Page 66 of Clara Knows Best

“Jesse!” Clara rejoined him.

“Where’s Gijo?” he asked, glancing around.

“Dancing again.” She carefully took her drink and her sandwich. “Your hand must be freezing! I’m sorry.”

“Can’t feel it.”

She laughed. “At least thechoripanwas warm.”

He liked how she looked when she laughed. “First-degree burns. No big deal.”

Sure enough, she laughed again and apologized for that, too.

He balanced his sandwich on top of his beer so that he could take the Stetson from her head and put it back on his own. “Don’t want you getting hat hair,” he explained.

“Right. Thank you,” she said, still smiling.

He was about to suggest that they find a place to sit down and eat, when his beer was almost knocked from his hand, sending a tidal wave over the side of his cup…and all over the front of Clara’s wool coat.

Clara let out a startled squeak and Jesse let out a sharp oath. A rubber ball about the size of a baseball floated cheerfully in the remainder of his beer.

“Great,” he said crossly, watching the beer drip from her hem onto her pink leather boots. “Where the heck did that come from?”

A couple of teenagers arrived then, apologizing and laughing, and took the ball out of his drink.

Clara made a feeble attempt to brush off her coat with her foil-wrapped sandwich. “Have you seen any napkins…?”

“Yeah. Come sit over here and I’ll grab some.”

Jesse tossed his beer into the trash and squatted to wipe down her pink leather boots while she swabbed at her coat.

“It’s fine,” she said with a weak laugh. “It hasn’t soaked all the way through the material.”

But he knew she loved to look put-together, and based on how she felt about clothes, the coat probably had sentimental value. No way he was going to let her reek of beer all evening in soggy clothes. “Take it off. You can wear mine.”

“You’ll be cold,” she objected.

“It’s almost sixty degrees. I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “It’ll be too big in the shoulders. Might look kind of 80s or something.”

“Quality menswear juxtaposed with feminine elements can create a balanced and appealing look,” Clara chattered, shivering in her bare arms.

“Like a sportcoat and a sparkly pink dress?” he suggested, putting his coat around her shoulders.

She held up her wrists and he rolled the sleeves until her hands were visible. “Yes, exactly. Even better if the coat is silk-lined, pre-warmed, and smells faintly of cologne.”

“Gosh, you’re an upbeat lady,” he said, and she laughed again.

“Don’t worry, this is still the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“‘Not the worst’ I could understand. But the best? You must have been on some terrible dates,” he observed, steering her gently toward the parking lot.

“I dated this guy in New York forfive weeksbefore I realized he was just trying to get Hart to invest in his startup. And he was engaged to someone else at the time! So, all of those dates automatically rank below this one.”

“Imagine thinking you could get on Hart Wilder’s good side by catfishing his only sister.”

“Right? What an idiot,” she said, grinning up at him.

“Total idiot.” In more ways than one. “Look on the bright side; Hart’s probably had guys try to use him to get to you, too.”

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