Cabin fever, p.24
Cabin Fever, page 24
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jessica asked.
Shelby nodded, a bubble of anticipation blocking her throat. The phone rattled a second time, but Shelby was stuck staring at it.
“Oh my God, answer it quick before she loses her nerve,” Claire said.
That caught Shelby’s attention. It had taken Morgan three weeks to finally call. There was every chance she’d chicken out and end the call if Shelby waited too long. She leaped off the barstool and snatched the phone, running toward the patio door.
“Hello?” Shelby was out of breath as she answered the call and burst out into the December cold.
“Um, hi.”
Those two syllables made blood roar in Shelby’s ears so loud she could barely hear. “Morgan? Is that you?”
“Yeah. It is. Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I got your number from Chad. I hope that’s okay,” Morgan said.
The awkwardness and hesitation were so cute it made Shelby’s confidence soar.
“Of course.” Shelby had asked Chad for Morgan’s number a few days after returning, knowing she wouldn’t be the first one to dial it, but also wanting to know who it was when the call finally came in. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”
There was a long silence on the other side of the call and Shelby knew Morgan was deciding how to respond to that comment. Apparently, she decided to ignore it.
“How are you doing? Adjusting to being back at work?” Morgan asked.
“I’m trying, but I do miss all that free time and…” Shelby let a short, pregnant silence grow. “The roaring fire and a good book.”
Shelby paced the patio, her heels clicking on the bricks. She hadn’t flexed her flirting muscles in a long while, but it sure was fun.
“I miss that, too,” Morgan said, her voice low.
Shelby’s heart soared that Morgan had picked up on the flirting. It gave her hope. She turned in her pacing and saw her friends pressed to the window. They were all grinning from ear to ear and they gave her thumbs-ups. Beth held out a bottle of champagne they’d apparently ordered after she’d left. Shelby couldn’t help but laugh at their jumping up and down and encouraging her.
“What’s so funny?” Morgan asked.
“You. I never thought you’d miss…the fireplace.”
“I like surprising you.”
Shelby’s heart was thudding again and her senses swam. She had to stop walking to keep from falling over. “This call is a surprise,” Shelby said. “For a while there I thought you were bored of me.”
“I can’t imagine anyone getting bored of you.”
Shelby closed her eyes as her cheeks ached from her smile. She took a long breath, reminding herself not to try controlling the situation. She wanted something to happen here, but she didn’t want to dictate it. That’s what old Shelby would do, but new Shelby wanted Morgan to set the pace. She could be patient. Morgan was worth being patient and letting go.
Morgan cleared her throat and launched into what was obviously a prepared speech. “I realized when I unpacked that I ended up with a few items that don’t look familiar. I’m not sure if they’re yours or if I accidentally stole from our host. If they’re yours, I’d like to return them. Plus, I owe you dinner for helping me when I hurt my ankle. Are you free to come over to my place Friday night?”
“I am free Friday night and I’d love to come over.”
“Great,” Morgan said.
“On one condition.”
“Oh?”
“You have to cook me fresh vegetables. And no canned meat,” Shelby said.
“Deal.” Morgan’s voice was a little breathy.
“In that case, I’ll see you Friday night.”
Shelby wasn’t entirely sure how she managed to finish the conversation so calmly. By the time they hung up, she was lightheaded with joy and not a small amount of relief. She took a moment to bask in the glow before turning back to the bar. Her friends were still there at the window, this time holding up glasses of champagne and cheering so loud she could hear it outside. The manager would be over soon to make them calm down, but it was worth it, right?
She marched inside to claim her glass of champagne, only dimly hoping she wasn’t celebrating too soon. She downed the bubbly in one the moment her butt hit the stool.
“Well?” Jessica’s voice shook with suppressed excitement. “Don’t keep us in suspense. What did she say?”
“I’m going to her house on Friday for a thank-you dinner.” The other three squealed and high-fived each other, but she forced herself to say, “It’s not a date. Just a thank you.”
“Oh sure.” Claire scoffed.
“Seriously, I’m not going to force anything.”
“You don’t have to force it. It’s definitely a date,” Beth said.
“It’s one hundred percent a date.” Jessica refilled her champagne flute.
Shelby grabbed the glass. “God, I hope so.”
* * *
Morgan was so nervous cooking dinner that she nearly chopped her finger off while slicing red bell peppers for the salad. She set the knife down and took a deep breath, reminding herself she didn’t want another romantic evening with Shelby to end in the ER. Suddenly, she remembered she’d forgotten to chill the ridiculously expensive bottle of wine she’d picked up for dinner.
After putting the wine in the fridge, she wandered around the living room, fluffing new pillows and adjusting the massive print over the couch. It wasn’t until she looked around for something else to futz with that she remembered she hadn’t finished making the salad. On her way back to the kitchen, however, the timer dinged and she had to detour to take the bread out of the oven.
“Just relax,” she told herself as she finally got back to the salad. “It’ll be just like in the cabin with Shelby. So what if we’re back to our regular lives? She’s still the same person.”
