Chapter Twenty-Seven
Clara usually enjoyed shelving the new romance novels, amused by their florid cover art, but not today. Today, Nick’s dark eyes flashed from every cover, and his seductive smile, his broad shoulders and muscular chest…every handsome model on every cover was a piercing reminder of his voice, his scent, his touch. But Margot was busy with a gaggle of children among the picture books, so Clara gritted her teeth and powered through.
When the last handsome hulk was shelved, she carried another new arrival to the self-help aisle. Finding Your Purpose at Midlife. Did she have a purpose beyond running this bookshop? A question worth considering, and one that might keep her mind off Nick.
Next was the sports aisle, where hunky dudes grinned smugly from the book covers. Naturally, her mind flashed back to Nick in his Spandex rowing gear. She didn’t have any more books on that sport. She’d checked. Twice. But she did have a whole shelf of books on running. One cover photo featured a lanky runner with a friendly smile and a shaved head, just like Doug’s.
A loud meow from Lulu demanded her attention. The cat spiraled around her ankles, then trotted toward the back of the shop. She followed to find the cat batting a paw against the red door.
“What’s up, Lulu-girl?”
The cat stared up at Clara with wide amber eyes, then bonked her head against the red door.
“Mouse in there?” She fetched the key and opened the door a crack. Lulu darted inside and sniffed the baseboards, then crouched and stared at the wall, her tail whipping.
“Oh dear.” She squatted and examined the hole in the baseboard. “Just what we need, mice nibbling our most expensive books.” She stroked Lulu’s silky golden fur. “Good job, Puss.”
Harry poked his head through the door. “Afternoon, Clara. Got the weekly orders ready for your signature.”
She pointed to the hole where Lulu focused her attention.
He grinned widely. “Good job, Kitty Cat!” Then, to Clara, “Same exterminator as last time?”
She nodded and pushed herself up, calculating how big a bite this would take out of her bottom line.
Before leaving, Margot poked her head through the red door where Clara was shelving new volumes.
“You okay back here? Want me to take care of this?”
“I’m fine.” She held up a heavy volume of erotic poetry. “Got several new ones.”
Margot crossed her tattooed arms. “You sure?”
“Yeah, really. It doesn’t bother me.” In fact, she hadn’t even thought about it until Margot’s reminder. Funny, how quickly she’d become comfortable back here again. Margot threw a glance over her shoulder. “Harry’s with the customers. Can I see the new stuff?”
Clara pointed to the stack on the floor beside her. “More ancient Greeks chasing each other across vases, and some Art Deco nudes.”
“Pretty.” She picked up a coffee table book with a Freddy Mercury lookalike dressed in leather chaps and a leather cap, and nothing else, astride a gleaming motorcycle. She whistled. “Hot stuff. Ever done it on a motorcycle, Clara?”
“Is that even possible? Wouldn’t you fall off?”
“Well, maybe not—if you’re limber.”
They both giggled as Margot leafed through the photos, various combinations of leather-clad men and women, all pouty and sultry and just a bit frightening. Margot sighed when she reached a photo of two women. One, short-haired and wraithlike, rather like Margot, gripped the handlebars of a big Harley, her head thrown back while, behind her, a raven-haired Amazon clutched the driver’s breasts, her mouth on the smaller woman’s throat.
Clara squeezed Margot’s skinny shoulder. “Looks like someone we know.”
Margot shrugged. “She called yesterday. Lost her job with Professor Adonis, but she’s already got a new position.”
Clara quirked an eyebrow. Deep down, she wasn’t surprised. Darcy radiated a primal sexual heat that threatened to singe even a confirmed hetero like her.
“Older woman, this time. Music professor. Darcy’s her new girl-toy.” Margot closed the book. “She wants me to come visit her in Berkeley.”
“I thought she told you to forget her.”
Another shrug. “People change.”
“Will you go?”
“I might. I think I could have some fun without falling in love with her. I mean, now I know who she is and all. Sometimes, good sex is worth it.” She hopped up from the floor as only a twenty-something can. “Well, better get going. And hey, thanks for listening yesterday. I just needed to get it out of my system.” She paused in the doorway. “You know you can always talk to me too, right?”
Clara was touched by Margot’s concern—and by her philosophy. Maybe some meaningless sex would clear her head, give her perspective. And Doug had made it clear he was interested. Very clear.
****
She finished dressing for her date with Doug, then checked her phone one last time. Still no message from Nick. At the sight of the blank screen, Clara’s stomach sank.
