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With a new month comes new excitements! In the Long Run debuts sooner than we know it, and I wanted you guys to get an exclusive look at the first couple of chapters! 

Enjoy!

Chapter One

Brooke Watson didn’t like San Diego. She’d decided that about two days ago when she’d arrived for the conference.

She didn’t enjoy conferences, either. She’d decided that twelve years ago, after attending her first one.

She definitely did not like conferences in San Diego, especially when they put her on the spot to do a presentation she hadn’t been prepared for, after having been at said conference for three days already. Could no one give her a heads up in that time?

You’d think.

Brooke was good behind the scenes; actually, no, she was fucking great behind the scenes. She’d worked her way up to running her city’s financial department by thirty and was managing the city by thirty-seven.

In front of a crowd, with no preparation, though?

She mustered up a smile that she was certain looked more like a grimace for the bartender as he poured her a Sprite – accompanied with a strange look, but whatever – and she was more than grateful that he walked away quickly to tend the other side of the bar.

Generally speaking, she didn’t love fancy bars, either. Fancy bars in a city that was too big for her liking, where the music was way too loud. And why did they have the music pumping this loud, anyway? It was only three o’clock in the afternoon!

If she didn’t know for a solid fact what time it was – confirming with both her watch and her phone – then, given how dimly lit they kept this establishment and how loud they had the music, she’d think she was at a club at two in the morning. The name of this place escaped her, but she wondered if this was this place’s niche or something. Or maybe this was just a thing here. Could be, considering she was far from the only patron here so early.

She didn’t even really go to her own bar back in Faircombe, Tennessee, but the sight of it was much more comforting than this one. Lowkey, quieter, locals only.

She scowled, then groaned, propping her elbow up on the bar and pressing her still-too-warm cheek against her hand.

This was the closest bar to the convention center where she had just utterly humiliated herself in front of all of her… somewhat peers.

It wasn’t like she worked with other city officials often enough to really consider them her actual peers. She really only ever saw them at these types of things.

And normally at these conferences, she was way different than what she’d just put on. She didn’t stumble over her words or drop ridiculous index cards she’d been given to do the presentation – because if she’d been asked to do a presentation in the first place, it would have been memorized! It also would have been short, concise, and to-the-point. None of that rambling, filler crap she’d just made a fool of herself trying to do.

Then again, she’d never been tasked to present at one of these conferences, either. Her very first time rising above the mark and that was what she’d done…

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all of the world, did Brooke Watson walk into mine?”

If it were possible to make herself even smaller sitting at the corner of this bar, she would have. As it was, she pretended she didn’t hear her name and hunched closer over the bar. The music was definitely loud enough that she could easily pretend she hadn’t heard anything.

She resolutely was not turning her head to look at whoever was attempting to invade her alone time. Right now was her time to sit here and be annoyed and humiliated in peace. After all, she had to get back to the conference in an hour to give her own actual presentation and she needed that hour to be able to gather herself.

She definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone from the damn conference. Considering that was the only reason she was even in this city in the first place, whoever was seeking her out had to be –

“No, really. Brooke?” The voice – low, with a rasp and a comfortingly familiar twang she could recognize now through the music – was infinitely closer, as a hand touched her elbow.

Instinctively, she jerked her arm down and away from the touch, even as she resigned herself to the fact that she couldn’t abjectly ignore her intruder anymore.

Breathing in through her nose, she prepared herself to put on some semblance of a look like she wouldn’t rather bite off her own tongue than face whomever was standing there.

Only to lose the expression entirely, eyes widening in genuine surprise as she turned.

Taylor Vandenberg stood close enough to her that Brooke could feel her body heat.

Taylor Vandenberg, in all of her Taylor Vandenberg glory, right here in a bar in Southern California, in the middle of the afternoon – Brooke narrowly managed to bite back a snort at the thought. Yeah, somehow that aspect didn’t come as much of a surprise.

Her dark chestnut brown waves that had always looked unfairly good were still long, cascading down her back and over her shoulder as she grinned down at Brooke from where she stood, hand cocked on her hip. Her red shirt was designed to hang off one shoulder, clingy around her collarbones, as it snuggly fit tucked into dark jeans. Effortlessly stylish and ridiculously hot.

Of course.

Taylor’s eyes glinted in question at her. They appeared unfathomably dark here in the bar, but Brooke knew with the proper lighting, they’d be just a shade lighter than her pupils, and they seemed to grin all on their own. Her eyes, they did that – reflect teasing or laughter. Even if the rest of her face was covered, you’d know Taylor was grinning at you with just a quick glance.

Even if they didn’t see one another with any sort of regularity anymore, not for a long while, Brooke was very familiar with that teasing, mischievous glint. It was aimed toward her enough in her youth to be unforgettable.

The thought of it made her scowl all over again as she shook herself out of the surprised stupor.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, clearing her throat as she tilted her head up.

She knew that even if she wasn’t sitting, she’d have to tilt her head up to meet Taylor’s gaze.

“I’m living here.”

Now that alone begged a handful of questions, but Brooke was not in the mood to ask them. Really, she wasn’t in the mood for company at all, including a surprise appearance from Taylor.

Brooke arched a disbelieving eyebrow even as she turned back to her drink. “I didn’t think you lived anywhere in particular.”

Taylor – unsurprisingly – was entirely unaffected by her dismissive tone. She pulled out the stool next to Brooke’s and fell into it in a move that was far more graceful than it should have been. She had on leather boots that rose up high enough that it was the thick fabric of those boots that brushed and settled against Brooke’s own slack-covered legs.

Brooke stared at the point of contact and squirmed back in her seat as her stomach seemed to squirm, itself. But as her chair was wedged against the wall, she really had nowhere to back up to.

“Well, I’m living here, for now. But I thought the for now was implied.” She crossed her legs, drawing her foot up Brooke’s calf as she did so, and then settled just there.

Brooke wiggled her leg against Taylor’s slightly, gaining the slightest of centimeters of her space back, before giving up with a sigh of defeat. With Taylor’s legs pressed against hers and her chair scooted in so close just by nature of the setup of the bar, she’d have to move before Brooke could get out on her own. Her body was still close enough for Brooke to feel her warmth, and yet – it didn’t feel intrusive. It felt uncalculated and easy, even if it was closer than Brooke would have typically allowed someone to sit.

It was uncomfortable for the very frustrating, betrayal response her body had from a simple touch. Taylor’s touch wasn’t uncomfortable beyond the fact that it was totally encompassing.

It was always like that.

Brooke scowled at the thought and took a sip of her soda.

“You drinking a Sprite? God, I love that some things never change.” Taylor stroked her hand down Brooke’s arm, before she lifted it to get the bartender’s attention. Eyes still on Brooke, she shook her head with a smile. “You walk into a bar and order a Sprite.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes and stared down into the little bubbles of carbonation. “I do have a drink every now and then, sometimes.” Very sparingly, she admitted to herself, even as her voice took on a defensive edge.

She wasn’t going to tell Taylor that there was some part of her mind that took comfort in seeing all of the bottles behind the bar; they reminded her of her childhood. Not that it was a good thing, but in a city that was too big and unfamiliar, a place she felt far from at ease in any way, after embarrassing herself, she’d needed some sort of comfort. And this… happened to be the first thing she’d stumbled across.

Taylor flashed the bartender a bright, brilliant grin of appreciation as he approached. “I’ll just take what my friend, here, is drinking.” She pointed at Brooke.

He provided and didn’t give her a strange look for the order, Brooke noted. Then again, she was pretty sure that no straight man in the world – literally – had ever given Taylor a look of anything but adoration right off the bat.

As soon as her own drink was secured, she turned back to Brooke and continued speaking like she hadn’t just stopped for two minutes.

“I came back from a month in Kuala Lumpur a couple of weeks ago and have been here since. There’s a gallery I often sell to in Point Loma, so San Diego’s become a pretty consistent stopover for me in the last few years.” She took a sip of her drink, watching Brooke as she did so. “Ben’s never mentioned it, I guess?”

Brooke thought of the many, many things she and Ben talked about. As her lifelong best friend, they brought up just about anything that was relevant in life – though much of that in the last year was about his divorce.

He rarely mentioned Taylor’s whereabouts to her. Or discussed Taylor much at all, anymore.

“Hasn’t come up,” was all she said as she frowned into her glass.

Taylor snorted a laugh, her hand falling to Brooke’s thigh and patting gently. “Yeah, I imagine it hasn’t. Granted, I haven’t really spoken to him about it. Mostly to Jo.”

Taylor’s hand stroked down her leg to land right above her knee, stealing Brooke’s attention again as her eyes settled on the touch. Brooke could feel the warmth and, absurdly, the outline of all of her long fingers even with the light touch through her pants.

She’d forgotten how incredibly tactile Taylor was. Always had been. Which was kind of crazy for her to forget, given how easily her touch always ignited this feeling low in her stomach. A feeling Brooke resolutely ignored as it was entirely unwanted.

She reached down and batted Taylor’s hand away at that exact feeling starting to form. Absolutely not.

Taylor took that in stride as well and instead of having a physical connection, she turned completely on her stool and leaned an elbow on the bar as she stared intently at Brooke.

