Page 2 of Clara Knows Best

Reluctantly she made her way over. Earl was only a few years older than her and their mothers were friends. “Well, hey. Hart’s doing great, I think. I never talk to him.”

He laughed. “Still making the big bucks in NYC?”

“No, he’s in Austin now.”

“I just knew Hart would make some kind of big name for himself out there. So, you don’t see much of him, huh?” he asked with sympathy.

“Well, I think he’s coming in for my mom’s birthday next weekend,” she said, and good manners made her ask, “Why don’t you stop by the house and say hello?”

His face brightened. “Hey, I might do that. You think that’d be a good idea?”

“Well, sure.” She was used to the Hart worship by now, but she did think it was too bad no one ever asked after her other two brothers.

“Clara!”

Her head whipped around at the voice—a sharp, disapproving bark—and there he stood, frowning beneath the low bill of a worn-out ballcap.

Oh, no, he’s beautiful,she thought wildly. Somehow she had not been prepared to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with a chiseled jawline covered in rough, dark stubble. Jesse Flores in his thirties? Magnificent. Chef’s kiss.

“Ready to go?” he asked impatiently.

Was her mouth hanging open? “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was having a flashback to the comic book incident.”

He jerked his head toward the door and her feet moved of their own accord.

“Bye,” she said to Earl, who looked interested but confused by this turn of events.

“Bye! I’ll see y’all soon, if you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” she said automatically, waving again as she stepped out into the sun. “Well, that’s us over there.” She indicated the big truck, and saw that Earl’s brother, Dale, loitered near it. His polo shirt identified him as airport security.

“Why, Miss Clara Wilder,” he drawled. “Shoulda known. Couldn’t think how your daddy would park in the red zone.”

“You going to turn me in, Dale?”

“Aw,” he protested, waving away this concern. “Whatcha got the flatbed out for?”

“Hay.”

“Thought y’all got hay from your uncle.”

“He didn’t have much surplus this year.”

“Been dry,” Dale agreed readily. “And Memo Del Amo had that fire, right at harvest time, too. Tough luck, I say. Wonder how it got started.”

“I haven’t heard anything about it,” Clara said, in the interest of saving time.

“Well, sure,” he allowed indulgently, and looked Jesse up and down with undisguised curiosity. “Who you got with you here?”

“I don’t know if you ever met. Jesse Flores, Dale Keplinger.”

“Sure, I remember you now,” Dale said, leaning in for a handshake. “From Dallas, weren’t ya?”

“Austin,” Jesse said brusquely as they shook. He opened the rear passenger door and tossed his bag into the truck.

Clara looked at Dale. “Well, see you around. Sorry about the red zone.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” he promised, and she smiled her gratitude.

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