Chapter Sixteen
Taylor’s eyes flew open at the sound of very loud music. No, not just loud, blaring. Sunday morning had come with a roar, which was fitting after the fireworks of Saturday night. She sat up straight in bed and blinked, gathering her faculties. The music stopped. Then started again.
“Sorry!” she heard a voice call. Isabel. Sexy Isabel who she wanted back in bed with her. Now. She smiled. “Just trying to turn off the sound system down here, and I’m bad at it!”
Taylor laughed, blinked against the burst of sunshine streaming in, and brought her hand to her still-swollen lips. In fact, everything felt swollen in the most welcome way. She remembered waking sometime before dawn, turning and finding Isabel Chase right there in her bed, naked and tucked snugly beneath the covers. Her dark hair was splayed out across the pillow behind her, a fist tucked under her chin, and the most peaceful look on her face as she dozed.
Taylor needed to see that face.
She quickly brushed her teeth, found her white fluffy robe, and descended the stairs into her living room. She found Isabel staring at the sound system tower in the corner with three remotes in her hand. She wore a pair of shorts and an old USC T-shirt—in other words, Taylor’s clothes. She could easily get used to that image.
Isabel held up all three remotes, her brow furrowed. “I’m great with a laptop, I swear. Not so much these things.” Music that seemed to be in French filled the room.
Taylor smiled. “So, you’ve broken my sound system.”
She nodded sadly. “I’m afraid you’re relegated to learning French now.”
“That, or fix it all with one little click of a button.” Taylor took the remotes from Isabel and reset the system with one touch.
Isabel shook her head. “You know how to do all the things.”
Taylor turned back to her. “In fairness, I have some experience to draw from.” A pause as they stared at each other. The newness of what had happened between them manifested in a jolt of nervous energy shooting through Taylor. She steadied herself. She didn’t regret their night of passion. If anything, she relished every memory. She felt alive this morning, happy, and wouldn’t trade this wonderful drug for anything. Taylor was an astute person, and maybe if she went into this thing with her eyes wide open this time, she could avoid some of the relationship pitfalls of the past. Honestly, why hadn’t she decided on that course of action from the beginning? What had she been so afraid of?
Isabel glanced down and grabbed a handful of her shirt. “I stole from you.”
“I caught that.” She reached for Isabel’s hand and pulled her close. “I like you in my clothes. You’re welcome to them anytime you like.”
“Good. They smell like you, lavender and success all mixed together.” Isabel’s smile faltered momentarily. “We’re okay, right? You’re okay? I mean, you didn’t say you’re not, but I thought I should check in. I am, by the way.”
Taylor nodded, enjoying the Isabel neurosis that crept in. “I’m definitely okay.” Very slowly, she leaned down and hovered just shy of Isabel’s mouth, and her heart clenched happily when Isabel closed the gap for her. There was something so easy about their dynamic, so comfortable.
“Well, that felt more than okay. In that case, good morning,” Isabel murmured, sliding her one hand inside the robe and circling Taylor’s breast.
“It is that.” She moaned, wanting to march them right back to bed, yet remembering her manners. “Let me make you peanut butter pancakes. You’re my guest.” She stalked with purpose to the kitchen with Isabel hot on her heels.
“I didn’t know there was food service, too.”
“For you, definitely. But enjoy this. It’s all I can make. I’m awful in the kitchen. Took me years to perfect this one dish, and I gave up there.”
“Then I’m honored. But are you sure? If you have things to do, work or plans, I can get outta here.” There was that little hint of nervous energy again. She was learning that Isabel projected a lot of confidence she didn’t always feel. She wanted to assuage that any way she could.
Taylor picked up a spatula and pointed it at Isabel. “Don’t you dare. Who will tell everyone how great my pancakes are?”
“No one would. I’m forced to stay.”
“Good.” Taylor dropped her tone to sincerity. “Besides, I’m very happy that you’re here.”
“Even despite our circumstances?” Isabel traced a pattern on the countertop. “We kind of threw all of our best laid plans out the window last night.”
Taylor nodded, ruminating on the topic. “Yeah, well, maybe making plans isn’t the best way to go.”
“No plans, it is.” Isabel slid onto one of the tall chairs that lined the counter. “For the record, I would never want to screw up anything for you at work. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” She paused. “I don’t think either of us know what this is, but for whatever reason, I’m feeling less afraid of it today.”
“Me too.”
Taylor went back to cooking six thick and fluffy pancakes, enjoying Isabel’s company from nearby.
“If you lost the robe as you worked, I honestly wouldn’t complain. Not a peep,” Isabel said, blinking back at Taylor, her cheek resting on her hand.
Taylor turned around and raised an eyebrow.
Isabel held up both hands in defense. “I’m incredibly honest.”
“I can’t distract my customers, even if they’re really cute.” Taylor set down three of the pancakes drizzled with peanut butter sauce on a plate in front of Isabel.
“Yeah, well, I think it’s a surefire way to get them to come back,” Isabel said dryly, pulling a laugh from Taylor.