Stared expectantly, as if she were waiting for something.

It made Brooke somehow feel like the teenager who was missing that something when it came to whatever was on Taylor’s mind, all over again. As she often had been.

When sixteen-year-old Taylor had come out to the town of Faircombe, Brooke had been twelve and had only understood the meaning of the word lesbian as it pertained to what she’d seen on television and movies. Well, and what she’d heard people say.

Which, in the mid-nineties in a small Southern town, wasn’t much and it wasn’t all that flattering, either.

All she’d known then was that her best friend’s unfairly pretty older sister with a devil-may-care attitude who enjoyed causing a stir, liked girls the way the other girls in Brooke’s classes liked boys. And that for some reason, despite how much Brooke did not necessarily like Taylor, her body got all… jumbled when they were in the same room.

When Taylor would give teenage Brooke that look, teenage Brooke would blush and her stomach would tie up in equal parts nerves and annoyance as her voice was completely stolen from her. She’d spent much of her youth walking away from Taylor as fast as possible whenever Taylor would give her a teasing look or bright smile, or sometimes a playful wink.

She wasn’t quite so tongue-tied as an adult.

Even if she did feel that same annoyed and nervous combination twist together in her stomach. Brooke guessed she was just biologically engineered to be ridiculously attracted to Taylor. It just felt like another joke the universe played on her; here’s someone you are magnetically attracted to, except the joke is! You find her absolutely vexing.

“What?” She finally muttered the word, refusing to shout even with the music as loud as it was.

Taylor’s irritatingly perfect smile broke out over her face as she slowly tilted her head. “I told you what I was doing here. Now it’s your turn, because I asked you first. And I hope it’s a good story because, frankly, this might be one of the dead last places I would have ever expected to find you.”

I’m sure that you were never looking, Brooke’s mind supplied, unhelpfully.

“I’m at a conference.” The clipped response left her mouth and she pursed her lips at the words. God. This freaking conference.

Taylor’s eyebrows arched as she leaned a bit closer in. Close enough that Brooke could smell her subtle perfume, and that alone had Brooke pulling even further back. No.

Her voice was a playful whisper, eyes dancing, “You know that isn’t a great response, right?”

“I hate small talk,” was what came out of Brooke’s mouth, because – you know? She really did.

“Small talk becomes big talk if you actually engage with someone,” Taylor supplied, staying right in the same spot. Giving Brooke that same coaxing smile.

The coaxing smile that did not actually work on her. It didn’t.

It was just that she knew Taylor was never going to turn around and walk out of the bar without this, that had her sighing. “I’m at a conference,” she repeated. “For local officials – city managers, councilmembers, administrators, and the like – of up-and-coming small cities.”

Momentarily forgetting herself, she groaned at the thought of the fool she’d made of herself. “Or, I was at the conference. And I’m going to have to go back, unfortunately.” She let her head fall into her hand as she glared at the bar. “And you’re right. This is the last place anyone should expect to find me. I doubt you’ll find me here ever again.”

Not in this city if she could help it.

“No one hates San Diego,” Taylor intoned, laughter in her voice as she arched an eyebrow at Brooke.

She held her gaze evenly, not giving an inch. Because she wasn’t kidding.

“You’re such an individual.” Amusement was written all over Taylor’s face, dark eyes seeming to spark up lighter with it. “The sun and surf of Southern California not cutting it at your standards? If you tried it out, the vibe here might do you some good.”

Brooke cringed. “You’re forty-four years old. Don’t say vibe like that.”

Taylor winked and ignored her. “Okay, so that explains what you’re doing in sunny San Diego. It doesn’t explain what the hell you’re doing in this bar.”

“What are you doing in this bar?” she countered, her stomach twisting at the thought of the disaster spectacle she’d been a part of that had driven her here.

“Would you believe me if I said I just like to come out and drink every afternoon at four o’clock?” Taylor deliberately took a large sip of her drink, while arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she snorted into her own glass, before she really took a look at Taylor.

Totally clear-eyed, didn’t smell like alcohol in the least – plus, she’d ordered a fucking Sprite, and for all of her rebel acts in their youth, Brooke didn’t remember any of those acts having a particular tendency towards alcohol. For all of Taylor’s flightiness, flakiness, and, in Brooke’s opinion, total lack of responsibility… something about that statement rang false as she gave a hard look at Taylor’s face.

There were laugh lines around her mouth, crinkling slightly around her eyes as she grinned, a little deeper than the last time Brooke had really been close enough to look at her, but somehow they just made her look even more alluring. And her skin still had the same vital glow it always did.

It grated even more that Taylor was aging so well. Then again, she supposed when you didn’t have a care in the world, that was what happened.

“No,” she amended. “Though I don’t doubt you have definitely gone out and gotten wasted at inappropriate times.”

Taylor chuckled, a rich sound that came from deep in her throat. “Me?! Brooke, that’s absolutely absurd. Ludicrous.”

Brooke hated that a small grin pulled at the corner of her mouth even as she rolled her eyes. “Right.”

Taylor placed her head in her hand, her waterfall of hair now falling over her arm, as she stared at Brooke with a surprising, sudden intensity. “Well, I was on my way to a meet up with a friend at her boutique a few blocks from here, when I saw a pretty woman in a suit – and you know me, I’ll always stop to look at a woman in a suit.”

Brooke rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, even as her cheeks heated at the compliment – stupid, because Taylor could flirt with literally anyone without being awkward about it – and Taylor lit up in another smile.

“So, she powers by me, narrowly avoiding knocking right into me, I might add, before looking up at this bar. And it was fascinating, because she looked like it was both hell and salvation at the same time. I don’t know many people who could pull that expression off so candidly.”

Brooke could feel her cheeks burn hotter and she was actually glad for the dimmed lighting now.

“So, you know, I paused to watch this woman enter the bar and then, it hit me. That woman looked exactly like Brooke Watson. She even had the same little line right up there that Brooke gets when she scowls,” Taylor reached up and softly ran her fingertip over the spot between Brooke’s eyebrows.

Brooke grabbed Taylor’s hand and held it in a firm grip as she pulled it down away from her face, scowling uncontrollably as she did so. “You did not think that.”

“I did, too.”

“You haven’t even really seen me in over three years.”

It grated her how easily the memory of the last time she’d actually talked to Taylor popped into her head. Almost four years ago, at Taylor’s parents’ thirty-eighth wedding anniversary. Taylor had teased her for sitting off to the side by herself, and then had forced Brooke to dance. And by forced, she meant with a lot of teasing and coaxing and just being around her until Brooke just, inexplicably, gave in.

By the time Brooke relaxed into it and started feeling sort of comfortable, Taylor had grinned brightly, leaned in close enough that her lips almost brushed Brooke’s ear as she’d whispered, “Keep it up.” She’d squeezed Brooke’s waist tightly, and had then seemingly disappeared into the crowd. She was gone from the town as a whole the following day.

A particular talent of hers.

“But you’ve always had that line.” Taylor scrunched up her face in what, Brooke guessed, was supposed to be an approximation of her own expression. Only it looked ridiculous and she narrowed her eyes. Taylor must have thought so, too, because she dropped the face with a laugh. “Even when you were a kid, you had that line. So serious.”

She had to actively stop herself from reaching up and rubbing the spot in question, even as could feel her frown deepen with the thought.

“Anyway, I stood outside for a minute, telling myself – there was just no way Brooke Watson was two thousand miles from Faircombe, in San Diego. In a bar, in the middle of the day, at that. But I couldn’t just walk away without satisfying my curiosity. And alas, it was you, so here I am.” She finished her tale with a little shrug, gaze never leaving Brooke’s face.

Her eyes were guileless, totally open, and Brooke made herself hold them for a few seconds before she turned to sip her Sprite.

It was only when she reached with her left hand that she realized she was still holding Taylor’s in her right hand, settled in her lap. Taylor seemed content with the hold, her fingers curled around and relaxed against the back of Brooke’s hand.

Brooke abruptly let go, breaking the contact as soon as she was able to really register the soft skin against her palm. Taking in a deep breath, she blew it out slowly, pressing her empty hand hard against her leg.

“All right. What happened at this conference that has made it so hellacious?” Taylor asked, and before Brooke could say anything to the contrary, she reached out and drew her fingertips from Brooke’s elbow down to her wrist, catching on the crisply folded button-up shirt she was wearing, fingertips brushing over her wrist. “You’re in a suit. You were clearly trying to get away from something there.”

Brooke bit the inside of her cheek, hard, thinking about the last forty-five minutes of her life, as she gave Taylor a measuring look. She wasn’t about to just relive her humiliation to Taylor; the thought almost made her laugh.

Until she opened her mouth and the words came spilling out.

“I – this is the first time I’ve been asked to come to this conference. It’s… a big deal.” That was an understatement. The last time a city as small as Faircombe had been included in a conference of this size… well, it had never happened. “They asked me to present, last-minute, in the place of another city manager. From Kent Hill,” she supplied the city in Kentucky, shaking her hair back, cheeks heating at the memory. “We’re both the smallest cities and have the most similar functions, so I guess it makes sense,” she muttered.

