“You can open your eyes now.”

I opened my eyes, and looked around. Ryan sat across from me, hands behind his back, a smile on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Clever, what’s this all about?” He’d led me downstairs, saying he had a present for me, and now he was being all mysterious about it. I’d played along for a while, but now my curiosity was piqued.

“This.” Ryan’s hand came from behind his back, and I gasped with delight. He was holding a little wooden figurine of a cat no more than three inches tall, sitting upright with its paws together. The cat’s tail curled around its body, and light and dark patches in the wood from which it was carved gave it a quizzical expression.

“Do you like it?” Ryan’s face was openly hopeful. He held it out to me. “I made it from some of the leftover wood in the basement. It gave me something to do when I needed a break from digging very small holes, and separating bits of dirt from other bits of dirt.”

“I love it, Ryan. It’s beautiful.” I leaned forward and kissed him.

“I made it because.” He swallowed. “I want you to not forget me, okay? That’s all I ask.” Looking down at the floor, he almost mumbled. “Please, just don’t forget me, that’s all.”

A pang went through my heart, and I put my arms around him. “Oh, Ryan, please don’t think that. I’ll never forget you. I promise. I promise.”

He drew a long breath. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried.” I held the figurine up to the light, and turned it around. “I had no idea you were a woodcarver as well.”

“I’m not. This is the first time I’ve done anything, well, artistic like this.” He grinned. “I’m just lucky your name isn’t ‘Crocodile’, or ‘Centipede’, otherwise I would have had a much tougher job.”

“Right, of course. Good old Crocodile Milsom, my long-lost sister.” I kissed him again, grasping him by the lapels of his jacket. “I think I’m pretty lucky too, somehow. In fact,” I moved forward, hiking up my dress and straddling him on the chair, “I think I should thank you properly, right here and now.”

“Oh, Cat.” Ryan put his arms around me as I pressed into him, feeling the heat of him surge against me. His hands slid over my back, tracing a line down my spine, making me arch with pleasure. Lips still locked, I ran my hands through his hair, urgent, needy.

“Yes, just like that…please,” I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding. With one hand, I started to unbutton his shirt, tugging urgently at the buttons. Ryan leaned back and pressed himself into me, making me inhale sharply.

I was already wet, and the feeling of his hardness against my panties excited me even more, made me think about how much he wanted me, right now. “Now. Here.” I slid one hand down to his zipper, and fumbled with it again. “This damn zipper. Why don’t you wear button flies more?”

Ryan chuckled, his hands sliding up underneath my skirt, and over my ass. “I’ll see what I can do. Planning a visit to the menswear store already.”

“Good.” I stood up, desire flooding through me, and unzipped him, taking him in my hand. “Mmm, just what I was hoping for.”

He let out another deep noise of satisfaction. “Damn, I will never cease to be amazed by just how good you are at that.”

“I’d curtsey, but right now,” I breathed, slipping off my panties, and straddling him again, “I want…you,” guiding his hardness into me, “deep inside me.” I slid down onto him with a sigh of pure relief. “Oh, fuck, yes, Ryan. Right there.” I began to ride him, slowly at first, moving back and forth on him, feeling him filling me deliciously. Grasping his shoulders, I ground against him, every stroke sending ripples of pleasure up into my chest, and down into my toes.

“Ohhh, that’s really good, Cat. Just keep doing that.” Ryan leaned back on the chair and braced himself against the floor, pushing up into me as I rode him, shamelessly, there in the bar. My hunger for the pleasure he could give me was overwhelming, and with every stroke I wanted more.

Increasing the tempo of my movement, I dug my fingers hard into his shoulders, feeling the corded muscle beneath them. Ryan gripped me around the waist, guiding me back and forth, harder and deeper.

My breath was coming in short gasps now. I lifted my feet off the floor, and brought all my weight down on him, driving him even deeper inside me with every stroke. “Oh…fuck, Ryan, yes.” I could feel my climax approaching, and I wanted him to come inside me at the same time.

