Whisk Me Away

Chapter Eleven

Ava loved the feeling of having gotten a great night’s sleep. It didn’t happen often, if she was honest. A lot of the time, work left her wired, and she had a hard time turning her brain off enough to fall asleep. Sometimes, she got less than five hours a night for several nights in a row. Not a healthy way to live. She’d tried sleep aids, but they left her too groggy to function the next day, so she made do as best she could during her shifts and tried to catch up on sleep on her days off.

She’d struggled at the retreat as well, mostly because the timing was all off. She was used to going to sleep in the early morning hours and staying in bed until ten or eleven. But here, things down in the work kitchen started by nine, so she needed to be up by seven thirty or so. Plus, some of the other girls kept bakery hours, which meant they were up before the sun, Regan included.

As she lay in bed now and slowly let herself swim up to the surface from her very deep, very restful sleep, she recalled the previous night. Regan had been good company, which surprised her—though it probably shouldn’t have. People seemed to like Regan. She was a nice person. And it was really thoughtful of her to sit and watch episodes of Whisk Me Away with her, knowing how shitty Ava’s day had been. She was grateful for that.

She was on her back and stretched her leg.

It hit another leg.

A leg that was not hers.

Oh God.

She stilled. Afraid to open her eyes, she replayed the previous night once more and realized she had no recollection of it ending. No memory of finishing an episode, closing the laptop, saying good night to Regan, watching her walk back to her own bed.

Oh God.

A weight suddenly settled in her chest over the realization, but weirdly, also on her chest. Still afraid to move, she forced herself to open her eyes, and there it was: a head of brown hair highlighted with gold streaks pillowed on her chest just below her chin. She could smell the watermelon scent of it, feel the warmth of the rest of Regan’s body, specifically the arm that was thrown across Ava’s midsection. Regan shifted just slightly in her sleep, and that arm slid along her skin where her shirt had ridden up a bit, causing a throbbing to begin low in her body.

Could she get out of this? Could she slip out of the bed without waking Regan? Because then, maybe she’d never know.

She was also being ridiculous. So they fell asleep. Together. Practically on top of each other. That happened all the time, didn’t it? Totally normal. It was all totally normal. Right?

A snort escaped before she could catch it, and Regan stirred. Ava held herself still and waited.

Regan inhaled deeply through her nose—that sound of just waking up—and Ava could feel her giving her body a gentle stretch. And then she froze. Did she stop breathing altogether? Kinda felt like she did. Ava didn’t move. She waited.

Slowly, Regan lifted her head from Ava’s chest and turned it until their eyes met.

Ava swallowed at the sight of tousled, sleepy Regan, whose blue eyes went wide. “Morning,” Ava said, and her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat.

“Hey,” Regan responded. “Um…” She pushed herself off Ava until she was in a sitting position. She seemed to notice Ava’s laptop at the foot of the bed and reached for it. “Don’t want this to fall,” she said with a shrug and handed it to Ava while avoiding her eyes.

“Thanks.” Without Regan’s arm pinning her down, Ava sat up, too. She heard Regan swallow, and part of her was glad to know that even though she hadn’t said as much, Regan was clearly as freaked as she was by their situation that morning. She said quickly, “Um, I’m gonna take a shower. Do you wanna—” She indicated the bathroom with her chin.

“Oh. Yeah. Yes. Thanks.” And Regan jumped off the bed like Ava had used a cattle prod on her and hurried to the bathroom so fast, Ava wondered if her feet even touched the floor. The door clicked closed.

“Not awkward at all,” she muttered as she slid out of bed and grabbed her clothes for the day. Regan was out of the bathroom in record time, didn’t look at her, and they scurried past one another. Once Ava was safely ensconced and the door was locked, she leaned on it with both hands and let out a long, slow breath, absently wondering if she’d been breathing at all since she’d opened her eyes.

When the water was as hot as she could stand it, she stepped under the spray, turned her face to it, and stood there. Just stood there for a long moment. What she wanted to do was scream, but as there were no pillows available in the bathtub, she settled for nearly scalding herself as she did some quiet pep talking.

“So you fell asleep,” she whispered to herself. “So what? It’s not like you had drunken sex or something.”

Wait, what? What was her brain trying to do to her? No. No way. That is a visual I do not need, thank you very much. Nope, we are shutting that line of thinking right down. Now. Right now.