“But I had no time to really prepare. And once I was in front of everyone and under-prepared, talking about something I – well I know, but it wasn’t my own research or words… it went okay for the first twenty minutes.” Not great, she thought with a self-derisive eyeroll. “But then I tripped up and got caught up in my own head, when I realized everyone was watching me.”

She flexed her hands against her thighs, glaring down at them as she remembered them shaking. Then the way she’d tripped over the cord of the microphone, and how that had led to her dropping the index cards she was using to guide the presentation. She was frustrated with herself, the embarrassment still circulating inside of her forming a pit in her stomach.

She honestly had no idea how the last fifteen minutes of the presentation actually went, because it all blended together in her head at that point. Into a repetitive drone of get out, finish this now, you need to end this.

Taylor’s hand landed on top of her left one, her gentle touch inexplicably comforting. “Just like The Parade of Stars all over again.”

The touch of humor in her voice was tinged with empathy but Brooke still blanched at the reminder of her fourth grade play. Where… admittedly, a very similar thing had happened. Only, back then, her stage fright resulted in her also throwing up.

Still, she shot Taylor a look. “No,” she ground out, “Because back then, I was ten. I can do this now.” As long as she was prepared, she added silently. Still, her forehead crinkled as the stress seemed to pound down on her, tying up her nerves. “And I have to prove it to give my own presentation in,” she checked her watch, “thirty-five minutes.”

Taylor nodded slowly, before ending in a resolute motion. Like something had been decided upon and agreed between them. Brooke only had to wonder for a moment what it was before Taylor announced, “It’s definitely going to go well, because you’re going to practice on me.”

Brooke choked on the sip she’d taken, ripping her hand out from where it still rested under Taylor’s. She didn’t even know why she’d let it stay for so long. Somewhat, sort-of, maybe comforting or not.

“You’re insane,” she stated with certainty. It wasn’t the first time Taylor had heard that, she was sure. Actually, she knew she’d said it in the past, a handful of times with varying intensities.

“No, really. Hit me.” Taylor tilted her head, as if literally lending an ear toward her.

She didn’t even dignify that one with a response.

Taylor remained undeterred. “Come on; if you can’t talk about something like this with your lifelong friends, who can you talk about it with?”

“We aren’t friends, though.” The correction left her before she thought twice about it and she turned to give Taylor a look that matched the incredulity she was feeling inside at the statement.

“Well, ouch.” Even though her voice still held a lightness, Taylor’s eyebrows pinched together. She sat up straight, no longer leaning on the bar, as she remained facing Brooke. The look in her dark eyes wasn’t playful anymore.

It gave Brooke pause and a little stab of guilt tried to poke into her stomach before she shut it down. Forcefully.

A little vexed and more than a little frustrated, she huffed out a breath. “I mean, we’ve never really been friends. I was friends with Ben; I am friends with Ben.” And, at this point in her adulthood, also friends with Taylor’s sister as well. “But you’re – I don’t even know where you are in the world. Literally. We don’t keep in touch when you’re gone. That’s not friendship; it’s not a relationship at all.”

She nodded with her own words and they took away that little feeling at the disappearance of Taylor’s easy, lightheartedness from moments ago. Everything she said was just a fact.

“So, to you, we’re not friends.” Taylor spoke slowly, her voice contemplative, even as she kept her eyes on Brooke, intently.

“We aren’t, by anyone’s definition, friends,” she insisted.

Maybe Brooke didn’t have many of them – even at forty, still technically a loner – but she did have Ben. And Savannah, the youngest Vandenberg. And she had Marisa, who may be her assistant, but doubled as another friend. Somewhat. And Brooke wouldn’t ever go for weeks, months, or freaking years without contacting them.

“You don’t know my definition,” Taylor informed her, arching an eyebrow, before she broke with a small, soft smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe not friends, exactly,” she conceded, “But – look. We’re something, aren’t we?”

Brooke only narrowed her eyes, still feeling wrung out by her day and now, a bit by this conversation.

“I mean. If we were absolutely nothing at all to each other, how would I know that you hate peas? Or that you always put your hair up in a bun when you’re trying to concentrate on something? Or that even though you are an adult woman in a bar, I knew it was a straight up Sprite on the rocks in that cup?” Taylor waited a beat, wiggling her eyebrows. “And mostly, you have to feel some sort of connection here with me to have told me about your day earlier. Because I know that you wouldn’t have felt comfortable talking to just anyone off the street.”

Brooke did hate peas. And she did always tie her hair up in a bun when she was getting down to work on something, because she felt like it got in the way when she was trying to think. Both of those things were byproducts of the fact that Taylor had known her for basically her entire life – ever since that day in kindergarten when she’d gone home with Ben to play at his house, anyway. And perhaps Taylor was even right that Brooke felt a certain sense of comfort at a familiar face.

“Fine,” she allowed, finishing her drink before she turned to look at Taylor. “We’re… something.”

Taylor’s smile seemed bright enough to illuminate the entire dim interior as she let out a victorious cheer. “Yes! I knew I’d get you out of the black and white and into the gray zone eventually.”

Sick of following the path Taylor seemed to be laying down for her, Brooke sighed and rubbed at her temple. “What?” Taylor opened her mouth to expand, but Brooke shook her head, “No, like… what is the point you’re getting at?”

“The point is that I think that there are times where your path crosses with someone else’s just at the right instant. Where you meet someone who’s good for you at that moment. And maybe, right now, at this moment in time, I’m yours.”

I’m yours.

It was such an odd thing to hear from Taylor, those exact words, because she wondered peripherally if Taylor had ever settled anywhere long enough to allow herself to be anyone’s.

The thought left as soon as it came, and Brooke shook her head as she grimaced at it and looked suspiciously at her now-empty glass. Maybe her Sprite had been spiked, somehow. It felt like the only way this interaction was even happening.

Cutting her gaze to Taylor and pushing whatever weird thoughts she had out of her head, Brooke surveilled her for a long moment. She was utterly serious about what she’d said, Brooke could see that.

“That’s exactly the kind of hippie crap that I’d expect from you.” She grumbled, intending for it to have more bite, but her tone was lacking.

She could tell by the way Taylor’s face erupted into a vibrant smile.

Before Brooke could stop her, Taylor stood and grabbed Brooke’s hand as she did so, effortlessly pulling her up to stand as well.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Taylor tugged her, fingers clasping firmly to make up for Brooke’s resistance, as she led her across the empty floor of the bar to a more reclusive spot over near a series of booths against the back wall. Brooke begrudgingly allowed it even as she stared at Taylor’s shoulder blade, revealed by the style of her shirt.

Taylor dropped the contact as she sat in a booth seat sideways, her long legs between them, and she looked up from where she sat.

“All right. Practice. You have a presentation to give in a half hour and you’re going to give me the highlights, right now. Off the top of your head. Because I know you know them.”

Feeling exasperated because she didn’t actually agree to this, Brooke crossed her arms and looked down at Taylor, who braced her elbow against her knee and then propped her chin on her fist and stared up at Brooke expectantly.

“It’s about budgeting to allow for infrastructure growth. I highly doubt you’re going to find it interesting,” her voice was dry as she shifted to her other foot.

“I love learning about new things. And besides, either I fall asleep and you have a really easy audience to rehearse on or you keep me awake, and you’ll know that you really did nail it,” Taylor cajoled, crossing her legs at her ankles. “Now, come on. No one else is listening.”

“I don’t care who’s listening here,” she shot back, which was, at the very least, true. Even if there were people around them – there weren’t – she didn’t care about the opinions of someone who had no idea about what she was talking about, who was hanging out in a bar in the middle of the day.

“Perfect.” Taylor opened her hands and held out her arms as if to say now, bring it on. It felt both inviting and like a dare.

And it sparked that need Brooke had to prove herself. She wondered if Taylor did that somehow on purpose.

“Find out who you are, and do it on purpose,” Taylor quoted, the gleam in her eyes seeming brighter. “So, you know. Do it, here and now.”

Brooke narrowed her own eyes at Taylor. “Don’t use Dolly’s wisdom against me. I’m already going.”

Taylor winked unabashedly. “I felt like if there was anything that might motivate you more, it would be Dolly Parton.”

Which, fine. She wasn’t wrong, and it didn’t surprise her that Taylor would remember that. Given that she and Ben had both been devout Dolly fans since childhood, it would have been a shocking thing to forget.

Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath through her nose and began.

“Managing a budget for a city experiencing a seven to ten percent rate of growth, as many of us know, isn’t easy…”

***

Brooke really thought that one of the weirder moments in her life – top ten for sure, maybe top five – would be standing in a bar in San Diego in the middle of the day, with Taylor Vandenberg staring up at her with rapt interest, as she did a quick review on the yearly budget of Faircombe.

She found out that it was actually even weirder having Taylor walk down the sidewalk with her as they left the bar, going in the direction of the hotel her conference was at.

The late September sun was warm and Taylor tilted her head up into it as Brooke tilted hers up at Taylor. She still sported a golden tan from… wherever she’d been. Malaysia? Brooke supposed spending a portion of the summer in southeast Asia would result in that perfect tan.

Despite living in Tennessee her entire life, Brooke still preferred the indoors in the summer when the temperatures got too warm.

