Ainslee got a beer out of her fridge and carried it into the living room. She sat on the couch and took a drink while she looked around her. Living room didn’t seem to be an apt description of the space. Temporary way station was more like it. Or storage locker. She had a sofa, a television, and some unpacked cardboard boxes she was using as makeshift tables. She shoved a pile of college catalogs out of the way and set her beer down. At least she didn’t need to bother with coasters since most of her furniture was absorbent.
She picked up a yellow legal pad and added decorate apartment to her list. Once she had started to look for them, she had been surprised by the number of possibilities for her future. The germ of hope had been planted the day she and Myra were on their trail ride, when she had challenged Myra to imagine what she would do if she were in Ainslee’s position. Ainslee had initially intended to prove her point—that she was right to wallow in self-pity and shouldn’t be pushed out of it. Instead, though, she had realized that Myra would continue to be Myra, whether or not she had all her limbs attached. She would do things and be things, and not let her disability dictate what options she had. Ainslee hadn’t believed she could be the same way at first, but she’d been surrounded by people who were convinced otherwise. Dr. Campbell had seen the same spirit in her, and he had brought her dormant competitive, goal-setting side to life. Since their wall climbing session, the two of them had spent time brainstorming physical challenges she could strive toward. Running a marathon, playing with a soccer league. Definitely continuing her favorite new hobby of rock climbing. Dreams she’d thought were lost forever suddenly seemed attainable.
Ainslee appreciated Dr. Campbell’s belief in her, but other therapists had tried to bring out her will to fight and had failed. Ainslee knew what was different about this time. Myra. Her lessons had helped Ainslee gain strength. Her expectations had forced Ainslee to identify and control her rampant emotions. And her touch and kiss had awakened Ainslee’s hope for the future.
Myra. Her name was printed in large letters at the top of Ainslee’s page of goals. Maybe someday Myra would take a chance on love again. Ainslee hoped so. She was developing these aspirations for herself—she understood now how much she needed both concrete objectives and budding fantasies to give meaning to her life.
Ainslee tossed the pad aside and picked up her beer and the half-filled in form for the next riding session at Cedar Grove. She had lost her way for a long time after her accident. She had felt carried along by a tsunami of emotions and change, helpless in the hands of her doctors and her fate. She was starting to claw her way back to dry land, back to the woman she recognized as herself. Her, and not her. Changed, but familiar. As much as she wanted another chance with Myra, she felt betrayed because Myra hadn’t accepted her with all her insecurities and messiness. Myra had helped her heal. She had pushed Ainslee to grow and challenge her new body. She had encouraged and supported her even when Ainslee was blinded by anger. But Myra had stopped short of loving her. Ainslee had been hurt, but she realized Myra was wounded too, had her own healing to do.
Ainslee heard a knock at her door. Probably Sasha with some of Ainslee’s mail—the postal carrier was forever putting letters in the wrong boxes. Ainslee opened the door and just about slammed it again when she saw Myra standing on her porch. She looked gorgeous. Suntanned and healthy, in a sleeveless turquoise Western shirt that was tied in a knot at her waist. Ainslee could see muscular definition under the skin between Myra’s top and her faded jeans, and the sight brought out the usual confusing turmoil of emotions she was coming to expect when she was around Myra. Lust, regret, anger.
“You were wrong,” Myra said without preamble.
“Did you learn that conversation opener in charm school?” Ainslee asked. She leaned against the doorframe and struggled to fuel her anger at Myra, hoping it would overpower her desire. “Enlighten me. How was I wrong?”
“You said no one came with a guarantee, but I do. If you give me another chance, I guarantee that I’ll accept you for who you are right now. Not the person you were before your injury, and not some unknown future version. You. Frightened, brave, uncertain you.”
“Hmm, that’s not what you said at the bagel shop,” Ainslee said. Myra’s words gave her hope, but she wasn’t confident enough to grasp at it yet. Hopes and dreams had disappeared from her radar. Her changed outlook on the future was still too new to trust, even though she desperately wanted to believe Myra. “How could you change your mind in so short a time?”
