Tales From Sea Glass Inn (16 page)

She stepped closer, bridging the distance
between them, and her body twitched in surprise when she felt their lips
connect. The time between wanting to kiss Jocelyn and actually doing it was
near instantaneous. She hadn’t wondered whether her advances would be welcomed
or considered what repercussions might follow. She just kissed her. All her
answers came when Jocelyn kissed her back.

She had imagined kissing her before this, too
many times for her own comfort, and she had expected Jocelyn to be as ferocious
in romance as she was in business. There was no battle of tongues or shoving
Ari against the bookshelves, though. There was only a soft molding of the two
of them to each other. Jocelyn’s mouth was pliant against hers, welcoming and
accepting her deeper inside until Ari thought she might be swallowed whole by
the feelings coursing through her. Ari had initiated the kiss, but Jocelyn
moved and brought her body in contact with Ari’s. The touch of Jocelyn’s hand
against Ari’s arm had been intense, but feeling the sensation in her entire
body was overwhelming.

The chime of the bell over Jocelyn’s door
broke the spell as quickly as it had flared to life.

“Ouch!” Jocelyn bumped into the bookshelf
behind her when she jumped out of Ari’s arms. She hastily straightened the
books and smoothed her hands over her hair and her face.

Ari leapt in the opposite direction and
knocked into the podium, barely catching the glass in time to keep all the
water from spilling.

“People are here,” Jocelyn said with a wince.
“I mean, obviously they’re here, since the door opened. But I should get out
there and greet them. You’ll be okay? We’re okay?”

“Of course,” Ari said, although her insides
were anything but okay. She picked up her scattered notes while Jocelyn went to
the front of the store to greet whoever had so rudely interrupted them. Or
maybe they were lucky to have been interrupted. Who knew how far the kiss would
have taken them if they’d been left alone. Ari had never felt her body and its
desires take such complete control over her. She hurried into the bathroom and
stared at herself in the mirror. She was slightly flushed, but not much more
than she usually was when doing a publicity event. She’d expected to see a
disheveled and stunned version of herself, but she looked unchanged and
perfectly normal. On the outside.

Ari returned to the sales floor and let
Jocelyn introduce her to the locals as they arrived. She stood at the front of
the store and chatted on autopilot.
Thanks
for coming. Yes, I’ve found Cannon Beach to be a perfect place for a writer’s
retreat. Yes, I’m inspired by the beauty around me here.
Say what
they want to hear, don’t whine about the writer’s block and for God’s sake
don’t admit to not having written a single word so far.

Ari turned around and jumped about a foot
when she came face-to-face with a larger-than-life cardboard cutout of herself.
She nearly apologized for bumping into the smiling and confident-looking
version of herself. She hated being upstaged by a grinning piece of paper, so
she moved away and over to the table filled with food. She stood next to Pam,
who was watching her with an amused expression, and put some cookies and
crackers on a plate.

“Mel sometimes gets me to do exhibits or
painting demonstrations,” Pam said, chewing on a carrot stick. “I resist, but I
know they’re good for me. I can get too wrapped up in my own little bubble of
art, and I need to get out in the world to get fresh ideas and a break from
introspection. I appreciate how she helps me out of my shell, but what I
really
appreciate is
that she’s never made me stand next to an enormous picture of myself.”

“Yeah, thanks for sharing,” Ari said before
she took a huge bite out of a sand dollar–shaped pastry with a lemony filling.
She wiped at the powdered sugar on her shirt and groaned. “And now the damned
cutout is better dressed than I am. Maybe Jocelyn can put her by the podium and
I’ll stand behind a curtain and read, like the Wizard of Oz.”

“I like the jaunty way you have your hand on
your hip,” Pam said, mimicking Flat Ari’s pose. “You can put her at the
book-signing table and reach through that space under her arm to sign your
name.”

Ari was about to make a retort when Jocelyn
bustled up to the table. “I think everyone’s here,” she said. “We can get
started whenever you’re…What’s on your shirt? Hang on, and I’ll get something
to clean it.”

She was gone again before Ari could say
anything.

