Page 51 of Saved By Noel
“As long as there are no black olives, I’ll eat pretty much any pizza,” Clara replies.
“Ugh, who likes that dirt fruit garbage anyway?” I respond with disgust.
“Right?! Only psychopaths think olives taste good,” Clara says as she pulls a slice of pizza onto her plate.
“Just don’t let Syd hear you talk that way,” I tell her, taking a slice for myself.
“Nooo!” Clara groans. “Don’t tell me Syd is on the dark side.”
“I won’t say anything then,” I respond, unable to hold back a smile any longer.
Chase is sitting right next to Clara’s chair, ears perked, lip tucked behind his bottom tooth. His best puppy eyes are plastered on her. He knows better than to beg me for people food. I’m determined to keep Chase alive longer than any dog has ever lived, so I’m strict about his diet and exercise.
Clara coos at him before handing him a meatball from her pizza. All of my friends know better than to feed Chase scraps from their plate. But I can’t bring myself to stop Clara.
Chase is going to be even more obsessed with her than we already were. I mean,he. Than he already was.
“Sooo,” Clara draws out, eyebrow arched. “You wanted to talk?”
I chew and swallow my bite of pizza, setting my plate down beside me. “Um, yeah,” I begin, clearing my throat. “I wanted to talk to you—or, really, I guess I wanted to ask you . . . I just mean, I needed to say . . .”
The more I stumble over my words, the wider her eyes grow. I don’t know what thoughts are running through that beautiful mind of hers. If they’re as conflicted as mine, I need to spit this out and clear up any potential confusion.
“I need to talk to you about the Christmas festival idea.”
Her eyes flash with the tiniest moment of disappointment before lighting up like a Christmas tree.
“Precisely what about the Christmas festival do you want to talk about?” she asks coyly, head tilted.
“I think I’ve decided that it could be a good idea for the town. For morale, for the economy, for resident retention. I’m ready to explore the possibility,” I state as unemotionally as possible.
“What was that?” she asks, setting aside her plate. Chase eyes her half-eaten pizza, but stays obediently in place. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
I sigh. “The Christmas festival might be a good idea. To bring in some tourists. I’m thinking we should do it.”
“And I play into this conversation how, exactly?” Clara asks.
This woman. She’s really going to make me spell it out.
“I’m asking for your help to plan a Christmas festival, Clara. Please?” I acquiesce.
She’s now the spitting image of the Cheshire Cat. But her smile is so intoxicating, I can’t even be annoyed.
She sits forward and literally claps her hands like an excited child. “Finally! You won’t regret this, Clark. We can make it beautiful and classy and magical—it doesn’t have to be gimmicky at all, I promise. I mean, maybe a teensy bit gimmicky. But not over the top. Let me get some paper, and we can brainstorm,” she says, standing up.
“Wait,” I say as I grab hold of her wrist, urging her to sit back down. My hand is now on fire after touching her smooth skin. I picture a fire extinguisher shooting through my veins before I continue.
“Why don’t we use these ideas as a starting point?” I ask, reaching into my back pocket to pull out a folded piece of notebook paper. A crumpled, folded piece of notebook paper.
Clara’s eyes double in size, and she gasps. It’s the most attractive intake of breath I’ve ever heard. She stares at the paper in my hand, then looks up into my eyes.
“My ideas,” she whispers. “You . . . you saved them?”
I nod.
“But you crumpled them up. You threw them in the trashcan,” she says, still breathless.
“And then I took them out of the trashcan,” I reply, unfolding the page. “I didn’t read them until recently. But I kept them.”
