Radclyffe - Love On Call

Glenn frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Mari drew her knees up and folded her arms around them. “You were willing to have sex a minute ago.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Glenn ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe I was, but I thought…I don’t know what the hell I thought.” Only what she’d hoped. She stood up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have started this.”

Mari jumped up on the other side of the bed and straightened her clothes with as much dignity as she could manage after being so soundly rejected. “Apparently I misread things. No need to apologize.”

“Mari, I didn’t mean—”

“Let’s not embarrass each other anymore. It was just a kiss, after all.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Glenn left Flann’s truck at the end of one of the back rows near the fairgrounds exit and texted Carrie and Abby with the location so they could find it when they were ready to leave. After locking up and sliding the keys between the front wheel and the wheel well, where they always stashed the keys, she cut across the dusty lot and threaded her way through the crowd. The celebration was in full swing and every few steps someone would call out her name. She waved and kept going, making a beeline for the big Future Farmers of America tent. The smell of grilling hamburgers hung over the crowd along with the almost palpable sense of good cheer. Neither penetrated the careful lock she kept on her thoughts and feelings. Her mind was a blank, her body registering neither hunger nor the heat of a mid-July afternoon. She spoke to no one as she stood in the line that slowly inched forward, and something about her air of indifference must have reached those around her. No one attempted conversation, and finally she reached the counter.

“I’ll have a beer,” she said to the balding, heavyset EMT she saw on average three times a week in the ER. When he wasn’t on shift with the local emergency response unit, he was a volunteer with the local FFA chapter. An all-around good guy.

“Hey, Glenn. Coming right up.”

A shoulder bumped hers. “Make that two, Jimmy.”

His smile broadened. “Sure thing, Doc.”

Glenn glanced at Flann. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

Flann grinned, not even bothering to pretend she’d shown up by accident. “Abby said she got a text from you and you ditched your designated driver status. I figured I’d catch you here.”

“Uh-huh.” Glenn took her beer and turned to go.

Flann grabbed hers and fell into step. “You just get here?”

Maybe if she ignored her, she’d go away. Glenn grunted.

“Big crowd.”

Glenn saw no reason to comment on the obvious. All the hospital gatherings drew big crowds. More than half the people in town either worked there, had friends who did, or came out to support what was essentially a fundraising event for the place.

“Where’s Mari?”

“She’s got a shift tonight and decided not to come.” Glenn didn’t have any better explanation, at least not one she intended to share. She’d offered to drive Mari home, but Mari had insisted she’d wanted to walk. She couldn’t object and had stood by wordlessly while Mari gathered her things and left with a hasty and abrupt good-bye. The silence had been cutting, but what could she say? She couldn’t apologize for the kiss, pretend it hadn’t mattered. She also couldn’t ask Mari to change what she wanted, and didn’t want, in her life. Both of them had been riding a wave of insanity, fueled by passion and finally beached by reason. They worked together, they were already friends, more than friends, and jumping into bed together would be a huge mistake. Mari didn’t want a relationship, didn’t even want any kind of intimacy that might lead to one, and neither did she. There’d been nothing else to say.

“You know what we haven’t done for a while?” Flann said conversationally after they’d walked in silence and ditched their empty plastic cups in a recycling bin.

“What?”

“Gone one-on-one. Let’s go shoot some hoops.”

Glenn stopped and stared at her. “Now? In the middle of the hospital barbecue?”

Flann lifted a shoulder. “I said my hellos to just about everybody, Abby’s hanging with Carrie and the others, and I had my two obligatory cups of lukewarm beer.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Out of practice, I guess.”

Glenn cut her a glance. “When’s the last time you played?”

“I kicked Margie’s ass just a couple days ago.”

Glenn snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Everyone knew Margie had a wicked jump shot, and even though she was a couple inches shorter than all the other Rivers sisters—and Glenn, for that matter—she was whippet fast and had hands of gold. “That’ll be the day.”

“Come on. Two out of three.”

The night stretched endlessly before her. Mari was working nights all week, which meant she couldn’t drop by the ER and hang around at night. She had nothing to look forward to for the rest of the weekend. Hell, for the week, when it came to it. She caved. An hour of sweating and listening to Flann taunt her about how slow she was getting might chase some of the dark from her head. Maybe. Worth trying anyhow, since the prospect of drinking lukewarm, weak beer for the rest of the night held no appeal. “Sure. Why not.”

“Lend me some clothes?” Flann added.

Glenn nodded, Flann texted Abby she was leaving, and fifteen minutes later Glenn pulled around behind the high school where the Rivers siblings had all gone to school. The basketball courts adjacent to the parking lot were empty. The whole place was empty. Everyone was at the fairgrounds. They piled out and silently strode to the court.

Flann played basketball the way she did everything else, with an arrogant flair that sometimes appeared like recklessness but rarely was. She drove hard, took unanticipated shots, and often managed to win by doing the unexpected. Glenn was a precision player, feinting, cutting right and left, picking the percentage positions from which to shoot. Over the dozens, hundreds of games they’d played, they were almost dead even.

Flann sank a basket and backpedaled as Glenn retrieved the ball and dribbled.

“You’re off your mark today,” Flann called, the merest taunting tone in her voice.

Glenn ignored her, dropped her shoulder as Flann made a lunge for the ball, pivoted away, turned, and lofted a long jumper. It hit the rim, teetered, and fell back to the court without going through. Any other day she would have made that shot.

Flann scooped up the rebound, sped back out to half court, and one-handed an impossible shot that hit the backboard, angled down, and swirled around the rim before dropping through. Luck, nothing else, riding on the wings of supreme confidence and innate skill.

“So what happened with Mari?” Flann called as Glenn went for the ball.

Glenn ignored her, dribbling, driving, shooting. Sweat dripped into her eyes and stung, the burning oddly welcome.

“You two having problems working together in the ER?”

“No. Mari’s good. Fits right in.”

“Abby said the same thing.” Flann muscled Glenn from inside, shot out an elbow and caught her in the chest, stole the ball. She circled, dribbling casually, making no move toward the basket. “I didn’t think that would bother you. Her being strong.”

“Why would it?”

Flann shrugged, picked up speed, drove to the basket and hit a layup. “It’s pretty much been your show for a long time.”

“I’m not you.”

“True.” Flann grinned. “There can only be one captain, and we all know who that is.”

Glenn reflexively caught the ball Flann shot at her before it struck her in the chest. Ass. She dribbled, took a halfhearted shot that didn’t go in, and stalked toward the side of the court. “I’m done.”