“Yes, I really have to hear the words. I need the words.” “Okay...here goes. Hobie, I-I—”
Suddenly, Baylor’s face became ashen. She felt as if there was a tremendous weight on her chest. She looked down in terror as she felt her left arm go numb. “Oh, my God.”
“What?” Hobie asked in fear.
“I think I’m having a heart attack.”
Hobie had seen many an MI during her residency. It was always possible that Baylor was indeed having one, but Hobie’s expression said it was doubtful.
“I can’t feel my arm.” Baylor looked down at the limb in question. “Holy shit, I’m gonna die.”
Hobie rolled her eyes, then sharply pinched Baylor’s arm. “Ow!”
“Did you feel that?” “Yes, damn it. That hurt.”
“Then your arm isn’t numb, you’re not having a heart attack, neither are you about to die. See how that all works? You have to actually feel nothing to say that your arm is numb.”
“I can see why you got out of medicine with a bedside manner like that.” Baylor rubbed the spot where Hobie had pinched her. “That was hard.” Her face formed into a childlike pout.
“I bet you don’t feel like you’re having a heart attack anymore, though. Do you?” Hobie asked with a smile.
“You are not a nice woman.” Atiny smile formed on Baylor’s face. “I love you, Hobie.” Just like that, she said the words, before
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Rebecca’s
Cove
she had the chance to think about them any longer. She didn’t want to wait to see what her father’s memory would whisper in her ear. She shrugged off the ghost for the first time in her adult life and it felt good. Damn good.
It only took that simple admission to open the floodgates of emotion for Baylor. She pulled Hobie into her embrace and kissed her with a passion that made their previous kisses seem ordinary in comparison.
“I want you to stay here tonight,” Hobie breathed against her neck.
“Yes, oh, yes.” Baylor murmured her assent as she and Hobie lowered themselves as one onto the overstuffed couch.
“Oh, yes.” Hobie moaned as Baylor’s weight pressed on top of her. “Ow, ow.”
“What?”
“Your cast. Watch where you’re swinging that thing.”
“How about you on top?” Baylor could think of no delicate way to put it.
“Good idea.” Hobie squirmed as Baylor slid her back against the couch. “Hmm.” She paused. “You sure you’re ready to give up the power and control of the top position?”
Baylor grinned. “I’ll risk it. Now where were we?”
“Right here.” Hobie covered Baylor’s mouth with her own. “Mmm.” Baylor moaned. Suddenly, the groans became short
and sharp. “Mmm-mmm!”
“What?” Hobie finally translated the sounds to mean Baylor was in pain.
“Don’t put your hand there, it hurts.”
Hobie immediately lifted her hand and pushed up Baylor’s T-shirt. Just underneath her ribs was the beginning of a nasty bruise. “How on earth did this happen?”
“Putt-putt course,” Baylor said as she tried to get Hobie’s mind on other things with her caresses. “I think it was the swinging monkeys. One of them waylaid me.”
“God, Baylor,” Hobie said, still examining the large bruise. Baylor’s hand slipped under Hobie’s blouse and snaked around her waist, stroking the smooth skin. “Oh, God, Baylor!” Hobie
___
LJ
Maas
exclaimed again, with more enthusiasm this time.
“Ow! Just don’t lean over that way,” Baylor directed, unwilling to end her kisses.
“Hey!” Hobie cried. “Okay, now you’ve got my hair.”
“Ow, shit! Sorry, baby, but the cuts on my hand sting. Let’s try this...” Baylor tried to move out from under Hobie so they could at least lie on the couch, facing each other.
“Ouch!” Hobie cried out as a strand of hair caught on Baylor’s ring.
“I almost got it...just a sec...there, that wasn’t too hard. Whoa!” Baylor had moved a little too far toward the end of the couch. Her weight carried her until she was lying flat on her back on the floor.
“Jesus! Are you okay?” Hobie asked in alarm. It was apparent to Baylor that Hobie was trying hard not to laugh at her, especially before she found out if she had injured herself.
“Who, me?” Baylor tried to appear casual. “Oh, yeah. Cushy carpeting you have in this place. I’m getting used to falling, actually. I think there’s an art to it.”
Hobie covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.
“I feel at this point I probably should make something very clear,” Baylor said. “I don’t usually run into this many problems when making love. It usually goes much smoother than this.”
Hobie burst into laughter at last. “Are you always this...this...” She searched for a word that wouldn’t offend Baylor.
“Clumsy...a klutz?” Baylor finished. “That’s the funny part. I’m considered downright graceful by most people. This seemed to start when I arrived here on the island. For some reason, it appears to be accentuated whenever I’m around you.”
Hobie leaned over the side of the couch and reached a hand down to stroke Baylor’s cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Baylor responded with a sloppy grin. The term of endearment made its way straight to her heart. “Um, you could come down here. It’s pretty comfy.” She patted the carpeted floor.
“I have an idea,” Hobie began. “What would you think if I said I wanted to wait?” She crinkled up her nose as if expecting a blow.
___
Rebecca’s
Cove
“You don’t want to?”
“No! That’s not it at all.” She brushed a stray lock of hair out of Baylor’s eyes. “I do. Trust me, I do. I just want it to be...I don’t know, not perfect, but damn close. I was thinking if we waited until I took that cast off and when you healed up a little bit—”
“Not a long bit?”
“No, sweetheart, not a long bit at all.”
“Sounds practical, which kind of sounds like you.” Baylor grinned. “I guess I should—”
“I don’t want you to go, though. Would you still stay tonight?”
“Think we can manage it without killing each other?” “I’ll take my chances.”
“Then yeah,” Baylor said softly. “I want to, if only to be next to you.”
“I can arrange that. Come on.” Hobie slid off the couch and helped Baylor to her feet.
Hobie led Baylor to the now familiar bedroom. “Do you want to sleep in these?” She gently tugged the drawstring on Baylor’s borrowed sweatpants.
“I think if we plan on just sleeping, then I’d better. It’s that no-underwear thing again.”
“Spoilsport,” Hobie said with a teasing smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Hobie returned a short while later, her face freshly scrubbed and her breath smelling of mint. Baylor had seated herself on the end of the bed, unsure of where to go from there. Hobie stood in front of Baylor and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Baylor to slip her hands around Hobie’s slim waist.
“This is my usual sleep attire.” Hobie looked down at the faded blue Chicago Cubs T-shirt. “Is it going to...bother you?”
Baylor swallowed at the sight of the white lace bikini underwear that peeked out from under the shirt. She pulled Hobie closer to her. “I think if you were wearing flannel from head to toe, you’d still turn me on.”
“You always know just what to say to me.”
“I am a writer, after all,” Baylor said with a pretentious air.