Well, she had asked him to give her time to think, so he was just honoring her wishes, right? Or maybe he’d written her off as too much trouble, too much baggage. She stared wistfully at the phone for a long moment, trying to push aside thoughts of burning bridges and slamming doors.
Asking Doug to pick her up at home was a bold move, but he probably wouldn’t try to jump her before dinner. He showed up promptly at seven-thirty with bashful grin on his bony face and a bouquet of supermarket daisies in his hand. Just the sight of his broad, friendly smile melted the tension from her neck and shoulders. She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss onto his cheek.
“So pretty.” She took them into the kitchen to find a vase while he stood in the entryway. When she brought the flowers back to the coffee table, she realized the spot was already taken up by Nick’s huge bouquet. Doug’s gaze was riveted to the spot, his lips pursed. Beside that lush arrangement, his daisies looked scrawny and pathetic.
“I’ve always loved daisies,” she said. “So fresh and simple.”
He didn’t ask about the roses, so she didn’t offer an explanation.
“Shall we?” She grabbed her jacket and bag from the coat tree. It was nice not to worry about dressing up for a date. Doug wore jeans and a cotton sweater over a T-shirt, and of course, his running shoes. She’d dressed similarly, aiming for a casual, low-pressure style. Her jeans were snugger than Doug’s, of course, and her V-neck sweater showed just a hint of cleavage. She wore simple flats to prevent her from losing her balance and tottering into his arms again.
“I hope you’ll like this place. It’s one of my favorites,” she said as Doug pulled his VW station wagon into the parking lot. “It’s not fancy, but they have the best lamb vindaloo. Can you handle some heat?”
Oops. Better choose my words more carefully.
He took her arm, his bashful grin sliding into a lustful leer. “I like it hot, Clara.”
The scent of butter and spices wafted out as he opened the restaurant’s glass door. From behind her carved wooden podium, Mama Banerjee greeted them warmly. “Ah, Miss Clara. How are you this evening? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your young man?”
Mama B wasn’t much older than Clara, but she enveloped all her customers in grandmotherly warmth.
He stuck out his big, bony hand. “Doug Garvey. Pleased to meet you.”
Mama B gripped his hand, looked him up and down, then nodded to Clara. “Good. Very good. This way, please.”
She flicked her embroidered scarf over her shoulder and led them to a table for two in the corner, beneath a brass lantern inlayed with colorful glass tiles. “You want menus?”
Clara cocked an eyebrow at Doug. “Do you trust me?”
His smile blossomed like an unfurling flower. “Completely.”
“We’ll have a lamb vindaloo, butter chicken, and chana dal.”
“Garlic naan?”
Doug nodded. “As long as we both eat it.”
“Of course. Garlic, please.”
Garlic kisses, then. Because she was sure they’d go at least that far.
Mama Banerjee brought their frosty beers and a basket of fragrant naan, plus cool cucumber raita for dipping. They dug in while they waited for the rest of their food.
“So, school year’s almost over, eh? Must be nice.”
“I still have to finish my grades and pack up my classroom. How about you, Clara? Do you take some time off in the summer?”
“Not often. The shop keeps me busy.”
He leaned onto his elbows and reached for her hands. “Well, I hope you’ll consider taking a day or two off for me, after we’re done with the work on your shop. Maybe a trip out to the coast?”
“I could probably arrange that.”
Uh-oh. Did she really mean it? It was a bit too early to plan a weekend getaway with a guy she barely knew. But Doug would be a fun travel companion. A vision flashed in her mind, sitting beside him in his battered VW station wagon, laughing as they drove down the coast, the wind whipping through her hair and his—well, not hair.
Mama B arrived with the food. When they’d exclaimed over its beauty and tempting aroma, she patted Clara on the shoulder. “Enjoy, dear heart. You too, sir.”
“She takes good care of you, eh?” He held the platter while she served herself a big scoop of basmati rice, then topped it with spicy curried lamb.
“She’s a born mother. Some women just are, I guess.”
He nodded. “It’s funny, you know. I love working with my students, but I’ve never actually wanted kids of my own.”
“Really? Why?”
He chewed thoughtfully, and then his eyes opened wide and he reached for his beer, gulped half the bottle.
Clara couldn’t resist batting her lashes. “I thought you liked it hot. Try a little yogurt with it to calm the heat.”
