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  Trail Blazer

  A Lesbian Romance Novel

  Nicolette Dane

  Trail Blazer

  As her birthday approaches, Gretchen Slate is looking to do something big. Gretchen is an avid hiker, a lover of the outdoors, and sets her sights on Maine’s 100 Mile Wilderness, an arduous and remote hike far away from civilization. And she can think of no better company than her best friend Naomi Benson.

  This hike is known to change people, and Naomi is in need of a change. She’s never left home, never applied herself, and never admitted her true feelings for Gretchen. In fact, Naomi has spent her life running away from her feelings. While Gretchen is eager to get into the woods and climb mountains, Naomi has her own inner mountains to climb.

  Out in the wild, it’s easy to open up and be your real self. Can these two friends bring the love they feel in the wilderness with them when they return home?

  Contents

  Copyright

  About The Author

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  One

  Two

  Three

  Epilogue

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  Exit Strategy

  Flower Power

  Lady Pilot

  Hidden Treasures

  Chief Executive

  Field Day

  A Way With Words

  An Act Of Love

  An Excerpt: Lady Pilot

  Copyright © 2019 Nicolette Dane

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  About The Author

  Nicolette Dane landed in Chicago after studying writing in New York City. Flitting in and out of various jobs without finding her place, Nico decided to choose herself and commit to writing full-time. Her stories are contemporary scenarios of blossoming lesbian romance and voyeuristic tales meant to give you a peep show into the lives of sensual and complicated women. If you're a fan of uplifting and steamy lesbian passion, you've found your new favorite author.

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  One

  Only a few sunbeams cut through the canopy of trees. There were cottonwoods and birch and sugar maples and jack pines, the latter of which had littered the trail with dried needles over the years to make a nice buoyant path underfoot. It was a warm summer day, though deep in this forest it was cool. There were birds singing, and a wood pecker could be heard in the distance pecking relentlessly into one of the tall trees. Gretchen Slate paused in her stride, taking it all in. She looked around with a pleased smile on her face. She was by herself on this trail and it felt like hers and hers alone

  Gretchen was dressed in short khaki shorts, a thin white t-shirt, and low-profile hiking shoes on her feet. She wore a close-fitted sling backpack in bright green, its asymmetrical harness wrapping around her body. A baseball cap tamed her blonde hair. Peering out from the pocket of her shorts was the clip of a knife. Partnered with the confident expression on her face, Gretchen looked like she belonged. It was obvious she knew this trail system, and that she had thoroughly explored it. And if there had been any eyes on her, they could tell that hiking was one of her passions. She loved it. This outdoor life was one of the reasons she had moved so far up north.

  It had only been a year since Gretchen moved from Lansing, where she had grown up, to Traverse City. But she was ready for a change. In her twenty-nine years of life, she had lived in Lansing—and for a short time, East Lansing, when she went to college. Although she had taken road trips and explored, heading down to the Smokies or out west to the Rockies, Gretchen had never pulled up her stakes and made a move to a place that called to her adventurous spirit. But she had promised herself, about to enter her thirties, that she was going to start taking more chances and see where it lead her. Traverse City, one of the most beautiful places in Michigan’s Lower Peninsula, was where her spirit took her.

  There was a lot to explore in the area, most notably Sleeping Bear Dunes, the gorgeous national lakeshore on the north west side of the state. Throughout Grand Traverse County and Benzie County and Leelanau County, and further out still, there was plenty of hiking and outdoor exploration to be had. There was camping, fishing, hunting if you were into it. Even in the winter, when the ground would often be covered with multiple feet of snow, there was so much to go out and do if you were game for it. And Gretchen was game. She reveled in this outdoor living. It revitalized her. It made her feel at peace.

  Before moving to Traverse City, Gretchen had rented a house in Lansing with a friend and worked as a teller for the local college credit union. It wasn’t a bad life, but it was a bit boring to her. Working her full-time job, living in a place that felt less inspiring with every passing year, cycling through girlfriends but none of them panning out, Gretchen knew she needed a change of latitude. The last straw was when she had a conversation with a work friend of hers, a loan officer for the credit union.

  “I don’t know, Dale,” said Gretchen, wearing slacks, heels, and a blue button down, a far cry from her preferred mode of dress. She looked down into the brochure that her friend had handed her.

  “You should really think about it, Gretch,” said Dale. “You’ve got great credit, no debt, and a stable job here at the credit union. You could buy something in Lansing cheap—a fixer-upper—put some work into it, and really boost your equity. You’re just throwing money away renting.”

  “I just never really saw myself owning a house in Lansing,” she countered.

  “But you’ve lived here your whole life,” said Dale. “Right? You don’t really have any plans to leave. You should really think about it,” he reiterated. “I’m telling you. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  “I don’t feel like I can afford it,” Gretchen continued. “I’m just one woman. A mortgage is a big commitment for a single salary.”

