Page 21 of My UnTrue Love
“That is justridiculous.” The oven timer buzzed, and Clementine stopped her mini-rant to grab the tray of finished cookies. “Here!” She slapped it onto the counter in front of him, exasperated with the man. “Not that you deserve them, being as you’re so ‘dangerous’ and all.”
Bill ignored her grouchy tone, his eyes devouring the slightly-misshapen cookies. “For me?” He asked, like he still didn’t quite believe that she’d baked them just for him.
Like maybe no one had cooked for him before.
Maybe they hadn’t, considering his parents had been awful. Maybe nobody had ever supported Bill or kept him safe. Maybe that’s why he was so wary of being vulnerable. Her heart twisted with affection and something else. Something bigger.
“Just for you.” She promised. “Your very sugary dinner is served. You should let them cool for a second or the chocolate will burn your mouth.”
“Worth it, I reckon.” He grabbed a hot cookie and ate it in two bites, the big grin staying on his face. “Perfect.”
Clem resisted the urge to clap her hands together in delight at getting a five-star review. “You really think so? I worked hard on the recipe. Not everyone likes them, but I think…”
“Someone doesn’t likemycookies?” Bill interrupted. “Who doesn’t like my cookies?”
“Well, there was a contest last year, hosted by the Section 37 Bakery.” Clem didn’t want to dwell on it, because it had been ahugeblow to her confidence. “It’s the biggest bakery chuck-wagon in Red River Valley. Hot Biscuit Slim owns it. I entered these cookies in his Annual Amateur Bakers’ Competition, and I finished in last place. Hot Biscuit Slim said that chocolate chip cookies are,” she made a face at the memory, “low-effort.”
“Hot Biscuit Slim said my cookies were low-effort?”
Clem nodded unhappily. “He laughed about them.”
“Well, I sure don’t appreciate that.”
“I didn’t either.” Clem shrugged aside the humiliating experience. “They’re still my favorite, though. So I was hoping you’d like them, too.”
“They’re perfect.” Bill reiterated and ate another one. “Everything about you being here isperfect, darlin’.” He gazed at her with supreme contentment.
Whenever he focused those astonishing eyes on her, Clem felt butterflies in her stomach and everything else fell away. It was a wonder other girls weren’t stalking him, desperate for his attention.
Not that Clementine had scoured his apartment, looking for clues about his romantic life. She just casually noted that there were no cute couple-y photos anywhere or overt signs of a feminine presence. If she happened to peek under his bathroom cabinet for traces of some other woman’s stuff, it was completely by accident.
She’d also noticed that the pipes were leaking under the sink. She was going to alert the building superintendent about it, since it needed to be fixed. As Bill’s manager, it was Clem’s job to deal with the daily maintenance of his life, so he could focus on his musical genius.
“Bill,” her voice softened, and she refocused on protecting him from his own kindness. She loved his gentle heart and honest nature, but it would get him eaten alive in Red River Valley. The music industry was filled with disreputable crooks. “I am not going to take twenty-five percent of all your money.”
“A quarter of what the Lone Prairie’s paying me ain’t gonna be enough for you to live on, Clem.”
“I know, but I can work with other musicians, too. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Blue eyes narrowed. “Which other musicians?”
“I don’t know, yet. Whoever wants to hire me.” She smiled at him. “It’s not all on you. I can take care of myself.”
He ate another cookie, chewing with a brooding intensity. “You’ll take care of yourself… by spending time with men… who aren’t me?”
Clementine abruptly saw the issue. Like all artists, Bill was prone to self-doubt. He was worried he’d need her advice and she’d be busy with someone else. “Obviously, I’ll help your career themost.” She leaned over to give his hand a squeeze. “You’re my best, best friend.”
Bill’s scowl lessened. “I’myour best, best friend? It’s not Johnny?”
Clementine hadn’t even thought of Johnny when she’d said the words. For so long they’d been partners in everything. Johnny and Clementine. A set. But they’d drifted in different directions and outgrown their bond, long before he’d fired her. If they’d met as adults, would they ever have become close? She didn’t think so.
“It’s not Johnny.” She said with utter surety.
Bill stared at her. “Good.” He murmured.
It made her insides tighten in a not-just-best-best-friends kind of way. Dear God… The man had to be more careful of how he used his voice. That dark and rumbling tone should be classified as a weapon.
“Are you positive that you don’t sing?” She blurted out.