“I see your point. Plans today?”
“I was supposed to meet my friends at Pajamas this morning, but I had a better offer. Peanut butter pancakes and you in a robe trumps gossip and lattes.”
“I’m so happy you think so.” Taylor took a seat next to Isabel at the counter and turned inward. “The friends being the neighbors I met?”
Isabel nodded. “Right. Hadley, Gia, Autumn.”
“Do you guys do this a lot?”
“Lately. We’ve developed what I would call a breakfast club at the coffee shop each morning. Like Lesbian Steel Magnolias, but with coffee.”
“That could be your mission statement.”
Isabel nodded. “Right?”
“I like that you already have a group of friends.”
“Forgive me for prefacing,” Isabel set down her fork, “but I think it’s important you realize that this friends thing is not normal. For me, I mean. I’m not a social butterfly. In fact, I’ve been known to be an awkward loner, not necessarily by choice.”
“Okay,” Taylor said gently. “I don’t know about awkward, though.”
“Yes, you do. I spilled coffee on you day one.”
Taylor had to laugh. “Right. That did happen.”
“I’ve had friends here or there, acquaintances, but my life in LA is already so much bigger than it was back home. I’m…grateful. For the new friends, for my job. For…you.”
“You’re sweet when you want to be,” Taylor said, watching her.
“Don’t tell people that. I have a rep.”
“Your rep is safe with me. Honestly though, Iz, you should be proud of yourself. You’ve only been here a handful of months and you’ve already accomplished a lot.”
“Including falling into bed with my idol, who also happens to be an amazing person, lo and behold.”
Taylor paused. “I’m your idol?” That was new information.
“Pshhh.” Isabel dug into her pancakes, her cheeks flashing pink. “You know you are. You’ve already accomplished everything I’ve been dreaming about for years.”
Taylor was aware of the fast-track career she’d led. In fact, she prided herself on it. Yet hearing Isabel compliment her hit from a whole new angle. She felt herself inflate. “I didn’t know you felt that way. Thank you. But if you keep working, churning out those ideas and executing the way you have, you could easily do the same. It’s only a matter of time.”
Isabel sat back in her chair and shook her head. “There’s nothing I want more. Except maybe to eat tons of these pancakes in the future.”
“You like them? It’s my one culinary gift handed down from my Grandpa Joe.”
“Well, Grandpa Joe was no slouch.”
“He’d be happy to know you think so. Grabbed life by the horns kind of a guy. And I don’t mean to get off topic, but you have peanut butter sauce on the side of your mouth right now.” Taylor smiled at the look of horror that crisscrossed Isabel’s face mid-bite.
“See?” Isabel said, sinking. She set down her fork and grabbed her napkin. “Again, beyond awkward, even when I think I’m being suave.” She took several quick passes at her cheek, which only smeared the sauce.
Taylor smiled because Isabel really was endearing, and funny, and captivating.
“No? I didn’t get it?”
“No.”
“What a disaster. Of course I didn’t.” A sigh. “I’ll be right back.”
Taylor held up a hand. “No, no, no. I can help.” She leaned into Isabel’s space and very lightly licked the sauce from Isabel’s cheek. Without missing a beat, Isabel picked up a glob from her plate and wiped it on the other side of her face.
“Oh, you’re bad,” Taylor said, leaning in happily to repeat the action. Just as she pulled away, however, Isabel caught her mouth with a kiss, and an incredibly sensual one, too. She sank into it automatically, all parts of her vibrating. She had things to do that day. Calls to make, scripts to read, and budgets to review, but that kiss had her willing to postpone every part of her life for more time with Isabel. She smiled against Isabel’s mouth as she felt a firm tug on the belt of her robe. Apparently, she wasn’t alone in that sentiment.
Thank God, she thought as the robe parted.
*****
It turned out that Taylor’s bedroom was grayish blue in its color scheme, spacious, with a vaulted ceiling and skylight. Isabel knew this because she stared up at it from flat on her back on Taylor’s bed. She’d just been led, once again, on a field trip to Orgasm Nation and wasn’t sure she ever wanted to leave this place.
“We’re good together in bed,” Taylor mused, coming down from her own little excursion. “Or maybe it’s just you.”
“It’s us,” Isabel said, blinking to clear her head from all the powerful sensations that still accosted her body. She tickled Taylor’s shoulder as she took in her surroundings. “You have huge windows,” she said, still breathless. Taylor followed her gaze from her spot alongside Isabel.
“The views are what sold me on this house.”
Isabel pushed herself up on her elbow and stared. “You’re looking down on all of Los Angeles. As in, all of it. I’m pretty sure you own Hollywood from this spot.”
Taylor smiled lazily and slid her thigh between Isabel’s. “The way you just owned me?”
Isabel liked the sound of that. “Exactly. Yes. That’s what I’m known for, owning exceptionally good-looking women on the daily.” She paused, reflecting on the lunacy of that statement. “I’m out of my league here, you know that?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You are. I’m just a girl from small-town New Hampshire.” She kissed Taylor. “But for fuck’s sake, I really like you.”
