Kia looked so disheveled, Sullivan couldn’t be quite as mad at her as she wanted to be. She gave Kia a hand up.
“I wore Converse,” Kia said, as though the Converse—which might have had heels, Sullivan couldn’t quite tell in the mud—were at fault. “That magic path only opens up for you.” The cold had gotten into Kia’s brain. She wasn’t making sense. It didn’t have to be sub-zero to get hypothermia when you were this wet.
“There is no magic path. Come on.”
How could this soggy, unexplainable apparition be the woman who’d inspired Sullivan to push her craft to perfection? BeherKia Jackson? Sullivan stopped for a second. Where had that thought come from? NotherKia. Just Kia fucking Jackson who never should have come back into her life. Kia shook with the cold. Sullivan put an arm around Kia, willing her body heat into Kia’s side. Kia leaned against Sullivan as Sullivan guided Kia around the house and up the front stairs, and sat her down on the bench in the foyer.
“You should get out of those wet clothes. I’ll get you something to wear. And then you’ll leave.”
“I have to talk to you.”
“You can talk while you wait for an Uber.”
Uber would take forever in this weather. Kia must have a car somewhere. Maybe Sullivan could drive her back to it.
“You made it look so easy.” Kia’s chattering teeth bit the words into barely discernible syllables. “You just walked away into thewoods, like a… an elf, an elk, a wood elf.” Coats, hanging on pegs behind the foyer bench, brushed Kia’s shoulder, and she jumped. “There are probably a million snakes out there.”
“Did you hit your head when you slipped?”
“Fear of snakes is not a sign of hitting my head. I have a plan.”
Sullivan looked down at Kia fumbling with the buttons of her ridiculously shiny silver lamé jacket, her hands shaking too much to get purchase.
“I do not want your plan.”
“You—” Kia gave up on the buttons and tried to pull the jacket over her head. “Haven’t heard”—the stiff plastic caught on her elbows—“my plan.” She yanked the jacket down in defeat.
Kia looked up at Sullivan with wide, pleading eyes, ringed with smeared mascara. Sullivan had forgotten the gold color of Kia’s eyes, like polished tigereye. Sullivan knelt before her, undid the jeweled buttons of Kia’s jacket, and eased it off her shoulders. She hung it up on one of the pegs. The back of the jacket readLET’S GET GOURMAZING!in glittery letters.
Sullivan shook her head.
“KiaGourmazing. Really, Jackson?”
“It’s—” Kia’s teeth chattered. “A brand name.”
“Can I?” Sullivan gestured to Kia’s soaking blouse, an artsy number with tiny buttons Kia would never get undone if she couldn’t even get her jacket off.
Kia nodded. Sullivan undid the first button, careful not to look at Kia or let her fingers touch Kia’s skin, even through the fabric.
“I didn’t know you felt that way about me, Chef,” Kia said, teeth still chattering.
“I donotfeel that way.” Sullivan stood up. “I have first aid training. If you have hypothermia, you need to get dry fast.”
Kia wriggled out of the blouse without undoing the remaining buttons. How could Kia think Sullivan was looking at her like that? Sullivan glanced at Kia, but only because Kia had planted the idea in her mind. Kia had filled out since school, full breasts cupped by a translucent bra. Little rolls softened her hourglass waist, although her belly was flat and muscular.
Suddenly Sullivan lost the ability to form words. Kia was gorgeous, and her bra was so sheer spiders made webs more substantial. Sullivan could see Kia’s nipples. Sullivan was thinking about Kia’s nipples while Kia was probably suffering hypothermia and hallucinating that Sullivan was an elk (or elf). And for some unexplainable reason, Sullivan suddenly imagined warming Kia’s chilled lips with her own. Sullivan’s body woke up in a way she hadn’t felt since before she and Aubrey broke up.
Opal was right. She did need to get out more, and not to the Oakwood Heights Neighborhood Association meeting.
“I was not.” She spun around so she couldn’t be accused of ogling Kia.
“Not what?” Kia asked, still breathless from the cold.
“Anything. Nothing. I was minding my own business. And who wearsthatbra inthisweather?” That wasn’t appropriate; she realized that as soon as the words left her mouth. She tried to fix her mistake, still not looking at Kia. “A bra can be a significant source of warmth when layering for inclement weather. You missed a significant opportunity for forest preparedness.”
Sullivan turned around, keeping her eyes fixed on Kia’s golden gem eyes. Kia bowed her head. Was that a hint of a smirk visible behind the coils of Kia’s hair?
“Go clean yourself up.” Sullivan pointed to the hallway. “Shower’s down there. Don’t get mud on the carpets. They’re Turkish.”