He hadn’t answered her question about having children, but she let it slide. Better to keep things light and easy for now. They laughed and talked their way through all three dishes, avoiding touchy subjects like his ex-wife and her late husband. When he finished his beer, she raised her hand to get Mama’s attention.
“It’s okay. Considering how the last date turned out, I’ll take it easy this time.”
Their bellies full, they left the restaurant about nine. Doug closed the car door behind him and turned to her, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “You know, it’s a school night, but I’m not a bit tired. Can you spare another hour? I’d like to show you a favorite spot of mine.”
She remembered Margot’s words. “Sometimes, good sex is worth it.” She still wasn’t sure she was ready for sex with Doug, but a little making out might be fun.
“Sure, just for a little while.”
“Great.” When he smiled like that, his bony face just beamed.
He drove east toward the Willamette River. The signs at the park’s entrance declared it closed at sunset.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “there’ll be lots of people here.”
He pulled into a parking lot near the riverbank, and indeed, there were a half-dozen cars, probably full of teenagers making out. She wondered whether any of them were his students. In any case, he’d parked far enough from the other cars that no one was likely to recognize them.
“If it were still light out, we’d see the river from here.” Doug pulled the key from the ignition. “It’s pretty at night. Want to go take a look?”
“Sure.”
He took her hand and led her down the path to a picnic table a stone’s throw from the bank. They sat side by side on the tabletop, like a couple of kids.
She shivered a little in the cool night air, and he draped his arm loosely around her shoulder.
“Too cold?”
“No, I’m okay.” She scooted closer to enjoy his warmth, and they sat there silently for a long moment, listening to the soft whoosh of the water and watching the bats swoop and zig-zag over its gleaming surface.
His gaze was unfocused, far away. With the moonlight shining off his shaved head and throwing his deep-set eyes into shadow, he looked like some warrior from a science fiction story, craggy and stoic and wise.
“This is a good place to think,” he said at last.
“It is.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “What do you come here to think about?”
“Oh, work stuff. Decisions. Relationships. The meaning of life.” He nudged her. “You know, trivial stuff.”
“Well, if you figure that last one out, let me know.”
Doug held her gaze, but his smile slowly faded. Moving in for a kiss? No, he turned back to stare out at the water. She watched him, marveling at the length of his outstretched legs, his long bony fingers, and once again wondered how they would feel against her skin. She wasn’t hot and tingly like with Nick, just curious.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I used to come here with Tiffany.”
“Ah.”
She waited for more, but he kept silent.
“Is it hard to go places you went together?”
He pressed his lips together. “Yes and no. But I’m not going to let her take that away from me—you know, places like this.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Hey, sorry. Nothing more boring than going on a date with a guy who talks about his ex, right?”
“You’re not boring, Doug.” And she meant it. Except when they touched on difficult topics like this, he was easy to talk to, funny, sweet. She really liked him and hoped their friendship would grow.
“Well, hey,” he said, “let’s not talk about her. That’s all over and done. We’re here now, and it’s a beautiful night.”
“Right.” But would the fence he erected around his divorce mean he didn’t want to hear about Jared either? Still, there was plenty of time to find out.
She laced her fingers through his. “We can’t change the past, we can only live in the present.”
He chuckled. “You’re pretty wise. Must be all those books you read.”
“Yup. Smartness just seeps into my pores.”
“You know, if I ever gave up teaching, it would be for something like what you do.”
Now there was an interesting thought: her and Doug someday running the bookshop together? She shook her head and brought her focus back to the present.
“Getting cold?” Doug asked.
“A little. It’s so pretty, though, I hate to go back inside.”
“How about we watch the clouds from inside the car? We could listen to music and just, you know, enjoy the moment.” He watched her face, then pulled back. “Unless, of course, that other guy?”
His expression was so open, so hopeful. This is what she needed now, a sweet, gentle man who wasn’t rushing her, who didn’t come with so many complications.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s—it’s nothing.”
His long forefinger trailed down her arm. “Well then, what do you say?”
Decision time. Sitting in Doug’s car at make-out point would certainly lead to kissing, then petting, and then…
On the one hand, making out with anyone but Nick seemed odd, somewhat pointless. On the other hand, her feelings for Nick burned too hot. She’d only known him for a week, and she’d already been singed.
So why not quench her curiosity about Doug? She liked him, he clearly liked her, so why not see whether they clicked physically?
She squeezed his hand. “Let’s go.”
