When Tomorrow Comes, page 9
“I am okay now.” Teague’s voice was shaky.
Baye slowly released her, and they stood. They both stared at the huge oak now split in two near the barn’s open doors. “I’m glad all the animals are safe in the barn,” she said.
“Yes.” Teague turned away, wiping her forehead with a trembling hand. “We must go to the cottage.” She headed into the downpour in a fast walk, leaving Baye to follow.
“Okay,” Baye said, drawing the word out under her breath. She hesitated at the entrance to the barn, then plunged into the rain.
Chapter Eight
Teague didn’t run, but she fled her mortification with every long stride. It had literally been years since she had a meltdown in front of someone else. Unmindful of the rain, she mentally played out at least twenty scenarios that would allow her to back out of the proposed deal she’d just presented to Baye. She’d always been overly sensitive to loud sounds and overpowering smells, but Mac’s occasional screeching calls, Flower’s intermittent squeals, and Asset’s loud braying had mostly desensitized her. Damn it. She was forty years old, yet she had curled up like a small child when the lightning strike sparked the frightened cacophony from her animals.
She went directly to her desk and retrieved the laptop hidden in the center drawer from her more curious pets. She was typing in the web address for the rescue center and didn’t look up when Baye walked through the door. “Are you sure you want to do this? Most of my pets will be hard to place, especially with the contracts I am going to require to ensure they live out their lives with the same care and freedom I have provided.”
Baye didn’t answer but walked to the whiteboard covered with a complicated mathematical equation. “I can’t even fathom the depth of your genius. This looks like a foreign language.”
“It would appear so to anyone who is not a physicist.” Thunder rolled overhead again, but almost thirty seconds after the flash of lightning. The storm was moving away, yet the rain hadn’t let up. Teague banged her fist on the desk. “Damn internet is out.”
“That’s okay,” Baye said. “You might change your mind about hiring me after I tell you something about myself.”
Teague didn’t respond but turned enough to see Baye without looking directly at her, which didn’t matter because Baye, still staring at the whiteboard, had her back to her.
“I have severe attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. I’ve been fired from most jobs I’ve held because I was chronically late or left a task unfinished because something else distracted me, or I had a meltdown where I went off on a coworker or my supervisor. I like you a lot and hope we can be friends, so I need you to know about my disability and understand my daily struggle.”
Teague’s thoughts raced to the misunderstanding they’d had the week after the adopt-a-thon. Baye’s reaction had been a bit over the top. Baye still hadn’t turned to face her, so Teague typed in a quick search for ADHD when the internet connection rebooted and blinked in surprise at the endless number of websites offering information. She read quickly while Baye continued.
“ADHD isn’t a disability like missing a limb or having a muscular disease, so a lot of people see me as lazy, reckless, impulsive, self-centered, and overly emotional. After a while, they find a friendship with me is too much work and either drift away or get mad and cut me out of their lives.”
Baye’s voice had grown closer, and Teague finally glanced up to worried hazel eyes. She cleared her throat. “I am very high functioning but diagnosed as autistic. Like you, my brain works differently than most people’s. It is a disadvantage because people do not understand me and make fun of my speech, but it is also a gift because I often can see problems and their solutions from a different perspective.”
“That’s why you don’t like crowds, or people in general. And you don’t like to be touched.”
She nodded but couldn’t hold Baye’s gaze and looked down when she felt Snow press against her legs. “Where you might be constantly distracted when trying to complete a project or task, I tend to be super focused. When I am working to solve a problem, I often forget to eat or sleep for days. Connie watches out for that tendency and will not let me go more than a day without rest and nourishment.”
“My grandmother left the farm to me and Libby because she knew the rescue center wouldn’t be a success without Libby to rein in my spending impulses. She manages our finances.”
Heat crawled up Teague’s neck and flooded her cheeks. “I am sensitive to certain scents like heavy perfumes and cannot tolerate loud sounds like earlier.” Baye’s hand on her shoulder ratcheted up her internal heat wave, scorching her ears as well. “The lightning strike and the noise from the frightened animals surpassed the limit I can tolerate.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. It startled me, and my scream might have set the animals off, not to mention my very vocal meltdown.”
Teague nodded. “You have a potty mouth.”
Baye laughed. “Yes, I do when I’m stressed. I’m trying to get better at that.” She averted her eyes, and her cheeks flushed pink. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed and lose control of my emotions. I’ve lost jobs, friends, and family support because of it.”
Teague relaxed a bit. Could they be more different, yet so similar? “My animals are my friends, and my great-aunt is the only family member who understands me. Connie is not a relative, but I consider her to be family. They both know when and how to touch me.” The lightning incident still puzzled her. “They know not to touch me when I…when I become overwhelmed.”
Baye withdrew as if she was just now aware of her hand on Teague’s shoulder. “Sorry. I forgot about the touching thing.”
“No.” Teague grabbed her hand. “For some reason, your touch does not bother me.” She entwined her fingers with Baye’s. “When you hugged me in the barn, it calmed me instead of escalating my distress.”
