.5

A romance between two women containing supernatural elements. Although this is very much part of the rest of the Kismet series, it is slightly different. It isn't a direct continuation from where Kismet left off but rather a concurrent event within the story. I hope this doesn't put anyone off! As usual, there's a lot of buildup and plot but I promise the good bits are in there. A huge thank you to

WaxPhiliosophic

for giving it a read to ensure it made sense.

Thank you to all who've left comments on my other stories. I sincerely appreciate any bit of feedback I receive!

************

The wind off the water was sporadic and it tugged at my wavy blond hair, whipping it into my face. Fall was coming, the cold days far surpassing the sunny ones, and I relished in the lingering heat surrounding me. The earth was warm beneath my bare feet, clusters of sun-kissed grass tickling my toes as I curled them around the blades. It was at times of seasonal shifts that I felt beckoned to the sea, the wild and unpredictable unknown held in the depths of the ocean. Yeah, it was strange, but I couldn't resist its pull.

I tilted my face toward the sun, my hands clasped behind my back, simply enjoying the moment. It was gorgeous, the Chehalis River spilling into Grays Harbor with such a divine elegance that took my breath away. The blue sky was quickly becoming muddled with dark clouds, hinting at a rain shower. I ignored the impending storm. The heat on my face, earth between my toes, and the wind coming off the water combined to seemingly caress my soul. The coalescence was so sensual, it was bordering on erotic.

And, then my phone rang. I knelt, digging through my cavernous tote bag, grumbling the entire duration of my search. Finally, I found it on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Autumn Markle? It's Maria from the hospital," the sweet voice chimed on the other end. I rolled my eyes because I did not want to work.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"We had three call outs on night shift. I was wondering if you could work tonight," she inquired.

"I'd rather not," I answered, standing back up, throwing the strap of my bag over my shoulder. I felt a droplet of water hit my forehead and I peered up, taking in the swirling cloud cover overhead.

"I could give you a bonus shift. We're desperate, Autumn," Maria lamented. I sighed, her offer placating my refusal. Although I didn't want to work, the momentary incentive of double time was too good to turn down.

"Okay, but I may be late."

I sped back to my rental cottage on the outskirts of Aberdeen, Washington quicker than I thought possible. The space was quiet, my house mate already on his way to work. Ryan Claypool and I met during our orientation at the agency we both worked at as traveling nurses and we became friends instantly.

Nancy's Nurses was based out of Maryland, our home state, and in the four years we'd been at the agency, we'd only been on three contracts together. When there were two openings at the same hospital in 'Podunk', Washington, we jumped on it. We were two months into our six month contract at the community hospital in Gray's Harbor County, Washington. As the rain shower transitioned into a torrential downpour the day we moved into the cottage, I'd deduced the name for the area was fitting.

I grabbed the least wrinkled pair of scrubs I could find and threw them on, clipping my name badge to my top as I brushed my teeth. After I hastily dumped some instant coffee in a cup of microwaved hot water, I ran out into the damp evening.

The weather was as crappy as expected when I headed to work. Thankfully, the rain had settled to a light mist and I opened the windows to take in the scents of pine trees, blaring my music as loud as possible. I breathed in the soft aroma of the wild, wanting to get my fill before being overtaken by the nearly fetid orders of hand sanitizer, antiseptic, and illness.

A congregation of orange hazard cones lined the roadway ahead and I squinted my eyes to see the sign stating WORKERS ON ROAD. Another sign reading FLAGGER AHEAD stood on the side of the road, illuminated by orange.

Oncoming traffic was proceeding while the lane I was in halted, the cones lining the road beyond the flagger. The flagger bobbed their head in my direction, either to the beat of the music of to acknowledge my presence. As the only car in the waiting lane, I turned my music down to stifle the embarrassment of my listening habits.

The flagger put a hand on her hip. "Hey, that was a good song," she balked from the roadside. She was definitely female, the swell of her breasts visible even with the bright reflective jacket she wore. I grinned as I turned up the new hit by

Foster the People

and she began to dance.