“You actually made the budget interesting. And Faircombe,” Taylor added, her tone teasing, turning to look at her and catching Brooke’s gaze on her.

Brooke quickly turned away, looking ahead of them as they walked, and she set her jaw in irritation. “Faircombe is interesting. You just don’t think so.”

She walked a little faster, reminded of yet another reason why Taylor was so frustrating a person to her. Beyond her general irresponsibility was the fact that Taylor had left their hometown and seemed to still think so little of it, when Brooke had made it her life’s work to breathe life into it.

Two different kinds of people.

Unfortunately for her, Taylor’s longer stride kept pace with her with no problem. She reached out, her hand catching Brooke’s easily to slow her pace. “Wait, I was kidding.” She shrugged, tossing her hair back with a wink. “Mostly. But one woman’s treasure is another woman’s… not treasure.”

She snorted out a laugh as she narrowed her eyes. “You pick that up in your worldly travels?”

Taylor gave her a crooked grin. “You know me.”

Brooke hummed under her breath, noncommittal.

As they turned the corner and the conference center came into view, Brooke realized – somehow for not the first time today? How did that even happen? – that Taylor’s hand was still clasping hers. It was an effortless hold, fingers loosely linked.

As soon as she was aware of it – she couldn’t not be aware of it, the warmth linking them together – she tugged her hand away. Brooke was generally always very aware of her personal space. Mostly because she did not care for other people to be in it.

It was just that Taylor was a strange – so strange – and unexpected – so unexpected – comfort – never in Brooke’s wildest dreams would she have called Taylor a comfort – on a wild card day.

Taylor brought her hand up and sifted it through her long, dark hair, as she continued to walk alongside Brooke.

“Are you going to walk me all the way to my presentation?” She stopped short as she posed the question, giving the building a side-eye. There were people milling about outside already, prepared to go in.

Taylor stopped with her, lifting her eyebrows in a mischievous look that Brooke instantly didn’t trust. “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

“Don’t you have a friend you were going to meet?” She could distinctly recall that Taylor had said that in her little tale earlier.

Taylor shrugged. “We had loose plans for me to stop by if I had the time. I was thinking I might stop by a conference instead. Oh, I love collecting brochures from conferences, too. You have one of those, with your name on it?”

“I mean… I do have some brochures in my hotel room.” The words left her slowly, absently, as Taylor’s words registered to her. Brooke then only stared at her for a beat, stuck on just the thought of “loose plans” because the idea was baffling to her. Stop by if you have the time?

Two different kinds of people, she thought again.

Brooke crossed her arms as she registered exactly what Taylor had said. “Stay? For the presentation? You have… I mean, you have the time. To go see your friend.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” Taylor held a hand over her chest, mouth falling open in mock-offense. “After our afternoon together?”

“After our afternoon together?” she parroted. “You make it sound like…” Brooke blamed the warm afternoon sun for her face flushing. “We just drank Sprite.”

“And practiced your presentation.”

She… all right, she did feel more confident in her presentation, now that she’d run through it with someone else. Marisa back home had listened too, but, well, Marisa was actually interested in city government. In Faircombe. It didn’t feel as admittedly satisfying as it did having kept Taylor’s attention.

“All right. I’ll confess that I think practicing my presentation on you worked.” She sighed with the admission. She was nervous about this presentation still, but she knew everything she had to know. Taylor really had seemed interested during her brief presentation and that kind of felt like a victory in and of itself. “Thank y–”

“Brooke, I’m so glad I ran into you. I’m sorry I missed your presentation earlier, but I heard it went well.” Joseph Englewood spoke from behind her and she turned around quickly to face him. One of the only people she actually knew here as he had been one of the organizers who’d sought her out to invite her.

“It certainly… went.” It was the only thing she could bring herself to say on the subject, and she wondered, with a suspicious look over his shoulder, who had brought it up to him. She wondered what had been said about her in the hour break they’d had before the final presentation of the day – her presentation.

Joseph gave a warm smile. A little too warm, really, which didn’t surprise Brooke, given that Joseph had asked her out to get drinks the previous two nights in a row. She’d said a perfunctory and resolute no both times.

“Are you ready to head in for yours? You do still have a few minutes if you need it, since you double checked your visual presentation last night. Ahead of the game.”

The encouraging look he sent her made her want to scowl all over again. Yes, she was prepared and ahead of the game. But apparently that had been the reason he’d strongly suggested that she be the one to fill in today.

Sour at the thought, she pushed it to the back of her head. This was time for her presentation, and her own presentation was ready. She’d gone over it ad nauseum.

She would like to get another look at it, though. A quick run-through before she had all eyes on her again.

“Yes, I’d like that. Just, one second.” Brooke held up a finger to him as she took a deep breath. Was Taylor actually serious a few minutes ago? Was she going to stay for her presentation? She was already speaking as she turned, “I –”

Before she abruptly cut herself off. Taylor was no longer behind her.

Eyebrows drawing down in confusion, she looked around. There were way more people now, all coming back from their break, she supposed. It had probably made it easy to just slip away.

Brooke shook her head, blowing out a breath. It wasn’t like she’d actually wanted Taylor to stay. Sure, her presence had been a shockingly positive thing at the time. But this was what she expected from her. Taylor appeared randomly as if blown in by the wind, and then was gone just as quickly.

Unlike running into her, this part… wasn’t really a surprise at all.

Chapter Two

“I do agree, um, of course, that it’s difficult to make projections in terms of budget when you are factoring in urbanization a-and what it means – wait. What it takes, right, to expect from your growing population’s needs –”

Brooke’s voice rang out through the large conference hall, stumbling over her words for what might have been the twelfth time in the last ten minutes.

Taylor watched her from her perch in the back, sympathy for Brooke – who was so, so red in the face – welling up strongly inside of her, as she couldn’t help but cringe, softly. Thankfully, the presentation was almost over.

Because, frankly, Taylor wasn’t really sure Brooke’s shoulders could take much more of this. Rigid with tension during the first ten minutes, she had managed to relax a little bit, it seemed, once she’d settled into a groove.

But it all had gone downhill in the last fifteen minutes after someone in the front interrupted Brooke to contradict something she’d been saying about certain allocations of particular funds – of all the fucking things. It had led to a conversation between multiple people in the audience, with Brooke and her presentation falling to the wayside for a couple of minutes as she’d floundered to gain attention back to herself. Which she’d managed to do by snapping minutes later, looking both flustered and frustrated.

It was clear that the entire altercation had clearly thrown Brooke back into the headspace she’d been in earlier at the bar.

Because Taylor knew that Brooke knew this backwards and forwards. And she really did have to give Brooke credit; it wasn’t boring. Well, definitely not as boring as a presentation about budgeting should be. Taylor would know; she’d attended innumerable different conferences over the years. For no other purpose than the fact that she genuinely did just enjoy learning. She was incredibly familiar with a vast variety of presenters. The good, the bad, the boring.

Taylor took her eyes off of Brooke long enough to take a glimpse around. She didn’t doubt Brooke had made a fool of herself, as self-described, earlier in the day; Taylor had plenty of memories from back in her childhood around Brooke being a little awkward.

But it had always been so endearing to her.

The interruption earlier had completely thrown the focus of the audience as well. Over half were watching Brooke still, but there were a good deal far too many checking their watches and on their phones.

She scowled at them.

Taylor’s eyes lingered on the man sitting four seats down from her. They were two of the only people in the back row, and she recognized him as the one who’d interrupted herself and Brooke earlier, outside.

Taylor had certainly noticed how interested he’d been in the presentation, though. And in Brooke herself.

Entertained by the thought, she shook her head. That man was barking up the wrong, gay tree.

“Uh, that’s, that’s all. Thank you for coming.” Brooke finished, her voice stiff and even from the back of the room, Taylor could see the redness in her cheeks and the angry, hard set of her jaw.

Clapping broke out in the room, with Taylor leaning forward to join in. And to join in a little harder than others, because, honestly, the collective sound felt far too half-assed to her ear.

With that thought, she brought her fingers up to her mouth and whistled loudly enough to be heard over the clapping.

Brooke’s head snapped up and her ever-so-intense hazel eyes immediately connected with hers in the back of the room. Even with the distance, Taylor could see the surprised confusion in them.

And she could just make out the little line between her eyebrows, the one she’d pointed out that happened when Brooke scowled.

When she scowled, frowned, looked confused or surprised – that little line was there. Like it was the signal that Brooke was turning something over in her mind. When she’d been younger, Taylor had always found it absurdly adorable and amusing, in equal measure. Such a serious person.

Thirty years later, she found she still thought it equally adorable and amusing.

Her whistle seemed to have gained other attention as well, several heads turning toward the back of the room, where she’d slipped in and taken a seat in the last row. Still, she kept her eyes on Brooke, enjoying the way her eyebrows drew down low in thought, and Taylor grinned at her. Brooke focused on Taylor for another beat before she shook her head and headed toward the edge of the dais.

As people filtered out, Taylor took a moment to grab her own bag and slip the business cards she’d been given earlier to an inside pocket, content to fiddle around with her phone as she waited for Brooke to gather her own belongings.