He held the car door for her, then switched on the engine for some heat and cued up a song from his phone. A girl singer crooned in a husky alto, something about love being a sin.
“I don’t recognize this one.”
“It’s Massive Attack. A benefit of working with teenagers. They teach me about bands I’d never hear of otherwise.”
She nodded along to the music. “I like it. Good music, beautiful view.”
She gazed up at the shadowy clouds sailing swiftly across the moon. The silvery skyscape matched the music somehow, melancholy and lovely.
“I like the view in here even more,” Doug said, and lifted a lock of hair away from her cheek. His blue eyes were darker in the dim light, searching hers—for what? Permission to go further?
His gentleness touched her. She leaned her cheek against his hand, and he pulled her in for a soft kiss. His lips were dry, a little scratchy, but gentle this time. He let out a long, garlic-scented breath, and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer.
“Ouch.” The gear shift poked her ribs. “I miss bench seats. How do young kids make out in cars these days?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask them.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Would it be creepy of me to suggest…”
Wow. She hadn’t made out in the back seat of a car since high school. She hesitated, but not for long. As tall as Doug was, they couldn’t really stretch out back there, so they weren’t likely to go “all the way.” Feeling bold, she opened the car door and wiggled her eyebrows.
They both giggled as they slid into the back seat. He wrapped her in his long arms. “Clara, you’re a special lady,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m so glad I met you. I owe Harry big-time.”
He kissed her again, and again, twisting in the seat to press himself against her as much as the space allowed. They laughed as they tried position after position, in a vain effort to get comfortable. Finally, he scooped both her legs over his lap and slid into the center of the bench seat. “There. Now, let’s try again.”
She tried to focus on the sensation of his lips on hers, his hands stroking her back, her hair, her arms. But she was distracted by how silly it all felt, a grown woman and a very tall grown man squished into the back seat of a car. They both had perfectly good beds. Should she invite him home?
So much for using sex to clear her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking and just enjoy the moment.
He reached behind her to fiddle with a knob beside the headrest, grunting and scrunching his face comically, which made her giggle even more. Finally, the seat back dropped with a thunk, and she fell onto her back with Doug propped above her on one elbow. Oops. Station wagon. Maybe this wasn’t so smart. “Right. Where were we?” He brushed his lips across her forehead, her cheek, her neck, then fastened onto her mouth and probed her lips apart with his garlicky tongue. She stifled another giggle, trying to disguise it as a moan of pleasure, but ended up sounding more like a wounded moose.
He rose, his brows furrowed. “You okay?”
“Fine. Great. Come here.” She pulled him down, and he recommenced his exploration. His hands slid down to cup her breasts, his touch cool and pleasant, but not thrilling, not electric, like Nick’s. He hunched over her chest, grappling with her blouse in search of her bra clasp.
“Here. It’s in the front.”
He quickly popped it open and made his own moose-moan as his hands slid inside. Goosebumps prickled her skin as he stroked her, then covered each breast with grasping, sucking kisses. She struggled to suppress a giggle as his warm tongue, not so much velvety as tickly, traced circles over her sensitive skin. But when he finally latched onto her nipple and nibbled with his teeth, a little zing of pleasure brought a smile to her lips. Maybe this would work after all.
His fingers fumbled with her belt, trying to slide into third base. She squirmed away and indulged her curiosity by caressing his bald head, now making its way down her belly, one kiss at a time. His scalp was warmer than she’d expected, and very smooth. How does that work? Does he just shave his whole head every morning? Clara slid her hands beneath his sweater, over his warm, damp skin, his lean, well-muscled back. She explored this new terrain while he gently massaged her crotch through her jeans. Despite the awkwardness, there was no denying her body’s tingling response to his touch. She wanted more.
A new song began, a male voice mumbling to a driving techno beat. Doug chuckled. “Sorry. Gotta work on my make-out playlist.”
“Oh, you have a playlist?”
“Actually, no. Haven’t needed one for a long time.” He pushed himself up, then, and with one swift motion, tugged his T-shirt and sweater over his head and rolled them into a pillow for her. His muscles were tight, well-defined, his pale chest and belly covered with fuzzy blond hair. She reached up to stroke it.
“Speaking of prepared—” He pulled a foil packet from his pocket and flashed a shy grin.
Her pulse stuttered. “Umm,” She clamped her lips together to hide her alarm. Am I ready for this? Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure.
