Chapter 27
Walker
“Seriously?” I growl, scraping at the small grease stain on the front of my t-shirt as if my thumbnail will remove a stain that’s probably been there for years, and I’m only now noticing it.
I rip the thing over my head and toss it into the pile on the floor that includes the previous two shirts I tried on.
It’s not that I care how I look, but maybe Claire cares how I look. I haven’t tried on a single shirt that doesn’t have something wrong with it.
The fourth shirt is probably a size too small, but it clings to my pecs and maybe that might have her looking in my direction more often.
I pull it over my head and toss it to the floor with the others because the longer I looked at it the more douchey I felt.
A mixture of different kinds of hangers scrape across the rod in my closet as I try to find something that will work for today. I pull out an old Pink Floyd t-shirt and pull it over my head, leaving the room without even looking in the mirror. I’ve had this shirt for the better part of a decade, so I know there’s going to be some flaws on it. But I just can’t bear to put it in the trash with the others.
I walk past my dresser, giving the bottle of cologne there only a cursory glance before walking out of the room. I don’t even make it halfway down the hallway before turning right back around and spraying some on the front of my shirt.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m across town and waiting in the short line at the counter of The Brew and Chew so I can pick up my call-ahead order. I have to wonder if the food will be cold with how long I have to wait behind Mr. Hinkle as he complains to the business owner, Ruth, about how bad the road is off the highway. He threatens to call the sheriff because Cash Tucker, Lindell’s police chief, won’t take him seriously when he calls in to complain.
Ruth reminds him that he has to call the county public works for those types of complaints, and I swear the man has a glint in his eyes for a chance to ruin someone else’s day. Hopefully, he’ll call and leave a message considering it’s Sunday, but I have no doubt the man will sit on it until he can speak with a live person tomorrow.
“Hello, dear. You had the call-in order, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You know it’s less wasteful if you eat here off my dishes,” she says as she rings up my order.
“Taking lunch to a friend,” I tell her, which I realize was the very last thing I should’ve said when her eyes light up as she hands me back my change.
“Tell Claire I said hello.”
I don’t confirm her suspicions before leaving.
I’m so excited to see her when I get to the bar, I get halfway to the front door before realizing I left the food.
The bar is silent, but I expected it to be with her here alone. Instead of going to look for her, I set the food up on the table, wishing I would’ve had a little more forethought and grabbed some flowers or something. There’s literally nothing in the bar I could use for a centerpiece on the table other than a stack of cardboard bar coasters. Even as proud as I am to have The Hairy Frog logo on them, they don’t exactly scream romance.
After the table is as good as I can make it with my limited resources, I go to find her, surprised that she’s legitimately working. I really thought I’d find her much the same way I did Barrett nearly a week ago. She’s so tired all the time, I figured she’d take the opportunity to grab a nap or something.
“You’re not sleeping,” I say, rushing out a quick apology when she jolts. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What kind of people are you used to hiring that you’d think I’d be sleeping?” she asks, pausing to look at me with a handful of receipts.
I know better than to tell a woman that she always looks tired, so I shrug instead.
I reconsider when she drops her eyes and gets back to work. I love it when she’s fired up and pissed. I don’t think I’ll do it now just to get turned on because, honestly, I can just watch her work and that happens naturally.
“Did you need something?” she asks after a few minutes of me standing in the doorway.
“Lunch,” I tell her, wondering if I’m going to get a little of that fiery attitude of hers when she looks up from her work to glare at me.
“I’m not here to cater to you, Walker.”
“No,” I rush out. “I brought the two of us lunch. Join me?”
Instead of looking the least amount impressed, she just continues to stare at me.
“Have you eaten already?”
“I haven’t,” she says after a long pause.
I hold my hand out to her. “Join me?”
She places the paperwork in her hands back on the desk. Although she walks toward me, she doesn’t lift her hand to put it in mine. I drop mine and then walk back out into the bar, beginning to feel a little awkward. I feel like I’m being put on the spot, and I grow more self-conscious with every step we take.
“What is all this about?” she asks when she sees the lunch spread on the table.
“It’s a date,” I say before I lose the courage.