I couldn't help but laugh at the adorable stranger, a car passing on the other side of the road. The flagger remained undeterred, continuing her cavort as two more cars passed by. She finally stopped when the walkie talkie attached to the hips she was just swaying emitted a garbled message. The dark-haired flagger said something into it and then turned the pole in her other hand from STOP to SLOW. I approached slowly, rolling my passenger window down completely. Even in her bulky reflective gear, her body was slim and athletic.

"Those were some sick moves," I called out of the window. The flagger beamed, looking behind my little Toyota to ensure we weren't holding up traffic before she leaned her head through the open window. Her eyes were dark, even with the illumination of the large halogen light above us. A loose strand of her mahogany hair hung next to her bronze cheek, having come astray from the pony tail she sported while dancing.

"Thanks. I don't usually have such a cute audience," the woman squinted to read the name tag dangling from the breast pocket of my scrubs, "Autumn," a charismatic smile on her lips as she enunciated my name. Those lips were decadently plump and, damn, I wanted to taste them.

"Especially one in uniform," she added. I laughed, unperturbed by the flagger's blatant coquettish behavior. If anything, I was flattered.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I countered, and her grin widened.

"Only the really cute ones," she claimed.

I wanted to stay and continue our mutual flirtation but one glance at the clock on my dashboard informed me I was already fifteen minutes late. With ten minutes still left of my commute, I cleared my throat and let the car move just an inch, the flagger moving alongside. "Well, thanks for the show. I've got to get to work. I'm late."

The flagger stood from her spot at the window and smirked. "Do you use this route often?"

I nodded. "I do when I'm headed to work. Why?"

"We'll be out here for the next few weeks working on the new roadway. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow," the flagger's eyes searched my face for a sign of recognition, maybe looking for some universal yes-I'm-just-as-gay-as-you glint in my eyes.

I played along. "I look forward to seeing you again," I winked and pulled my car around her and the cones. I never was good at flirting, but I knew I'd caught her attention when I saw her staring at me from my rearview mirror. And I regretted not getting her damn phone number.

****

"Autumn, your boyfriend in room six says he misses you," Ryan snickered from beside my head as I sat at the computer behind the nurse's station.

I took a deep breath and turned to him. "If you're referring to the lovely gentlemen who grabbed my ass, you can tell my

boyfriend

that Jack is taking over his care," I snapped, attempting to hide my frustration. I didn't want to give Ryan the satisfaction of knowing a patient got under my skin. The patient in question had grabbed my backside two different times, the second when I was trying to start an IV line in his arm, the nursing assistant witnessing it. After I used my best professional tone to dissuade the man's inappropriate advances, he had the audacity to argue with me and spew some colorful obscenities my way.

Ryan chuckled and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm messing with you. You know I've got your back, man. At least our little guy in room eight did a one-eighty."

I nodded, happy that the child in full anaphylaxis quickly recovered. He wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for me and a hefty dose of Epinephrine. I don't state that to be conceited or pretentious: it's the truth. I chose to work in the emergency room setting for many reasons, but the biggest being it's the easiest place to use my ability with discretion.

"You want to grab a drink with me after work?" Ryan asked.

The thought of going to a bar at seven-thirty in the morning definitely put me off. I looked up at him with a grimace and shook my head. "Nah, I think I'm going to head home and play a video game or do some reading."

He chuckled. "You, my friend, are incredibly lame."

"Love you, too" I replied without looking at him. He shook his head and walked off toward a patient room.

The first real memory I have of using the ability I was cursed with had to be when I saved a cat after it was hit by a car. Now, I say cursed because my life hasn't gone by without trouble resulting directly from having said ability. Anyway, Sir Kibbles was a sweet little cat that roamed the neighborhood and refused to become a lazy house cat. As many times as we caught him and brought him into our home, as well as fellow neighbors, he always wanted back outside, to rumpus his unruly ass through the streets. He was a true Tom-cat.

One day on my way home from elementary school, I found poor Sir Kibbles on the side of the road. His breathing was shallow, and he had a long gash on his back. I picked up the bleeding cat and trotted home with him close to my chest. My adoptive parents were bewildered when I came striding into our house with a bleeding, limp cat.

My mother almost fainted and my father tried to pull the dying cat from my arms. I told them to stop, that I could fix him. I climbed into the old clawfoot tub, tucking the cat's head beneath my chin. And, I sat there cross legged and ignored their protests. I still remember the feeling that took over me, like a scorching flame, a forest fire in a wind-swept landscape within me.

