CARRIED AWAY IN SANTA FE
Charlotte Dare
She moved around the kitchen in flannel boxer shorts and a faded University of New Mexico T-shirt, collecting eggs, flour and milk for the mixing bowl. Last night’s hairdo poked out every which way. The smell of sliced strawberries wafted over to me as I stared at Katrina’s tanned legs and tried to recall at what point during this visit I had become sexually attracted to my best friend from high school. When had I started leering at her legs, her breasts in snug tank tops or those glistening peachy lips, craving to make contact?
Katrina turned to me with batter ladle in hand. “I can make waffles instead of pancakes if you’d like.”
What I’d like would probably embarrass you, I thought. “Pancakes are fine. Waffle irons are a bitch to clean.”
“It’s been almost fifteen years since we’ve had the chance to spend a week together. I think I can handle a little extra scrubbing.” She grinned and turned her back to me again. I didn’t mind. I liked the view from that side, too.
“Has it been that long?” I absently fondled the fringe on her placemats, colorful things that resembled some kind of Indian blanket.
“Uh, yeah,” she drawled over her shoulder. “I moved out here after college and spent the last ten years begging, pleading and threatening to get you to come for a stay.”
“Hey, I was here for your wedding.”
“Yeah, a four-day weekend of commotion seven years ago.”
“Don’t be mad,” I pleaded. “Sometimes life gets in the way. You were in law school, and it took me forever to get my master’s. Besides, I hated your husband.”
A surprised grin bloomed on her face. “You never told me.”
“I’ve done my share of stupid things, but one thing I don’t do is come between friends and guys.”
She shrugged. “Smart policy. Anyway, I’m surprised you didn’t hear my shrieks of pleasure back in Andover last year when the divorce was final.”
Shrieks of pleasure—to me that phrase had a whole different connotation at that moment. While she poured in the first batch of waffles, I shuffled to her L-shaped granite counter and leaned over to scam a closer look at her glorious body.
She smiled as the batter sizzled. “You look good, Ally. At least your breakup with Tara didn’t do any physical damage.”
“I was lucky. The bruised knuckles after slamming my fist into the wall healed quite nicely. The heart’s a little worse for wear, but I’m fine.”
She offered a sympathetic frown. “I wish you’d come sooner, like right after it happened. Then I could’ve been there for you.”
“You were there, over the phone, like always.” I stood up straight and stretched. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Sure. Bring the OJ and syrup to the table. Do you like the strawberries on top of the waffles or on the side?”
“I like it on top,” I said and immediately blushed.
“Really?” she teased. “Sometimes I do, too.”
“You know what I mean,” I insisted, my cheeks still on fire.
“Uh-huh,” she drawled, enjoying my mortification.
I clutched a thin vase holding a single fresh tiger lily. “How’d you like this vase up your ass for dessert?”
She giggled. “I don’t take it that way, but it’s been about six months since I’ve had a good romp.”
Katrina seemed to be forgetting she was bantering with the queen of comebacks. “You must be desperate if you’re making offers to lesbians now.”
She raised her eyebrows flirtatiously. “After my divorce, I promised myself I’d be open to all kinds of new horizons.”
I studied her waiting. “You’re joking, right?”
She flipped open the waffle iron, peeked in and then folded her arms with spatula still in hand. “What if I’m not?”
I giggled. “Would you knock it off and give me my waffle?”
She quietly turned back to the waffle iron, no smile, no return giggle. Was she actually propositioning me, inviting me to present her with a new horizon, and I just shut her down? Impossible—or was it? In high school, she’d been a bookworm who hid her natural beauty behind eyeglasses and intellectual observations that the boys hadn’t had the patience to figure out, but now she had a surprising ease about her, a self-confidence dripping in sex appeal. Even in silly boxer shorts, she could give Sharon Stone on her best day a run for her money.
As she approached the table with our plates, I forced my eyes away from her.
“I hope you got enough sleep last night,” she said, showing no traces of the awkwardness that had momentarily seized the kitchen. “We have another action-packed Santa Fe day ahead of us.”
“Awesome,” I said through a yawn.
She wasn’t kidding. Our hike to the top of Atalaya Mountain nearly killed me, but the view of the Rio Grande Valley was breathtaking—so was Katrina, all sweaty and cute in her khaki cargo shorts and hiking boots. We sat side by side on a large, flat boulder, gazing out into the valley as we ate roast beef and avocado wraps and guzzled bottles of green apple Vitamin Water. We’d never been so quiet together. Something about the dry breeze in the higher altitude, the smell of nature, dirt and trees all around, Katrina’s powerful presence—what could I possibly add to the experience with words?
After a surprise afternoon at her favorite day spa, she barely gave me enough time to shower and dress before we were off to dinner at Tia Sophia’s.
“How did you like the adobe clay body wrap?” she asked, nibbling a tortilla chip. “Bet your body’s all soft and tingly now.”
“Yes, you might say that.” I retracted my leg swiftly when Katrina stretched hers across the booth and brushed my ankle. The things I’d been thinking about her all day, especially when she was nude from the waist up getting an herbal exfoliation treatment on her back, made me paranoid about the slightest touch or lingering glance.
“So how am I as a tour guide? Think you’re getting your money’s worth?” she asked.
“I’ll say. I’m going to need another week off to recuperate.”
She laughed and licked the salt from her second margarita off her lip.
“This vacation has ruined me,” I added. “How am I ever going to be able to eat Mexican in the Northeast after this?” I swiped more guacamole from the stone bowl with my finger even though I was through eating.
She smiled as she stuck her credit card in the leather binder. “Well, you’re just going to have to come around more often I guess.”
“This dinner was supposed to be on me,” I protested.
She shook her head. “I figure I owe you, after dragging you up that mountain today.”
“That hike was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.”
She nodded. “The view is something, isn’t it?”
The view was only part of it. I was finding it harder to keep my private thoughts from hitting the air. I thought what I was feeling for Katrina was plain, uncomplicated lust, but as my flight home loomed three days away, the thought of saying good-bye to her filled me with a soft, sweet ache.
“How about a soak in my hot tub when we get home? That’ll soothe those out-of-shape muscles of yours.”
I shot her an evil glance. “You’re hilarious.”
“Besides, you’ve never seen anything like a Santa Fe night sky.”