Baye’s smile was slow and her expression shy as she ducked her head. “You seem to be my lightning rod, too. Touching you drains away my anxiety and grounds me.”
Teague stood and tugged Baye to the door. “The rain has let up. We should check on Mac in the sunroom.”
“Do you have an umbrella?”
Teague tilted her head in thought, or maybe it was to let the water drain from her ears. “I do not think we need one since we are already soaked down to our underwear.”
Baye’s full-throated laugh both warmed Teague inside and cooled the flush from her skin. “See? You ground me. I would have spent thirty minutes looking for an umbrella before realizing I couldn’t get any wetter than I already am.”
* * *
“Thank God you’re both okay,” Connie said. “I was coming to check on you after I heard that explosion. Then Badger ran in, frantic for me to follow him outside.”
Mac’s deafening screeches should have triggered another meltdown, but Teague only grinned when Baye began to laugh again. Connie looked as though she’d stepped out of a British comedy. She carried an enormous umbrella and wore a shower cap over her hair, a full-length yellow raincoat, and pink rubber boots.
“Lightning struck that big oak tree behind the barn, and it did startle us, but you running into the barn in that outfit might have scared us worse.” Teague shouted to be heard over Mac’s clamor, then held her arm out for him to step on, hugged him to her chest, and stroked his back to quiet him.
Cappie leapt onto Baye’s shoulder. He wrapped his tail around her neck and burrowed into her long hair. “Poor Cappie. Did the storm frighten you? Or does Connie’s storm-wear scare you?”
Connie squinted at them. “A couple of comedians, huh?”
Mac tilted his head as if just noticing Baye. “Hello, Pretty.” He left Teague and climbed onto Baye’s outstretched arm.
Connie made a dismissive but good-natured sound. “He never tells me I’m pretty.”
“That is his name for Baye,” Teague said. She looked at Baye, her light brown hair frizzed by the rain and her hazel eyes framed by long, dark lashes. “She is pretty.”
“Yes. She is.” Connie smiled and winked at Baye. “You girls are soaked. You should get into some dry clothes.”
“Some dry clothes would be nice. Then I should go check on the animals at my place. John is there, but he’s nearly deaf. As loud as that lightning strike was, he might not have even heard it if he has his hearing aids out.”
“Teague, you have some freshly laundered sweats and T-shirts in your chest of drawers. They may be a little long on Baye but should do fine,” Connie said. “Since I’m not going out, I should put my rain gear away. I’ll say good night to you girls.” She waved over her shoulder as she headed for her elevator with Badger trailing her.
Teague was suddenly uncertain. It had been an emotional night with their double meltdown, then their swapped confessions about their disabilities. Of course, talking about their handicaps wasn’t the same as fully experiencing them. She was already bracing herself for their new relationship to blow up, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away like she’d done with other women. Although she’d dated a few women as an experiment, she was always relieved when they gave up their pursuit of her because of her aversion to touching and their dislike of her animal friends. “I have dry clothes—” She pointed at the door to her rooms.
“Lead the way,” Baye said.
* * *
Baye realized as she walked through a small sitting room that Teague, who owned this huge mansion, was living in the housekeeper’s suite. The sitting room was apparently set up to handle late-night inspiration, with one wall covered by a huge whiteboard like the one in the cottage. The only furniture was a sofa, where Leo was grooming himself after the dash through the rain, and a standing desk, which held another laptop and faced the whiteboard. The bedroom held a king-sized bed, a night table, and a bookcase, and it had four doors—one to the sitting room, a second partially open to reveal a bathroom, and a third she expected led to the foyer so a housekeeper could quickly respond to a front-door visitor. Teague opened the fourth door and disappeared into a roomy walk-in closet.
While she was selecting some dry clothes for them both, Baye realized what seemed odd about the suite—the walls were bare, except for the whiteboard. No family photos. No artwork.
“These should fit you.” Teague reappeared and held out a pair of nylon athletic pants and a T-shirt. She had a similar set for herself, along with dry underwear. “Uh, should I also offer you underwear?”
Baye shook her head, reading Teague’s hesitation as reluctance to share such personal clothing. “No problem. I’ll just go commando.” She laid the pants and T-shirt on the bed and began to strip. Naked, she glanced up to reach for the pants and almost laughed at Teague, frozen and staring. She pretended not to notice but slowed her movements to let her look. She heard a door close as she pulled the T-shirt over her head and chuckled as the shirt cleared her head. Teague and her stack of dry clothes were gone, and the open bathroom door was now closed.
* * *
Holy crap. Her escape to the bathroom felt foolish, but Teague’s head was spinning, and her body was thrumming. She was forty years old, for God’s sake, and an accomplished genius. She had dated a couple of women in the past—the first was out of curiosity, and the second one had pursued her so vigorously that she had acquiesced to find out if her first foray into dating was uninspired because she’d chosen the wrong woman. She’d had sex with both, but only touched them intimately. She never let them touch her. And she’d never, never experienced the feelings and urges ignited by Baye’s presence.