  “I’m telling you that you can afford it,” said Dale. “You know I’ve been trying to push this on you for a while. You’ll get approved easily. It’s a no brainer, really.”

  “Let me think about it some more,” Gretchen replied with a half-smile, holding the brochure up. “I’ll get back to you soon.”

  “All right,” said Dale. “My office is always open.”

  But Gretchen never went to Dale’s office to speak to him about a mortgage. Instead, that night after Dale’s latest attempt to sell her a big load of debt, Gretchen sat down at her kitchen table with a notepad and took stock of her life. She made a pro and con list of her life in Lansing. By many measures, she had it good. A stable job, friends, her family lived close by. But she wanted something different. She wasn’t sure what different was, but she knew she had to try to find her place while she was still young and free.

  Before she knew it, her stuff was packed up in boxes and bags and she rented a one-bedroom apartment up in Traverse City with her savings. It was a large apartment complex called Timberline, surrounded by a winding trail system. Gretchen had picked this spot precisely because of the trails all around it. It was only a few miles of paths, but it was nice to have it available in her backyard. She had quit her job, but instead of getting another teller job at another credit union up north, Gretchen decided to take on a couple part-time jobs to free her up for more adventures during the weekdays.

  As Gretchen made her way out of the forest, the buildings of the
Timberline complex coming into view, she looked down at her watch. There was still plenty of time to get home and shower before she had to get to work at noon. And lucky enough for her, work was just across the street from the complex. Her new work life was a breath of fresh air compared to where she had come from. Things were easy and laid-back, friendly and jovial. She could dress how she wanted and have conversations with the customers. The money wasn’t as good, obviously, but it was a job that matched the lifestyle she was trying to build for herself.

  After peeling out of her sweaty hiking clothes and cleaning up, Gretchen traipsed across a small plot of land in front of Timberline and approached a road. She wore beige linen pants, sandals, a black sleeveless top, and had her blonde hair in a single braid. Looking both ways, she walked across the road and towards a yellow building that looked like an A-frame barn. This was Dune City Brewing, and Gretchen poured beers here. It was only a tasting room, and because of that it was a far easier job than it might be if she were a server or bartender at a full restaurant. During most of the year, Dune City was a place for local regulars. But during the summer, it catered to its fair share of tourists as well.

  It was still early, and the parking lot was empty. Dune City was only just about to open, and it would probably be another hour before anybody showed up. It was a Tuesday, after all. But you never knew in the summer when you might get blasted with customers. A brew bus might pull up and unload on them. Or a bunch of the local retirees might get thirsty and all come up at once.

  Gretchen walked through the front doors with a smile on her face. It was a new thing for her to really enjoy coming into work. There wasn’t much stress working at Dune City. As long as she was friendly with everybody, as long as she had a good grasp on the beer selection, she could work as much or as little as she liked. And thanks to working at Dune City, Gretchen had met her now best friend up in Traverse City, Naomi Benson.

  Naomi was pretty and outgoing, and was twenty-nine just like Gretchen. She had dark hair, almost black in certain lights, pale skin, and green eyes with light freckling underneath them. Traverse City had been her home for her entire life, and she had been the perfect person for Gretchen to befriend after moving up without knowing anyone. In the short time that Gretchen had lived here, the two had become best friends. And it made Gretchen happy to walk into Dune City and see Naomi behind the counter.

  “There she is!” called Naomi, holding up a white bar towel.

  “I have arrived,” replied Gretchen, offering a mock-curtsy, her linen pants billowing out as she did.

  “Are you ready to spend ten hours together?” asked Naomi as Gretchen approached and sauntered around to join her behind the bar.

  “Always,” said Gretchen, stepping forward and hugging her friend. The two embraced tightly and happily.

  “You smell nice,” said Naomi with a smile, stepping back as their hug ended.

  “I just showered,” said Gretchen. “You should have smelled me after my hike.” Naomi laughed.

  “Or after our shift,” she joked.

  “Right,” agreed Gretchen. “This is probably the best I’ll smell all day.” Naomi laughed once again.

  The two women smiled together. But Gretchen’s smile had a deeper adoration behind it. Ever since meeting Naomi a year prior, Gretchen had had a crush on her friend. But it was not to be. Despite never having a boyfriend during Gretchen’s time knowing her, Naomi was straight. At least that’s what she said. Sometimes she said things and acted otherwise—much like her compliment during their hug—but when it came to romance, Naomi seemed strangely closed off. So Gretchen simply resigned to having a great best friend in Naomi. And that would have to be good enough.

  “Oh!” said Naomi. “We’ve got a new cherry rhubarb ale you should try. Just tapped. It’s awesome.”

  “Pour me a taster,” Gretchen said, still smiling.