Myra reached out and brushed the back of her knuckles over Ainslee’s cheekbone. “I remember exactly what I said. And I believed it, too, until I was faced with losing you forever, Ainslee. Can I come in, please? Just to talk and try to explain myself?”
Ainslee wasn’t sure whether or not to believe Myra’s words. They were exactly the ones she had wanted to hear, but could Myra honor what she was saying? Would she walk away when the memories of her brother rose to the surface again? Finally, she stood back and made room for Myra to enter her apartment.
She’d been here since the beginning of summer, but she hadn’t bothered to settle in her new home. She had just put decorating on her to-do list, but she hadn’t fully realized how bare and sad the place looked until she looked at it the way she imagined Myra was seeing it now.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Myra said. “It’s homey.”
The hint of humor in Myra’s voice broke some of the rock-hard anger Ainslee was using to shelter her heart. Ainslee gave her a playful push. “What were you just saying about accepting me as I am?”
Myra laughed and grabbed Ainslee’s hand. “I meant every word. Even if you get all your decorating tips from U-Haul. I just…” She sighed and her voice lost its laughter. She sat on the sofa and tugged until Ainslee sat next to her. “I just want to be with you. I’ve missed you so much, Ainslee. I didn’t think I could bear being with you because you reminded me of what happened with Jeffrey. But I found out I can’t bear to not be with you.”
Ainslee stayed silent while Myra stroked her palm with trembling fingers. The combination of Myra’s tender touch with the slight roughness of her fingers from hours spent at the barn was mesmerizing. Ainslee’s attention was wholly centered on the place where their skin was in contact, and she barely heard Myra’s voice.
“I have a friend…well, she’s Kate’s girlfriend. She’s an investment banker and is exactly the sort of person you’d want handling your money. She’s savvy and brilliant—although please don’t ever tell her I admitted those things to you—and she chooses the kind of investments that make millions. She told me the other day how she’d have taken a chance on Kate even if she had believed their relationship had zero chance of lasting. I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but I do now. I wasn’t ready to invest in you or in us because I thought the chance of me getting hurt was too great. Even worse, I knew the chance of me hurting you, of not being enough for you, was even higher. But the alternative, as safe as it is, is unacceptable.”
Myra inched closer until Ainslee felt the soft brush of Myra’s breath against her neck. “I was a fool to let you go and I’m sorry.”
Ainslee leaned her forehead against Myra’s. She’d seen firsthand how much Myra cared about horses and people. Myra doubted her ability to help, but she proved again and again how able and willing she was to put someone in need before herself. Ainslee loved that about Myra, but she needed more than a protector. “I don’t want to be just another of your charity cases. I don’t want to be pitied or to be made to feel worthless if I can’t pick myself up and conquer the world after what happened to me.”
“I don’t expect you to. I won’t push you to be in a different place than where you are right now.” Myra leaned back against the arm of the couch and Ainslee curled up next to her, her head resting on Myra’s breast. The steady and comforting beat of Myra’s heart finally broke through the last of Ainslee’s defenses. When Myra kissed the top of her head, Ainslee felt the resulting increase in Myra’s pulse rate. She felt wanted and accepted, and she kept still while the warmth of those feelings washed over her.
She felt Myra shift and looked up to see her holding one of the brochures Ainslee had set on the box beside the couch.
“What’s this?” Myra asked. Ainslee smiled to hear the barely suppressed enthusiasm in Myra’s voice.
“Don’t get excited yet,” she warned Myra. Her fledgling idea was still fragile, but Myra had helped Ainslee conceive it and she wanted to share her plans with her. “I’ve been researching other careers I could pursue using my interest in anatomy and also my own experience of being an amputee to help other people. I sent away for some information on occupational therapy programs in Portland. I haven’t decided anything, so wipe the proud mother hen smile off your face.”
“What are you talking about?” Myra straightened her expression into an unconvincingly neutral one. Ainslee tickled her in the side and Myra laughed, kissing her on the mouth. “Whether or not this pans out, I’m truly happy to see you looking for opportunities instead of blockades. I’ll support you no matter what you decide to do,” she said. “I think you’d have something very valuable to bring to that career, or to any one you choose.”