The image of naked Baye was burned on her brain. Her breasts were moderately full, where Teague’s were small. A few inches shorter, Baye was curvy and smooth. Teague was six feet tall and slender to the point of sinewy, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. She itched to hold Baye’s firm breasts, to thumb those pert nipples, and to run her hands over her soft skin and along her curves.
She changed quickly, checked her appearance in the mirror, then ran a brush through her dark hair. She inwardly cursed at her reflection. She saw straight, dark hair and plain brown eyes. She liked her boyish figure and had never worried over her appearance before, but she wished now that she had striking blue eyes or a more stylish haircut—something that made her more attractive. She cut her own hair to avoid having a strange hairdresser’s hands on her.
She sucked in air, then blew out a deep breath. Time to face her new obsession.
* * *
Baye sat on her bed when Teague exited the bathroom. “Can I ask you about something?”
Hesitantly, Teague nodded. “I will answer if I can.” She hoped it would be a question about her proposal but braced herself for something more personal.
“Why do you stay in the housekeeper’s quarters, and Connie stays upstairs in some of the family’s rooms?”
She relaxed. This question was easy to answer. “I made a deal with Connie for her rooms in exchange for prohibiting my menagerie from going into the rest of the house. Badger is the only exception because he and Connie seem to have bonded, and I promised to bathe him for her regularly or whenever he goes outside and gets muddy. As you can guess from the outside of the residence, this home is very large, professionally decorated, and contains heirlooms passed down through the family over many generations. I wanted my pets to have access to my rooms, so I persuaded Connie to move into my suite upstairs. Leo regularly sleeps on the bed with me, and Flower likes to be tucked into the dog bed in the corner.”
Baye rose and opened the door to the foyer. “That was more detail than I expected, but thank you for explaining so thoroughly.”
Her response pleased Teague, because most people grew impatient with her need for details. “Oh, and Connie finds the arrangement to her liking because she cannot hear Mac’s late-night squawks from her rooms upstairs.”
“I’ll bet she’s an early riser, so she goes to bed with the chickens, and you’re the opposite.”
“I do not sleep a lot and do not have to worry about waking her if I am up watching television shows I have recorded or rummaging in the kitchen for a late snack.”
“Do you work in the sitting room much?”
“Occasionally, if I have a small inspiration. Any breakthrough or idea that advances my project significantly, I go out to the cottage.” Teague realized that while they were talking, Baye had led her out the front door.
“I’ve enjoyed our time tonight so much I hate to leave, but I really must check on how everyone at my place weathered the storm.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Teague wasn’t ready for their evening to end either, even though it was getting late.
“No. I’ll be fine. I can roust out John if I need help with anything.”
“Or you can call me. As you know, I can be there quickly since my house is next to yours.” Teague didn’t understand her need to be close to Baye and wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“I know, but I’m exhausted after all the excitement. Everyone in the cathouse should be fine. I’ll just need to check on the dogs and hand out calming pills to any that seem freaked out.” When they reached Baye’s car, she turned to Teague. “I’ll see if Libby can meet with us tomorrow about your offer so we can work out the details, and then I’ll text you to set a time.”
“Okay.” Teague studied her feet. “Thank you for sharing my birthday. I do not normally invite a guest.” The hand on her face was cool, and Teague shifted her gaze to glance at Baye.
“It was my pleasure and an honor to be here,” Baye said, her voice soft as she stepped close. “You are so sweet.” Then Baye’s lips were on hers, just a light brush until Teague pulled her closer for a firmer, lingering kiss.
She held Baye’s gaze for a fleeting second when she finally stepped back and opened her SUV door. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” Baye said, her face flushed and eyes shining. And then she was gone.
Teague was transfixed as she watched the Subaru move slowly down her drive and turn left onto the roadway. The feelings Baye stirred in her were a cipher she wasn’t sure how to solve. She was out of her element, stumbling with the onslaught of desire and unsure of her next step. It was late, but trying to sleep would be useless, so she headed for the cottage. She needed the familiarity of numbers and equations to ground her again.
* * *
“What are you doing? Better question is what are you doing tomorrow?”
“I was doing what all other normal people do—sleeping.” Libby’s voice was hoarse, and her response was groggy. “And do you mean today? It’s after midnight.”
Baye switched the call to speaker and continued collecting trash from around the house. “I need to know when you can come by and meet with me and Teague tomorrow. We’re going to get the money we need to keep the center open.”
Libby seemed to perk up at that news. “Why? Is she giving us a big cash donation?”
“I kissed her.”
Her declaration was answered with silence.
“She kissed me back.”
“Okay. I’m willing to whore you out if it pays the bills.” Libby’s sarcasm was clear.
Baye flipped open a three-week-old pizza box that was on the coffee table. “Gross. I’m going to gag.” Maggots were crawling among the moldy sausage and mushrooms.
Libby yawned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m cleaning up the house. Well, the downstairs anyway.”
Another long silence. “Wow. She must be offering big money. I didn’t know your girly parts were that special.”
“Funny. Very funny.” She dropped the rotten pizza into a big green garbage bag and flopped onto the spot she’d cleared on the sofa. “She turned forty years old today and is convinced she’ll die before her forty-first birthday because most of her blood relatives on her father’s side of the family did.”