Jo – 4:44PM
Did you know Cleopatra wasn’t Egyptian?

Taylor shook her head affectionately at her niece’s text – the latest in random history facts that she’d started to receive ever since Jo had won her fifth grade history fair and had since developed a deep love of history. She’d settled on Egypt being the focus of her history fair project for this year’s history fair project only last week, and ever since, Taylor had dared Jo to find a fact to wow her.

Taylor – 5:17PM
I *did* know that, actually. Come on, Bug,
you’re going to have to do better than that
to stump me.

Jo – 5:18PM
UH okay, how about this – did you know
Egyptian women were allowed to legally
get divorced and remarried?

Taylor – 5:18PM
Oh, good one! I did know this, but I think we’re
getting closer to some good stuff here.

Jo – 5:18PM
I WILL get to 100!!!

Taylor grinned; she’d made the deal last year that when Jo hit a hundred fun facts about world history that Taylor herself didn’t know, Jo could start planning the trip of her dreams for them to take when she graduated. Her brother was just going to love that…

Taylor – 5:19PM
I have no doubt you will, because you’re brilliant.
And because you have 4 more years to do it ;)

She looked up just in time to see the man who’d been sitting in her row, salivating over Brooke throughout her presentation, stroll up to join her at the front of the room. Taylor couldn’t hear what he was saying with that eager expression on his face, but she could read Brooke’s expression, which was a mix between pained, flat, and irritated.

A Brooke Watson specialty, she thought, as she tucked her phone away and slung her own bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the pair.

“– know you’ve been busy with the last few days and that it would have perhaps been a little… unprofessional, but now that the conference is over, I thought you might want to grab a drink.” The man trailed off when he noticed Taylor approaching, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “Hello?”

Brooke turned to look at her as well and Taylor knew it wasn’t her imagination that those negative emotions painted all over her face lessened, her features shifting once more into that surprised expression.

We aren’t friends, though, repeated through her mind, unbidden. So… maybe they weren’t. But they did have decades of history with each other and Taylor was always certain that at least half of the gruffness Brooke expressed with her was bluster.

Taylor offered a barely-there smile at him. “Hi. I’m Taylor, an old friend of Brooke’s.” She couldn’t help but flick her gaze toward Brooke once more, shooting her a wink. She also couldn’t help but love the huff of breath that escaped Brooke as she shook her head. “We actually have dinner plans tonight.”

“Oh.” His eyes moved slowly between them, as if trying to properly get a read on the situation. Though Taylor wondered if that was even possible, because Brooke’s general disinterest in him had been obvious enough for her to spot it from across the room. “Well, if that’s what your plans are tonight…?” His gaze landed on Brooke, as he obviously waited for a confirmation.

Taylor also turned to Brooke, and for one genuinely alarming moment where silence beat between the three of them, she was concerned she’d overstepped. Not something she typically felt.

Before Brooke released a breath. “Yeah, Joseph, I have plans with Taylor. Thanks for the offer.” There was a dryness in her voice as she thanked him and Taylor tried valiantly to hide her smile.

“Ah, anytime. Really. It was really great seeing you again. Maybe next time?” It looked very much like he wanted to go into a hug, but given Brooke’s crossed arms, he decided against it, before nodding at the two of them.

Taylor waited a few seconds before she shook her head. “You know, that hesitation on confirming our plans really alarmed me. Sure, you can say we aren’t old friends if that’s what you want, but if he is the barometer for where I fall in terms of companionship…” she trailed off, lifting her eyebrows as she forced a shudder.

She was rewarded with the slightest curving of Brooke’s full lips even as Brooke shook her head and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Getting Brooke to smile had always felt like an accomplishment, something Taylor always tried to make happen when their paths crossed. It just always felt important, when she was usually so frown-y.

She easily dropped into a rhythm with Brooke as she started toward the double door exit.

She clapped her hands, rubbing them together for good measure. “All right, where do you want to grab dinner? I know the best burrito place in the area, which would be my personal recommendation. But I could usually go for anything.”

Brooke abruptly faltered and then halted. Taylor instinctively reached out, landing her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Brooke shot her a look that screamed of exasperation. “We didn’t actually have dinner plans, you know.”

“Of course I know we didn’t have any concrete plans. But what are the odds that we would run into each other here like this? And we barely had time to catch up earlier. I’d love to spend some more time with you,” she added, the words leaving her before she thought them through. But it was entirely true. She wanted more time with Brooke and she had no problem saying so. “If it’ll help, you can pretend I’m an absolute stranger who wants to pick your brain about budgeting,” she joked, rubbing her thumb over the quality material of Brooke’s buttoned up shirt.

“If you were a stranger, this would be a whole other thing,” Brooke muttered, seemingly to herself, before she shrugged her shoulders forcefully and Taylor’s hand easily fell back to her side.

Taylor tilted her head in question at the choice of words, before settling on the idea that Brooke likely wouldn’t entertain her at all if she were a stranger.

“Come on,” she cajoled, lightly bumping Brooke’s elbow with her own and dipping her voice to tease, “Tell me that you think spending some time getting something to eat with me is worse than spending all night alone, unhealthily reviewing your presentation ad nauseum. Really, tell me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Brooke’s voice was dry and Taylor couldn’t decide if it was actually joking or not.

She straightened a bit to eye Brooke critically. “Besides, I’d be willing to bet you haven’t actually eaten anything today. My mom would kill me if she knew we’d run into each other and I didn’t make sure you had something real to eat.”

“Pretty sure your mom doesn’t expect you to be the responsible one between the two of us when it comes to having a proper supper,” Brooke shot back and there was a resignation mixed with the surliness in her tone.

“And insulting me on top of it all. My feelings.” Taylor placed a hand over her heart, not bothering to clamp down on her grin.

“You’re laughing!” Brooke accused, eyes narrowed.

“Only to hide my pain.”

Brooke cut her eyes away as Taylor saw another of Brooke’s little reluctant grins, before she reached up to run her hands through her thick light brown hair.

“And… fine. Maybe getting something to eat with you is slightly better than sitting for the entire night wallowing in mortification alone in this city,” Brooke allowed, even as she grimaced as they exited the hotel.

Taylor smiled widely, a sense of triumph filtering through her. “That’s the spirit.”

“Okay, stranger,” Brooke emphasized, “Ask me your budgeting questions.”

***

“All right. I’m totally out of questions,” Taylor had to admit, twenty-five minutes later as they settled onto the lounge chairs that overlooked the ocean set up behind Brooke’s hotel. She took a bite of her burrito and chewed slowly before she cocked an eyebrow. “You may not know this about me, since we just met today totally for the first time, but I’m somewhat new in this field.”

Brooke sat gingerly sideways in the lounge chair, posture impeccable as she kept her feet solidly on the ground. So directly opposed to Taylor, who had her legs over the bottom of the lounger, crossing at the ankle as she finished her dinner.

Brooke’s intelligent, measuring gaze was on her for a long moment that had Taylor wondering if she should look away even though she didn’t want to. Before those hazel eyes blinked and looked back down at her own burrito. “I think you actually did really well for someone new to the field. Your questions were pretty insightful.”

Taylor could feel the pleased smile start taking hold, a low buzz of warmth at the genuine compliment from Brooke on a simmer inside of her. “No need to sound so surprised.”

Brooke scoffed, before she shook her head and then looked back up. Gone was the slightly surprised but impressed look from only a minute ago, instead replaced with an inscrutable stare.

“What were you doing there?”

“I told you; I sell to a gallery –”

“Not here in San Diego. I meant at my presentation.” Brooke’s fingers toyed with the wrapper of her burrito. They were long and nimble, Taylor noted, eyes catching on the movements. She enjoyed Brooke’s hands; for someone who was so steady, her hands were often moving. She wondered if Brooke even noticed that about herself. “You completely disappeared into thin air.”

“Did you miss me?” She couldn’t help but tease, even as she sat up straighter and looked closely at Brooke.

Brooke only nailed her with that no-nonsense gaze.

“While you were talking to that guy who wants to dry-hump your leg, a woman approached me. Marjorie Lyle? She’s the city manager of…” Taylor paused, trying to think back to what Marjorie had said to her. The woman had a lot to say in a short amount of time, and she was very enthusiastic.

“Caseton, Mississippi,” Brooke provided, a slight edge of annoyance pushing into her voice that intrigued Taylor. Her response was terse, “Yeah. I know her.”

Taylor arched an eyebrow at her. “I feel like there’s a story there.”

Brooke’s eyes rolled, hard. And for once, Taylor didn’t think it was at her. “Not a story. Mostly.” she muttered, “We just… have very similar city sizes and trajectories, and there are a lot of comparisons. Run-ins.”

She desperately had to hold back the remarks about this rivalry in the face of Brooke’s sour look, which she applauded herself for doing.

Taylor cleared her throat. “Anyway, she recognized me and started talking about your conference and about her town. That sort of led into a few other people coming over and doing the same thing, and we kind of started forming a group. So then we moved over to the side so we weren’t blocking the entrance,” she explained. “When I looked back over, you’d gone inside.”

That little line between Brooke’s eyebrows was back as she watched Taylor closely. But she wasn’t really scowling; instead she just looked dubious. “She recognized you from your blog thing? Does that actually happen?”