“Jocelyn is something special,” Pam said. She
put a large piece of the carrot cake Mel had brought onto her plate. “Everyone
in town loves her, and she’s given back more than we could ever repay. One
positive outcome of that awful oil spill was the way it brought everyone
together and really showed the true spirit of the people who live here. Jocelyn
worked at the rescue center every day, cleaning birds and taking care of them.
She couldn’t keep normal business hours and do the volunteer work, so she’d
take orders and deliver books in the evenings. I’m not supposed to tell anyone,
but even though she was as hard off as all of us without the usual influx of
tourists, she helped a couple other business owners stay afloat. She’s
gorgeous, too, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that already.” Pam took a bite of
carrot cake and licked the frosting off her fork. “She’s single, too, although
I can’t imagine why.”

“I’m not in the market for a girlfriend, so
you can stop the not-so-subtle matchmaking.” Ari could see Jocelyn’s beauty and
she sensed her kindness, so Pam could save her breath. Ari didn’t need to be
pushed toward Jocelyn—she was already there. What she needed to do was focus on
her writing, not on anyone or anything else. Jocelyn appeared again, a damp
cloth in hand, and Ari kept repeating her determination to remain detached in
her mind while Jocelyn rubbed her front from collarbone to belly button. She
felt heat explode under her skin, not helped at all by Pam’s choking laughter.
By the time Jocelyn was finished, after what seemed like hours of intimate
contact, Ari felt ragged.

First the kiss, and now the extended contact.
She knew Jocelyn had only been trying to make her presentable for the evening,
but she’d taken her damned time doing it. Ari stood off to one side while
Jocelyn gathered the guests and herded them into seats near the podium. She had
drummed up more attendees than Ari had expected, but still the pile of books
she was standing near seemed overly ambitious. She leaned one hand on the table
to support herself. It was all too much to handle and she shouldn’t have agreed
to come. Writing, Jocelyn, her mother. Everything hit at once and Ari felt
sucker-punched as she struggled for breath. Anxiety before speaking was one
thing, but this was something new entirely. Something awful. She heard Jocelyn
finishing her introduction and the applause from the audience as if they were
muffled by the ocean’s roar.

Ari pasted on a smile to rival Flat Ari’s and
somehow made it to the front of the room.

*

Jocelyn stood next to Ari and handed her
books to sign, introducing her to locals and telling her how to spell names.
She had been worried sick about the evening, despite her calm assurances to
Ari, and she had questioned her wisdom in pushing so hard for the signing. She
wasn’t accustomed to doubting herself, and the feeling wasn’t a comfortable
one. Ari had been polite but distant when she’d first arrived, and then their
kiss had completely thrown Jocelyn out of orbit. By the time she had stood in
front of the crowd and introduced Ari, she had become a sweaty-palmed,
weak-kneed mess. Certainly not the Jocelyn she was accustomed to being.

She handed Ari a copy of her second book,
Jocelyn’s personal favorite. “This is Helen, Ariana. She’s the one who made the
lemon sand dollars.”

“Oh, I remember those,” Ari said, opening the
book to the title page and writing an inscription. “I was covered with powdered
sugar by the time I finished eating one and Jocelyn had to sponge me down
before I got up to read, but it was totally worth it. Absolutely delicious.”

Ari gave Jocelyn a quick wink and chatted a
bit more with Helen before finishing her signature with a flourish. Jocelyn
didn’t hear a word Ari said after
delicious
.
What was totally worth getting covered with sugar? Getting to eat the pastry or
experiencing Jocelyn’s cleanup effort?

She sighed and took the next ticket in line,
giving Ari the appropriate book and name to inscribe. Ari had her in such a
spin she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t date women like her, let alone kiss
them in her store right before a big event. And she usually didn’t make such a
thorough and long-lasting job of wiping a few specks of powdered sugar off
someone’s blouse. She’d been aroused by Ari’s unexpected kiss and annoyed when
they’d been interrupted. She should have felt relieved, but instead she had
sought out another way to make contact with Ari and to determine whether her
reaction to the kiss had been a fluke or not. It hadn’t been. The moment she
touched Ari, even with a shirt and a cloth separating their skin, she had known
she was in deep trouble.

