Page 8 of A Bear in a Birdbath

Margo flinched, surprised and dismayed by Eva’s unexpected anger. “I know that you’re in some kind of a mess and I wanted to protect you!” she protested. It was more clear than ever that Eva was in over her head.

“I d-don’t need your protection!” Eva said, looking fearlessly up at Margo. “I can fight my own battles!”

“I’ve watched you lose a fight with a trash bag!” Margo hissed impatiently. “Will you keep your voice down and stop being so mulish?”

“I’m not mulish,” Eva sputtered in outrage. “You’re just sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong! You should never have followed me!!”

Margo knew a lost cause when she saw one, and she knew that her own powers of persuasion were unequal to Eva’s unexpected resolve. She might not be able to convince Eva to leave quietly, but she did have one option left.

“What are you doing?” Eva gasped, when Margo stooped to take her by the waist. “How dare you!”

She was even lighter than she looked, and she was so surprised by Margo’s move that it was no harder than hefting a chicken to her shoulder.

A chicken that immediately began to fight her.

Eva was not that strong, compared to Margo, but she was slippery, and distractingly lithe, and it was like trying to hold onto a greased-up eel. A greased-up eel with little fists and feet that hammered at Margo’s shoulders. A curvy, sexy little greased-up eel whose struggles were stirring Margo into a whirlwind of confused emotion and distracted longing. Margo had been right to avoid touching her for so long.

“I’m not letting you—ow!—get yourself caught trying to burgle Wilson Kinetics for some—ow!—hare-brained reason when there are other choices!”

“I don’t have another choice!” Eva hissed, finally squirming from Margo’s grasp as she wedged a foot against Margo’s collarbone.

Margo twisted desperately to catch her before she could fall to the unforgiving floor, and suddenly had Eva in her arms, close against her.

“You could ask for help,” Margo whispered.

Eva was still at last, staring back up at her with galaxy-deep eyes filled with longing.

“You’re my friend,” Margo said haltingly. “Probably my best friend. I’d…do anything you asked.”

“My friend?”

Margo tried to identify her tone. Was it only that she was grateful and surprised that Margo considered herself a friend? Or did she yearn for something more, as Margo herself did?

On any other day, she would have released Eva without presuming further liberty, sure that no one could want advances from a monster such as herself. But on any other day, she hadn’t been kissed breathless by a complete stranger in a waterless decorative pond, and there was already a fire in her belly that hungered for fuel.

She bent down and put her lips to Eva’s.

8

EVA

The first time that Eva met Margo, she’d been filled with an unexpected sense of safety.

She knew that the other employees of Harriet’s bakery were terrified of the huge woman, and that she ought to be, too. Margo was a hulking monster of a matriarch, and there was no warmth to her demeanor or invitation in her manner. She ruled the bakery with an iron fist and brooked no nonsense.

And Eva, of all people, expected to feel threatened by her unquestioned power and grim facade.

But Margo’s dominion was unfalteringly fair and beneath her growls, her strength was tempered with softness. She never spoke loudly if it was not necessary, and her touch was always gentle.

With Eva, she seemed especially careful, and Eva was sure that her kindness was never less than genuine.

She was not a particularly handsome woman, with a heavy jaw and a broad forehead, but Eva had plenty of experience with beautiful things and knew the value of meaningless pretty words and empty promises. Margo had lovely warm eyes and clever fingers, and Eva found her face interesting rather than off-putting.

They had come to what Eva considered a cautious understanding under Harriet’s roof. Margo lived in the basement, Eva lived in the upstairs back office, and they shared the communal space. Neither of them was given to a great deal of random chatter to fill the space, but they found common ground in disparaging Harriet’s musical choices and changing the soundtrack the moment she left. Eva introduced her to Faery Metal, and Margo broadened her mind to jazz and ginlark.

Margo often brought little gifts from the bakery up with her, and Eva mended her clothes and added little embellishments of embroidery. Subtle decoration, because Margo herself was so understated, but Eva enjoyed knowing that Margo was wearing a touch of her own creation at her wrist and collar.

Eva had never let herself imagine there might be more between them than this simple, undefined friendship.

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