Chapter Thirty-One
Harry left early for a medical appointment, and Margot had not yet arrived for her afternoon shift when Darryl, the new landlord, strolled through the front door, his thumbs looped through his belt. He planted himself in the entrance like a movie sheriff come to clean up Dodge, and surveyed his domain, a sleazy smirk on his florid face.
“Well, well, Mrs. Martelli, you still haven’t started on the new doorway? Thought that was the key to your salvation.”
Clara’s hackles rose. It took all her self-control to keep from snarling at him. “We start work on Monday.”
He pursed his lips. “Place is pretty empty.”
“This is a slow time of day. Lunch break is over.” Her eyes narrowed. “Most people are at work.”
“Whatever.” He strolled past the counter and down the first aisle: self-help, inspirational books, educational resources.
He needs all three of those.
But he didn’t pull any books off the shelves. Probably not the reader type. He stopped in front of the red door, ran his hand over the slick scarlet lacquer, then tried the doorknob.
“It’s locked.” He quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“What’s back here?”
The thought of letting Darryl through that door made her skin crawl, but how could she refuse? She swallowed a bubble of bile. “That’s our erotica collection.”
An oily smile oozed across his face. “Well, well. Miss Clara’s hiding some dirty secrets.”
Heat crept up her throat and clenched her jaw. “I’m not hiding anything, Darryl. We keep it locked to protect minors.”
He sauntered toward her, his voice syrupy. “I’m not a minor. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got back there?”
She glanced at the front of the shop, praying for an interruption. A group of college students paused by the window, pointed at the display, but then moved on.
Shit, shit, shit.
Face scrunched, she reached for the key, dangling on its velvet cord behind the counter. Just as her fingers closed around it, the front doorbell tinkled, and a half-dozen men and women burst in, laughing. They all wore matching red polo shirts with North Eugene High School embroidered on the breast, along with a wee Scots Highlander playing the bagpipes. Leading the way, his shiny head gleaming in the sunlight and a huge grin on his face, was Doug.
“And this is the lovely Clara,” he announced with a sweeping gesture, like a circus ringmaster introducing the next act. He slung his arm over her shoulder and smooched her cheek. “I told them about your ten percent educator discount,” he said with a wink.
She blinked at him for a moment, then pasted on a broad grin. “Of course! We always support our local educators. Are these your colleagues?”
Doug made introductions, ignoring Darryl, who lingered at the edge of the counter, scowling and tapping his foot.
“We’re on our way to the pizza place up the block to celebrate the end of the school year. Care to join us?”
Two of the men chanted, “Beer, beer, beer.”
“Afraid I can’t. I’m alone in the shop at the moment.” She rolled her eyes toward Darryl.
The two men faced off like a pair of bucks about to lock horns. Doug’s gaze locked on Darryl as he leaned in and planted a kiss on her temple. “You’re so conscientious,” he said. “Always taking care of business.”
“Move over, lover boy.” One of the teachers, a wide-hipped woman with a brilliant smile and a cloud of salt-and-pepper hair, dumped an armful of paperbacks on the counter. “Pizza and beer are well and good, but this is my idea of summer fun.” She held up a book emblazoned with a bare-chested hunk.
Another woman followed holding three mystery novels. “I hear you. I want me some sex and dead bodies.”
“Kinky!” her friend squealed.
“Not sex with dead bodies, you perv.”
Clara stood on tiptoe, kissed Doug’s cheek, and whispered, “Thank you.”
He muttered, “Hey, teachers read a lot,” then raised his voice for Darryl’s benefit. “I’ll be by about eight on Monday to start the doorway.”
“Oh, sorry sir,” a third teacher said to Darryl, who still glowered from his corner of the counter. “Were you ahead of us in line?”
Darryl harrumphed and stalked out the door, throwing a final comment over his shoulder. “We’ll do this later, Clara.”
“Do what?” Doug asked.
“He wanted a tour of the erotica collection,” she whispered as she rang up the teachers’ purchases.
A slender man with a silky voice clutched the edge of the counter. “Did you say erotica collection?” He exchanged a wide-eyed look with the plump fellow behind him. “We’ll be back.”
After she rang up their purchases, more than she usually sold in a whole afternoon, Doug sent his teacher friends ahead.
She clutched his forearm and blew out a rush of nervous laughter. “Thank you so much. You turned up just in time.”