She turned her attention to scrubbing. She scrubbed her skin hard. Too hard, really. She just wanted to keep her mind on something other than how nice it had felt to have Regan curled up against her while she slept. How she’d been warm and comfortable and content.

Yeah, she didn’t want to deal with that last bit, so she gave her head a shake and finished up her shower. When she was dressed and finally worked up the courage to open the door, Regan was gone.

She wasn’t proud of the relief she felt.

On her bed was a scrap of paper with a handwritten note.

Went for a walk. Sorry about last night.

~R

She held the paper for several moments, her eyes following the surprisingly flowery handwriting, the swoops of the W s and the drop-down curly curve of the Y . She felt bad that Regan was sorry, that she’d felt the need to apologize for something that was, pretty obviously, innocent.

They’d have to talk about it.

She groaned as she plugged in her blow-dryer.

Not long after, and half expecting to see Regan in the dining room, having breakfast and avoiding her, she was surprised to find she wasn’t there. The others mingled around the room, pouring coffee and nibbling on pastries.

“Morning,” Maia said on a yawn, and Ava noticed that her dark roots were starting to show at her part, slowly pushing away the bright pink.

“Rough night?” she asked with a laugh as she poured herself coffee.

Maia sighed, then took a sip of her coffee before she spoke. “Just up late. Doing research, trying to refresh my memory on everything I learned in culinary school, and jotting notes on what I’d love Liza to help me on.”

“Same,” Ava said.

Maia gazed into her mug and gave the contents a stern look. “Come on, caffeine, kick in.” She took another sip.

Vienna sat at the table, looking not as tired as Maia but still slightly bleary-eyed. Ava took the chair next to her. “Morning.”

Vienna held up her cup in salute but said nothing. In the two and a half weeks they’d been there, Ava had learned that words and Vienna were not friends in the morning.

Madison and Paige wandered in then, Madison with a soft grin, as usual. “Good morning, beauties,” she said and headed straight for the coffee as greetings were murmured back to her. Once she had her cup in hand, she sat at the table and smiled at each of them. “It’s fun to learn you all, to observe you and pick up on things,” she said, apropos of nothing.

Paige grinned and Maia asked, “Yeah? Like what?”

“Here we go,” Paige said, but her tone held affection.

Madison sat up, as if she’d been waiting for somebody to ask. Ava grinned and sipped her coffee, finding Madison to be very interesting. “Well, Vienna says nothing in the morning. She grunts or nods but avoids eye contact until halfway through her second cup.” She glanced at Vienna, who raised her cup in confirmation and grunted but didn’t look up. The others laughed.

“Now, my roommate here,” she indicated Paige, who sat next to her stirring her coffee, “she’s cheerful as fuck in the morning. She hums.” Madison’s eyes went comically wide. “ She hums , people.”

Paige nodded happily.

“Maia,” Madison went on, “falls somewhere in the middle of these two.” She waved her finger from Vienna to Paige. “She’s not super cheerful in the morning, but she talks. It’s also possible she’s slightly addicted to the chocolate chip muffins because she’s had one every single morning.”

Maia looked down at the muffin on her plate. “Have I?”

“Every single morning, my pink-haired friend.” Madison smiled.

“Huh,” Maia said and took a large bite of the muffin.

Madison’s gaze shifted to Ava, who tipped her head to the side and waited. “Now, you,” Madison pointed a finger at her, “you’re a tough nut to crack because you pay attention to everything—I don’t think you miss a trick—but you don’t say a lot. You’re not removed, you’re very much here, but you watch and listen more than you participate. It’s mysterious.” She widened her eyes on that last word, which made Ava smile and the others chuckle in agreement.

“And what about me?” Regan asked as she entered the room carrying a travel mug. Crossing to the sideboard, she refilled it. “What have you learned?”

Madison grinned. “That with the exception of my roomie here,” she indicated Paige, “you are the most cheerful and sweetest of the bunch.”

“Wait. After Paige, though.” Regan sat down across the table from Ava.

“After Paige, yes. Sorry, but nobody’s as cheerful as she is.” Madison shrugged.

Regan gave one nod. “Gotta agree with that. I mean, she hums, for Christ’s sake.” With that, everybody laughed, Regan having not been in the room when that comment was initially made about Paige.

During the laughter, Regan met Ava’s eyes across the table and gave her a soft smile, then glanced back down at her coffee.

