, to two women, apparently attuning to each other’s every movement. She toyed with it slightly, running her finger up and down the stem of her glass, watching Alison follow the slow movement with her eyes and swallow before quickly looking away. Hope fought a smile.
She ran down what she knew of Alison Hartmann’s romantic life. Two decades of marriage, basically all of which were spent raising a now grown child. The horrific and incredibly public betrayal. And now, divorced for four years. Had she dated? Hope didn’t know anything about Alison’s undocumented period of life, but she suspected, that all things considered, she had not. She’d married absurdly young. Was Simon Hartmann - the fixer, the betrayer - her first love? Her only love?
“What’s going on over there?” The woman she’d been trying to unravel interrupted her train of thought. “You look incredibly serious for a hipster vet contemplating her plate of cool food.”
“As we’ve established, I’m an incredibly serious person,” Hope deflected. Alison tilted her head, her own fork pausing. “It’s an overly familiar question,” Hope pointed out, “asking someone you’ve just met what they’re thinking about. ”
“I see,” Alison resumed eating. After she swallowed, she looked up. “Did you watch Universe Below after you met me?” Hope almost choked on her mouthful. She took a swig of her wine, knowing guilt was all over her features. Alison met her gaze. “Perhaps I’m just trying to even the scales,” she pointed out simply.
“I’m sorry,” Hope managed. “That night at the pub. Camille told me who you were and immediately sat me in front of the television to remind me.”
“Remind you?”
Hope felt herself go slightly pink. The power dynamic was shifting again, fast. She raised her head and aimed for brazen.
“That you weren’t just a hot piece of ass to chase,” she said clearly. It had the intended effect because Alison’s lips parted and no sound came out. It was out there now, unequivocal, no hiding behind girlish teasing and plausible deniability. She cursed herself. A date with someone like Alison should be played with more delicacy. And yet, because this date was with Alison, there was no way through the landmines without a solid slug of truth.
“I don’t…” Alison stared at her, her food forgotten. “You… watched that show, then decided to ask me out on… a date? ” Her voice was incredulous as she turned her head away, a flush on her throat. “I think I’d prefer hearing I was nothing but a hot piece of ass. ”
“Honestly, Alison, I know you’re not that naive.” Hope yanked her attention back. “I watched a fictionalised piece of television, written and scripted and acted. And it was good television, I’ll give it that. But I know it’s not real . I asked you out on a date, ” she confirmed, “because I wanted to get to know you.” She could practically see the thoughts racing behind Alison’s grey eyes, so she jumped in to get her point across. “I wanted a date with the fucking gorgeous woman who practically punched me in the face when I tried to rescue her, who yelled at me to get out of her car until I got in her car - where she immediately turned out to be rather sweet actually - and, quite honestly, also because you’re a seriously hot piece of ass.”
“I’ll… come back and clear your plates in a minute,” said Possum, backing away from their table. Hope’s mouth fell open and Alison’s tense face suddenly cracked. They considered each other, both of them unsure whether it was okay to laugh, before neither of them could stop from letting their shocked chuckles escape.
“Sweet?” Alison finally said, her tone full of manufactured disdain, her smooth brow raised.
“Mm.” Hope let her mouth move into a slow smirk. “It was quite unexpected actually.”
“While I’m obviously flattered,” Alison began, and Hope held back her sigh. “I have to tell you that I’m not… dateable.”
“I beg to differ,” Hope told her. “I’m enjoying this. ”
Alison shook her head, despite the irrepressible glow in her eyes.
“I’m not dating ,” she corrected.
“Can I ask why?”
“Seriously?” Alison looked incredulous. Hope stayed quiet, waiting. Alison took a deep breath and slowly the light faded from her face. “Five years ago my life imploded. Everything I thought was solid just vanished overnight. My marriage, my safety, my child’s safety. Then, my reputation, my home, my family.” She pushed her plate away. “Then, two years ago, I found out that the process I’d barely started healing from, was going to be made into good television ,” she said. Hope cringed. “I fought it, tooth and nail, for my son’s sake even more than my own. Can you imagine what having your parents’ dysfunction play out as a major network drama would do to you? Their fucking sex lives? ”
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Possum held their hands up in horror. “I picked the wrong time again-”
“It’s okay,” Alison gasped out a small laugh. “Please, take this away.”
Possum cleared their plates while Hope gazed at Alison, feeling an almost unstoppable urge to touch her, to take her hand, to offer her comfort .
“I’m just going to… leave these here,” Possum said, dropping the dessert menus between them. “Just like, wave or something, when it’s safe to come back.”
“Thanks Possum,” Hope said, waiting for the server to disappear. “Go on,” she said to Alison.
“Yes,” Alison said wryly. “Where was I? Explaining how entirely undateable I am.”
“No,” Hope said softly. “Explaining that you’re traumatised.”
“Same thing.”
“Absolutely it’s not.” Hope reached out, gently tracing her fingers over Alison’s smooth hand. Alison inhaled, sharply. She met Hope’s eyes and very slowly pulled her hand out of reach.
“It is though,” she said, both alarm and regret registering in her storm-cloud coloured eyes. “I’m not remotely ready to date.”
“Okay,” Hope said quietly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman across from her.
“I’m sorry to be a disappointment,” Alison said, returning her hand to the table. Her fingers were clenched.
