Page 11 of Saved By Noel
“Just a minute!” I yell as I reach a hand up to feel around the counter till I find a towel. I wipe off the coffee from my arm and the floor before standing again.Pull it together, Clara, I chide myself, rolling my shoulders back.Just play it cool.
When I open the door, all semblance of coolness flies right out as the crisp air flies in. Clark stands in front of me in faded jeans and a long-sleeve, hunter-green Henley shirt, toolbox in onehand and a hardware store bag in the other. Sans baseball cap, the morning sun provides me a perfect view of hazel eyes. Dark green rims with flecks of gold surround his pupils. The best work of my imagination last night hadn’t come close to this green-gold perfection.
My own eyes widen, and my brain draws a blank on all the useful English phrases like “hello” or “good morning” or “come in.” I simply smile up at him instead.
“I’m sorry I’m a little early,” he eventually says. “I’m kinda a morning person, and I was eager to see—I mean, I wanted to go ahead and get that door fixed for you right away.”
“Oh gosh, it’s totally fine. Please come in,” I reply, stepping to the side so he can duck in through the door. “Can I get you some water or coffee or . . . dry cereal?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Clark responds, setting his tool box on the floor and following me to the edge of the kitchen counter. “I assumed you weren’t attached to the existing 1980s doorknob style, but I wasn’t sure what type of finish you’d prefer. I brought a few options.” He sets three doorknobs on the counter: one brushed bronze, one nickel, and one matte black.
“That was thoughtful,” I respond as I step next to him and study the choices. “I confess I haven’t had time to think through hardware finish decisions for the entire cabin yet. Would have been the first thing I knocked off the list last night if the door hadn’t conspired against my to-dos.”
Clark chuckles. The sound sends happy shivers down my spine as I glance up at the crinkles around his eyes.
My eyes gravitate toward the matte black doorknob, so I pick it up and turn it over in my hands. “I think this is the one. The black seems to fit a rustic-but-cozy cabin vibe.”
“I agree; that was my top choice,” Clark responds.
I smirk up at him and quirk my eyebrow. “You would have said that about whichever one I picked, huh?” I tease, one hand on my hip.
He laughs again, and the happy shivers get out of hand. “No, I promise. I recently changed all the hardware in my house to matte black. It’s a solid choice,” he says, taking the doorknob from my hand. His fingers brush ever-so-slightly against mine, and I swear warmth slowly oozes its way from my fingers down my arm. Like when you take a drink of hot coffee on a cold morning andfeelthe heat travel down your esophagus.
Clark stiffens at the touch. Maybe I’m not the only one experiencing this attraction that is absurdly disproportionate to the amount of information we know about each other. He clears his throat again and reaches inside the bag to retrieve the matching hinges. “I’ll, uh, get to work on this.”
“I can help!” I chirp brightly, leading the way to the bathroom. “Thank you again for coming out last night and back today. I really don’t know what I would have done without you.”
My version of “helping” is pretty much sitting against the edge of the tub as Clark removes the existing hinges from the door frame. He pulls up his sleeves slightly in the process, and I notice tattoos on his left forearm that appear to continue up the full length of his arm. I tilt my head to better decipher the inky pattern. My best guess is tree roots, but I can’t make out the exact design. A new mystery for my overactive imagination to mull over tonight.
“So, you just moved in yesterday?” Clark asks as he begins installing the new hinges.
“Yep,” I respond, handing him the next screw he needs. I’mhelping, not grasping for an excuse to brush my fingers against his again. “But I won’t be living here full time. I live in Kansas City—well, in the suburbs on the Kansas side. But this cabin is going to be my place to get away and work in the quiet.”
“Oh, really?” Clark says, standing up and turning to me. His hazel eyes darken momentarily with a look akin to disappointment. “What work do you do?”
“Ah, umm, I’m a writer,” I say uncertainly. “I mean, I’m a copywriter and editor. I work for a company in KC that creates content for clients around the nation.”
Clark’s eyes narrow slightly. “Why would you need a quiet cabin to do that? Do you not work in an office?”
“Yes, there’s an office—I have an office,” I stutter. I guess there’s no way around an admission at this point. “I hope to be awriterwriter. Hence the cabin in the woods.”
“Gotcha. Yeah, this place is certainly more inspiring than an office desk,” Clark responds before moving to the detached door to fasten the corresponding hinge pieces. I watch silently, not sure how much more to share about my dreams. Something about Clark’s thoughtful demeanor makes me want to tell himeverything, but that’s ridiculous.
He stands the door upright. “Could you hold this steady while I install the new doorknob?”
“Of course!” I jump up, happy to be truly useful. I concentrate on holding the door the steadiest that Clark has ever seen a door held—right up until I’m distracted by the flex and pull of the muscles in his forearm as he works. He stops suddenly and grabs the door to stop it from leaning, glancing up at me. I startle at being caught staring at him.
Easy there, Clara. You’re acting like a total fool,I mentally sigh. But I notice a slight upturn of Clark’s lips before he turns his attention back to the doorknob.
“So, how long have you lived here in town?” I ask, careful not to slack on my door-steadying job again.
“My whole life. Grew up here. I’m not sure I could hack the big-city life like you do.” Clark replies, standing back to his full height.
“Oh, trust me, the suburbs are not exactly big-city life,” I self-effacingly respond. Clark raises an eyebrow and looks around as though seeing beyond the walls to the town.
I giggle. “I suppose in comparison to here, it’s a big city. But I’m excited to have a break from the hustle.”
Clark nods thoughtfully. “Well, you’ll certainly find some peace here. At least, I sure hope you do.” We stare at each other for a beat before he drops his gaze. “I’m going to hang the door on the hinges now and then make sure the door jamb is lined up correctly, okay?”
