“No?” she asked.

  “I’ve never made an omelet for two people before. It’s different. The quantities are different. Then, there’s the pouring you just demonstrated. I have a problem where I drop things. You know that.”

  “You’ve never made an omelet for a guy you dated?”

  “No. With some of them I was in high school. Then, in college, my boyfriends seemed to live off Red Bull, booze, and pizza. After that, I had one that was allergic to eggs, one that just didn’t like them, and the rest liked them differently, I guess: over easy or hard-boiled or something.”

  “Bacon time.”

  “Oh, right.” Joanna turned back to the stove, placed the bowl on the counter, and began removing strips of bacon, adding them to the pan. “Are you planning on telling me about what happened with Keira yesterday?”

  “No plans to, no.”

  Greene stood back further, needing to be as far away as she could from Joanna as the woman stood in her kitchen, in front of her stove, wearing jeans that were capris and tight to her body along with a light knit sweater in a shade of pink that looked so good against her much paler skin.

  “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” She turned her head back to Greene. “And get back here, to tell me when to flip this in that half-moon thing you do.” She motioned with one hand folding onto the other as she turned around to face her.

  Greene couldn’t resist smiling at that movement and at how Joanna’s eyes looked with the fluorescent light in the middle of the kitchen ceiling, creating a glow in their blue depths. She swallowed and inhaled deeply before moving toward Joanna. She gripped the woman’s hips and hesitated only an instant before she moved her to the right and let go. She picked up the spatula and began inspecting the omelet.

  CHAPTER 5

  Joanna stood next to Macon, who was flipping the omelet. She faced away from the stove because Macon’s hands had just been on her hips and she’d moved her over. That was it. She’d moved her to the side in order to get to work. But that touch, and the look in Macon’s eyes as she’d made it, had Joanna warm and wondering. They’d touched one another before; hands and arms mostly, along with the occasional pat to the thigh. But it had always been brief and innocent. This wasn’t that. Joanna could feel Macon’s grip through her sweater. She could sense more, too. She wasn’t sure what it was, but as she heard crackling behind her, she turned to discover she’d nearly burned the bacon.

  “Shit!” She grabbed Macon’s spatula to flip the strips over and turn off the stove.

  “You’re an amazing cook. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.” Macon offered her a cocky smile and stole the spatula back.

  That was it, what she was sensing. It was raw sexuality. It was the look she’d observed Macon give women when they went out. She’d talk to some of them briefly, but the ones she was more interested in, she’d look at them like that. She oozed sex. Those eyes and lips only made it even more obvious what she was doing with them. But she’d just done that to Joanna. Joanna moved back to grab the plates, deciding she’d seen that wrong. Macon began the other omelet as she slid the first onto the plate Joanna had provided. Joanna stood back and watched her work from behind. Macon was beautiful; Joanna had always known that. She had no problem saying when a woman was attractive.

  She started to think about Macon and herself. Macon was more than attractive. She was stunning. The dark skin she’d inherited due to her part Italian ancestry mixed so well with that dark hair and those bright eyes. It was easy to see why women fawned over her. On top of that, the woman was toned everywhere, if Joanna had to guess. She knew Macon worked out often and that walking around a lot in the city made her calves strong and toned. Joanna stared at them for a moment as they were visible because Macon was wearing short sleep shorts. Her eyes moved up to the back of Macon’s toned thighs and then higher to where the shorts covered her ass. Why was she staring at Macon’s ass? Her eyes lifted but only ended up on Macon’s lower back, because the woman had her hand under her shirt, scratching a spot there. She then removed it, straightening her shirt as she did, and returned to the cooking.

  Joanna moved beside her again to get the bacon out of the pan and onto a paper towel. Her shoulder bumped gently into Macon’s, who ignored the touch. Joanna felt the toned muscles in her arms maybe for the first time. She managed to get the bacon from the towel to her plate and slid two strips onto Macon’s with a hopeful expression. Macon just shook her head but didn’t turn down the offered bacon.