Ava pretended not to notice the warmth that rushed through her.

* * *

I fell asleep on her. She followed the text to Kiki with a wide-eyed emoji. She watched as Kiki’s dots bounced and then her text came through.

So? You were tired. Big whoop.

Regan blew out a breath and typed, No, you don’t understand. I fell asleep ON her. Like, all night. I woke up this morning with my head on her chest.

What followed was a string of laughing emoji. A seemingly endless string that went on for rows and rows.

This is not funny! she sent back.

Kiki typed, Kinda is, tho .

Shut up. It was all she could think of to say in the moment, and the dots kept on bouncing, so apparently, Kiki was having better luck with words. Finally, the text arrived.

Babe. Chill out. Just chill, okay? You worry about stupid things. If you fell asleep on this woman ALL NIGHT, you must be at least a little bit comfortable with her. Regan was rolling that around in her head when Kiki’s next line came. She didn’t fire you from the bed, did she? And then more laughing emoji.

Oh, ur hilarious. But she found herself grinning and couldn’t help it. She did not. In fact, she apologized for getting me fired in the first place. Seemed to actually feel bad about it. I was surprised, to put it mildly.

The door of the room opened and Ava came in, having gone for a quick walk before they had to head down to the kitchen. Regan tried not to stare, but last night had opened something. Had cracked a seal or loosened a lid or something like that because now she found herself wanting to look. She’d hated Ava for a long time, but the combination of her apology and having let Regan sleep on her the night before had recalibrated some things in Regan’s head. She could almost feel them moving around in her brain, opinions shifting and changing.

Ava was gorgeous. There was no denying it. Even in the deepest midst of her hatred for the woman, Regan would never say she wasn’t. That would be an enormous lie. Even now, as she sat on her bed and slid her glasses onto her face, she was beautiful. Her dark hair was down and wavy—and Regan knew from experience that it would go up into either a clip or a ponytail before they headed down to work. She had great skin, smooth and creamy-looking. And after last night, Regan now knew that Ava’s breasts were a bit larger than she’d expected, and very, very comfortable to sleep on.

A small sound escaped her, and she gave her head a quick shake. When Ava looked up at her in question, she recovered with “How was the walk?”

“Humid,” Ava said. “Can’t you tell?” She indicated her hair. “I become all frizzy at the first sign of humidity.”

“Your hair looks perfect,” Regan said before she could catch herself.

Ava glanced up and met her gaze, and they held for a beat or two before Ava said a very soft thank-you. “Ready to head down? I wonder what Liza has us making today. Any bets?”

Grateful for the subject change, Regan said, “I’m gonna go with…” She tapped her forefinger against her chin, making a show of thinking. “Tarts.”

“Oh, good one,” Ava said, crossing to her desk. Using the mirror above it, she twisted her hair up and clipped it at the back of her head. “I’m gonna say turnovers. Or popovers. Something with over.”

Regan laughed. “Fair enough.” She opened the door to their room. “Shall we?”

With a nod, Ava went through, and they headed down to the kitchen.

Turned out, they were both right and wrong. Liza was at her kitchen when the group arrived, the first time she’d been there before them. Already in her apron, with ingredients and equipment spread out on her workstation, she was in the midst of baking something when they got there. Their assistants were already standing at their individual stations waiting for them.

“Good morning, chefs,” she said to their surprised faces. Regan moved behind her own station, stood next to Hadley, and shot a look across to Ava, who gave a subtle shrug back. “Today, we are going to work on our puff pastry.” A very subtle groan went around the room, and Liza chuckled. “I see by the sounds you’re making that you’re not thrilled. And that is exactly why we’re focusing on it today. And tomorrow, if we have to. It is one of the most important elements a baker can master, and too many give up and simply avoid making things that require it.”

Regan glanced down at her hands, feeling guilty, as if Liza had singled her out. She did not enjoy making puff pastry because she struggled to get it right. The layering of the dough and the butter, the folding, the rolling, it just never came out the way it should. Puff pastry was her kryptonite. “Shit,” she muttered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hadley glance at her with a grin, and behind her, she heard Madison murmur, “Same.”

She clenched her teeth and shot a quick look across to Ava, who nibbled on her bottom lip. She didn’t seem quite as worried, but she also didn’t look super confident. She gave Regan a thumbs-up and then mouthed you got this and smiled. Next to her, Becca watched.