Pulling me close to him, Ryan kissed my collarbone, feverish, hungry. “Do you want to come like this, huh? You want to come right here, on top of me, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah, ohh…fuck, yes, I do.” I struggled to get the words out as Ryan pushed up inside me, almost hard enough to hurt. I could feel myself balanced on the edge, his shaft hard and pulsing inside me, and I knew he was about to explode. “Just…just like that. Come inside me…please. Fuck, yes.”

Ryan gasped as he started to come. “Cat, I—oh, fuck, yes.” As he gave himself to me, I tipped over the precipice, and stars exploded behind my eyes. As if from a distance, I could hear myself crying out, a ragged, drawn-out sound of pure pleasure as I clung to him as hard as I could.

Gradually, slowly, I came back to myself, and the heat in my body began to fade like waves receding from a shoreline. Ryan’s hold around my waist had softened from the hard grasp of passion, to a gentle clasp of affection, keeping me steady. Opening my eyes, I saw him looking at me.

“Wow.” I took a deep breath. “That was…unexpectedly intense.”

He smiled a slow smile of satisfaction. “It certainly was. I’m very glad you enjoyed it.” Shifting his weight, he slipped out of me. “How are your knees? Not the sexiest post-coital question, I know, but I don’t want you cramping up.”

I kissed him on the forehead. “Always the gentleman, concerned for my wellbeing. I’m okay.” Clinging to him for just a minute, I wanted to savor the last, lazy feeling of him next to me, warm and wet and satisfied. “The main problem is that I don’t really want to let you up.” Hooking my arms around his neck, I kissed him again. “I wish we could just stay here like this for a few hours. At least until we get hungry.”

Ryan leaned back and exhaled. “I think that’s a very good idea. Keeping you without panties is a definite plus in my—”

There was a knock at the door, sharp and insistent.

“Oh, shit.” I stiffened. “I think that’s…”

Ryan lifted me up bodily, standing up as he did so. “You were expecting someone?”

I winced. “Yeah, I think it’s Bea come to look at the oven. Crap.” Looking around frantically for my panties, I waved a hand. “She’s not as bad as I’d thought, but let’s not frighten the poor girl.” Raising my voice and trying to sound as natural and non-post-coital as possible, I called out. “Just a minute.”

Ryan bent over and handed me my panties. “Somehow I don’t think this would frighten her. But, yeah, let’s observe some basic decorum.”

“Speaking of basic decorum,” I pointed to his unbuttoned fly, “maybe you should, uh…”

He grinned and zipped himself up. “Whoops. Yes, indeed.”

* * *

I took a firm hold of the door, and a deep breath at the same time. Sunlight poured in, illuminating Bea standing on the doorstep with a toolbox and a crate of what looked like electrical parts.

She looked up at me. “Hey. You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry for taking a while to answer the door. C’mon in; thanks for coming.”

Bea stepped inside. “Hey Egghead, want to give me a hand with—” She stopped, and the corner of her mouth quirked up. Ryan was still sitting on the chair, leaned back, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. I rolled my eyes at him. Get up, or do something that doesn’t look like you ought to be smoking a cigarette right now. He smiled an infuriating smile back at me.

“Hey there, Bea.” He stretched and stood up. “I’ll be right with you.”

The smaller woman looked between he and I, and couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice. “When you’re ready. No hurry, there. Do you need to sit down and rest for a little bit?”

“Nope. I’m fine.”

Aargh. Not knowing what else to do, I coughed loudly. “The, uh, oven is through here.”

Smirk still in place, Bea followed me into the kitchen, as Ryan strolled lazily over to the crate of parts and picked it up.

Once in the kitchen, Bea circled the oven like a doctor examining a patient. Technically, I thought, this is more like a pathologist examining a cadaver. But whatever.

“Looks pretty bad.” Stepping forward, she poked at the blackened plastic and fused enamel on the electrical console. It crumbled under her touch. “Yep, that’s pretty screwed. But,” she pushed her short-cropped hair back from her face, “I reckon I’ve got some parts that might work. I’ll have to rig up a replacement for the console to hold everything, and it won’t look that pretty, but it ought to work okay.” She rummaged in the toolbox for a pair of wire-cutters and began to sever the blackened wires from the dials to the console. “First thing to do is pull everything out and clean it up.”

Ryan emerged holding the crate. “Where do you want this?”