I’ve seen this woman completely naked. I’ve had the privilege of putting my mouth on nearly every inch of her skin, but this makes me nervous.
“Walker,” she says on an exasperated sigh that’s loud enough to almost hurt my feelings. “I don’t date.”
“Weird,” I tell her as I press my palm to her back and urge her to take a seat at the table.
“How is that weird?”
“Because we’re dating.”
She huffs a laugh as if I’ve told a joke, but she draws it short when I frown at her. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m very serious, Claire.”
“We slept together a couple of times. We aren’t dating.”
“It doesn’t work that way with me. Please eat,” I say, pointing to the BLT and chips on her plate.
She looks from the plate of food back to me, but she doesn’t argue about the sandwich before picking up half of it and taking a bite.
She stares, or should I say glares, at me the entire time she chews.
“Why do you think we’re dating?”
“I want to get to know you.”
“Why?” She asks in a way that makes me think she’s honestly curious about my answer because she can’t imagine anyone wanting to know her better.
“I get the feeling you wouldn’t introduce me to your daughter unless you knew me better, and I think it would be rather difficult to date you if we can’t include her.”
“Larkin,” she says as if I’ve forgotten the child’s name.
I haven’t. How could I? She’s the most adorable kid I’ve ever seen even though she looks exactly like her father with her wild blonde curls and bright blue eyes.
“I’ve never introduced her to a man before.”
A small frown pulls the corners of her mouth down, and it makes me wonder if she’s thinking that Hux never even got to meet his daughter. I believe what she said about their relationship and, honestly, her words made more sense than the story she came to town with about their marriage. I doubt Claire ever lied and told people there was more to it than there was. She simply told people they were married, and since the folks around here all think that only people in love get married, the assumptions are on them, not Claire.
“We can go at your pace,” I assure her.
“I haven’t dated a man in years. The last guy who I even considered myself to be in a relationship with was before I hooked up with Hux.”
My jaw flexes at the mention of Hux and the time she spent with him. I can’t think of a single man walking this earth who deserves her, and I include myself in that as well. She’s an incredible woman, and I can only hope to be worthy of her time and attention one day.
“It’s not like I could date even if I wanted to. I can only imagine what Nora would have to say about it,” she says before taking another bite of her sandwich.
I have to wonder if it’s been hard for her not having any form of companionship since coming to town. She was expected to be the grieving widow since no one knew the real truth behind her relationship with Hux. Guilt for what I shared with Barrett earlier in the week swims inside of me, and I have to put my sandwich right back down on my plate instead of taking a bite.
Despite how I feel about it, I don’t confess what I’ve done. This could go nowhere with her, and I’d still follow through with the plans I’ve made with Barrett. She doesn’t deserve to be burdened by debt she wasn’t responsible for. I wouldn’t want that problem to shift to the Kennedys either. They did lose their son after all, but, honestly, it’s more their responsibility than it is hers.
“I’m not going to introduce you to Larkin,” she says after taking a drink of her soda.
“That’s going to be really weird in a couple years after we’ve been dating for so long.”
I watch the corner of her mouth twitch as if she wants to smile but is fighting it.
“We aren’t dating.”
“We are,” I assure her. “What do you want to know about me?”
“I already know everything I need to know,” she says.
“List it off,” I urge.
“Your sister, Harper, works in the fire department. Rumor around town is that she’s secretly dating the chief.”
“Hayes would never cross that line with my sister. What else do you know?”
“I know…” she says but her words trail off, her eyes darting away for a long moment before finding mine once again. “I know about Jason.”
My twin’s name feels like a bullet to the chest, and I wonder, not for the first time, how long I’m going to feel like I’ve lost a limb when he’s brought up.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”
“Thank you,” I say, my tone a little different than it was a few minutes ago. “I miss him every single day.”
“I imagine.”
A beat of silence forms between us, and I consider how Jason would react to seeing us here now. He somehow knew I had a thing for Claire from the moment she showed up in town. He also knew I could do nothing about it although I know he would’ve supported me if I had given in before he died.
“I don’t want to talk about Jason,” I whisper.
She nods her head in understanding and gives me a weak smile. But the levity of the conversation we were having is gone in the blink of an eye and I don’t know that we will ever be able to get it back.