Regan’s heart gave a happy skip, and that was the first moment the thought crossed her mind. I like her.

Well, who’da seen that one coming?

For the next few hours, they worked on puff pastry. Flour, salt, butter all went into stand mixers. A little vinegar with the water to help inhibit the gluten development. Billy had taught her that. Mix, mix, mix, and once a dough was formed, Regan took hers out of the bowl to finish by hand. Then she wrapped it in plastic to chill for about a half hour and started on a new batch. Liza’s orders. She wanted each of them to do at least four batches, since a lot of time in the fridge had to happen.

While her dough was chilling, she measured out a square of parchment paper to ensure her butter was always exactly the right size. She was folding it using a ruler when a loud banging sounded. Across the aisle, Ava had a rolling pin in her hand and was beating the hell out of a few sticks of butter.

“That’s one way to do it, I guess,” Hadley said, her voice amused.

“It works. I’m gonna do it, too,” Regan told her and pulled out her own rolling pin. Soon both she and Ava were beating sticks of butter into flat pancakes, glancing at each other with big grins on their faces.

Liza had apparently been watching them for a while and then strolled down the aisle between stations just as they finished with their butter. “Interesting way of doing it,” she commented.

“My teacher in culinary school taught me,” Ava said, her voice quiet. Liza looked to Regan, who held up her rolling pin.

“It was this or a meat tenderizer,” she said with a shrug. Over Liza’s shoulder, she could see Ava’s shoulders move in silent laughter. She glanced at her butter, then Ava’s, each in flattened squares, ready to be rolled into the chilled pastry.

“Looks like you both did a good job.” Liza laid a hand on Regan’s flattened butter, then went across to Ava’s and did the same thing. “Still cold. Nice work.” She waved a hand. “Continue.”

Regan’s first batch of chilled dough didn’t roll well. It cracked and broke and frustrated her, and she ended up tossing it, hoping her second batch was better. Ava seemed to have a bit better luck, covering her butter in her dough, though she didn’t look happy about it, so Regan wondered. Over and over, they made dough, flattened butter, chilled dough, put the butter in the dough, rolled, laminated, chilled, repeated. By the time they’d done six folds on four batches each and were ready to let it rest in the fridge overnight, Regan’s feet were killing her, and her hands and wrists ached from rolling.

“You did well today,” Liza said from the front of the room once more. She’d rolled out almost as much dough as they had. “Tomorrow, we’ll make tarts and turnovers with our puff pastry.” She took her apron off and gave them a wave. “See you bright and early.” And with that, she was gone.

“I can’t figure her out.” Regan had meant to say it to herself but forgot Hadley was standing behind her.

“Who? Liza?”

A nod. “Yeah, it’s weird, right? Like, we’re here to learn from her. And I have, don’t get me wrong. Today was good because puff pastry is hard, and I screw it up all the time, so I’m glad she was helping today instead of just watching and judging like she does other times. ’Cause that doesn’t really help me when I’ve fucked something up, you know? Plus, it makes me nervous.”

Hadley nodded as she wiped the counter with a wet cloth. “I get that. Hundred percent.”

“Hey,” Maia said from across the aisle. “We’re gonna go out for drinks, bring the assistants this time. You in?”

“I’m in” was Ava’s answer. She glanced over at Regan, and the expression on her face was hard to read. Of course, that was how it usually was with Ava, wasn’t it? She was the epitome of stoic. Did she want Regan to come? Did she not want Regan to come? Who knew?

Regan couldn’t hide her grin as she met Maia’s gaze across the aisle. “I could definitely use a drink.”

Next to her, Hadley nodded. “Same.”

* * *

The bar scene really wasn’t Ava’s thing, but as she sat at the large booth they’d secured—and had dragged a table up against so they could all fit—she found herself loosening up a bit, having more fun than she usually would in such a setting. It was loud. They’d broken into different groups, some at the bar, some playing darts, some at the booth where Ava was. People were talking over each other and laughing. Even Vienna, the person in the group that Ava thought was most like her, was laughing heartily and making jokes.

Puff pastry will do that to you, I guess.

“What are you grinning at?” Regan asked, sliding into the booth next to her.

She turned to meet those blue eyes, that nearly ever-present kind smile, and gave a half shrug. “Just observing how relaxed everybody seems to be tonight.”