“Over here, next to me.” Bea’s voice was already distracted, and I could tell she was far away in her head looking at the problem, evaluating all the things that could stop her from fixing the oven and finding solutions for each one in turn.

“Do you, uh, need anything else?”

Bea shook her head absently. “Nope. I’ll come and get you if I need you for anything. What the hell’s this—oh, right. Screw it.” I backed away quietly as the sound of absent-minded cursing and metal on metal filled the room.

* * *

After an hour or so, I poked my head around the door. “How’s it going?”

The scene in front of me was, unsurprisingly, like the final scene of ‘Terminator’. Electrical parts were distributed about the floor, and the front of the big cast-iron stove had been ripped out entirely. Bea was inside the oven, on her back, overall-clad legs sticking out onto the floor, muttering to herself.

I came closer. “You okay in there?”

There was a tapping noise. “Yeah, getting there. Thanks. Trying not to think about gingerbread houses right now. If you see a little boy and a girl, don’t let them in here, or I’m in deep trouble.”

“Was that a joke?” I couldn’t stop myself. “That was a joke.”

“What are you saying?” The voice from inside the oven was more amused than irritated. “Are you saying I’ve got no sense of humor, Milsom?”

I shook my head violently, then realized Bea couldn’t see me. “Would I do that? No. It’s just…I’ve never heard you make a joke before.”

“I have my moments. Being a girl working in a garage with mechanics doesn’t exactly promote jokes, though. Most of the places I’ve worked, their idea of humor is drawing glasses and a mustache on the Pirelli calendar girls.” She slid out from inside the oven, holding her side. “Owwww. I’m going to need to be unrolled and ironed flat when this is done. It turns out commercial ovens aren’t the most comfortable places for a nap.”

“Who knew?” I smiled at her. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? I’ve got sandwiches.”

Bea sat up on the floor, hands on her knees, and blew out between her cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks. Maybe some water? It’s pretty hot in there.”

I bustled about in the pantry and the refrigerator, putting together sandwiches. When I emerged, Bea had tidied up most of the used electrical parts into a pile, and washed her hands. Sitting at the table, I was surprised to see how young Beatrice was - I’d assumed the other woman was older than me, but now she wasn’t covered in grease, I realized we were similar ages.

We ate together in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Bea spoke. “Don’t go getting your hopes up, but I think I might have had some success with the oven.”

I looked at her. “Really? That’s great.”

“Well, I don’t know yet.” Her tone was deliberate and warning. “I’m making this shit up as I go along, right? I’ve never actually fixed an oven before. Plus I had to improvise all kinds of things, and something that works in a normal electrical circuit ain’t gonna last long if it’s at four hundred degrees. So I can’t promise anything.”

Tentatively, I reached out a hand to the other woman. “Bea, if you can’t do it, no-one around here can. Whatever help you can give, I want you to know that I really appreciate it, okay? No matter what happens.”

“Okay. Just—” She paused, and for once the spikiness was replaced by something that almost approached vulnerability. “Just don’t want to promise something and then let you down, that’s all.” She stood up suddenly, wiping her hands. “Thanks for the sandwich. I should get back to work.”

I cleaned up, and retreated upstairs to work on my taxes. I knew I was due a pretty significant refund, given that the bar hadn’t been making money for some time, but it wasn’t going to arrive in anything like enough time to get me out of the financial hole I was in right now, and I was beginning to regret deciding to do my own taxes. When I’d been a doctor in Boston, I’d just had someone to take care of it, like most things; the more money you earn, the less time you have, so the more you spend to give you back the time you lost, earning money.

Ryan had been out for a while at the library doing research again, and I tried not to think about what would happen when he’d finished. He’d mentioned that he’d ‘found something potentially important’, but he didn’t go into detail, and when I asked him, he’d seemed uncomfortable about it.

Get a grip, I told myself. He’s not going to spring anything on you. Whatever decision he makes, he’s doing to discuss it with you, like a responsible adult, and the two of you are going to talk it through. Like responsible adults.

“Yeah,” I said aloud. “Like responsible adults.”

There was a cough from the doorway. Ryan stood there, hands on hips. “Did I…interrupt something?”

I cursed inwardly. I’d been lost in my thoughts, and hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “No, sorry. Just talking to myself.”

