Stormbound - pt 13 - by Gun Brooke

“Oh, goodness, it’s cold,” Tiffany muttered and pulled her jacket closer around her. She really needed to pee and was getting increasingly frantic. “Where in the world is the bathroom?”

“What are you muttering about?” Izzy said, emerging from the tent behind Tiffany. “And why are you bouncing?”

“I got to go.”

“What? Where?” Izzy blinked. “It’s not safe to leave, Tiff.”

“Not go away. Just go.” Tiffany felt her cheeks flush. “You know. Pee.”

“Oh.” Izzy obviously tried to contain herself, but failed completely since a broad grin appeared on her face. “Well, there’s a shovel and some toilet paper in the back of the jeep.”

“A shovel?” Tiffany looked horrified at the image her brain conjured up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No. No portapoti available, I’m afraid.” Izzy shrugged. “I can go with you and help you dig, if you want?”

“No!” Realizing how squeaky her voice sounded, Tiffany tried again. “No. I’ll be fine. Just hope I don’t run into a bear or something.”

“I’ll be standing guard. Don’t worry.”

“Not too close.” Tiffany knew there were absolute limitations to what she wanted and needed to share with Izzy. Private bathroom moments for instant.

“I’ll give milady her privacy.” Izzy winked, hoisting the rifle. “Come on. We can take turns. You can keep guard while I go.”

“Oh, okay.” Somehow it made the whole embarrassing matter a little easier.

When Tiffany had successfully taken care of business, she lingeringly took the rifle that Izzy had given her lessons on before their nap and nervously stood guard while Izzy disappeared among the trees with the toilet paper. Suddenly the weapon felt twice as heavy in her hands and Tiffany kept glancing at the safety, making sure it was on. That would be just like me, shooting myself in the foot because some darn squirrel scared the living daylights out of me. She sighed in secret relief when Izzy returned. Going back to the tent, Tiffany felt her stomach growl.

“I’m hungry,” she confessed.

“Then let’s get something to eat. Do you know how to start a fire?”

“Only I ever started a fire was in the microwave when I tried reheating my dinner in a stainless steel pot.”

“Well, as exciting as that sounds,” Izzy said, her mouth twitching again, “I mean a real fire.”

“I’ve seen on Discovery channel how the natives rubbed two sticks together. Looked difficult,” Tiffany said.

“Oh, sweetie-girl.” Izzy laughed, a thoroughly happy sound that washed over Tiffany. “How about we try the matches first?”

“Ah, you’ve got matches. Cheat.” Tiffany winked at Izzy and looked around. “Should we gather branches for the fire maybe?”

“Absolutely.”

They gathered as much dry wood as they could carry, and dropped it off next to their tent.

“What do we do if it rains?” Tiffany followed Izzy as she started to gather fist-size rocks. Not sure what she meant to do with them, Tiffany mimicked Izzy.

“You mean if we can’t start a fire? That’s when my little ethanol driven burner comes in handy. I just thought we’d save that until we really need it.”

“Good idea.” Tiffany had a less than vague idea what an ethanol driven burner was, to her it sounded like something a drunk arsonist would use.

Izzy placed the rocks in a circle on the sand mixed soil closer to the water. “Fill this bucket, would you please?” She handed Tiffany a green plastic bucket. “Always have to have water next to an open fire.”

“Got’cha.” Tiffany walked down to the water and filled the bucket, her knees nearly buckling as she carried it back, mindful not to spill a drop. Izzy was well on her way to get the fire going. Within minutes, Tiffany enjoyed the welcome warmth from the flames that seemed to reach for the darkening sky. Tiffany checked her gold watch. 5.35 pm. No wonder it’s getting dark. “What more can I do to help?”

“If you slice some bread and get some bowls out, I’ll make us a nice vegetable soup.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Actually, I’ve got some instant hot chocolate that doesn’t taste too shabby, especially when you consider it’s based on water and not milk.”

“Great. I do like my hot chocolate.”

“I remember.” Izzy leaned sideways quickly and kissed Tiffany’s cheek. “I’m fond of hot chocolate myself, but when I was deployed or on an exercise, it was all about the coffee. Kept us sharp.”

“Maybe we should have coffee instead, then?” Tiffany didn’t want Izzy to become un-sharp, from having had the wrong hot beverage.

“You have a point, but I can introduce you to a great blend. Half coffee, half hot chocolate.”

Intrigued, Tiffany watched Izzy heat the soup and make the coffee-chocolate. “Smells wonderful.” She sliced the bread, her mouth watering at the thought of dipping it into the soup. Soon they were eating in silence, Tiffany having two more servings of soup before she was even close to full.

“Excuse me for being impolite, but where the hell do you store all that food?” Izzy’s eye were huge as she scanned Tiffany’s body. “You’re without a doubt the most petite woman I’ve ever met, and still you eat like—“

“A horse?” Tiffany giggled. “I’ve heard that all my life. I eat like there’s no tomorrow, and I love food. Must be genetics, but I’m not quite sure whose genes, because my mom is tall and my dad wasn’t exactly short either.” She sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be a few inches taller.”

“Don’t say that. You’re…you’re perfect.” Izzy blushed faintly and shifted her focus to her soup.