“Thought I’d send some business your way. Then I recognized that sleazeball from the other day. He looked like he wanted to eat you up.” His fingertips stroked lightly up and down her arm. “That’s my job.”
What happened to “just friends?”
“So, you have an erotica collection?” His pale gaze flicked from her face to the red door and back.
“Yesss…”
So much for shelving their sexual involvement until Doug recovered from his divorce. The sexy rumble of his voice suggested he was ready for another tumble right now. “So, are you free tonight?”
“I, uh…”
The doorbell tinkled, and Harry’s voice boomed into the shop. “Doug!” Grinning broadly, he strode over and clapped his hand on his young cousin’s shoulder, clearly pleased to see them together.
“Everything okay, Harry?”
“Doc says I should eat more protein; can you believe it? So I’m taking Evie out for steak tonight.”
Doug leaned into Clara’s side, murmured, “Sounds like fun.”
“I’m sorry, Doug, I really can’t tonight. But I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the running club, okay?”
Harry wrinkled his brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Clara?”
“Absolutely.” She’d decided, despite Nick’s advice, her best way through the anniversary of Jared’s death was to keep busy, keep to her routine, keep herself surrounded with dear friends and her beloved shop. That would leave her without time to think about Nick’s disturbing declaration of love, about Doug’s sweet, awkward kisses, about how much she ached to have Jared beside her, his comforting arms wrapped around her.
Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue further. He slid behind the counter and tied on his Book Nirvana apron.
“Everything okay, Clara?” Doug had picked up on the tension, but she hoped he didn’t know about Saturday’s significance. Their friendship was refreshingly normal, an anchor amid the emotional chaos swirling around her.
“I’m just a little overwhelmed with all this.” She gestured toward the bookshelves.
“And I’m not helping, eh?”
“You are, actually. Thank you, Doug.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All righty then.” A blush coloring his bony face, he loped off after his friends.
When he’d gone, Harry came around the counter and took Clara’s hands. “Are you sure you want to run tomorrow?”
She smiled up into those kind blue eyes. “I am. It’ll do me good, clear my head. And I plan to work, too.”
He sighed and gave her a dubious half-smile. “If you’re sure. But I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
She wound her arms around him. “Thanks, Harry. You’re a wonderful friend.”
****
Clara was halfway out the door when she realized she’d left her phone in her desk drawer. She was tempted to leave it there but reminded herself that’s not how responsible adults behave. Though bone-weary from a long day on her feet, she trudged back to fetch it.
Text messages from Nick crowded the screen. The first arrived at three—I want to show you something. Spare me half an hour?
Another at four-thirty—I know you don’t like surprises, but please, just a few minutes.
And at six—Please, Clara. I need to talk to you.
Well, she had scolded him—okay, berated him—for surprising her on Wednesday night. Now he was trying to play by her rules. But she was still reeling from his emotional ambush the day before. And yet, all day, over and over, his declaration of love played on a loop in her head.
She hugged the phone to her chest and whispered into the dark, “Oh, Jared. What should I do?”
Silence. No books with apt titles slid from the shelves, no voices whispered on the wind, no little birds landed on the windowsill. Not even a meow from Lulu—nothing.
And then someone rapped softly on the window behind her. She shrieked and dropped her phone. It skittered underneath the counter. A muffled voice called her name.
Nick leaned against the glass, his hand cupping his eyes. He took a step back, held up both palms—a gesture of surrender? Of befuddlement? His chiseled face was solemn, his full lips parted. Her heart ached to go to him, to fling the door open and throw her arms around him, but her feet stayed rooted to the floor.
Lulu had no such scruples, though. She meowed loudly and trotted out from her hiding place, her tail aloft, straight to the front door. She sat before it, turned to look at Clara, then patted the door with her paw.
Well, I asked for a sign.
“Okay, okay,” she told the cat. “I’ll let him in. But it’s on your head if this goes badly.”
She flipped the lights back on in the front of the shop. Facing Nick in the dark was much too dangerous, too tempting. When she turned the key, Lulu darted out onto the sidewalk. Clara cried out and lunged after her.
But Lulu wasn’t heading for the street; she wanted Nick. In one graceful motion, he scooped up the cat and deposited her on his shoulder. She draped herself like a furry shawl, rubbing her head against his neck.
Clara stepped back to let them both enter. Warmth and energy rolled off his body as he passed, just inches away.
“Thanks. She’s never darted out before.”