He crossed the room and kissed me on the cheek. “Okay. What’s happening downstairs?”

“Well,” I stood up, “either Bea’s nearly fixed the oven, or she’s turned it into a killer robot. Bit hard to say right now.”

Ryan was thoughtful. “Well, a killer robot would probably generate more revenue in tourism than you’re losing from not being able to serve pizzas. So there’s that.”

“Yeah, until it starts exterminating the customers for not tipping. Come on, let’s go down and see what she’s done.”

Downstairs in the kitchen, the electrical carnage had receded slightly; there were a lot fewer pieces of half-built electrics on the floor, which I took to mean they were probably in the oven somewhere.

This time, Bea wasn’t inside the oven; she was bending over it, connecting things in the console. As usual, there was a muttered monologue of curses and logical deduction. “Goddammit, these things are too fuckin’ small…if I can’t get my fingers in there, how the hell—”

“Hey, Bea. How’s it going?” I looked over the oven. There was still an empty space where the console used to be, and the dials hung off bare wires, but there was no trace of the blackened plastic or soot any more, and all the visible wires and controls were clean and shiny.

“Almost…” Bea didn’t look up, “goddammit, this fuckin’ thing…Done!” She screwed the last wire into place, and looked around, slapping the side of the oven triumphantly. “It was actually pretty straightforward once I figured out where all the wires went.” Stepping back, she surveyed her work. “Now, the moment of truth, where we get to turn it on, and see if it works. Hey, Egghead!”

Ryan groaned. “Y’know, you could stop calling me that, now we’re friends and everything.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want to turn that switch on?” She indicated the switch above a dark hole where the oven’s power cable disappeared into the wall.

“Okay, okay,” Ryan grumbled, striding to the wall and turning on the switch. Nothing happened for a minute.

I looked at Bea, who exhaled. “That’s good,” she declared.

“Good?”

“Yeah, because if it was going to blow, it would have done so just then. So I didn’t fry your boyfriend. Which I guess you’re happy about.”

“Hey!” Ryan folded his arms, and backed away from the oven. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, stage two. Ryan, get that dial in the middle and turn it to maximum. Try not to touch any of the wires while you’re doing it.”

Ryan approached the oven gingerly. He looked up, scowling at both of us. “I can’t help the feeling that I’m being taken advantage of here.”

“Just do it!” Bea barked at him. I put a hand to my face to hide my smile.

He grasped the dial and twisted. Again, nothing happened for a moment, then there was a ‘click’ as the elements in the oven cut in, and gradually they started to glow a dull red. I clapped my hands, and Bea nodded in satisfaction.

“Good, that looks like it’s going okay.” She stepped forward and reached out a hand. Ryan snorted.

“Oh, fine, now you know it’s safe, you’re going to touch it,” he said sulkily.

“Quiet, Egghead. No sense us both getting electrocuted.” She flicked a couple of switches. A deep hum filled the room as the fans started up. “Good, good. Looks like the power draw under max load is okay, too.”

“Thanks, Bea.” I couldn’t keep the relief from my voice. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have been completely screwed. I just wish I could do something to repay you.”

“Huh,” Bea shrugged, turning away. “It’s no big deal. I’m sure you will one day.” She started to pack her tools back into her box. “I’d better head back to the garage.”

Something struck me, and I put a hand on Bea’s arm to stop her. “Hey, before you go—Farrah is having a party up at the vineyard next week to celebrate her new vintage. Would you and Andy like to come?”

Bea turned back to me, and looked genuinely surprised. “We don’t get out much.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Faz would love to have you guys, and I want to tell everybody how you saved my ass with the oven here.”

“Hmm.” She scratched her head. “Is this the sort of party where I’d have to wear a dress?” She said the word ‘dress’ as someone else might say ‘unexploded bomb’ or ‘bubonic plague’.

I coughed to hide my laughter. Laughing not a good idea at this point, Cat. “Whatever you want to wear will be fine. Seriously.”

Bea looked at the floor for a minute and then looked up again. “Okay, then. I guess we should socialize a bit more.” A pause, and then a smile. Two smiles in one week! “Thanks for inviting us.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you.” I smiled back. “Buddy.”