For a second, Taylor only stared, blinking slowly. Her blog thing was also known as her travel blog – which was, at this point, its own website.

When Marjorie had approached her earlier, she’d excitedly referenced how she’d followed Taylor since her first trip to Borneo in 2005. Taylor wouldn’t say she could forget any trip she’d been on, but that one in particular would always stick with her.

She’d been on the go since the mid-nineties, having set off on her own to travel when she was barely nineteen. Willful and wistful, she’d left against her parents’ wishes to satiate her desire to get the hell out of Faircombe, Tennessee, population 16,102.

And for the first few years, she’d done exactly what she’d set out to do – bounced around to see and experience as much as she could, no plan or direction in mind. First across the States to the West Coast, before going down to Latin America. It took a while, but she’d eventually made her way overseas.

While her parents hadn’t been willing to financially support her in her endeavors given that her dad had very much been disappointed that she wasn’t going to college and given their somewhat strained relationship at the time, Taylor hadn’t cared. She’d burned through her savings after a couple of months and then had worked when she had to work – she just might be a world record holder for the amount of odd-jobs and random skills acquired over the years – saving to get to the next adventure.

When she’d created her blog Taylor-Made To Travel in 2002, it had been for herself, first and foremost. By then, she’d been twenty-five, out on her journey for six years, had experienced life in twenty countries, and was completely addicted to seeing more.

She wanted to see everything.

She hadn’t made it for recognition; at the time, she’d had no freaking idea about the recognition even possible from her little blog. She just loved having a single place to post all of her pictures, to write down her thoughts, her feelings, describe the people she’d met, and the things she’d done. How each place affected her.

It had also been convenient to have a place where her family could find her so she could stop sending postcards for the purpose of assuring her parents she was alive at every new location. A place for the friends she’d made along the way to check in.

It wasn’t until that first trip to Borneo, where she’d stayed for almost five months – the longest she’d ever stayed anywhere – that she got that recognition. She’d written about her experiences with the wildlife there, which had been her initial draw. But what she’d ended up most entangled in was the struggle between cultural tourism and indigenous authenticity of the Dayak tribes.

She hadn’t had any idea when she’d left Borneo for Vietnam that both her wildlife and human ethics pieces would completely blow up. But, good lord, they had.

And in the sixteen years since, Taylor-Made To Travel had become one of the world’s most visited travel sites, featured in magazines and, occasionally, on TV. She’d gone from nickel and diming her way from region to province and country to country, to getting offers of free trips with sponsors and advertisements.

Sometimes, there was a part of her that was upset by her brother’s blatant disregard for her life and career choices, even after all this time. A disregard that Brooke very clearly shared.

But, unlike her brother, Brooke didn’t actually have disdain written all over her face. Just confusion.

Taylor shook her head, a small, secret smile tugging on her lips as she shrugged. “I get recognized sometimes,” she allowed.

Brooke looked like she was about to say something to that before she cut herself off and sighed. “Thanks for distracting me almost completely from the total fool I made of myself earlier.”

“I thought you did really well,” Taylor offered, her voice soft and genuine. She already knew the look she was going to receive from Brooke even before she glowered. Wonderfully predictable.

“For all of the things you can be, Taylor, a liar was never one of them.”

“I’m not lying!” She insisted and pushed herself up to mirror Brooke. They sat across from one another, knees bumping and then pressing as Taylor settled herself, enjoying the connection. “Besides, I thought we were strangers tonight?”

Brooke snorted, still giving Taylor that look. “Yeah, and now I know that you’re a stranger who is going to lie to me.”

Taylor leaned in, making sure Brooke looked her in the eye. “You did the whole presentation from beginning to end, even after a few missteps. It’s the fact that you pushed through even when you definitely wanted to run off that stage, that really matters.”

Because, really, this was Brooke. The same Brooke Watson who had – at several points in her youth – lost her lunch over the idea of public speaking.

The glower faded from Brooke’s face and as much as Taylor really did find enjoyment in that look, she much preferred this. The moment of softness that came across Brooke’s features as she studied Taylor.

“You would really think that,” Brooke accused after a few beats, resignation written all over her tone, that just edged on glum.

And even though Taylor was a giant proponent of letting yourself feel your feelings, whatever they may be, she wasn’t going to let Brooke fall into a genuine upset over this.

She reached out with the hand not holding her burrito wrapper and clasped at Brooke’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I do really think that. Everything in life is about the journey, Brooke.”

She waited a moment, chuckling when she heard the predictable groan Brooke let out.

“Oh my god. Life’s a journey? Not more of that hippie stuff.” Brooke’s fingers flexed in hers, but didn’t pull away, much to Taylor’s pleasure.

“With me? Come on, you should know better than that,” she winked, and then Brooke actually did pull her hand away. “But in all honesty, regardless of how it went in the end, your presentation was actually really interesting. Even I thought so! And sparking a conversation amongst your peers… well, it might have thrown you off, but it’s usually a good thing. It means they were engaged, they cared.”

Taylor let that sink in, watching Brooke take in her words as she ate the last of her burrito.

“And I might not know much about city management, but what you’ve done with Faircombe is nothing short of incredible.”

Taylor could say that with absolute certainty, as someone with no skin in the game. The Faircombe she’d left behind was far from the Faircombe it was now from an outside view, with almost double the population size.

She doubted it had changed very much beyond that, but that seemed like an impossible task.

Brooke covered the side of her face with her hand and groaned. “God, what if that means more conferences like this in the future?”

“It probably does,” she confirmed cheerfully. Then studied the distressed look on Brooke’s face, something twisting low in her stomach at the sight of it – yeah, that wasn’t something she enjoyed seeing. She reached out again, giving Brooke’s knee a warm, encouraging touch. “But you did that! Twenty-five years ago, Faircombe was just like almost any other small town in Tennessee, with a declining population. And now look at you go, being invited to the conference and everything.”

Brooke’s hand fell into her lap, her slacks wrinkling that much more, before she shrugged. “I mean, it wasn’t just me. Your dad when he was still the mayor, and the council – they’ve all done a lot.”

Taylor nudged her knee with her own, glad to see some of the stress melt away from Brooke’s face and the set of her shoulders. “Okay, Ms. Modest, but who was asked to represent?”

Brooke sighed, staring out at the ocean again as the ever-present serious look slid back over her face. “What was the worst part of the presentation?”

Taylor laughed, exasperation sliding through her even as she dropped her hand to playfully slap at Brooke’s thigh. “I’m trying to take your mind off of that, Brooke, not let you harp on it.”

“Isn’t it you who’s all about dealing with your issues to try to let them go? Or some crap like that?” Those hazel eyes turned to her. So fucking intense all of the time, always.

For just a moment, Taylor let herself enjoy that intensity.

All right, for longer than a moment. But Taylor wasn’t someone who often cut herself off from simple pleasures, like the feeling that slid through her at that look.

Still, she shook her head. “Perhaps I am all about that crap,” she agreed, stroking her thumb over Brooke’s thigh and enjoying her warmth through her dress pants. “But I’m also about focusing on the good and not the bad.”

Brooke held her gaze, her expression falling almost into a pout for a moment, before she seemed to gather herself and sat up straighter.

“All right, then – what was the best part of the presentation?” Brooke asked, her forehead furrowed in contemplation. “If I have to keep doing these, I should probably capitalize on the best parts.”

“Your voice,” she answered without needing to think about it.

“My… voice,” the disdain in that voice rang through as Brooke repeated the words back to her, turning to look at her incredulously, absolutely tickled Taylor.

She chuckled, holding her hands up in a defensive gesture. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to be serious! I was asking a real question.”

“And I was giving you a real answer!” She grinned as she defended herself, leaning in closer, catching the scent of Brooke’s perfume as it mixed with the ocean air. Mm. “You spoke quietly. Loud enough that everyone could hear you with the mic,” she assured, “But quiet like this is my presentation and you are going to pay attention. It was… authoritative,” she decided was the right word as it landed on her tongue and the way it resonated through her. “You knew what you were doing and you did it.”

She leaned in even closer, holding Brooke’s gaze as she did so, and was surprised that Brooke didn’t lean back at all as they were inches away and at the little thrill that shot through her at their proximity.

Brooke only watched her curiously, eyes widening, as Taylor lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Plus, you just have a nice voice.”

She took absolute pleasure in the pink tinge on Brooke’s cheeks and the three seconds it took Brooke to register what she’d said and then try to figure out where to categorize it in her mind.

But Taylor meant it plain as day.

Brooke’s drawl over her words was like honey, with her voice clear and light as her Tennessee accent washed over Taylor’s ears just right. She’d been to damn near every country in the last twenty-five years, heard almost every different variation of speaking there was.

Nothing sounded as nice to her as someone from home in the South. And Brooke’s voice in particular struck a chord in her. It reminded her of home in a very specific way. Maybe because of how long they’d known each other or maybe just because of Brooke’s cadence. The quiet, firm way she spoke.

Brooke was giving her a measuring look, and Taylor felt like she could read her mind. That she was wondering if Taylor had been flirting or teasing. And for a moment, she wondered if she, herself, had been flirting, too, without realizing it.