Morgan wasn’t sure if that was true exactly. After all, she wasn’t the same person she’d been out there and that was a good thing. Still, Shelby had been quick to agree to dinner, so she wanted to be there. Of course, Morgan wanted this to be more than a thank-you dinner. She wanted this to be a date and she had no idea if that’s what Shelby wanted. She was too afraid to ask. She was too afraid to go after something and miss.
Forcing herself to put the knife down again, Morgan reached for the stone in her pocket. She was met with only empty fabric. It wasn’t the first time she’d reached for the missing stone since she’d come home. There had even been one bad Saturday when she had cried harder than she had since Gail’s memorial. There hadn’t been a funeral, of course. No one got a funeral in those early days of COVID, but the lab staff had come together in the hospital courtyard to reminisce at a safe distance. Morgan hadn’t thought about that depressing farce of a memorial in a long time because she had Gail’s stone to console her.
Morgan forced her thoughts away from what she had lost to what she had gained. She looked into her living room at the new decor and the potted plants dotting the windowsills. These were her new talismans. Her new reminders that negative thinking wasn’t helpful and she had to stop with it. She was done making herself miserable in the off chance she would fail. She would apply that to this evening. If things didn’t work out with Shelby, that was okay. At least she had tried. The thought of things not working out with Shelby freaked her out, but she forced herself not to dwell on it. She wouldn’t sabotage this night before it started. She would put herself out there.
Morgan had finished the salad and washed both the knife and the cutting board by the time the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath and checked the security camera display on her phone. Shelby stood on her stoop, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Honestly, she looked a little nervous, too, and that gave Morgan hope.
“You can do this,” Morgan repeated to herself as she crossed to the front door.
When she opened it, she froze in her tracks. Shelby was absolutely breathtaking. She had clearly come straight from work. She wore a cowl neck sweater the golden-brown of autumn leaves, and black trousers with a high waist and flowing legs that covered up all but the very tip of her high heels. A gunmetal gray peacoat that stretched to her knees hung open and a bulging computer bag with the Ashworth Diagnostics logo pulled down one shoulder. But it was her flowing, slightly windblown blond hair and shimmering blue eyes that captured Morgan’s attention. Perhaps she’d imagined the nervousness through the doorbell camera, because standing in front of her now was the same light, confident woman who had captured her eye in Rochester a month ago.
“Hi there.” Shelby held out a bottle of wine.
“Hi.” Morgan took the bottle in numb hands without really feeling its weight. She cupped one hand underneath it to make sure she didn’t drop it, since she couldn’t quite bring herself to tear her eyes away from Shelby’s smile. After a few seconds, Morgan remembered to step back and invite her inside.
Shelby dropped her bag in the entryway and shed her coat, staring around at the townhouse with obvious interest. Morgan awkwardly hung the coat in her closet one-handed, but Shelby was gone when she turned around.
“I love that print.”
Morgan followed the sound of her voice into the living room. She was admiring the massive frame over the couch, depicting a vividly green forest with a wooden footbridge in the distance. Morgan had been struck by the image immediately and couldn’t leave the store without it. She knew it was because it reminded her of the cabin—minus the mounds of snow—and she chose not to examine her interest in a piece of art that evoked the memory of her dalliance with hypothermia.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Morgan was just able to flick her eyes from the way Shelby’s trousers cupped her butt perfectly to the print before she was caught staring.
“So beautiful that I forgive you for lying to me,” Shelby said with a teasing grin.
“Lying to you?”
“You said you hadn’t decorated your place at all, but here I am in a super cozy, super adorable townhouse. I see art and even plant life.”
Shelby’s heels clicked on the hardwood as she slowly marched across the living room. The closer she got, the less Morgan was able to string together coherent thoughts.
“I wasn’t lying. I’ve just made a lot of changes since I got home.”
Morgan’s face went numb as Shelby drew level with her. The intensity in Shelby’s gaze, the fire and the shameless interest, were intoxicating. But Morgan’s statement seemed to catch her up short. She stopped and stared at Morgan thoughtfully, even reaching up to tap one of her short, French-tipped nails against her own chin.
“I made a lot of changes after our time together, too.”
There was a breathy intensity in her voice and she grabbed Morgan’s gaze and held it fast. Any thought of asking Shelby what those changes had been or really speaking at all fled in the face of that sizzling eye contact. In a heartbeat, she was back on that worn-out, decades old couch, a fire crackling over her shoulder and the taste of Shelby’s breath on her tongue. In truth, she had never really left that moment. Or at the very least that moment had been a fulcrum point in her life. She had been someone else, then she leaned forward and her life had pivoted like a see-saw. She’d never be able to set her feet back down on the ground she’d left when Shelby kissed her.
A timer buzzed in the kitchen and Morgan jumped, her toes actually leaving the ground for a moment. She’d forgotten pasta was boiling away on the stove and a pork loin sizzled in the oven. She’d forgotten there was a world outside those sapphire eyes and that crooked, knowing smile. Shelby had the strangest power to make the world melt away.
“Dinner,” Morgan said in a thin voice.