Regan looked around, as if gauging Ava’s assessment for herself. “It was a rough day. I guess people are shaking it off, yeah?”

“So rough,” Ava agreed, and took a sip of her rum and diet. “I hate puff pastry. No. Lies. I love puff pastry. I hate making puff pastry.”

Regan held up her glass of beer so Ava could “cheers” her. “Same, same, same, my friend.”

They touched glasses and sipped. Ava was on her second cocktail, courtesy of Becca, feeling that pleasant looseness in her limbs, and that was likely why she said what she said. “I never thought I’d hear you call me that. Like, ever.”

“What?”

“Friend.”

Regan held her gaze for a moment before saying, “Yeah, well, life is too fucking short, isn’t it?”

“Very true.”

Hadley came over from a trip to the bar. “Scooch,” she said, then slid into the booth next to Regan, forcing her closer to Ava until their thighs touched. Ava felt Regan’s warmth almost immediately, thought briefly of shifting away a bit, then couldn’t seem to make herself.

Stupid rum.

“Whatcha doin’ over here?” Hadley asked, her words just the tiniest bit slurred as she propped her elbow on the table and her head in her hand. She blinked her big eyes at Regan, then at Ava, looking almost comically interested.

“We’re just chatting,” Regan said.

“I didn’t think you two did that,” Hadley said, smiling into her drink.

Ava squinted at her. “What do you mean? Did what?”

Hadley lifted a shoulder. “I mean, don’t you hate each other? That’s the rumor.”

“There’s a rumor?” Regan’s eyebrows shot up and she glanced at Ava before asking, “According to who?”

Another half shrug. “Lots of folks. What happened anyway? Didn’t she,” she pointed at Ava, “fire you?” She pointed at Regan, and something about the smirk on her face irritated the crap out of Ava.

Regan must’ve felt her tense up because she put a hand on her leg under the table, silently telling her to chill, and said to Hadley, “She didn’t fire me. We worked together, and I wasn’t holding up my part of the job, so my bosses let me go. It was the right call at the time. I’ve grown a lot since then.”

To say Ava was too stunned to speak was a colossal understatement. She sat there in shocked silence, hoping her eyes weren’t as wide as she felt they might be.

Meanwhile, Hadley looked a little bit like the wind had been taken out of her sails. “Oh. Well. Rumors can be wrong sometimes.”

“Yes, they can,” Regan said as Hadley slid back out of the booth, obviously disappointed, and headed back to the bar where three of the other assistants were hanging. Regan turned back to Ava. “That was odd.”

“Alcohol, man,” Ava said, then held up her own drink.

Regan laughed. “There was definitely some tipsiness happening there.”

“Definitely.” They sat in silence for a moment before Ava spoke again. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“For dismantling the rumor.” She said it with a grin.

“Nobody likes being fodder.”

“Nobody.”

“Anyway. You’re welcome.” Regan gave Ava’s leg a squeeze, and they both looked down, suddenly seeming to realize that Regan’s hand had been on Ava’s thigh the entire time. Regan smiled softly, met Ava’s gaze, and withdrew her hand. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Ava sipped her cocktail, watching over the rim as a blush crept up Regan’s neck and settled into her cheeks. “You’re cute when you blush.”

Regan picked up her own drink and said before sipping, “Well, you’re hot when you flirt.”

Wow. Okay. We’re doing this now, are we? Ava wanted to be horrified, thought she probably should be—both by her own behavior as well as by Regan’s comment. But she wasn’t. At all. In fact, it made her feel warm. Unexpectedly. She was enjoying it and decided to keep playing. “Been a long time since I did it.”

“Flirted?”

Ava nodded.

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, most definitely. I mean, it’s fun, first of all.” Regan’s grin had chased away the blush, and now it was clear she was enjoying herself as well. Ava studied her, holding her glass in both hands in front of her mouth as she did so. Regan was strong and athletically built, and she was also very pretty. She had an oval face, her cheekbones not sharp but clear, and her chin strong. The dark lashes and eyebrows only served to accentuate the blue of her eyes. Her skin was smooth, a few freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose that only added to the appeal. Ava’s gaze crawled slowly down along Regan’s throat to the peek of cleavage at the spot where her shirt buttoned. Regan made a pfft sound and said, “Old news. You’ve already seen these.”