Oh, well. She just stared back, holding her gaze evenly.

Finally, Brooke released a deep breath, leaning back. “Well, thanks, I guess. You’ve lost a lot of yours. Your accent.” She rolled her eyes. “Or, I guess I should say, you sound more like any old generic American.”

“Still got it enough for people to try to guess where I’m from wherever I go,” she quipped. But it was true.

Been all over the world, and whenever she made new friends or even acquaintances, people who were familiar with the States loved to try to pick out which area she was from.

Brooke’s lips twitched, her hazel eyes seeming a little brighter in curiosity. “Are you serious? Anyone ever actually guess Tennessee?”

“Just once on the first go. A lovely couple from Ireland I shared a cab with.” She grinned. “I always play the guessing game, but the rule is that if you’re from the U.S. it doesn’t count.”

Brooke shook her head as she turned to look over the ocean, that small curve of her lips still present and making Taylor feel like she’d accomplished something worthy tonight.

The final beams of the setting sun played over Brooke’s face, her soft features nearly glowing with it and an easy sigh left Taylor’s mouth as she let her head fall to the side, onto the back of the lounge chair again, that easy, wanting feeling inside of her settling in.

Brooke turned to face her at the sigh, eyebrows arching when she saw Taylor’s eyes already on her. “What?”

“This is just me loving this time of day. Especially while being joined by a beautiful woman.” The words left her without thinking, but she kept her gaze trained on Brooke’s, as she stood by it.

The disgruntled sound that left the back of Brooke’s throat as she wiggled back, knocking their legs together with the movement, was somehow both predictable and confusing.

“Don’t flirt. I know you can flirt with, like, a brick wall and make it…” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely into the air with her hand as her eyebrows furrowed while she searched for the words to finish. Before she seemed to give up and cleared her throat, then crossed her arms.

Taylor tilted her head against the back of the chair, absurdly delighted with her awkward surliness, a pleased smile tugging at her lips. “A brick wall? First of all, comparing yourself to a brick wall is extremely unflattering and wildly erroneous. Secondly, I wasn’t flirting!” At least, she didn’t think so. Maybe. A little? “I’m just being honest.”

Brooke huffed out a breath, the slightest blush visible on her neck under the crisp collar of her shirt, as she turned to look out at the ocean again.

Taylor followed her gaze, sighing at the sight. “You remember when we went to Myrtle Beach that summer?” She could remember it like it was yesterday even if it had been almost thirty years ago. It was the first time she’d actually seen the ocean in person, the vast wonder of it igniting the need to see more inside of her.

Every summer, Taylor’s parents had taken trips throughout the tri-state area that were always a highlight for Taylor, Ben, and their younger sister Savannah. Taylor remembered that the summer Ben and Brooke turned ten, her brother had begged their parents for Brooke to start coming with them.

When Brooke didn’t say anything, Taylor turned back to look at her, incredulous. “You don’t remember? I was sixteen, so you were, what, twelve?” She squinted at the memories, looking at Brooke as she bit her bottom lip. “And I was going to take you and Ben up in the skywheel and Ben chickened out at the last minute?”

Brooke cleared her throat. “I remember, a little.” Her voice was sharper than before and Taylor blinked at it, wondering what she’d said to cause it.

Perhaps it was the reminder of why Brooke had often joined them, not just on vacations but also almost every night for dinner – because her own home life hadn’t been too wonderful. Contrite, she opened her mouth to apologize.

Brooke stopped her, clearing her throat. “But I thought you were a stranger tonight? I don’t think I would have vacation memories with someone I just met.”

Taylor tilted her head. “Touché.”

She thought of more shared memories as they sat outside with the air starting to chill as the evening set in. The times they’d all sat in her backyard around a fire, times where she’d walked Brooke home after dinner; things she found she wanted to reminisce on. Not a feeling she often had.

But Brooke stood before she could voice any of these thoughts, leaving Taylor staring up at her. “I, um, I think it’s time I head inside.” She held her hand out.

Surprised but delighted at the gesture, Taylor slipped her hand into Brooke’s and stood. She enjoyed the slight feeling of calluses against her own hand, the warmth of Brooke’s fingers against hers as she linked them.

That line appeared between Brooke’s eyebrows as she muttered, “I was going to take your trash.”

Taylor gave Brooke’s hand a squeeze as laughter bubbled up inside of her. “That makes a lot more sense. But I appreciate this more.”

Brooke hummed under her breath, an exasperated sound, but kept holding Taylor’s hand until she actually did go to throw away their trash as they approached the entrance to her hotel.

Taylor looked around as they entered the lobby. High arched ceilings, a lot of light, let alone the bayfront property. It was the caliber of lodging she could never have afforded for years on the road and even now that she could afford to stay wherever she wanted, it was a rare occurrence for her to do so. “Fancy digs.”

She quite literally bumped into Brooke from behind, not realizing that Brooke had stopped walking while she’d been looking around. She got a delicate fresh scent that reminded her of the woods as Brooke’s hair brushed against her face, her solid back pressed against Taylor for only a few seconds before Brooke stepped away and whirled around.

She gave Taylor a questioning look. “Are you not… What are you doing? Coming to check my room for intruders?” The sarcasm dripped.

“I think if an intruder knows what’s good for them, they would absolutely skip your room and go to the next.” She jokingly reached out and squeezed Brooke’s bicep.

And then squeezed again, her touch lingering when she encountered actual, genuine muscle. It was well-covered by the sleeves of her dress-shirt – though Taylor had, of course, noted how well it fit her earlier. But it was definitely there.

Oh.

Well.

“That’s a surprise.” Quite a pleasant one, actually, judging by the pull of want that burned a little brighter inside of her. She trailed her hand down Brooke’s arm slowly, before she reluctantly dropped it to her side. “I remember you got really into karate back in the day but I never thought you continued it.”

“I didn’t. I just – I work out. At home.” Brooke’s words were clipped, that same blush from earlier working up her neck. Her own hand reached up and rubbed her bicep where Taylor’s had just squeezed, before crossing tightly.

“Sexy,” she said it just as a fact, because – it was. She eyed Brooke’s arms carefully now, and she wondered exactly how much muscle definition there was under the rest of her clothing.

She could feel the pull deep in her core that… yes, she was very interested to know.

“Stop,” Brooke grit out, the blush working up over her cheeks now. “No flirting.”

Taylor blinked in surprise at the word as she commanded herself – really, stop. That low-simmering buzz of attraction that she felt to Brooke, the one that ignited whenever they ran into each other since they’d been in their twenties, that was uncontrollable. It was fun, in a way, because Taylor enjoyed appreciating beautiful women.

She liked teasing Brooke and toeing the line, but she always made sure to stop before crossing it in a way that Brooke wouldn’t want.

Brooke crossed her arms, looking around the lobby. “But… really, what are you doing?”

Shaking herself out of it, Taylor arched a questioning eyebrow right back. “Don’t you remember? You said earlier you have brochures from your conference. I like to keep them from whatever I attend. Especially if they are going to have the name of my lifelong… something on it.”

She could see the dubious look in Brooke’s eyes and she didn’t have to try at all to appear guileless. It was the truth. Pictures, brochures, pamphlets – the little, light mementos she could take with her on a moment’s notice – that was what she thrived on. It was really the only physical aspect from her travels that she actually kept.

Before Brooke shrugged. “All right, yeah. Though,” she sighed, heavily, “Why you’d want to remember my presentation is beyond my comprehension.”

They arrived at Brooke’s room within two minutes, located only on the third floor, and she was surprised when Brooke opened the door and gestured for her to enter. But she wasn’t going to question it.

Especially not when it gave her the chance to take a peek around.

Whenever Taylor stayed in a place for longer than a day, it inevitably became a little bit of organized chaos. She, as a rule, didn’t travel with much; way too difficult to actually be on the go if you were bogged down.

But what she did have always took over her space; she liked her space to feel like her space.

It didn’t surprise her in the least that Brooke’s room was tidy and organized. The room didn’t look like Brooke was even staying in it, aside from the suitcase on the other side of the room and another bag next to it. She’d bet Brooke could be untraceably out of here in about four minutes flat. Two, if she wasn’t making the bed after she used it.

The thought made her laugh to herself as she leaned against the dresser and watched the woman in question carefully unzip one of the pockets in the bag, pulling out a folder.

She trailed her gaze to the bed, which was impeccably made even though she’d noticed that Brooke had kept the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. Of course Brooke really did make her own bed in a hotel.

Charmed by the thought, she shook her head, and shifted her gaze to the bedside table. Where a gift basket sat, looking untouched.

“A gift from your admirer?” She guessed, looking back at Brooke, who now had a brochure in hand.

“What?” Brooke followed Taylor’s head tilt toward the basket, and rolled her eyes. “No. It was complimentary, sent to all of the presenters at the conference. It wasn’t from Joseph.”

“Nice bottle of wine for a complimentary basket,” she noted, teasing. She couldn’t help herself; she really did love that little scowl-y line, especially when it was accompanied by a somewhat petulant pout.

“Well, you can have it if you want.”

“You offering me a drink?” She batted her eyelashes.