“She likes me.” He scritched her behind her ears, drawing her deep thrumming purr. “I wish her mistress felt the same way.”
“Well, cats don’t care who else has been rubbing on their favorite person, or who will rub there next. They just care about what they want right now.”
He furrowed his brows. “No one’s been rubbing on me, Clara. Not even a cat.” He stepped in closer but, mercifully, didn’t touch her. “After what we shared, I don’t want anyone else.”
His dark gaze met hers, then slid away, giving her a chance to drink in the sight of him. With great effort, she restrained the urge to reach out and brush the stray curl from his forehead.
Tonight, he’d traded his usual elegance for a disarmingly shabby look: jeans faded across the knees, battered tennies, and a faded flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal a long scrape on his muscular forearm. Even in this mussed state, he projected the same easy confidence that first drew her to him. Dress a panther in old jeans, he’s still a panther. Strong, sexy, dangerous.
She plucked a scrap of paper from his shirt, which gave her an excuse to enjoy the warmth of his broad chest. From her perch on his shoulder, Lulu batted playfully at Clara’s hand.
Nick murmured sweet nothings—to Lulu. “Lovely Puss. I’ve missed you, sweet girl. So soft…”
Satisfied, the cat hopped down and trotted away.
Clara kept her gaze on Nick’s feet. The tension between them was as thick as peanut butter.
“I, uh—” he started.
“You, uh—” she overlapped, then laughed. “This is difficult.”
Nick took her hand, and a flush radiated up her arm and down her spine, like a buzz of electricity. She’d missed that feeling. She wanted more.
“It doesn’t have to be difficult, Clara.” He shuffled closer, close enough to smell his woodsy cologne, with just an edge of sweat beneath. “When I’m with you, everything feels easy, light. It’s being apart from you that’s difficult.”
She blew out a whoosh of breath, closed her eyes to shut out his probing gaze. Every molecule of her body wanted to step into his embrace, to surrender to this magnetism. But she held her ground, though she didn’t let go of his hand.
“Taking a job here is a big gamble, isn’t it?”
“The prize is worth the risk.” He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Anyway, I want to show you something. Will you come with me, just for a few minutes?”
“Um, I…”
Inside her head, an obnoxious siren wailed. Danger, danger!
Oh, shut up.
Why shouldn’t she go with Nick? She had no plans for the evening, and he’d come all the way to Oregon to pursue her. At least she could spare him a few minutes of her time.
“All right.”
His beaming reaction gave her a glimpse of the happy little boy he’d once been, with a dimpled smile, unruly dark curls, and enormous, sparkling eyes. “Great. I’m parked over there. I could drive you, or…”
“I’ll follow you.”
“Okay, right. It’s not far.”
She climbed into her Subaru and followed him through two traffic lights, around the corner, and up a few blocks. He pulled up in front of a Craftsman bungalow covered in dark-red shingles, with columns of river rock supporting the porch roof. The front yard was a jungle of blackberry vines, weeds, and leggy climbing roses.
He hopped out of his car and trotted over to hold her door. “Bienvenue chez moi.”
“You live here? Since when?”
“Since today.” He grinned like a kid who’d just opened a Christmas present. “Come see. It’s a mess, but it’s going to be great.”
She followed him up the overgrown flagstone path. She could have walked here from the shop, or from home, maybe a dozen blocks away. He was practically her neighbor.
Was that tickle in her belly a good sign, or a warning?
He opened the heavy wooden door, and she stood beside him in the foyer, clutching his hand and gaping like a landed fish. To the left, square wooden columns framed the entry to a cozy parlor, perfect for reading, complete with built-in bookshelves and stained-glass windows. To the right, a larger living room with a padded bench in the bay window, a river-stone fireplace, and built-in cabinets. The Art Deco lamps overhead had to be original to the house. Moving cartons littered both rooms, and scraps of packing paper lay balled up in the corners.
“The kitchen’s back there.” He tugged at her hand. “Come see.”
Clara scooped her lower jaw off the floor and followed him. She was admiring the floor-to-ceiling cabinets and the black-and-white tiled floor when the doorbell rang.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Excuse me.” He jogged to the door.
“Tío!” a child’s voice squealed.
“Bella!” More voices and footsteps followed. “We’re in the kitchen. Come.”
“We? Who’s we?” a woman asked.