Sir Kibbles started to purr, and he leapt from my lap, rubbing his face all over the inner surface of the tub and my knobby knees. My dad rushed him to the emergency veterinarian clinic in town, bringing him back two hours later with a clean bill of health. That stupid cat went on to live another five more years.

My parents cautioned me to not do it again. They were afraid, understandably. I think part of them feared me. With no history of my biological parents, they knew next to nothing about what I could do nor how I could do it. All they knew was what the adoption agency told them when I was an infant, which was next to nothing on my next of kin.

But, I couldn't help it. I continued to heal little animals around our neighborhood, just small stuff. A scrap here, a bad bite there. Nothing came close to my miracle with Sir Kibbles, and I was thankful for that. I wanted to be a doctor or a veterinarian but, when I neared the end of high school, I had matured enough to realize it wasn't the safest option. People fear what they don't understand, and

I

barely understood my own ability. I couldn't expect strangers to accept it nor understand it. So, I went to nursing school.

It was my calling, obviously. I couldn't stay in a location for very long, hence the traveling nurse bit. The ER provided me with a platform where I could use my ability with quiet discretion with no one the wiser in acute situations. Strange miracles happen all the time in the medical field, but I still felt more comfortable hopping from place to place with the agency than staying too long in one area.

Any longer than four months and I would develop a nervous restlessness and would have to move on. It made me anxious to have signed up for the six month stint, but I was confident I could keep myself concealed. Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I was a complete dumbass for believing I could be careful.

****

The next evening, I conceded and let Ryan take me to the club in town. He proceeded to ditch me after ten minutes to dance with his new boyfriend. I sipped my new favorite drink, the super sweet Washington apple and sighed, soaking up the ambience of the club.

"Hey, Kermit the frog called and said he wants his jacket back," said a familiar voice from behind me. I rolled my eyes so hard, I feared they might've been stuck until I looked over and saw the owner of the voice. It was Jim, from radiology, with his obnoxious joke he used each time he saw me in my hoodie. It was my favorite, an emerald green zip up I found at a thrift store in Portland during my last contract and I wore it almost religiously since. Every time he said the joke, it was like nails on a chalk board. "Heh, hey Jim," I muttered, taking a long pull off my drink.

He met my eyes and smirked, trying to throw his potent charisma my way, it being deflected by, I surmise, my gayness. Since the first time the man started flirting with me, Ryan endlessly teased me about it, wondering why the cute ones always had to be straight. I'd told Jim I wasn't interested in a polite way multiple times and when he didn't get the point, I explained it to him explicitly. Can't help my attraction to women.

Yet, here I was trying to enjoy myself and he sat beside me, relentlessly flirting with me.

"You look a lot different when you aren't in scrubs," he noted, his eyes scanning my body, nearly making me cringe.

My faded jeans and V-neck blouse covered by my ugly green sweater was hardly what I would call attractive. "I'm not interested," I declared clearly.

He chuckled, the bartender placing his scotch on the bar. "You just haven't been with the right man," he reiterated. Just as I was readying myself to tell him off for the umpteenth time, the clink of a beer bottle hitting the bar drew my attention to my right.

A tall woman sat beside me, glaring at Jim. "Dude, you're barking up the wrong tree," she told him. He scoffed and stood from the bar stool, meandering over to the dance floor, shielding his defeat.

I looked over at my savior, taking in her appearance for the first time. She was tall, her skin holding a dark undertone, familiar hazel eyes, and lush lips. My eyes wandered to her fitted tee underneath a button up hanging open, displaying the pronounced swell of her ample breasts and her athletic thighs were encased in skinny jeans. Long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. I was overwhelmed with prurience, my fingers aching to touch her plump mouth. "How'd you know I was a lesbian?" I asked, lifting my martini glass to my mouth.

"I didn't," she smirked.

Oh, my God, those lips,

"Do you want to sit at one of the tables over there?" she offered, her hand gesturing toward a small cluster of booths and tables in the far corner from the dance floor. I nodded, downing my drink and slapping some cash on the bar before I followed her around the dancing people to an empty booth. She slid into the booth with ease and I sat across from her.