“Twice,” Ava reminded her, and the blush came rushing back as Regan pressed her lips together, making her laugh.

“God, I forgot about the second time.” Regan shook her head but kept smiling.

“I did not.” Ava held up her glass in salute as she said quietly, “To your boobs, which are pretty spectacular, by the way.”

The blush deepened and oh, yes, Ava was having fun with this, so much fun despite the fact that it was so not her . She didn’t do this. She didn’t flirt openly and shamelessly. Nope. Not Ava.

And yet…

Regan looked at her nearly empty glass. “After that comment, I am in desperate need of a refill,” she said, then reached for Ava’s glass. “Be right back.”

And yes, Ava watched her go, watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked toward the bar, the way she sort of stuck her ass out as she leaned on the bar top and spoke to the bartender. After a moment or two, she managed to pull her gaze away and focus on the others around her, one of whom was Maia, and she was looking directly at Ava with a knowing grin.

It was Ava’s turn to blush. She could feel it, feel the heat crawling up her neck. But instead of teasing her, Maia simply held up her drink in salute, gave her a wink, and went back to the conversation Vienna and Paige were having around her.

“Here you go.” Regan slid a fresh drink in front of her and reclaimed her seat. “Now. Where were we?”

There was a pause, something between a split second and a quick moment, where Ava considered calling it a night. Putting an end to everything that had been happening, thanks to the rum in her system, and signing off for the day. But there was something about looking Regan in the eye, the openness of her expression, the smile on her face, and Ava wanted exactly the opposite of throwing in the towel on the evening. She wanted to stay. She wanted to flirt with Regan. She wanted to do more than that. She wanted to do so much more than that, and the realization hit her like a slap.

Stupid rum.

She picked up her glass and sipped.

* * *

The fact that Ava Prescott was super good-looking was nothing Regan didn’t already know. There was no denying it. It was a fact. Even when they had worked in the same restaurant and Ava had seemed cold and distant and determined not to like her, even when she was making Regan’s work life miserable, it was still a fact that she was crazy fucking hot.

And now? Now that she wasn’t any of those other things, now that they were almost friends— a moment to think about how outrageous that is, please —the only thing that had changed was that Ava might be even hotter, something Regan didn’t think was possible.

“Did you ever think we’d be sitting at a bar doing this?” she finally asked.

“Doing what? Drinking?” Everything about Ava was so damn sexy right now, so hot, Regan was a little concerned she might get scorched, that she’d leave with visibly scarred skin.

She laughed softly. “Yes. Drinking. That and…the other stuff.”

“Oh, talking about your boobs and how you keep showing them to me?”

Regan tried to smother her smile but couldn’t, so she covered it with her hand instead. “ Accidentally. I accidentally showed them to you.”

“Twice. You accidentally showed them to me twice .” Ava was enjoying this. It was so clearly written on her face, the sexy smile, the crinkled eyes, the pink cheeks. Oh, yes, she was having fun. And if Regan was being honest, it was nice to see. Ava seemed like a supremely serious human, stoic, not prone to emotion…or even fun. At least, that was the Ava she remembered.

But now? Tonight? In this little town in this little bar, sitting next to her? Ava was different. Relaxed. Smiling.

It could be the alcohol. Regan had to admit that. A good cocktail could loosen up even the most sober person. She stifled a chuckle and thought, See what I did there?

“What’s funny?” Ava asked, leaning closer. God, she smelled good, like all the best baking ingredients rolled into one, warm and inviting. A little bit of vanilla, a little bit of cinnamon, and a whole lot of comfort, along with that subtle, inviting scent that she couldn’t quite identify.

Regan smiled and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” Ava grinned but didn’t push.

She continued to grin even as she sipped her drink some more and glanced out over the table at the others. They ended up staying for another half hour or so, but they were all exhausted from the day, and when Vienna commented that she was ready to head back to Liza’s mansion, nobody argued against that.

Did their room get smaller while they were out?

A ridiculous thought, yes, but that’s how it felt to Regan. Like Ava’s side was closer, her desk, all her things. Her bed. It all seemed to suddenly be much more within reach, and she was smart enough to understand the psychological aspect of what her train of thought meant, but that didn’t make it stop. She cleared her throat as Ava closed the door behind her, and then it was just the two of them. In their bedroom. Alone.