They all appeared in the doorway. A dark-haired girl of about six clung to Nick, her arms around his neck and her skinny legs around his waist. He shifted her over to one side and used his free hand to gesture to the couple behind him. The man, short, muscular, and Hispanic, grinned, and punched Nick’s arm. “You didn’t tell us the house came with a pretty lady.”
The woman had to be Nick’s sister. Tall and slender, with his high cheekbones, her skin was a shade darker. Long, Grecian curls cascaded over her broad shoulders.
With her brother’s panther-like grace, she slid silently into the kitchen and glanced from Nick to Clara, then back to Nick, one eyebrow raised, her arms folded across her ample bosom.
The sight of Nick holding a beautiful child made Clara’s breath catch. His niece clearly adored him, and they seemed so natural together, so comfortable. She’d wanted a family like this one day, but Jared’s death had ripped that chance away.
The little girl broke the silence. She squirmed out of Nick’s arms and wiped her button nose on her forearm. “Are you my uncle’s girlfriend?”
Nick shrugged a silent apology.
His brother-in-law laughed. “Bella, here. Take a tissue.”
She blew her nose with a mighty honk, then trotted toward the stairs. “Can I pick my room?”
“What do you mean, your room?” Nick asked.
“For when I visit, silly.” She pounded up the stairs like a baby elephant.
“I’ll get her,” her father said. “Nice to meet you, Miss…”
“Clara.”
“I’m Jaime.” He flashed her a friendly smile, then trotted off. The woman sashayed over to Nick’s side and cocked her head, her lips pursed in an unspoken question.
Nick smooched her cheek. “You’re early.”
“Yeah, sorry. Traffic’s usually much worse.” She raised an eyebrow in Clara’s direction and waited.
“Clara runs the bookshop I told you about, over on Willamette Street.”
“Book Nirvana? I’ve been there.” She tapped her lips with her forefinger. “I don’t remember you, though. I talked to a man.”
Clara smiled. “White hair? Devilishly handsome? That’s Harry.”
“No, this was a young guy. Very handsome, though.”
Her comment landed like a punch to Clara’s chest.
Nick winced. “Cali, she’s…”
Clara took a deep breath. “That was my late husband.”
The sister’s fingers flew to her throat, clutched at the delicate crucifix she wore there. “Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t been back here in a while. I didn’t know.” She stepped closer, reached for Clara’s hands. Her touch was gentle, her eyes misty. “It’s hard, eh? We lost our father last summer. And then, you know about Diana?”
Clara nodded. “He told me.”
“So, you two have that in common.”
Nick cleared his throat. “Clara Martelli, meet my sister, Calista Peña.”
“I noticed the resemblance.”
The two siblings frowned at each other.
“We don’t look alike,” Nick said with a shrug.
Calista’s husband chuckled from the doorway. “You do so.” He turned to Clara. “Put a dress on Nick, he looks just like Cali, am I right?”
“I’d like to see you try,” Nick grumbled.
Cali ignored the joke. “Where’s Bella?”
“Unpacking Nick’s towels. So, we gonna eat or what?”
“I’ll get it,” Cali said. “Clara will help me.” She slid her arm through Clara’s, so she had no choice but to follow her to an SUV parked at the base of the driveway, blocking her car.
Guess I’m staying for dinner.
Calista beeped open the hatchback. “So, how long have you and Nick been together?”
“Oh. Um, not long.”
Up went her elegant eyebrows. “Really? I got the impression you were getting serious. It’s not like him to just quit his job.”
Clara’s cheeks flushed under Cali’s scrutiny.
Maybe she noticed, but she busied herself pulling grocery bags from the back of the car. She set them on the ground, then turned to face Clara, hands on hips. “Listen, I’m gonna be nosy, because he’s my little brother, and I’ve gotta look out for him, you know?”
Clara nodded, braced herself.
Cali slammed the hatchback, making her jump. “Nick’s been alone for a long time. I haven’t seen him this excited since, well, since Diana.”
“Oh.” She averted her eyes from Cali’s penetrating stare.
Cali frowned. “You don’t feel the same way?”
“I, er—”
“Great.” She rolled her enormous dark eyes heavenward. “My brother’s in love with a woman who doesn’t care.”
Clara grabbed her arm. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
Cali narrowed her eyes, waiting.
“I mean, he told you he was in love with me?”
“No, he didn’t tell me, but it’s written all over his face, his voice.” She nodded, her arms crossed. “I know my brother. He likes to play Mr. Suave Professor, but he’s too soft-hearted for his own good.”
