Page 83 of Clara Knows Best

“Do you think everyone who comes into the office is—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted loudly. “You smell great. Just shut up about the perfume.”

The side eye she gave him said clearly that she was worried about his mental state.

“I shouldn’t have listened to you,” he said darkly. “Kissing you again was a huge mistake.”

“Oh, is that what’s bugging you? There’s nothing to stress about.”

“Yes, there is, unless you’re a moron.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” she said, relaxing once more now that her precious perfume wasn’t at stake. “Nobody even knows about that but us.”

“And Birdie.”

“Well…I didn’t actually tell Birdie. I thought maybe it’d be better if nobody but us knew about it.”

“You lied.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I felt like Ishouldbe telling Birdie, but I didn’t want to. That’s why I lied about it, I guess.” She took the pack of gum from the center console and helped herself to a piece. “Anyway, we weren’t texting about you. We were texting about her stupid boyfriend that I hate. She’s way too good for him, but she’s too nice to see it.” She offered him the gum and he took one automatically. “I’ll take it to my grave if you want.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that he wasn’t worried about word getting around as much as he was worried about his new fondness for purple nails and Ms. Pac-Man pajamas. So he didn’t say anything.

“It was a good kiss,” she added. “Do me a huge favor and don’t regret it too hard, okay?”

She didn’t get it, but that was fine. “Okay.”

“Shoot, I just thought of something horrible.”

He glanced at her. She didn’t look horrified at all, which filled him with misgiving. “What?”

She laughed. “There’s a security camera on the porch of the practice, and we were right by the door.”

He didn’t have to ask who was in charge of reviewing security footage. That would be the guy who had stared at him without blinking while he ate his breakfast.

“Maybe he didn’t see it,” she offered.

Maybe. Or maybe he’d gotten a motion alert, and because it had been after closing, maybe he’d checked up on it.

“Maybe the umbrella blocked the camera,” she suggested next.

“Is there audio?”

Her answer was an apologetic grimace.

Better and better.

“Oh, no,” she exclaimed a minute later, and this time she did sound horrified. “Oh! That’s someone’s pet, isn’t it? Aw, that’s so sad!”

They were still several minutes out of town, passing spread-out farms to the right and left. Clara was slackening her speed, her worried eyes on the immobile lump of fur on the shoulder just ahead.

“Maybe it’s a coyote,” he offered. He caught a flash of white. “Or a big skunk. Don’t look at it.”

“No, I think someone’s dog got through the fence or fell out of a pickup. It moved!” she cried, as they passed it. “Did you see that?”

“That’s just the wind,” he said, but she was pulling over. “What are you—”

“I think it’s alive,” she said impatiently, throwing it into park and opening her door. “I have to check!”

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