  “What are you up to today?” Joanna asked as she bit into an extra crunchy piece.

  “Rehearse here on my own. I have a meeting with the conductor. I’ll head over there at around 10:30. Lessons after that until 5.”

  “What’s the meeting with the conductor about?” she asked and finished the bacon as the omelet slid from pan to plate.

  “I don’t know. He just set it up through his assistant. I guess I could be fired. Or, it could just be that he wants to talk to me about my playing.”

  “You think you could get fired?” Joanna asked with instant concern.

  “No.” Macon laughed and carried both plates to the coffee table. “You should make yourself some of that fancy coffee.”

  “I’m good with water.”

  “Grab one.”

  Joanna moved to the fridge where she removed a bottle of water and grabbed silverware and paper towels for their impromptu breakfast.

  “And why are you so confident about not getting fired?” She passed Macon her fork and knife, placing the roll of paper towels between them and sitting down.

  “Because I’m good.” Macon sliced at her omelet.

  “Cocky, aren’t you?” Joanna laughed.

  “No, I’m not.” Macon turned to her. “I’m very good.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play. I was supposed to go to that performance, but my mom went to the hospital, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need to see you play.”

  “Okay.”

  “We hang out all the time. How have you never played for me before?”

  “I don’t play for people.” Macon took a large bite of her omelet.

  “So, I shouldn’t be offended?”

  Macon placed her fork and knife on the table next to her plate. She turned her entire body to Joanna, who felt suddenly nervous at the focused attention.

  “You know how some violinists have solo careers? There’s Nicola Benedetti, Joshua Bell, and, of course, Itzhak Perlman. There are more. They’re known worldwide and are amazing violinists.”

  “I haven’t heard of the other two, but I’ve heard of Itzhak Perlman,” Joanna replied.

  “I picked up the violin when I was two. My uncle played. When he ran to stop me from dropping the thing, he didn’t make it in time. And I’d seen him play, so I put it to my shoulder. Everyone else just sat there and waited to see what I’d do. I ran the bow along the strings, and I was hooked. I started lessons at three and picked it up very quickly. I was reading music before I was reading words. It took off from there.” She paused for a moment. “I am very good,” she said. “I’ve chosen to stay in the orchestra and not to pursue the solo tour thing. If I wanted it, I could have it. At Berklee, all the teachers wanted me to perform on my own or take on more solos than I wanted. I wasn’t interested.”

  “Why not?”

  “I like the orchestra. I love how it all sounds when we’re playing together. I like the people I play with. When you’re on tour, it gets lonely. There’s this pressure that I’ve never wanted. People want you to record albums or do special performances. Then, they start wondering about when you’ll transition.”

  “Transition?” Joanna still hadn’t touched her breakfast.

  “Into composing or conducting. I don’t know about either of those things yet, but I knew in school like I know now: I don’t want the soloist life. I’m content doing what I’m doing.”

  “When can I hear you play?” she asked.

  “Come to a performance.” Macon turned back to the table and her plate.

  “Your violin is three feet away.” Joanna laughed.

  “I’m eating breakfast.”

  Joanna stared at her with that obvious deflection and considered what to say next.

  “Have you played in front of Keira or Hillary before?”

  “No,” she answered immediately. “Well, they’ve been to performances, so… yes, I guess.”

  “Never just here?”

  “No.”

  “Hey, Make?”

  “Huh?” Macon turned and slid another bite into her mouth.

  “Why don’t you play in front of people?”

  “I play in front of people every day, Jo.” She bit into the bacon. “This is terrible.” She laughed and put it back on the plate.

  “But alone?”

  “Alone?”

  “Macon, do you ever just play for someone when it’s you and them, and that’s it?”

  “No, I guess not. Sometimes, I had to play with just me and a teacher or just me and the conductor.”

  “But not a spectator? Only in front of the orchestra?”