His eyes widened, his face flushed, and he quickly tucked it back into his pocket. “Sorry, Clara. Too soon, right? I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
She took a deep breath to still her thundering heart. Okay, his approach was clumsy, but his embarrassed apology seemed genuine. “Tell you what, let’s just see how it goes, okay?”
“You’re sure?”
Not really, but I need to know. Could you be the one, Doug? She smiled and stroked his jaw. “I’m sure.”
He blew out a long breath and lowered his torso to hers. His furry skin tickled pleasantly against her breasts. He planted his foot against the seat back and scooted them backward until she lay stretched out full length. He feathered kisses over her face, her throat, moaning softly. She relaxed into his gentle embrace. Then he groaned and rocked his hips against hers, and her whole body tensed at the large protuberance throbbing against her thigh.
It was time to meet the monster.
Jared was plenty well-endowed, as was Nick, but she’d never had a personal encounter with such a huge penis. Driven more by curiosity than lust, she stroked lightly over the front of his jeans. Holy cow. Her eyes widened at the sheer size of him. “It’s so, so…” She squeezed gently.
He moaned against her throat. “Yeah, and it really likes you.”
Fascinated, she tugged his zipper down. This was something she had to see up close, though the prospect frightened her a little. She slid her hand inside the opening. He wore tight boxers made of silky fabric, and his huge, hot cock strained to rise out of its confines. Mesmerized, she stroked the amazing length of him, easily ten inches long and very, very thick.
He arched his back and groaned. She reached down into his jeans to cup his balls, and he hissed.
She drew back in alarm. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, no. It feels so good. God, it’s been so long.”
Was she the first woman he’d been with since his divorce? This put an entirely new spin on things. She didn’t have long to consider the ramifications, though, because he grasped her hand and slid it back over his shaft. “Please, don’t stop.”
There was something adorable about his vulnerability, like a young boy trembling in the arms of his first lover. She stroked him slowly through his shorts, then peeled back the elastic to touch his skin. Surprised to find him uncircumcised, she watched with fascination as the loose foreskin slid over the plum-purple head of his huge cock. His shaft was so thick she couldn’t close her hand around it. How on earth could he push that beast inside a woman without hurting her? Did they even make condoms that large?
Now flat on his back, he squirmed beside her as she stroked and kneaded his rigid flesh. Eyes shut tight, he gasped and moaned, his hands squeezing wherever they landed—her side, her arm, her shoulder. Enthralled, she peeled his shorts down over his hips and lowered her mouth to kiss the tip of his cock, already weeping a salty tear of pleasure.
“God. Clara. Yes. Now. Please.” He spluttered, and his hips began to buck.
“Easy, slow.” She planted one palm against his hip bone and used the other hand to stroke him. Within seconds, he cried out—one long Ahhhh and then a deep growl as his cock throbbed and spurted again and again, spraying her hand and his stomach with goo.
“Oh, my.” She bit back a giggle and pressed a kiss against his warm, still-throbbing shaft. This was so like her first high-school back-seat fumblings. His puppy-like enthusiasm was touching, if a bit gross.
She glanced around for something to wipe up the copious spray of cum. Her fingers closed on a stack of fast-food napkins. She cleaned her hand, then, giggling, dabbed at the sticky smear on his belly. His cock jumped when her hair brushed it.
“Ohhhhh God, oh God, oh God.” He clasped her hair, tugged gently. “Let me do you now.”
Okay, not exactly the king of sweet talk. She debated with herself, not sure whether she wanted to let him try to bring her off with his hand or mouth, or whatever he had in mind. But he was so eager, and her body tingled with arousal, despite her misgivings. Plus, with his giant cock somewhat deflated, she wasn’t so worried about being impaled.
Before she could answer, he tried to tug her jeans over her hips—without having first unfastened them.
“Sweetie, that’s not gonna work.” She helped him with the complicated fasteners, two hooks and a button, and soon he sprawled beside her, his sticky damp cock pressed against her thigh while his long fingers slid inside her panties and poked insistently inside her, first one, then two.
“Ouch, too much.”
“Sorry, sorry, I just—you’re so delicious.” He grasped her hips, shifted her to one side, then the other, finally pushing her back until her head bonked against the hatchback door. Oblivious, he tugged her panties off and buried his face between her thighs, working one finger in and out while his eager tongue flicked and lapped until she reached climax. Sort of.
Afterward, she stared at the car’s ceiling until she caught her breath. So, this is what sex with Doug is like. She silently corrected herself: surely, it would get better with practice. It was only natural their first encounter would be awkward, but it was—nice. Clearly, he’d cared about pleasing her, even though the result was nothing like the earthquake orgasms she had with Nick.