  Naomi nodded quickly and hopped to it, looking cute in her skinny jeans and tank top, and Gretchen just watched her with a song singing in her heart.

  After a long day at the brewery, Naomi drove up the driveway of her house. It wasn’t actually her house, however. It belonged to her parents, and it was where she grew up. Approaching thirty, it made her feel pretty bad about herself that she was still living at home. But her parents insisted on it, at least until she was engaged to a “nice boy”—their words. Fortunately, there was a small cottage out back, a mother-in-law suite that was eventually meant for her grandmother, and Naomi had moved back there in her early twenties. She did pay her parents a token amount of money in rent, but it didn’t blow her budget at all. Working at the brewery was enough to fund her lifestyle, and she was content with that life for the time being.

  Knowing that her parents were probably upstairs asleep, Naomi casually and quietly entered the house and walked into the kitchen. There was a low light on in the hallway, a light that was always on, and following this light Naomi sauntered up to the refrigerator and yanked it open. She looked around for a moment until she spotted a rectangular glass container with a red lid on it. Pulling the container out, she then made her way over to the counter, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and opened the lid of the leftovers to find red sauce with meatballs. Naomi stuck her fork into a meatball and brought it to her mouth.

  She was eager to eat quickly, and to get out of this house and back to her cottage. There was something oppressive about being in the house, and something far more liberating about being back in the cottage. The cottage was her space. She had her privacy. She had her freedom, no matter how truncated that freedom might be still living at home. It was back in her cottage that she could truly be herself. It wasn’t something that Naomi liked to think about too often, but life in the Benson house was pretty stifled.

  Just as she popped one last meatball into her mouth, Naomi heard the creaking of the staircase. She considered hurriedly putting the leftovers back into the fridge, and scurrying out of the house, but she knew she wouldn’t have time to do all that before she was discovered. So instead she simply replaced the lid on the container, and went over to the sink to wash her fork. As she finished drying it and replacing it back in the silverware drawer, her mother, dressed in a matching pajama set, entered the kitchen.

  “I thought I heard you come in,” said her mother.

  “Just stopping in for a bite,” said Naomi.

  “You can take that whole thing out back if you like,” her mother offered.

  “That’s all right,” Naomi said, taking the container and walking it back over to the fridge. “I’m not that hungry. Just needed a few bites.”

  “All right,” said her mother. There was a distance between the two of them, but even though they both felt it, they both also tried to ignore it.

  “I’m pretty tired, anyway,” Naomi went on. “It was a ten hour shift, so I’m totally beat.”

  “Have you applied to any other jobs recently?” her mother asked. “Something full-time? Maybe in an office?”

  “No,” said Naomi. “I’m happy at the brewery.”

  “I have some people I could ask at church if they know of any openings,” her mother continued.

  “No,” Naomi said again. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine right now. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “If you just want to be a housewife and a mother,” her mother said with a lilt in her voice. “That’s fine to admit, too. It’s a noble job.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” said Naomi. “I’m going to head out back.”

  “All right, dear,” said her mother. “Goodnight, then. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Naomi replied. She gave her mother one more smile before she turned and walked out of the house the way she had come in.

  After a quick walk through the backyard, Naomi ended up at her cottage and a wave of calm washed over her upon entering. She tossed her bag down onto a small table that was positioned just off from the kitchenette and she unbuttoned her jeans. After pouring herself a glass of water, she walke
d into the living area, which wasn’t many steps away from the kitchenette. The cottage was small, but quaint. It was the perfect size and had all the amenities that an aging woman like Naomi’s grandmother would require once she could no longer take care of herself fully. Naomi knew she would have to give the spot up eventually, but for now it felt like home.

  Lying on the floor in just her tank top and underwear, Naomi lifted a kettlebell weight straight up with one hand as she lightly counted the reps aloud. After doing twenty presses with her right hand, she switched sides and did the same on her left. As she did her lifts, she recalled back to the end of the night at Dune City, and she remembered Gretchen asking if she wanted to hang out.

  “Come over,” Gretchen had said. “Just right across the street. We’ll have a beer on my porch and chill out.”

  “If I get home too late,” lamented Naomi. “My parents will know and I’ll get the third degree. You know how they are.”

  “Well, I’ve never met them,” said Gretchen. “But I know how you’ve described them. But whatever. Come over. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Next time,” Naomi said with a weak smile. “I’ll come over soon. I promise.”

  Naomi replayed this scene over a few times in her head as she switched hands and counted her reps. It hurt her heart that she had turned Gretchen down, but there was this strange pressure she felt in her life. It was a pressure to fit in, to be normal, and to please her parents. At almost thirty, living at home, single, working part-time at a brewery tasting room, Naomi didn’t feel like she was accomplishing any of these things. And although she loved Gretchen, and felt very close to her as a friend, there was a feeling she felt around Gretchen that really made her struggle.