Taylor chuckled. “Well, for fuck’s sake, I really like you back.”
“And right now,” Isabel said, “I don’t care about your league. I’ll punch your league in the face and run away with you forever.”
“Do you know what I want?” Taylor asked. “I want to know more about you. Everything. I’m glad there’s time for that.” She trailed several fingers across Isabel’s skin, tickling her stomach. “How is anyone’s skin this soft?”
“No sun up north. We hibernate like bears to escape the snow, leaving our skin white and untouched.” She placed their arms next to each other. “Notice the difference. I’ve been here months and I still don’t have anything close to a tan.” Taylor, however, glowed healthily. “It’s that forever pool you have out there.”
Taylor quirked an eyebrow. “Do you mean the infinity pool?”
“That one.”
“I like to read alongside it for work.”
“See right there? That’s really glamorous. I don’t know what you’re doing with me. You should kick me out. Right away. Call your doorman.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, that’s an outrage,” Isabel said, getting louder. “Every infinity pool should come with a damn doorman.”
“I’ll make a note.” Taylor kissed her deeply and murmured one word. “Shower.”
“Fine. Okay,” Isabel said grumpily. “I guess I could join you in the detailed marble shower. But then I gotta jet. I have important scripts to write.”
Another kiss. “Because you’re going to be a famous screenwriter.”
“And get my own doorman-pool guy. You can come over.”
“Deal.” Taylor pulled herself away and in glorious naked form walked to the bathroom with the kind of confidence Isabel would kill for. Well, if she had a body like that, she wouldn’t have to. Taylor turned around and crooked her finger in a come-hither that had Isabel’s blood running hot once again.
Two memorable hours later, and Isabel really did have to go. Not only did she not want to overstay her welcome, but things between her and Taylor were still new and uncharted, and as such, required a delicate hand. In other words, she was careful to give Taylor space just in case she had any second thoughts or doubts.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Isabel asked from the entryway. Post-sex good-byes had always been awkward in Isabel’s experience, but this time felt entirely different. She and Taylor grinned easily at each other and the mood was light. Dare she say, hopeful? They’d packed her clothes from the night before in a small backpack, and she borrowed shorts and a shirt to wear home.
“You will see me tomorrow. I should be around in the afternoon after a production meeting over at Sister Dale. Maybe we can steal a late lunch?”
“You’re on. But don’t expect me to eat any wimpy salad.”
“I wouldn’t dream of offending your respect for greasy diner food.”
Isabel stared at her serious-faced. “We’re gonna get along just fine.”
“What’s this?” a voice asked from down the walk. They turned to see Aspen making her way toward them, her blue Porsche parked low on the driveway. She pulled her sunglasses from her face and glanced from Taylor to Isabel, her eyes hard and her lips pursed tight.
“Isabel was heading home,” Taylor said calmly. “What can I do for you? I thought we talked about calling first.”
“I would have if I hadn’t left my handbag here last night. The one containing my phone. But I see I’ve interrupted your sad little morning after. Your standards aren’t what they used to be, Tay. But then again, people change.”
Isabel felt about two feet tall but held her composure. “I’ll see you soon,” she said evenly to Taylor, who squeezed her hand.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Aspen said innocently and made a sweeping gesture with her hand to the sidewalk. “Walk of shame is that way.”
Okay, so that’s how it was going to be. Isabel swallowed, her defenses flaring. Yet no good would come of a confrontation with this woman. She could squash Isabel like a bug at any given point. No. Best to maneuver this as gracefully as possible. “I’ll call you,” she told Taylor, who nodded solemnly back. Oh, that was not an encouraging sign.
“Of course you will,” she heard Aspen say, in a patronizing tone, behind her. So, the friendly pretense was effectively gone. She could handle that. Wouldn’t make work at all weird or difficult. She deflated in the realization that this thing with Taylor came with more angles than even she realized. Didn’t matter, she decided as she slid into her boring and basic Honda. She wouldn’t let Aspen ruin her high from the past twenty-four hours. Everything would be all right. She glanced up the drive to the two beautiful and successful women who seemed involved in a deep and important conversation. Her stomach turned uncomfortably.
As she drove back to Venice, Isabel tried not to imagine all the ways Aspen would slam her to Taylor, make her look like a child who’d stumbled into the big kids’ playground. She refused to believe that she was a rebound or a subplot to the larger relationship in Taylor’s life: Aspen. But then again, she’d seen this story play out a hundred times in popular narratives. The main couple fought like cats and dogs, proclaimed the relationship unhealthy and over, only to fall madly back in love with each other, the tumultuous ride a big part of their dynamic. Some couples longed for drama and conflict. It’s what got them going. Maybe that was Taylor and Aspen.
Nope. She wouldn’t let herself go there. She would not be the cliché. Isabel placed a hand briefly over her heart and allowed herself to wonder just how long it would be until it was broken in two over Taylor Andrews.