Page 50 of Saved By Noel
“Clara?” he calls through the door. “It’s Clark. I, uh, saw your car back in town and decided to come over.”
I lightly run my hands over my loose curls, hoping they’re not too wild. I’m still wearing the athletic shorts andYou Grow GirlMonstera plant graphic tee I wore for the drive, but I don’t have time to change.
What are you thinking, Clara?! You don’t need to dress up for him! Just answer the door.
I turn the knob and swing the door open, hit by a wave of woodsy sandalwood mixed with pizza. Unclear which smell I’m hungrier for.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to divert my brain away from fixating on his scent. Chase is sitting at Clark’s feet but dances up when he sees me. Clark stills him with a command to sit before responding to my question.
“I told you I wanted to talk this weekend. And I come bearing gifts,” Clark answers, tipping up the pizza box. “I figured you would be hungry after the drive.”
I eye him without inviting him in yet. My hesitation is half confusion about him showing up here before I even told him I’d arrived. The other half is that I’m knocked off-kilter by how much I missed the sight of his hazel eyes, bearded jaw, and tall, muscular frame. Not to mention that darn tattooed arm I once traced my fingers over. A moment I’ve mentally replayed more times than I’ll ever admit to on record.
“How did you know I was in town?”
Clark flinches but quickly rolls his shoulders, as though he’s a teenager who got caught texting during class and tried to play it off. He raises his free hand to rub his beard again, looking around at the trees before resting his hand against the door frame. “I . . .” He sighs and locks eyes with mine. “I just knew.”
Now I’m the one feeling caught. I awkwardly stand staring at him, suppressing all the hormones screaming at my muscular system to move forward and lean into Clark’s chest.
I take a giant step backward. “Come on in.”
Closing the door behind Clark, I gesture toward the back of the house. “Why don’t we go sit on the back porch? I’ll get someplates and water.” Clark nods and heads toward the sunroom, Chase on his heels.
I take advantage of my few seconds alone in the kitchen to take a deep breath. I don’t know what Clark is here to talk about, but my brain has gone into full-on anticipation mode. Complete with a racing pulse and overactive underarm sweat. I stand in front of the open fridge for an extra few seconds before taking out the water pitcher.
A minute later, I approach the sliding back door balancing plates, two stacked glasses, the water pitcher, and my iced coffee like the one-trip champion I am. I pause when I see Clark standing on the porch, talking to Chase and gesturing with his hands like he’s giving a speech. Chase peers up at him, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he appears to nod along to whatever it is that Clark is saying. I’m mesmerized by the scene. Mesmerized by the man who still remains such a mystery.
Until he turns to the door and catches me staring.
Chapter thirty-one
Clark
I’ve been practicing my speech on Chase, but I look up to see Clara standing on the other side of the glass door, staring at me. Her hands are ridiculously full, and she startles when I make eye contact with her. Thankfully, she doesn’t drop anything as a result.
I see her raise her leg like she’s going to open the sliding door with her foot, but I jump forward to open it first. “It’s okay to ask for help, Clara,” I bemuse.
“Hi, kettle. I’m pot,” she sarcastically quips back. “I mean, pot as in a kitchen pot. That’s black. Not pot like,potpot,” she adds quickly.
“And here I thought things were about to getreallyinteresting,” I say with a twinkle in my eye. I take the plates and glasses from her hands, then mentally scold myself.Stay focused. Don’t get distracted by her wit or eyes or smile or adorable punny shirts.
“P.S.: your fiddle leaf fig in the sunroom looks sickly,” I observe, distracting my train of thought.
“Does it?” Clara asks, retreating inside for a moment before coming back out. “Shoot, it does. I asked Syd to come over and water them when I was gone so long.”
“You asked Syd to take care of your plants?!” I exclaim. “Well, there’s a sure-fire way to kill them off.”
“Hey!” Clara laughs. “She was doing me a favor!”
“Do your plants a favor and let me take care of them next time you need help. Syd has the blackest thumb I’ve ever seen. Pretty sure she could kill an artificial plant. She probably set a reminder to water them every few days without even bothering to check the soil,” I explain.
“She didn’t!” Clara gasps. “That would explain the yellow leaves on more than one plant.” She sighs. “Wait, how do you know this much about plants?”
I shrug a shoulder. “When I took care of your Tineke, I did a little research.” Clara eyes me. “Okay, I did a lot of research. I went down the black hole of Instagram and blog posts by the plant lady who makes that fertilizer.”
There’s a tangle of emotions in Clara’s eyes as she regards me. Those deep blues are sucking me in, tugging me closer. I change the subject.
“I didn’t know what kind of pizza you prefer, so I ordered their best seller. It’s a three-meat pizza,” I say, opening the lid of the box.