They both lay there panting, her on her back, him scrunched over, his cheek resting on her belly, his fingers stroking her thigh. His movements stopped, and for a moment she thought he’d fallen asleep. She touched his cheek. “Doug?”
He snuffled and sighed. Her hand came away wet.
“Doug, are you okay?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, but his shoulder trembled beneath her hand.
Finally, in a shaky voice he muttered, “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She sat up, but he remained slumped over, his head in her still-naked lap. Another tear slid across his cheek.
Her heart swelled, not in a falling-in-love way, but in sympathy. Here she’d been worried about whether she was ready for sex with Doug, and it turns out he wasn’t ready either.
“Hey, hey down there. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.” She stroked his cheek, his warm scalp.
He nestled his face against her thighs and sighed. “You must think I’m a jerk.”
“I don’t. I get it. You weren’t ready yet.”
He nodded, his eyes closed.
“You can’t rush the healing process. I should know. Jared’s been gone for nearly a year and it’s only now I’m able to even think about—well, to do—you know what I mean.”
He nodded again.
“How long have you been divorced?”
“It’s not final until next month.”
She flushed. She was sure Harry told her Doug was divorced. Well, that explained a lot.
“Do you still love her?”
He shook his head, then whispered, “But it still hurts.”
“Yeah, it does.”
They stayed there in the back seat for a long time, really talking from their hearts, honest and unguarded. It was as if the clumsy sex dissolved all the other awkwardness between them. Doug poured out his heart to her while she stroked his head, his shoulder, and listened. And he listened to how difficult it had been for her to uncouple her love for Jared from the act of sex. She didn’t mention Nick specifically, just how hard it was to open the door to intimacy after so many years with her husband. “It just seemed, I don’t know, like a betrayal. Your body wants that contact, but your heart has other ideas.”
He nodded, snuffled one last time, and pushed himself up off her lap. He opened his arms, and she snuggled against his furry chest.
“Thank you, Clara. For everything. You’re a wonderful lady, and I hope you won’t hold it against me if I just call you my friend for now. Until I can worship your beautiful body without blubbering.”
Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. “Hey, what’s a little awkward sex between friends, right?”
He watched her pull her clothes back on, and his enormous cock starting to rise again. “On the other hand…” he said wistfully.
“Later, Bud. Besides, I’m not sure I can handle you.” She patted his semi-erect rod, which bobbed in response.
“I hope we get to find out.” He kissed her temple.
They drove home in companionable silence. He steered left-handed while he held her hand in his right. It was nice, lovely even. But she realized now, she and Doug just didn’t have, would probably never have, the fiery chemistry she shared with Nick. Their tumble in the back seat had done nothing to dampen her yearning for the other man, the one who had opened the door to the possibility of love. And she needed to face the truth, to tell Nick how she really felt. She needed to give him a chance to tell his story, to see if maybe they had a chance.
Doug dropped her off in her driveway. She leaned in through his window and planted a kiss on his bald head. “I had fun tonight.”
“I hope so.” He grinned.
“Well, yes, that. But I also enjoyed getting to know you better. You’re a good guy, Doug.”
“I’ll be by soon to move those bookcases and measure the doorway.”
“Oh, right.” The night’s events had completely wiped the renovation project from her mind. “You’re sure?”
“A promise is a promise. This isn’t good-bye, Clara. It’s just an awkward hello.” He seized her hand, gave it a loud smack, then drove off.
Behind her, another set of headlights flared to life, attached to a little green Karmann Ghia. Nick drove by slowly, his fiery eyes boring into hers, his handsome face contorted in a scowl of dark fury.
“Nick, wait!” She bolted after him, but he was gone.
She stood there in her driveway, paralyzed by indecision. Should she go after him? His tail lights had already disappeared around the corner, and she had no idea where he was going. Should she call him? Wait until the next morning, when he’d calmed down? Or would she be too late? Her heart thundered against her ribcage.
The one person who could always help her decide was out of reach.
She balled up her fists and howled at the sky. “This is too much! I can’t handle it! What should I do, Jared?”
A single pale-green leaf detached from the linden tree beside her door and brushed her cheek as it fell. A gust of wind caught it and carried it down the street, in the direction Nick had gone.
She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she hopped into her car and took off after Nick, her tires squealing on the pavement.