She didn’t invite Shelby to follow her, just hustled off to make sure her distraction hadn’t ruined their dinner. She didn’t hear the click of Shelby’s heels behind her and she was relieved. She needed a moment to get her feet back underneath her. Based on that intense stare, she was pretty sure this was a date, but that somehow only made her more nervous.
Morgan was just pouring the newly drained pasta into her pan with caramelized onions, garlic, and white wine when she finally heard Shelby enter the kitchen. She tried to act cool and stir the pasta rather than turn around, but she was pretty sure Shelby could tell she was holding her breath.
“Have you finished all your knife work?” Shelby asked.
“Yep. Just a couple minutes until dinner.”
“Great, then you are allowed a glass of wine. Where do you keep your corkscrew?”
Morgan indicated a drawer as she flipped the contents of her frying pan with a few flicks of her wrist. She was hoping to impress Shelby, but her focus was on opening the bottle of red wine she’d brought.
“I didn’t know what you’d make, but Granny Reeves said always bring a gift when you visit someone’s home,” Shelby said.
“I’m not a connoisseur or anything. I had to get a recommendation from the guy at the wine store.”
“Cheap stolen whiskey is more your style, huh?” Shelby slid a generous glass of red wine along the counter to settle next to the stove.
“The cheaper the better.”
Shelby laughed and it became Morgan’s new goal in life to make her repeat that incredible sound as often as possible. They tapped their glasses together and sipped, maintaining eye contact that crackled with the same heat as the look they’d shared in the living room.
“Hey, Morgan.” Shelby leaned close.
“Yeah?”
“Your onions are burning.”
“My onions are…oh fuck.”
Morgan shook the pan hard and Shelby laughed just as hard. When heat crept up Morgan’s neck, she knew she was blushing. She focused back on her task before she really embarrassed herself, but Shelby was too sweet to make her sweat. She hopped up on the counter well out of Morgan’s way, but still close enough they could chat, and sipped her wine.
“It’s been harder than I thought it would be to get back into my work routine after so many days of rest,” Shelby said.
“I thought you lived for work?”
“I did. That’s why it’s such a shock. I should probably take more vacations so I get used to the feeling.”
It was easier to relax when Shelby was so casual. She crossed her legs and leaned back into the cabinets as they chatted about nothing of real consequence. It was wonderfully domestic. Time and wine flowed by until they were nearly finished with Shelby’s bottle and the pork had sufficiently rested.
“Are you ready for dinner?” Morgan asked.
Shelby leaned closer, inspecting the plates. “Why does this look familiar?”
“Well, I didn’t have your recipe, of course, but it’s sort of a fresh version of the pasta you made me our first night in the cabin. With fresh peas rather than canned and marinated pork tenderloin rather than SPAM.”
When she saw Shelby’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, Morgan thought she might have made a mistake. She should wait to explain the whole food memory thing just in case it was too much. Shelby’s smile was wide and genuine, though, and she hopped right down off the counter, landing more gracefully than Morgan thought she could wearing spike heels.
For dinner, Morgan presented the Sancerre suggested by the man at the wine shop in town. Shelby’s eyebrow rose at the label, and that seemed to be a good thing because she eagerly swapped out her glass of red. The pasta, too, seemed to be a hit. Shelby’s eyes rolled back at her first bite, and she let out a moan that had Morgan biting the inside of her cheek.
Honestly, Morgan still preferred Shelby’s version of the pasta, but it was pretty good. Shelby seemed to like it and that was all that really mattered. As the meal progressed and the wine glasses slowly emptied, Morgan realized the first date nerves had fully dissipated. More than that, she realized the easy rapport they’d built in the cabin was still going strong. Maybe it wasn’t cabin fever after all. Maybe this thing between them was real? Shelby seemed to think so, too, because she leaned in closer and closer as dinner progressed. By the time they pushed their plates away, their faces were only inches apart and Morgan was thinking about the taste of Shelby’s lips again. Did Shelby want to be kissed? Had she come here expecting to go to bed with Morgan? Morgan hoped rather than expected it to be true.
“I should get these.” Morgan grabbed their empty plates.
“I’ll help.”
Shelby grabbed the salad bowls and followed, standing close while Morgan deposited the dishes in the sink. Morgan tried hard to convince herself that Shelby was just tipsy, not flirting, so she wouldn’t put expectations on the night which might be disappointing. That was until she turned off the kitchen faucet and felt Shelby slide up behind her.
“Do you know what I can’t stop thinking about since the cabin?” Shelby whispered against the back of her neck.
Morgan turned, locking eyes with Shelby. “What?”
Shelby’s eyes burned and she leaned in as though to kiss Morgan, but she stopped a breath away from her lips.
“You on top of me.” When Morgan’s breath caught, Shelby smiled. “Have you been thinking about it, too?”
Morgan couldn’t speak. All she wanted was Shelby’s lips to finish their push forward and lock with hers. She wanted Shelby’s hands to slide up her sides. She wanted to run her tongue from the base of Shelby’s neck to the hinge of her jaw. She wanted to spend the rest of the night with her tongue and fingers buried deep inside Shelby.