“Listen, I really like Nick.” That was putting it mildly, but she could hardly tell his sister about how his mere presence melted her into a puddle of desire. “But we’ve only been together a few times, and—”
“Been together?” She shook her head. “Thinking with his dick again.” She hefted two grocery bags and nodded toward the third. “Get that one, would you?”
Clara scooped up the bag and hurried after her. “Calista, wait.” She did, but her expression was skeptical.
“Nick’s assistant, she told me something that made me wonder if…”
Cali set the bags down on the front stoop, put her hands on her hips. “Darcy, right?”
Clara nodded.
“Nasty little bitch. I told Nick she was no good.” Her Greek-goddess face scrunched up into a bitter scowl, and for a moment Clara thought she might spit on the sidewalk. “What did she tell you?”
“She said he slept with lots of girls at the college.”
This time, she did spit. Clara jerked back, slightly horrified.
“Look, Nick had a little fling with a grad student. It was stupid, but he was a lonely widower, and she was all ‘Boo hoo. Comfort me, Nick.’ ”
“You met her?”
She nodded. “Cute kid, but she was just looking for attention. Nick was too horny and heartsick to see it. Nearly got himself fired.”
She must’ve looked unconvinced because Cali grasped her shoulders hard.
“But he learned his lesson. When that Darcy chick came on to Nick, he turned her down. Miss Sexy-Pants couldn’t believe he’d say no, right?” Calista released her shoulders, looked her up and down. “Pretty lady like you, hanging around Nick, I can see how that would piss her off.”
Clara sank down onto the front steps, befuddled.
Calista sat beside her and took her hand. “I guess it all boils down to this, Clara—who do you trust? Because Nick’s got his heart set on you, and he doesn’t give up easily.”
She shook her head, tears prickling her eyes. She wanted to trust Nick, to trust his straight-talking sister, his kind, funny brother-in-law, his adorable niece. She wanted to visit this beautiful house often, to help Nick tame this jungly garden, to drink wine beside him on this porch beside him, watch the sunset, make love in front of the big stone fireplace…
“I’m scared, Calista.”
She nodded solemnly, lowered her voice. “Moving too fast, eh?”
“Yeah.”
They sat there a moment, side by side, watching the sparrows hop among the scraggly blackberry vines in the gathering dusk. Finally, Calista slapped her knees, pushed herself up. “Good enough for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t be all torn up like this if you didn’t care for Nick.” She opened the front door. “Come on, let’s eat.”
****
It was a feast. Monster sandwiches of pastrami, turkey, hummus, cheese, olives, marinated mushrooms—pretty much every tasty possibility from the deli case.
“This is good,” Bella declared. “Look, I can’t even get my mouth around my sandwich.” She tried, and a glob of hummus squirted out the other end, onto her lap.
“Ay ay ay,” her father said. “We didn’t bring a change of clothes, mija. Don’t make such a mess.”
“We aren’t sleeping here tonight?” Bella stuck out her lower lip.
“How we gonna do that? Tío Nick still has to unpack everything.”
“I can sleep on the couch.” She crossed her arms. “How come she gets to sleep over?”
Clara spluttered, nearly spraying iced tea onto the table. “I’m going to sleep in my house.” She glanced at Nick, who shrugged an apology.
Bella hopped down from her chair and laid her soft, mayonnaise-smeared hand on Clara’s arm. “You can sleep at our house if you want.”
“What a nice offer. Do you live far away?”
“We live this many.” She held up six fingers, then seven, then shrugged.
Calista interjected, “We live in Corvallis. I went to school out there, met this guy, and stayed.”
Jaime grinned and wiped mayo from his chin. “She couldn’t resist me.”
“Or maybe I couldn’t resist the green. It’s a pretty town. Right, Nick?”
“Right.” Nick’s gaze held Clara’s. “Lovely.”
Something warm fluttered in her belly, as if her sandwich were full of butterflies instead of pastrami.
“So,” Jaime asked, “when we gonna see that project you’re working on?”
His wife shushed him and tilted her head toward their daughter.
Bella declared loudly, “Tío makes sexy books. I’m not allowed to see them. Only grown-ups.” She made loud kissing noises.
Nick rolled his eyes, and they all laughed. After they finished their dinner, Calista rose and tugged her husband’s sleeve. “Let’s clean up.”
“I’ll help.” Clara started to rise.
“No.” Her tone was firm. “You stay. We got this. Come, Bella.”
