Page 37 of Saved By Noel
Gesturing toward the bar stool situation, I say, “And this was your solution?”
“Pardon me for not having a ladder at the ready,” she snipes back.
“I thought you were a Girl Scout?” I question with a wry smile.
Clara rolls her eyes. “I may have exaggerated that point.”
I can’t stop my lips from spreading into a true smile. “I’ll get it silenced in no time. Do you have any extra batteries?”
“Oh shoot; I do not,” Clara says sheepishly. “I’m going to need you to strike from the record my claim of Girl Scout preparedness.”
I pull two batteries out of my pocket. “Good thing I brought some then.”
The corner of Clara’s lips quirk, mesmerizing my attention. Another well-timedchirp!interrupts the moment, and I move to set up the ladder. “You mind moving the bar stool out of the way?” I ask.
Clara does so, then she comes back to hold the ladder as I climb up. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “I climb ladders without supervision all the time. You can just relax.”
“Nope, can’t risk the lawsuit if you fall on my property. I’ll hold it steady,” she answers.
“As I recall, your ‘holding items steady’ skills could use some work,” I quip. Apparently, the late hour has made me bolderthan usual. That’s the second time I’ve referenced the first time we met. Or first times, if you count the night and the following morning as separate occasions. I glance down long enough to see the color in Clara’s cheeks, then quickly look away.
Or I really will fall off this ladder.
I focus on the task at hand, quickly changing out the battery and resetting the smoke detector. I put the old battery in my pocket to dispose of later, then climb down the ladder.
“There you go. No more sleep interruptions,” I say once I’m back on the ground.
Clara’s eyes are locked on mine, not the slightest bit sleepy.
“Well, now I’m wide awake,” she sighs, turning away from me. She plops down on the couch and pats the cushion next to her. “Want a cookie?”
No, you don’t. Leave now!
“Sure.” I take a seat, and she holds a box over to me. Inside are the largest cookies I’ve ever seen—so big, I’m not even sure they should be marketed as cookies.
“This one is the rest of the puppy chow cookie I was eating. This is raspberry dark chocolate sea salt; that’s confetti; and this one is ooey gooey butter cake,” Clara explains, pointing out each option. “I was supposed to take these to Syd’s house for dinner tomorrow night, but the smoke detector drove me to break them open early.”
I break off a chunk of the butter cake cookie and take a bite. The sweetness is tempered by the abundant rich butter flavor. While the middle is the softest cookie I’ve ever tried, the edges have that perfect crisp texture. “That is . . . wow,” I say, turning to Clara. Chewing another bite of the puppy chow cookie, she nods with wide eyes, as though “wow” is the only possible response.
“Kansas City’s finest,” she quips, then licks the powdered sugar off her fingers.
“How’s your dad?” I ask, knowing I should go home yet unwilling to do so.
Clara’s eyes scrunch up quizzically.
“The first time you were here, you left because your dad broke his ankle. Is he all healed up?” I clarify.
Her eyes soften. “Oh, yeah, he is. He doesn’t even have to wear the walking boot anymore. The physical therapist gave him several exercises to work on at home, but he’s done with the official sessions. Which he’s elated about. Although, I think my mom misses the temporary handicapped parking pass they got to use. My dad is one of those stop-and-smell-the-roses types. Parking closer gave him less time to get distracted by the world around him.”
I give a small smile before eating the final bite of cookie in my hand.Time to go, Clark. You’re playing with fire.
“And how is Pops doing?” Clara asks before I can make a move to leave.
I rub my beard and lean forward with my elbows on my knees instead. “Ah, no changes to report, unfortunately.” I stare at the fireplace, at the decorated Christmas tree still sitting on the hearth, unsure of what else to say. The fear of losing Pops on top of . . . well, everything else, sends me to a dark and broody mind space.
“Hmmm,” Clara hums, not saying anything further. I’d expected her to jump in with more ideas on how to get Pops active again. But she seems to sense that’s not what I need right now. I glance over at the empathetic expression on her face and fight the urge to bury my face in her neck. To get a closer inhale of that spicy sweet scent always emanating off her skin.
“Well, I should let you get some sleep now. Syd is going to expect a functional human being to show up at her house tomorrow,” I say with some reluctance. Clara gives a small smile,and we both stand up. “Thanks for sharing a cookie with me,” I add. “They’re a lot fancier than anything we have around here.”