  “No, and yes.”

  “So, you’re a violin prodigy that could have an amazing solo career and have worldwide fame, but you don’t play for anyone and avoid some of the solos you’re offered in the orchestra?”

  “Yes. Why is this a thing we’re talking about?” She laughed and turned to the coffee. “This is getting cold. Any chance I can convince you to make me another one and do that scorpion this time?” Macon smiled at her.

  “I’d have to wiggle the milk,” she replied and wiggled her eyebrows with her smile.

  Macon laughed hard and nearly spilled her coffee over the gray carpet. Joanna just watched her gracefully recover and put it down before shaking her head in disbelief.

  ◆◆◆

  Joanna went to Clarion Alley, one of her favorite parts of the city, because it changed often. Clarion Alley was a set of streets that allowed graffiti artist to tag the buildings. The work was always colorful and, sometimes, remarkable. She enjoyed all of it and loved photographing the work. There were different sections painted nearly every time she stopped by. After spending a couple of hours walking and taking pictures, she decided to have lunch and go home to edit what she’d taken. As she sat on her sofa and ate, she stared blankly at the television she had connected to the Wi-Fi. She’d loaded the pictures onto her computer as soon as she got home. The TV was currently running a slideshow for her, which allowed her to see the images much larger and decide which were worth keeping to work on and which weren’t. She was staring blankly, though, because she couldn’t stop thinking about two things.

  Mason had thrown her a curveball by suggesting that Macon liked her as more than a friend. She hadn’t thought it possible. This morning, she’d stopped by to be a good friend and try to uncover what had made Macon so upset the day before. She’d ended up staring into Macon’s sexy gaze. She’d gotten grabbed at the hips and moved out of the way. She’d never been touched that way by a woman. She hadn’t actually been touched. Macon, technically, had only touched her sweater and her jeans. But there was something about that moment that made Joanna return to it constantly throughout her entire day. Her phone rang as she forced herself not to think about Macon’s hands on her. She grabbed at it quickly, nearly knocking over her plate in the process.

  “Hey, Emma,” she greeted.

  “Hi. Key and I are going to catch a movie tonight. I thought I’d invite you and Macon.”

  “So, you’re calling to invite both of us?”

  “Yeah, is that okay?”

  “I don’t know what her plans are. I think she mentioned something about wanting to be alone tonight.”

  “No worries. What about you?” Emma asked.

  “Third wheel your date with Keira?” Joanna laughed. “No thanks. You two have fun.”

  “We’re not going to be making out in the theater, Jo. We’re grabbing dinner after, if you’re interested.”

  “I think I’ll hang out on my own tonight, too. I’m kind of tired, honestly. I have some more editing to do.”

  “Sure. Some other time,” Emma offered.

  “Yeah.”

  Joanna hung up the phone and stared down at it. She and Macon hadn’t discussed the night during their breakfast. Macon had expressed yesterday that she would think about joining her at 7Ups, but Joanna hadn’t brought it back up while they ate before she had to leave. She’d meant to ask her, but then she’d gotten sidetracked with breakfast and cleaning up next to Macon in that tiny kitchen. They’d washed and dried in silence, and it felt different today. They’d done dishes together after a meal once or twice, but the activity had never felt like this. Joanna unlocked her phone and entered the message app. She typed out her question to Macon and then moved into her bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes and get to work in her office. About thirty minutes later, she had a response from Macon.

  ◆◆◆

  “You are a sore loser,” Macon said after Joanna’s second loss to her at Skee-Ball.

  “I am not.” She rolled her eyes. “You cheat.”

  “How can I cheat at this?” Macon laughed and handed her the card they shared. “You want to throw the balls at the scary clown faces?”

  “You’re resourceful. I bet you found a way to cheat,” Joanna replied. “And you love that damn game.”