“You’re definitely not that.” Despite everything, Hope couldn’t stop her slow smile. “I’m still having an excellent evening.”
Alison’s eyebrows hit her hairline.
“Being rejected and listening to me process trauma? You need to get out more.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not feeling rejected,” Hope denied. She reached her hand up and toyed with her hair. “Not when you keep doing that.” She caught and held Alison’s eyes as they darted guiltily up from her breasts.
The elegant woman across from her went dark flaming red. It was the first time Hope had seen her blush and it was desperately satisfying.
“I…”
“Like looking at my body,” Hope finished for her when she remained speechless.
“You’re incredibly direct,” Alison complained, taking a solid mouthful of wine and avoiding her eye contact even as she didn’t deny the accusation.
“Have you always been into women? ”
“Have you always been so relentless?”
“I’m just asking.”
“You already know far more about me than I know about you,” Alison reiterated.
“Which would be a problem if we were dating.”
“Which we’re not.”
“No,” Hope agreed. “Shall we get dessert?”
“If… you still want to?”
“I do.”
“Okay.”
They flagged down Possum who took their order.
“I’ll call out, when I’m coming over with it,” they said. “Just to give you a warning first. ”
“Thanks Possum,” Hope said. “We’d appreciate that.”
“I’m quite sure there’s nothing inflammatory left to be said now,” Alison said, lifting her glass of wine to her lips.
“Now that we’ve discussed the fact I’d like to fuck you, but it won’t be happening?” Hope asked. Alison made a grab for her napkin as wine spilled down her chin. “Did you just miss your mouth? ” Hope was thoroughly diverted.
“You’re… not a good person,” Alison said faintly, dabbing her napkin against the front of her dress. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“That’s not how you operate in high society?”
“That’s not how anyone operates!”
“How would you possibly know that? I think clear and open communication is the only way forward if we’re going to be friends.”
“You think we’re going to be friends? ”
“Of course.” Hope was slightly shocked. “We clearly like each other. ”
“But we…” Alison trailed off. Hope waited, badly wanting to hear the end of that sentence.
“Are attracted to each other?” She finally guessed the answer when Alison couldn’t seem to go on. Alison seemed flabbergasted all over again to be called out. Hope liked it, far more than she should. She made a point of sighing. “It’s cute how hung up you are on that. I don’t mind having friends who check out my boobs. Camille does it all the time. I have great tits.”
Alison made a noise that was a little like a choke as the flush of colour returned to her cheeks.
“You’re very confident,” she said tightly.
“And you’re not?” Hope said wonderingly. “I literally called you a hot piece of ass. And you didn’t argue the point, I note.”
“Congratulations on having eyes.” Alison raised her chin, the light returning to her gaze.
“Oh, there she is!” Hope couldn’t contain her grin. “You’re fucking hot, Alison.” She barely managed to keep the longing out of her tone. She took a breath. “But I can be friends with hot. All my friends are hot. Please, be my hot friend. I promise, on my life, never to hit on you again. ”
Alison looked at her for a long time, as something warred in her expression, her teeth sunk into her lower lip as if to stop her own words.
“That sounds… good,” she said finally.
“I think our dessert is ready,” Hope told her, catching sight of Possum doing what appeared to be semaphore from across the room. “Anything inappropriate left to say?”
“Absolutely not,” declared Alison. Hope gestured back at Possum with a thumbs up, and they turned to pick up two plates. “You’re not wrong about having great tits though,” Alison murmured, meeting her gaze with surprising boldness.
Hope twitched, immediately knocking over her entire wine glass.
Dessert went by without another hitch after Possum had wiped the small flood of wine off the tabletop and replaced Hope’s glass. Alison asked her about her veterinary practice, and Hope asked her about her son. Alison listened intently and asked smart insightful questions, then glowed with pride and affection as she told Hope about Jac. Before they knew it, Possum had warily cleared their dessert plates and handed them the bill, which Alison insisted on paying. Hope didn’t argue it, having some idea of the difference in their net worth. Shrugging into their coats they headed out the door together, both taking in sharp breaths at the cold air outside .
“Well,” said Alison, her breath escaping in a slow puff of mist. “That was… an evening.”
“It was a great date,” Hope declared. “What?” she said, in response to the older woman’s incredulous look. “It was a date up until dessert,” she argued. “Then it was a friend hang-out. I’m absolutely going to claim it as that time we went on a date though.”
“You’re entirely impossible,” Alison said. Her frown was ruined by the startled smile in her grey eyes.
“It’s good for you,” Hope insisted. “Later, you’ll remember this. That you went on a date with me. That you gave great date. That you’re not remotely undateable.”
Alison’s expression went soft. For a long second, it looked like she was struggling not to cry. She stepped closer toward Hope on the pavement under the immense stars of the dark country night, then raised her eyes to hers.
“Thank you,” Alison whispered. She stepped in, ridding the last of the distance between them. Hope swallowed. For a second, they examined each other up close and Hope’s heart rate went haywire. Then Alison leaned in. She pressed a soft kiss to Hope’s cheek. “Goodnight,” she murmured, her lips agonisingly close to Hope’s earlobe. She didn’t pull back. And then, slowly, she did .
She stalked away to her car, slipping into the driver’s seat without looking back. Hope was still frozen in place. She wasn’t entirely sure if her legs still worked.
“Goodnight,” she whispered, into the cold dark night as she watched Alison drive away.