No matter how personally disconcerting the
night had been, the reading and signing had gone better than she could have
hoped. Ari read a moving passage from her most recent book and a funny one from
her third novel. She had an endearing shyness in front of the crowd and had
answered questions as long as the audience wanted to ask them. Jocelyn watched
her closely, too damned interested in her for comfort, and thought she could
distinguish when someone asked something Ari had answered a million times
before from when a question caught her by surprise with its freshness and
thoughtfulness, requiring her to think fast and give a heartfelt and less rote
answer. Jocelyn was happy with the number of sales she’d made, and she hoped to
plan more events like this in the future. Most of all, though, she felt proud
of Ari. She’d seemed detached and troubled when they had first talked at the
store and on the beach, and Jocelyn had been wondering if the new book was
going badly. Tonight, though, Ari had seemed more present during her reading
and even more so during their kiss. Jocelyn hoped she had given Ari a break
from the stress of her writing, because she seemed more at ease now. She loved
the idea of helping Ari with her project, even for a very short time.

Once the last book was signed and the wine
bottles and food trays were empty, Jocelyn felt the same push and pull she
experienced so often with Ari. She wanted to be alone with her again, this time
with no one to interrupt and no time limit imposed. But her common sense,
usually her best and most trusted asset, told her to make sure Ari left along
with the lingering guests. Jocelyn would be better off going home alone
tonight.

“Do you want to take a walk on the beach?”
she asked when the store was empty and Ari helped her carry the card tables to
the back room. “The moon is nearly full and the tide is out. It’s a beautiful
night.”

So much for common sense. Or any kind of
sense at all.

“Um…” Ari looked as conflicted as Jocelyn
felt by the offer. She bit her lip, drawing Jocelyn’s attention to her mouth
and making her momentarily forget to breathe. “Why not? It’ll do me good to get
outside after being around so many people tonight.”

“You seemed at ease the whole time,” Jocelyn
said as they bundled into jackets by the front door. She turned out the store
lights and locked the shop behind them. “I guess you’ve done enough of these
events to be comfortable with them by now. And this was probably small compared
to what you’re used to.”

“I was surprised by the turnout, actually,”
Ari said. She walked close by Jocelyn’s shoulder, without touching, as they
crossed the street and headed up the beach access road. “I’ve been to a few
with more people, but this was a great group. They were engaged and interested,
and I liked the questions they asked. Like they’d spent time thinking about
writing and my books and really wanted to understand more.”

“I told you the people around here are big
fans. What a shame it would have been if you’d refused to do a signing for them
while you were here.”

Ari bumped into her and Jocelyn staggered a
few steps, laughing. “You sound very smug,” Ari said. “I’m sure everyone would
have survived the trauma of not meeting me.”

She sighed and grew quiet soon after, and
Jocelyn tried to keep up with the sudden shift in mood as they walked along the
beach. Moonlit ocean waves curled and foamed along the shore, and Jocelyn felt
sand fleas bumping into her ankles as they jumped around in the sand. Maybe Ari
was tired after being in the public spotlight—she didn’t seem to seek it out as
much as Jocelyn would have expected.

“We’ll have to have you make a return trip
once your new novel is published and on the best seller list,” she said. She felt
a stillness from Ari, as if she’d stopped breathing.

“Hardly worth the trip here from California,”
Ari said.

Jocelyn stopped and faced Ari. She felt a
frown crease her forehead, and the resulting tension threatened to give her a
headache. She had put a lot of effort into making the night perfect for Ari.
Despite the distraction of the kiss, she had tried to be an ideal host, keeping
both Ari and her guests happy and relaxed. She had mingled, starting
conversations when there were lulls, and had served food and wine to anyone who
had an empty plate or glass. What the hell more did Ari want?

“What’s your problem tonight?” she asked, her
voice louder than usual to be heard over the waves. “What more do you want? To
be adored and complimented more? To make more money on sales? You seemed fine a
few minutes ago, and now you’re back to sulking.”

Ari listened to her little speech with raised
eyebrows. “I meant the book won’t be worth a trip here because it probably
won’t get written. I didn’t mean your event wasn’t worthwhile. I couldn’t have
expected any more from you,” she said. “I appreciate what you did for this
event, and I managed to forget myself while I was there. Especially when we
kissed. But it’s over now. I have to go back to work, and I can’t make it
happen. I’ve written some version of the same damned sentence over and over for
three weeks, and I’ve deleted it every time.”