As she met my gaze with her fathomless eyes, it dawned on me where I knew her from. "You're the cute flagger!" I exclaimed, my cheeks blazing when I realized I announced my inner thought aloud.

She chuckled, the sound rich and loud before extending her hand. "Carey," she introduced herself. I reached my hand to hers. The moment our fingers brushed against one another's, a sharp shocking sensation ran from my fingertips to my shoulder, rupturing through my chest, as if I touched an electrically charged wire.

I gasped, pulling my arm back, Carey miming my movement. "Sorry about that," I muttered obtusely.

"Static shock," she mused, taking a drink from her beer.

Although chilling in its manifestation, it did nothing to stifle her allurement. If anything, the shock caused me to feel an undeniable urge to touch her again. "Carey," I repeated her name, testing it out, "thanks for making my creepy shadow go away. I swear, he doesn't know how to take a hint or a full disclosure of my sexual orientation," I chuckled.

She smiled with a nod. "It was my pleasure. And I like your hoodie. It brings out the emerald in your eyes," she noticed.

There went the blood to my cheeks again. "How long were you listening?"

"I recognized you when you came in and it took him badgering you and that roll of your eyes to give me the courage to come talk to you," she admitted.

My lips curled into a smile and I nodded. A cocktail waitress stopped by our booth and we ordered refills. After she left, Carey looked at me. "So, Autumn, I'm the

cute

flagger?"

I grimaced but nodded with a stupid grin because she remembered my name. "Yes. I kept kicking myself for not getting your name. Or number," I avowed. She chuckled again and I noted mentally how much I liked that sound. "Is flagging a fun job? Do you ever worry someone won't stop? I always wondered how I'd stay awake during the night when there are no cars coming. I mean, sometimes it's hard at the hospital when we don't have very many patients, but I keep myself busy reading. Oh, I'm rambling, I'm sorry," I embarrassed myself again, my nervous word vomit coming out of nowhere.

The waitress came back, placing a martini in front of me and a beer in front of Carey. Just what I needed; more alcohol. I sipped it anyway, savoring the sweet drink, Carey watching me with blatant amusement and, perhaps, lust. "It's okay. I have trouble sleeping during the day sometimes. A lot of my coworkers live off coffee and cigarettes to stay awake, but I usually don't have a hard time with that," she paused, placing the tip of the beer bottle to her lips and taking a drink. "Do you work over at the hospital?"

I nodded, picking a fuzzy off my sleeve. "Yeah, I work all kinds of shifts over there. It's the lovely benefit of being a traveler."

Her dark brow lifted in question. "A traveler?"

"I work for a traveling nurse agency. I'm originally from Baltimore, Maryland, but I haven't been back since I started working for Nancy's Nurses. I go from city to city or state to state filling holes in staffing. It's not bad unless it's a fill in for a union strike. I do my best to avoid those because of my own moral thoughts on big business. Plus, it's awful walking through those strikers. The pay is really good despite always traveling and we receive a stipend for housing," at this point, I realized I had the nervous word vomit again, "oh, boy I'm sorry. I did it again."

Carey simply smiled, and, man, those lips. "It's okay. I like your voice," she averred.

At the rate of embarrassing moments piling on top of each other, I had it in my brain that my cheeks were going to be stained cherry by the end of this interaction. "Thanks," I replied.

"Is this your first stay in Washington state?"

I shook my head. "No, I did a few weeks up in Seattle at Harborview Medical Center last year. That was quite an experience," I laughed, recalling my five weeks in the highest level trauma center in Washington. 'Experience' was an understatement and it was the last time I met someone who shared similar unique traits. But, I digress; more on that later. "Do you travel for work?" I asked.

She nodded, swallowing her sip of beer before speaking. "I work for the county right now so I don't travel all that far. I'm trying to pay my way through school."

"What are you studying?"

"Software development," her smirk was tinged with arrogance, "Want to dance?" I quickly nodded and I followed her to the crowded dance floor. Most of the patrons were straight couples, the somewhat small town obviously not flowing with a large enough LGBT crowd to allot a gay club. At first, our bodies moved to the tempo of the music a few inches from one another. I couldn't tell if she was avoiding my touch or if that was just how she danced.