Page 41 of Clara Knows Best

“Why would I call Hart?” he asked blankly.

“He wanted you to call him! Remember?”

“I don’t take orders from that little rooster.”

“Don’t think of it as an order. He just doesn’t have your number.”

“I don’t have his number, either,” he pointed out. “But I’m supposed to get it and call him. He can’t be bothered to do the same. He’s way too important and busy—doing what? What is he, a lawyer?”

“No, he’s in commercial real estate.”

“He’s a frickin’ realtor.”

She couldn’t help laughing again. “I’ll text him your number and I’m sure he’ll call you. Maybe you two can get together when you go back home.”

“Right,” he said sardonically.

“Are you nervous about seeing the boys? Hart will be sarcastic to cover his emotion. Beck and Nash will be thrilled and they won’t hide it.”

“You weren’t thrilled,” he pointed out.

For some reason, she felt her face heating up. “You and I were never really friends.”

“That’s because you were a bratty little girl,” he said promptly.

“I wasn’t that bratty. You were probably just afraid of girls.”

“Afraid you’d steal my stuff? Maybe.”

“I think you’re still afraid of me,” Clara said thoughtfully. “I’m still wondering why you backed out of the office earlier, instead of walking out like a normal person.”

“Jeez, Clara, maybe I’m afraid of buying a cabin I don’t want. Ever think of that?”

She didn’t know if she was more surprised by the total irrationality of the words or the indignation with which he said them. “Why would you buy a cabin you don’t want?” she exclaimed.

“Why am I putting scented lotion on my hands?” he retorted. “Suddenly I’m going to karaoke and tying bows on goodie bags and staying the weekend.”

Her eyes widened at the implication. “Wait, you thinkImade you do all that stuff?”

“No one else did.”

“Well, I didn’t either! And even if I did, using hand lotion isn’t the same as buying a whole cabin.”

“What if it’s a slippery slope?”

“That’s ridiculous. And I didn’t even ask you to help with the goodie bags—you offered!”

“I know. That’s the scary part.” He accepted a plate of lasagna from the Colonel and thanked him.

Clara sat down across the table from him and reached for the salad tongs. “You’re not making any sense. There’s no way I couldmakeyou buy a cabin.”

He knocked on the tabletop three times, picked up the salt shaker and dumped some salt over his left shoulder.

“What was that for?” she cried, aghast.

“Just in case.”

Clara hid her face in her hands, clinging to her composure. After a few moments of careful breathing, she risked a glance at him.

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