  “I do. I’m good at it.” Macon smiled at her as they headed toward two games, side-by-side, where there were three rows of clown heads and baseball-size rubber balls. They’d be throwing at those heads to knock them down. The more they knocked down, the higher their score would be. “And I’m unsure how I’d use any kind of resourcefulness to cheat at Skee-Ball. You roll the ball and either score high or score low. “

  “I’m sure you charmed one of the female employees to weight the balls differently or something.”

  Macon stopped moving just as they arrived at the game. Joanna was starting to recognize something in her that she wasn’t sure others did.

  “Put it in.” Macon motioned to the card reader, deflecting Joanna’s comment.

  “Hey, I’m glad you decided to come out tonight.” She changed the subject. “We’re a few points closer to that iPad Pro.”

  “Yeah,” Macon agreed.

  Joanna swiped the card for Macon’s game. Then, she did the same for herself. She wasn’t great at this one and would just throw alongside Macon because it was fun. While she tossed and hoped it hit a clown, Macon’s arm speed was off the charts. Her expression was focused, possibly angry, and her aim was spot on. She knocked down the entire top row of clowns before Joanna had even thrown her first ball. Joanna was sure she hit at least a few, but when the time was up, she’d scored only fifty points, while Macon’s score was over four hundred. She was winded and looking off toward the bar. Joanna wondered if she was the cause in her change in mood.

  “Maybe we should choose a game that doesn’t involve rolling or throwing for you,” Macon remarked.

  “Maybe we should get you a beer. You seem like you need one,” Joanna said. “Here, use this. I’ll go get us some drinks.”

  She ordered from the bartender and waited while he popped the top off the one she’d ordered for Macon. Then, he poured the draft she’d order for herself while she watched Macon play a game. By the time she returned with their drinks, Macon’s mood had changed back to playful.

  “I got the jackpot, and then I got a bonus spin,” she announced as she took her beer.

  “Yeah? How many?”

  “It was a three-thousand jackpot, and with the bonus, I doubled it.” She smiled before taking a sip of her beer.

  “So, in two spins, you doubled our entire ticket total?” Joanna asked.

  “I am lucky tonight, I guess.”

  “Hey, two people who said they were each spending the night alone,” Keira’s voice rang out from behind them.

  “Keira?” Joanna turned around to see Keira holding hands with Emma.

  “We were on our way to our movie and saw the two of you in here from the street,” Keira said. “Emma was told you needed a night in, Joanna Martin.”

  “I was planning on staying in, but–”

  “Little Miss Macon convinced you to go out?”

  “What? No,” Macon replied and took another drink of her beer while turning her head back toward the game. “I’m going to grab some nachos or something. Do you want the potato skins?” she asked Joanna and then looked directly at Keira. “Because I am going to the bar to order my own food and I am a nice person.”

  Keira gave her a glance that Joanna wasn’t certain she understood. Then, she turned to Macon, who was once again in that same mood from earlier and the day before as well.

  “No, I’m good. But can you–”

  “No jalapenos. I know,” Macon interrupted and headed toward the bar.

  “Okay, what is going on with you two?” Emma turned to her girlfriend and asked.

  “Nothing,” Keira replied and turned to Joanna. “Our movie starts in thirty. We should head out.”

  “You two want to come since you’re already out?” Emma asked Joanna.

  “She’s getting food, so I don’t know.”

  “I’ll go talk to her,” Keira suggested.

  “Actually, let me,” Joanna insisted. She placed a hand on Keira’s forearm, knowing something was wrong between her and Macon but not knowing what. She walked past them toward the bar where she stood next to Macon, who leaned over it. “Penny for your thoughts,” she said and received no response. “Or maybe a nickel? Are your thoughts pricier than the average thoughts?”

  “I have high-priced thoughts, yes,” Macon finally replied and turned her head to Joanna. “Did you change your mind about the potato skins?”

  “No. Emma and Keira invited us to join them at the movie.”

  “Oh.”

  “But you don’t want to go?”