Page 76 of Clara Knows Best

He reached for her hand that held the umbrella and lifted it a few inches so that he was able to step closer without getting stabbed in the forehead.

“What are you doing?” she asked, cringing inwardly at the haughtiness in her own voice.

He was so close that she could smell his aftershave. If she leaned forward a very little bit her cheekbone would brush against the new stubble on his jaw. Her galloping pulse momentarily drowned out the sound of the rain.

He looked mysterious in the shadows. “I said I was sorry,” he said quietly. “Forgive me, Clara.”

Well, that was pretty irresistible. Not that she was even really mad at him, but if she were, that would do it for her.

“I don’t want it to be weird between us,” he added. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me.”

“Then you better kiss me again,” she advised. She wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but she liked it. “Without a million people watching, and not because you want to get in a fight with someone, and it better be nice.”

“How would that—”

“I don’t know, okay? It just would.”

“Are you serious?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

He was silent for so long that she began to feel annoyed.

“Hello, did you hear me?”

“I heard you. I’m thinking.”

“Can you think in the car? I’m freezing.”

“No. Shut up.”

She started to move around him and he caught her arm, stopping her and putting her right back where she’d been. Curious, she looked up, wishing she could see his expression more clearly.

He let go of her arm and took hold of her face with the same hard hand.

“My makeup,” she objected, wanting to laugh at his grip on her cheeks.

“I said shut up,” he reminded her coolly.

She scoffed, but she was delighted. He was going to do it! She held perfectly still while he leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly across hers, grazing her chin with his scratchy one. She felt his breath whisper over her mouth, warm and soft, and inhaled the musky, minty scent of him.

Next, a brief little test kiss, then a second one, gone before she could catch them.

“Jesse—”

“It’s all right.” A soothing message gently relayed, no doubt intended to appease his skittish quarry.

Then he was kissing her. There was no fervency or rush this time, no desperation or uncertainty; he simply kissed her so well and so thoroughly that the rainy night and everything outside the private little shelter of her umbrella disappeared for a time, and when he stopped, Clara knew that she would never, ever be able to kiss someone else. Every nervous feeling inside her settled into a sensation of total rightness.

They were quiet for a moment, the only sounds their breathing and the soft, steady rainfall.

“We good?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, smiling up at him. “We’re super good.”

“Good,” he said, sounding a little surprised and a little relieved, like he hadn’t expected it to work. “Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah,” she said, but couldn’t help smiling up at him for another few seconds.

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