Page 79 of Clara Knows Best

They made short work of Dr. Wilder’s shopping list, and as they waited in the checkout line Clara texted swiftly.

“Updating Birdie?” he guessed. There wasn’t much guesswork involved; this was the first chance she’d had to send a text since they’d kissed again.

“Yep.”

“She’s not going to blab it around, is she?”

“Birdie’s a vault.”

Uh, huh. “What’s she doing these days?” he asked, to see how well she could carry on two conversations at once.

“Med school.”

“Oh, yeah? Where at?”

“Houston. Graduating next spring.”

“Already?”

“She’s a year older than me.”

The texting hadn’t slowed. “What’s her interest?”

“Pediatrics.”

“Nice.”

“She’s a genius,” Clara added.

“You’re all geniuses,” he sighed.

She looked up in surprise. “Even me?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, you’re the evil kind.”

She smiled.

He jerked his head toward the cashier. It was their turn.

“Hiya, Clara,” the young woman drawled. “And this must be your friend the doctor.”

“Jesse Flores, Laura Nichols. Laura and I went to high school together.”

“Hey,” he said briefly.

“Well, hey yourself,” Laura returned coyly, rapidly swiping groceries without looking down at them. “Y’all dating?”

“Oh, no, he’s available,” Clara said cheerfully. Then she looked sympathetic. “Oh, you know what, though? He doesn’t date repeat felons. Bummer.”

Okay, there might be some bad blood there.

“Must not date spoiled little rich girls, either,” Laura said with a tinkly laugh. “You want a plastic bag?”

“Yes, please. I don’t have mine with me.”

“Thirty-seven even.”

Clara tapped her debit card on the little doohickey. “Don’t need a receipt. Take care of yourself, Laura. Stay out of trouble.”

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