Bella collected their paper plates and, giggling, followed her parents into the kitchen.
“So, Nick, you brought me here to meet your family?”
He glanced down at his folded hands.
“Did I pass inspection?”
“Oh, Clara, it’s not like that. They weren’t supposed to arrive until later. I just wanted you to see the house. I was so excited to find such a beautiful place, and I wanted to show you.”
“Relax.” She took his hand across the table. “I like them. This place, too.”
“I hope you’ll visit often.” With his thumb, he gently massaged the back of her hand. Even that simple touch warmed her, sent her thoughts skittering straight to his bedroom. Was it unpacked?
The golden flecks in his irises sparkled in the mellow light of the chandelier. Then the light flickered, and something buzzed.
“That’s the second lightbulb gone out since I arrived this morning. This place is going to need a lot of work.”
“Will you have time?”
He smiled wistfully. “Between work and yearning for you, I’ll be pretty busy.”
“Nick, I—”
“Well, we gotta go.” Calista bustled into the room, pushing Bella before her. “Nick, I put the leftovers in your fridge. It ought to keep you alive for a few days.” Her eyes flicked to their clasped hands, and she threw Clara a wink. “Come on, Jaime. The recital starts in twenty minutes. Your sister will be mad if we’re late.”
“Coming.” He trotted after them. “Nice to meet you, Clara. Hope to see you again soon.”
Bella threw her arms around Clara’s middle. “Good-bye, Tío’s girlfriend.” She gave her a noisy smack on the cheek, did the same to Nick, and then ran after her parents.
Nick and Clara followed them to the door, waved as they drove away. He shook his head and chuckled. “Family.”
Family. At first, she and Jared weren’t sure they wanted children of their own, but her hunger for family had grown over time. Meeting Nick’s family was a keen reminder of what she’d missed.
“They’re great, Nick. Thank you for letting me meet them.”
He took her hand, his broad palm warm against hers. “This wasn’t how I planned it, but I’m glad it worked out this way.”
“You’re a wonderful uncle.” She squeezed his hand. “You never wanted kids of your own?”
“I did.” His gaze slid away. “We did. It just didn’t work out, and then she got sick…”
His dark eyes softened the same way hers did when she thought of Jared. They shared the same pain, the same loss. But grief and understanding weren’t all they shared. There was no denying the magnetic tug of his heart on hers.
Clara pulled him closer. He stepped into her embrace, easy this time, light, his hands clasped behind her hips.
He brushed his lips lightly over her hair, whispered into her ear, “I’m glad you stayed for dinner, but you deserve better than pastrami.”
“I happen to like pastrami.” She kissed him, long and soft and sweet.
His breath came out in a whoosh and he pulled her in tight. His hands roamed over her back, into her hair, down to her breast. His thumb stroked her nipple through the thin fabric of her blouse, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure sizzling right to her core. She moaned and slid her hands beneath his shirt, relishing the silky warmth of his skin.
Dimly, she was aware of an inner voice cautioning her to slow down. But with Nick, there was no slowing down. Only speed, heat, urgency.
It took every bit of her strength to drop her hands from his body. To keep the fire in his eyes from melting her resolve, she rested her cheek against his warm chest. His heart hammered against her skin.
“Nick, tomorrow is—”
“June twentieth. The anniversary of Jared’s death.”
Her breath caught. “You remembered.”
“It’s an important date.” He stroked her cheek with his forefinger. “I’m here for you, Clara. If you want me.”
She did want him, more than she was willing to admit. She wanted to stay right here, help him unpack, talk, and laugh into the night, and then make slow, sweet love in his bed. But she couldn’t, not tonight.
“I can come help at your shop tomorrow if you need some time alone.”
“You? A professor ringing up books?”
“Hey, I like books. In fact, I love books. I’m all about the books.” He hooked his fingers through the waistband of her jeans, tugged her closer. “Especially those books behind your red door.”
“And I look forward to sharing them with you, but not this weekend.”
He released her, stepped back. “I understand.” His eyes shone, soft and warm and deep. “I love you, Clara.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he touched his forefinger to her lips. “Don’t answer. Just sit with it, see how it feels. Okay?”
She nodded.
He walked her to her car, waited while she started the engine and rolled down the window. A soft evening breeze whispered around and between them, lifting her hair.
“You’ll call me if you need me? Promise?”
She nodded and, with great reluctance, backed her car down the driveway and drove toward home, alone.