Ainslee’s hand was still resting against Myra’s rib cage. She slid it lower and rubbed her palm against the exposed skin at Myra’s waist. “And what will I be able to offer you in return?”
Myra shook her head with a look of wonder on her face. “How can you not realize what you’ve already given me? You brought me back to life, Ainslee. I had friends, horses, teaching, but I was alone. I thought I was safer that way, but something inside me has been dormant for too long. When we kiss, when I touch you, it’s like the volume for my senses is turned up. You’ve changed the whole world for me.”
Ainslee felt a slow smile spread across her face. “I feel the same way about you. I’ve spent so much time mourning what I lost, but I’ve found so much more in you.”
Ainslee leaned forward and captured Myra’s mouth in a lingering kiss. Slow and giving, grateful and full of promise. Myra wrapped her arms around Ainslee’s waist, leaning back until Ainslee was lying on top of her. Ainslee raised herself up and propped an elbow on either side of Myra’s waist. She slowly unbuttoned the turquoise plaid shirt while she kept eye contact with Myra.
“Before we go any further, I need to make sure you understand Ainslee’s Apartment Rules, inspired in part by your barn rules.”
Myra grinned. “What happens if I break one of them? Will you send me to the hay barn?”
Ainslee captured Myra’s mouth in a kiss, sliding her tongue against Myra’s until she felt Myra’s hips twitch and shift under her. She raised her head again. “If you break one, I’ll send you directly to bed.”
“That’s not much incentive to behave, but I’ll try. What are these rules of yours?”
“Rule One, no inappropriate clothing. We’ll need to get this shirt off you.” Ainslee pushed the thin cotton over Myra’s shoulders, baring her breasts. Ainslee licked her lips as she watched Myra’s nipples tighten once exposed to the cool apartment air. She lowered her mouth and sucked one firmly against her teeth. Myra arched and gasped, and Ainslee switched to the other nipple. She circled it with her tongue as Myra’s hands pulled her closer.
Ainslee came up for air. “Rule Two,” she said, out of breath. “We’re still getting to know each other, and I’ll respect your space. I won’t touch you without your permission. Please let me know when you want me to slow down or move forward.”
Myra shook her head. Ainslee saw desire glistening in her expression. “Forward,” Myra said, her voice rough. “Please. Touch me.”
Ainslee moved her hips to the left and slid her hand between Myra’s legs. She cupped her gently, and the damp heat she felt under her palm was surely echoed in her own body. She curled her fingers and kissed Myra simultaneously, both hearing Myra’s moan and feeling it vibrate against her own lips.
Ainslee brought her hand back to Myra’s hipbone. She didn’t want to stop touching her, but she was rapidly losing coherent thought. She needed to tell Myra her next rule before her control was vanquished completely. This one mattered.
“Rule Three. I will ask for help when I need it.”
Myra lifted her head and softly kissed Ainslee’s lips. She pulled back and met Ainslee’s eyes. “I understand. I won’t take away your choices or try to rush you into anything. But I will be here if you need me.”
Ainslee nodded, feeling the warmth of tears in her eyes. Even in the haze of desire and in the midst of playful touching, Myra understood when Ainslee was saying something truly important. She heard the promise in Myra’s voice—the pace of Ainslee’s healing would be respected and honored. She sighed and nibbled Myra’s neck.
“Rule Four,” Ainslee whispered against Myra’s ear. “If you need to let off steam, get in my bed.”
Myra laughed. “Deal,” she said. She put her hands on Ainslee’s cheeks and brought their lips together for a deep kiss. “Maybe we should go there now. I’ve been feeling a little tense lately.”
“I can help with that,” Ainslee said. Suddenly, even the short walk to the bedroom seemed much too long. “Right here and right now.” She slid her hands lower and let her desire have free rein.
Investment analyst Jamie Callahan and Grand Prix show jumper Kate Brown take a chance on love in Worth the Risk.