Brooke sighed, that long-suffering sigh, as she walked around the bed. “I guess so.”

For a moment, she kicked the debate over in her mind. Whether or not to stay or go. She figured Brooke offered a drink more out of manners than real desire for Taylor’s company – then again, that had likely been the entire evening, really. Even if she knew Brooke had a better time than she might pretend.

But the evening with Brooke had been far better than Taylor had anticipated – and she hadn’t expected it would go badly. Life was full of these moments. The ones you didn’t expect, with people you just couldn’t see coming. And Taylor had made a lifelong habit to live in those moments for the simple reason:

She never knew what she’d find.

For all she knew, this would be the last significant time she spent with Brooke Watson for years. Maybe forever, because who really knew? And what an insane thought that would be, after having known one another for so long.

Life was weird that way.

“A glass of your finest champagne, please.”

“I have…” Brooke lifted the wine out of the basket and looked at the label, biting the inside of her cheek. “A moderately priced red. So, you can have a glass of this or some water from the bathroom sink.”

“Not even one of the minibar water bottles? Cheapskate!” She accused, hitching herself up on the dresser, chuckling.

“Why would you waste the bottle when you can just drink it out of a glass? It’s better for the environment.” Brooke’s eyebrows drew together as she gave Taylor a dour look, voice dry, “I’ll chill it in the mini-fridge first.”

“Hit me with a glass of the red.”

Brooke sighed and muttered something under her breath that Taylor couldn’t hear, and she watched in amusement as Brooke seemed to debate with herself before pouring herself a glass as well.

She sipped it as she walked to where Taylor sat, coming to an awkward stop in front of her, rocking back on her heels as her stomach brushed against Taylor’s knees. “Do you have to sit on the dresser?”

Taylor took the offered glass of wine, brushing her fingers against Brooke’s to enjoy that little spark feeling low in her stomach again. And she absolutely didn’t miss Brooke tugging her own hand away, jerkily, before she took a large sip of her wine. Enough so that her glass was already nearly empty. Taylor lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

Sipping her own wine slowly, she took her time to glance around the room. “Where else would you like me to sit? The bed?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

The sigh Brooke let out made her smile against the rim of her glass.

She patted the dresser next to her. “Come join me up on this unforgiving, not-meant-to-be-sat-on furniture.”

“I bet you say that to all of the women you end up in hotels with.” Brooke murmured, before she turned and hopped herself up onto the dresser as well, her arm brushing against Taylor’s.

Considering Taylor spent the better part of her life in hotels… it would be a decent amount of the women she’d been with, she thought with a soft chuckle to herself. She watched Brooke pour herself another glass of wine as she settled in, carefully placing the open bottle on her other side.

“Nope, just the ones I’ve known for thirty-five years.” She couldn’t help but lean into Brooke’s warmth, the solid muscle against her.

It was just too enticing.

“Good to know this isn’t a line you try on all of your dates.” Brooke frowned into her glass, taking a slow sip, before she gave Taylor a sidelong glance.

“If we were on a date, you’d know it.” Taylor winked. “Especially because I wouldn’t be not-allowed to flirt.”

Brooke swallowed a sip of her drink, then snorted. “Who knows. I haven’t been on one of those in so long I probably wouldn’t recognize it.” She groaned as a frown tugged at her lips. “Ugh. Pretend I didn’t say that.”

Taylor ignored that instead, doubt working its way through her at Brooke’s statement. “Oh, come on. I’m sure the queer women of Faircombe are lining up for you.”

“All three of them are usually busy.” Brooke deadpanned.

Taylor let out a surprised laugh at the joke. Even though she could absolutely remember just what it felt like when she’d come out back in the day; she’d been one of only a small handful of out queer people in the entire town, the only one in the high school. “There have to be more now. Faircombe is, after all, one of the top up and coming cities in the country.” She jostled her shoulder against Brooke’s.

“Fine. Seven of them.”

Those hazel eyes caught hers, and Taylor felt the humor in them. The warmth of it settled inside of her, buzzing pleasantly. Mixing with the way the rest of the evening had left her buzzing, deliberately kept safely at bay, turned down low.

The way she always kept things with Brooke.

Seconds crawled by and she watched entirely too closely as Brooke licked her bottom lip, trailing the motion.

She only managed to snap her gaze away when Brooke cleared her throat. “So, you know. We’re strangers who just met tonight. What would your move be, now?”

Yeah. She really did love Brooke’s voice, she thought, especially right now, as it was a little huskier than earlier, a little lower.

And she couldn’t resist the question posed by that voice.

“Well, if we were on a date and you had me in your hotel room,” she paused to arch an eyebrow at Brooke before throwing her a wink. “So soon, too? God, you’re a sly woman.” Predictably, the line between Brooke’s eyebrows appeared and she let out an aggrieved sigh that just made Taylor grin brighter in enjoyment before she continued, “Then I’d take a long look at you. Mostly to make sure whatever we’ve been drinking hasn’t gone to your head at all.”

She leaned back as she spoke, bracing herself so she could get a little distance between them. Enough to really look at Brooke, the way she would if this had been a date.

Brooke’s disarmingly aware eyes were clear, even if her cheeks were flushed, seeming to watch every move Taylor made. Taylor wasn’t sure Brooke ever missed a thing, honestly. Even if she did just have two glasses of wine.

“No signs of serious intoxication.” She spoke softly, nodding. “And then I’d keep looking. Just to enjoy you.”

Those hazel eyes rolled at her. “Right.”

“Exactly right.”

So she did just keep looking. At first, to make a point. But then as she ran her eyes over Brooke, the exaggerated checking out she meant to do got a little lost in translation. The distraction started with Brooke’s hair.

The bun it was tied into on the top of her head was perfectly twisted, but strands had fallen out over the course of the night, framing her face. The color of Brooke’s hair had always interested her; light brown, but not just. Reddish blonde tinted her locks and it was just such a distinct color, Taylor was caught by it.

She drew her eyes down over Brooke’s face slowly. Eyes wide, devoid of makeup, with high cheekbones. She had a round face, with the slightest curve of her cheek and the definition of cupid’s bow lips.

She had such a delicate face, for someone whose personality was so… brusque.

It was a dichotomy Taylor enjoyed.

The suit she wore was barely rumpled even after a long day. Taylor had to wonder if any of Brooke’s outfits were ever rumpled or anything but perfectly handled. Never that she’d noticed, not even back when they’d been kids. Brooke always liked having everything in the proper place.

“And I would, obviously, like what I see,” she murmured, “Because here I am, with an utterly gorgeous woman.”

She let her eyes fall lower, and – did Brooke’s shirt always have three buttons undone? She tried to think back from earlier, but she had not let herself go there earlier. Her cleavage peaked out and the thing was, Brooke was stacked in ways Taylor could only dream of. She wore the necklace she’d worn since the day Taylor had given it to her when she’d graduated high school.

Ben and Brooke’s graduation had been the first time she’d returned to Faircombe after leaving several years earlier, and she’d returned with little gifts for both of them. A watch for her brother, and that very necklace, the one with a thin, gold chain that settled into a small starburst, which nestled enticingly just between Brooke’s breasts for Brooke. The sight had Taylor swallowing hard, sipping absently at her wine for her dry throat.

“Who has quite impressive assets,” she rasped.

She forced herself to move her gaze.

After having felt the muscle in Brooke’s arm earlier, she would be willing to bet the rest of her was just as toned and with that thought, her gaze fell to Brooke’s thighs. Covered in form-fitting dress slacks still, but she eyed them carefully. Yeah, she’d bet those thighs were deliciously strong.

“And, as established, a very nice musculature.”

She could only imagine how those thighs would clamp around her wrist or her ears –

Like a car screeching to an abrupt halt, Taylor realized what the hell she was doing. Or more aptly, who she was doing it with.

“You aren’t a stranger, though. You’re Brooke Watson,” she whispered.

Brooke Watson who took everything so seriously. Brooke Watson who thought through every move. Brooke Watson who thought of Taylor as irresponsible. Brooke Watson who’d had a terrible day earlier. Such a bad day that she actually had seemed to take comfort in spending time with Taylor, which she knew wasn’t something Brooke would ever want to admit.

Brooke Watson who was staring at her through heavily lidded eyes when Taylor trailed hers back to them.

It made her heart beat a little faster, enough that Taylor became aware of the pounding of the blood through her veins. Between her legs.

Still, she grinned softly with the sensation. It had been a while since she’d been in this situation with another woman, feeling this much with just a look. And being attracted to Brooke wasn’t exactly something new for her.

But acting on it would be.

Taylor let herself feel the pleasant warmth of that charged attraction as she took a large sip of her wine before she settled it down on the dresser and pushed herself onto her feet. “I should probably go.”

“Wait.” Brooke’s hand, steady and warm, reached out and took a hold of her wrist, stilling her.

“You going to walk me to the door?” Taylor quipped as she turned.

Brooke gave her wrist a firm tug, her other hand reaching out to cup her cheek in a move far smoother than Taylor would have credited to her. Surprised, Taylor’s eyes widened even as her stomach dipped.

And then Brooke’s lips, pressing but pliant, were on her own, erasing any other comments from her mind.