4. Jen

Chapter 4

Jen

T ara and I make quick work cleaning up the fallen books and displays. My shop is quiet, only a soft humming I can't quite place. It's almost as if an electric toothbrush was left on upstairs. I feel like the unnamed narrator of The Tell-Tale Heart , searching for the sound.

"Do you hear that?" Tara asks, pausing as she reaches with a book halfway to a shelf. "It's almost a vibrating sound."

"You hear it, too? It's been driving me crazy! I can't seem to find where it's coming from. I'm going to check upstairs; I'll be right back."

She nods and I take the wooden stairs two at a time to my room above the shop. The noise is definitely louder up here. Moving closer to the bed, I hasten my pace to my bedside table. There's only two things it could be—my vibrator or my other vibrator. Quickly retrieving it from the drawer, I power it off and can't help the giggle that escapes me. This whole time I thought it was some sort of glitch with the electrical. At least it was only my clit vibrator, I can't imagine the thumping noise that would accompany the other one that has seventeen settings and gyrates.

"Everything okay up there," Tara calls.

"Just a rogue vibrator," I yell back.

"A what?" she laughs. "I need to see this."

"Nothing to see, I turned it off." I make my way towards the stairs, but Tara is already at the top. "When the earthquake happened, it must've set it off."

Tara's eyes twinkle with mischief. "Is this your room? I didn't realise you lived here when you mentioned your room."

"This is it." I turn and gesture with a wide sweep of my arm. "It's a room with an ensuite, but it's just me, so I don't need more than that."

"It's stunning." Tara helps herself exploring the room, brushing her fingertips along my personal collection of books. "Every bookworm's dream—living in a bookstore."

"There's an ex-hockey player who offered me his flat, but I'm happy here. Tristan's a sweet bloke. He brought his husband, Myles, to the shop a month ago to help me unpack all of my book shipments. I almost took him up on his offer, but once everything was set downstairs, I didn't want to leave."

"I can see why."

I take a seat at the edge of the bed. "So, what brought you to Coal's? "

"Actually," she chuckles, sitting next to me, "you. I came for the bookstore opening. I heard you carried a lot of sapphic titles, so I thought I would come. I live in Calgary, so it wasn't too far of a drive."

"Are you serious? You came for me?" I clear my throat. "Sorry, that didn't come out right. What I meant was you're here for my shop."

"I am, but also, I would…"

Thank fuck I wasn't drinking something just now, or I would've sputtered it all over both of us. I do my best to sound casual, though I'm sure I'm failing miserably. "You would what?"

"After my break up with Greta, I haven't really dated anyone. Hell, I haven't even kissed anyone since her. I've been on deadline, and I don't do casual, and?—"

I snap. Without a second thought, I kiss her.

There's nothing more awkward than a first kiss. You fumble around, trying to figure out what they like, and in the end, it'll set the pace for what to expect. The tone of your entire relationship will be driven by that single kiss. This one isn't anything like I expected. Admittedly, I haven't kissed a woman in over a year, and my last three serious relationships were with men. Tara is different. There's nothing to figure out with her, as if we've been kissing for years. It's comfortable, almost rehearsed, as if our muscle memory already existed.

The faint taste of vodka lingers on her lips as they part for me, deepening our kiss. Neither one of us is overpowering the other, it's an equal balance, something I'm not accustomed to. Guilt seeps in, replaying her last words in my head. She's only here for a night—typically my kryptonite—but she doesn't want a fling.

I pull back, breaking what has to be one of the best kisses of my life. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have?—"

Tara grips the front of my shirt and brings my lips back to hers, muttering against them, "I've been wanting to kiss you since the moment I stepped into that bar."

Stuck at a crossroads, I'm paralysed with fear, unable to make the first move to take things further. Does she want to stay the night? Would she let me touch her? Can we have one night of fun, or will it be too hard to say goodbye tomorrow?

I don't have to wait long for my answer, her delicate fingers teasing the hem of my shirt. The anticipation is killing me.

Why am I so nervous?

Because she's Tara Fucking Watson, you twat.

Reading her books for years, I know what this woman is capable of. Granted, her books are fiction, but she's conjured some of the most delicious scenes. I'm deathly afraid anything in real life won't suffice. Tara writes fisting, for fuck's sake. I've never had a whole hand in my cunt, and I don't think a single night with her will prepare me for that experience. Another part of me is on edge, wondering if whoever is pranking us could be watching. I'm all for a bit of exhibitionism, but with consent. And right now, I want Tara all to myself.

Her hand slips under my shirt, and I still. "I thought you said you didn't want something casual. "

"I did." She pulls back, lips swollen. "I don't do this sort of thing, I got caught up in the moment?"

"The shop isn't ready for tomorrow." As much as it kills me to do it, I get up and make my way to the stairs. I only make it a few steps before Tara grips my wrist, spinning me around. The desperate need to claim her lips as mine again is overwhelming.

I'm about to give in when every candle that was lit suddenly snuffs out. We reach for each other in the darkness, and I try not to dwell on how good it feels being this close to her.

A sliver of light seeps through the window, enough that once my eyes adjust to the dark I'm able to guide Tara to the wooden stairs. She keeps her hand firmly in mine as we step down one at a time until we're in my shop. The moment my feet hit the plush carpet, the candles illuminate, making Tara and me jump.

"Where is that bloody tarot book?" I grumble, releasing her hand to go in search of it. Not a second later, her fingers are interlaced with mine again, bringing me a sense of calm in this madness.

Tara teases, "They've upped their game."

"I don't think this is a game," I sigh. Pulling the book from the shelf, there's a card sticking out like a bookmark. She lets go of my hand and an emptiness fills me that I can't explain or begin to address. I take out the card that says ‘Lovers,' along with two others that fall to the floor as I open the book: Two of Cups and Four of Wands. The page that was saved describes soulmates, and I bark out a laugh. "Soulmates? "

"Aw, you don't want to be my soulmate," she laughs, nudging my shoulder with hers.

"The idea is ridiculous. One person who shares the other half of your soul? What about my friend, Jaxon? He fell in love with two people. You mean to tell me that only one is his soulmate?"

"Sounds like my ex." Tara blows out a long breath. "In a month, she fell in love with two men. One of them was her best friend, Jax."

"Wait… what did you say your ex's name was?"

"Greta."

"Fuck. Me."