She stood at the foot of her bed as Ava leaned back against the door with her hands behind her and leveled a look at her that was heavy and hot. Regan felt her heart rate kick up. She swallowed.

Ava inhaled audibly, a large breath, and let it go slowly, continuing to hold her gaze.

Regan knew she’d look for things to blame later. The stress of the day. The drinks. Ava’s goddamn sexy flirting. Whatever it was going to be didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was Ava’s eyes, Ava’s mouth, Ava’s body standing there waiting for her to make a move.

So she did.

Not allowing herself to debate for one second, she crossed the room, took Ava’s face in both hands, and kissed her.

Her first thought was of relief, and that told her she’d actually been waiting to kiss Ava for longer than she’d realized. No. That was a lie. For longer than she was ready to admit.

Her second thought was of softness. Everything about Ava was so soft: her lips, her skin, her body as Regan pressed against it, hips pushing into hips.

Ava tasted sweet, remnants of rum and cola still clinging to her tongue, which Regan now touched with her own, just a hint, just a tease, before she felt Ava’s hands on her waist, pulling her closer, before she felt Ava’s tongue push into her mouth, before she let go of an erotic moan that she didn’t recognize as a sound she’d ever made before.

A slight pull back, because she needed to look, needed to see where Ava’s thoughts were, how she was doing with all of this. Her lips still lingered mere millimeters from Ava’s, but she could see her, the hooded sensuality of her dark, dark eyes, the slightly swollen lips, the flushed cheeks. Ava’s fingers dug into her sides, as if she was afraid of what would happen if she let go.

So Regan kissed her some more.

Time seemed to stop. It was so horrendously clichéd, that phrase, Regan almost laughed out loud when the thought hit. Except it was true. She had no idea how long they’d been kissing, what time it was, what day it was, which planet she was on. All she knew was Ava. Her hands. Her mouth. And the soft sounds of ragged breathing and lips as they kissed.

The next time they came up for air, Ava took her hand and led her to her bed, and when she turned to face Regan, she raised her brows in question.

As a response, Regan leaned in for another kiss and pushed until Ava sat, then lay back on the mattress. Regan balanced above her on her hands and knees and took a moment to take her in, to just look, to memorize the moment, to capture the look on Ava’s gorgeous face.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

Ava’s smile had a bashful quality to it—not a word she’d ever thought of using in relation to Ava—as if she didn’t hear those words often, and she reached up to run her fingertips across Regan’s bottom lip. Then she grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her back to her mouth.

The kissing.

God, the kissing!

It was something she could do with Ava forever, of that she was certain. They kissed and kissed, jockeyed for position. Ava rolled them so she was on top—which was a whole new level of erotic for Regan—until Regan rolled them again and reclaimed control.

Did time stop again? Had it screeched to a halt? It sure seemed like it. She pulled herself up so she could look at Ava once more. Both of them were breathless. Ava’s eyes were still hooded, her eyes nearly black, her cheeks a lovely pink. She wet her lips before she spoke.

“Are you okay if we stop?” Ava asked on a whisper.

“Oh, of course.” Regan nodded and rolled to her side.

Ava grasped her arm. “It’s not that I want to stop—I kinda don’t. But I think we should.”

Regan didn’t want to stop either but had to agree. She nodded again. “No, I get it.”

They were quiet for a moment before Ava pointed to the pillows. “Do you want to, um, stay here? With me?”

“I mean, it’s a pretty long commute,” Regan said, glancing across the room at her own bed as she propped up on an elbow.

Ava laughed, and it transformed her entire face—hell, it transformed the entire room —making Regan realize how rare it was to hear that sound. She tipped her head, wanting to ask why Ava laughed so rarely but also not wanting to spoil what was a pretty amazing moment with something that might be taken as critical.

“Oh, she’s a comedian now,” Ava said, giving her a playful shove. Then she pushed to her feet.

“Always have been,” Regan said. “Just ask my parents.”

Ava kicked off her shoes and then pulled her shirt over her head and off, causing Regan’s voice to stick in her throat. Ava stood there in jeans, bare feet, a navy-blue bra, and nothing else. The expression on her face said she knew exactly what the view was doing to Regan. “I’m gonna get changed. Be right back.” Then she grabbed her pajamas out of a drawer and went into the bathroom, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Regan blew out a loud breath and fell face-first onto the pillow.

This woman just might be the death of her.

And what a way to go.