“So are you.” Tiffany meant it, but she saw Izzy flinch, which was more than she could bear. She scooted closer on the fallen tree they sat on. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Tiff?” Rigid shoulders, her face all sharp angles and planes, Izzy looked at Tiffany with a frighteningly indifferent expression in her eyes.

“Don’t pull back. You’re getting to know me, right? You know I blurt out whatever is in my head. I’m too disorganized to keep track of any half-truths and lies. I say what I’m feeling. I think you’re perfect. You’re perfect for me.” Holding her breath at her own candidness, knowing full well that Izzy could yank the proverbial rug from under her feet with a few words if she wanted to.

“I am?” Sounding so vulnerable suddenly, Izzy’s eyes softened and became several shades darker. “Really?”

“Really.”

Izzy raised the spoon to her mouth, but her hand shook so badly, she quickly lowered it again. Tiffany reached out and steadied Izzy’s hand.

“You’re a good person, Tiffany Ashton,” Izzy said quietly, looking at Tiffany’s hand.

“I’m no better than anyone else,” Tiffany objected, but secretly felt all toasty at the honesty in Izzy’s voice.

“Yes, you are. You’re better for me.” Izzy echoed Tiffany’s own words, and it ignited a slow-burning glow in Tiffany’s chest. She sat mesmerized and watched Izzy finish her soup, knowing that no matter if she lived to be a hundred years old, she’d never come across someone like Izzy again. This woman, so brave, so strong, and yet so skinless and vulnerable, was one of a kind. Izzy made her laugh, she held her when she cried, and she was prepared to risk her life to keep Tiffany safe. Not sure where the inner voice found the courage or the knowledge, Tiffany had to swallow hard several times when the truth dawned on her. I love her. I’m in love with Izabel Delainey.

****

Izzy felt rather scrutinized as Tiffany watched her every move when she finished her meal. Still, it didn’t bother her, not really, since Tiff’s bright blue eyes gazed upon her with such affection. It warmed Izzy more than the fire, to be the object of such admiration and care. She doesn’t know how gorgeous she looks in that old Gore-Tex jacket and the pink scrunchy. As much as Izzy loved to see Tiffany’s curls in full freedom, there was something utterly endearing with the high ponytail. Suddenly Tiffany gasped and blinked several times, her eyes huge.

“What? What’s wrong?” Izzy placed her bowl on the ground and took Tiffany by the shoulder. “Tell me?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s kind of right.” Tipping her head back, gazing up at the dark sky, Tiffany laughed, a funny little sound that appeared to be closer to tears than to mirth.

“I don’t understand?” Izzy wondered if the stress had become too much for Tiffany. “You’re not making sense.”

“Oh, it makes perfect sense. Finally, all the weird stuff and emotions make sense. Izzy, you don’t have to look at me like you’re planning to call for the men in clean, white coats. I’m not losing it.”

“Thank God.” Izzy wasn’t entirely convinced, but Tiffany looked so happy, if a bit dazed, that she relaxed her grip a little bit.

“Izzy? Kiss me?” Tiffany leaned in, placing her head on Izzy’s shoulder. “Don’t talk. Just trust me when I say it’s essential that you kiss me right now.”

Izzy didn’t need asking twice. Kissing Tiffany made life worth living, and it made her feel more alive than she’d done in all the time since her last deployment. She brushed her lips along Tiffany’s, who in turn wrapped her arms around Izzy’s neck while opening her mouth. The invitation was obvious. Izzy deepened the kiss, exploring the silky depths of Tiffany’s mouth. Tiffany in turn reciprocated every caress, pushing her hands up under Izzy’s knitted sweater. The slender fingers spread, she seemed to want to cover as much of Izzy’s skin as possible.

“God, Tiff, where did this come from?” Izzy murmured against Tiffany’s lips. “One moment we’re having soup, and the next, you have me struggling to breathe.”

“You’re perfect. Beautiful. Brave. Strong.” Tiffany kissed Izzy for every adjective. “And you’re soft hearted, vulnerable, a little frail, and wounded.” More kisses, more caresses, as Tiffany’s hands found Izzy’s breasts. “And it’s this combo that makes you irresistible. I just had to have your arms around me, had to taste your kisses again. In fact, there isn’t one part of you that I wouldn’t want to kiss.”

“Oh?” Izzy tried to fathom what Tiffany was talking about. “Oh!”

“Oh, indeed.” Tiffany tugged gently at Izzy’s lower lip with her teeth. “Mm, so yummy.”

“Yummy?” Izzy had to smile, despite the overwhelming arousal at Tiffany’s erotic assault on her mouth and breasts. “You’re the scrumptious one.” She leaned Tiffany back over her arm, and kissed her passionately, devouring her mouth.

Tiffany whimpered, her head thrown back in surrender. The white skin of her neck was irresistible. Izzy nibbled her way from Tiffany’s mouth down her neck to the indentation at its base. There she let her tongue play, which made Tiffany breathe faster.

“Please, Izzy, take me…take me to the tent. I want you.”

“I want you to…I—“

A loud crack of a branch or a large twig snapping, made them both go rigid and hold their breath. Izzy grabbed the rifle next to her and was on her feet in an instant. She made sure she was standing between Tiffany and whatever had caused the mood-breaking sound.

“What was that?” Tiffany asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

Continued in part 14