Chapter 9
Wade settled into the red leather booth across from Claire.
The nearby clatter of silverware and rumble of laughter wrapped around him.
The air carried the rich aroma of coffee and the buttery scent of grilled cheese and syrup.
Everything about this place felt familiar—like stepping into a memory that still fit perfectly.
Especially when his name rang out from the people occupying half the booths.
“Wade Stone.” Kelly shook her head as she placed plates of food on their table. “I still can’t believe you have the nerve to come here.”
“And I still can’t believe you’re holding an unnecessary grudge.” He grinned, lighthearted over seeing someone he graduated with.
“I gotta warn you, darling.” Her auburn ponytail shaking with her tsking, Kelly lifted the empty tray toward Claire. “Don’t get your hopes up with Mr. Popular here.”
“I know.” Claire braced a cautious smile. “Seems you know Wade very well.”
Kelly raised her brows, then pointed to the black-and-white photos behind the counter.
“Well enough just to enjoy him on the poster.” Three were the diner’s founders, including Lupa the owner.
Three were movie stars who frequented the diner whenever they were in town.
Then two were Wade. One was a snapshot they’d displayed in every episode of Peak Protectors.
The other was a recent portrait. “Well, guys, do you need anything to drink besides water?”
Claire asked for milk. Wade was content with water for now. Kelly sauntered off.
“Besides the fact that you and Kelly had a thing—”
“We graduated the same year,” he cut off Claire.
“You dated?”
No sense in hiding anything. “First kiss. Ninth grade, but…” He shrugged when Claire shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing happened after that.”
“Wow.” She popped her knuckles, her gaze on her food. “Makes sense with all the strangers you kiss in your movies and don’t get attached to.”
“There’s nothing to be jealous about.” He’d only been curious about kisses and whatnot but wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship.
“Who says I’m jealous?” She rolled her eyes, forked her waffle, and left the fork planted in it.
She really was jealous. His chest swelled.
While he hadn’t dwelled on Albert’s letter, Albert had sometimes mentioned Claire’s crush for him throughout the years.
Maybe that’s why Wade kissed her back. He shook off the past and offered to pray for their food, something that had never been foreign to Claire unless things had changed in the last three years.
They ate in silence. Beyond the window, Toby snapped their photo. Novi had gone all out to arrange a wedding planner, a PA manager, and a photographer in case the paparazzi missed seeing Wade and Claire together.
“Besides you being popular, what else do I need to know?” Claire dabbed a napkin over her lips, her waffles half eaten and only one strawberry left in the bowl.
“Here I thought you knew everything about me.” He feigned heartache and poured more syrup over his pancakes.
“We don’t live in the same town, and people change.” She glanced at Toby. “It wouldn’t hurt to refresh my memory.”
“I see you still love strawberries.” He sliced through his pancake, not intending to mention her habit of popping her knuckles when nervous. She also had an eye for detail, an artist at heart while she loved a disorganized mess. “Have you snuck any cupcakes lately?”
Her hand covered her face. “Will you ever let me live that down?”
“Not sure how. It’s your name.” He easily associated her sweet and comforting personality with a cupcake.
Twice, he’d bumped into her scarfing down cupcakes while hiding.
One time was at her parents’ house when she’d only been in third grade.
The next time was at Wade’s childhood home when they’d had her family over during a Saturday brunch. “You still bake?”
“It’s been a while.” She squished her face. “You still drink chamomile-lavender tea before bed?”
He blinked. “How’d you know that?”
“Each time you stayed the night.” She rolled her eyes. “You brought your pillow and tea bags.”
Laughter escaped, and he leaned back. “I do. I like keeping some regimen.”
“It’s good. You’re still you, then.”
His chest expanded. “It’s nice you still have some traditions.”
“It’s hard to keep up with some things, you know?”
He nodded, understanding more than she realized. “Life pulls us in different directions.” He lowered the fork, and it clinked on his plate. “What about painting? You and your mom always had the kitchen counter lined with paint and easels standing in the room.”
She laughed, the sound a melody in the quiet diner. “Oh, that! I haven’t painted in ages. It was Mom’s hobby. I found it relaxing though, but since she passed…” Her gaze drifted out the window.
Such loss—losses. Within six years, she’d lost her mom, sister-in-law, and brother. He reached across the table and rested his hand on hers. “Maybe it’s time you get back to painting.” To reconnect somehow with her mom in remembrance. “I’m sure Bella would love to see her aunt’s paintings someday.”
Claire squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
Just then, Lupa appeared, his gray hair sticking out from beneath his chef's hat. “Well, Wade Stone!” He slapped a pen and a black-and-white photo from Fast Lane to Love in front of Wade. “Now that food is taken care of, I want to know if you’re still causing a ruckus with those car chases in the movies.”
Wade grinned and signed the poster. “Now that you mention it, I need to get another car-chase movie going. But while my forte has changed, I’m sure glad to see yours hasn’t. Thanks for maintaining the same pancake recipe all these years.”
“I remember well how you and your buddies frequented the diner—mostly in high school after skiing.” Lupa rubbed his big hands together. “There’s always hungry teenagers to feed.”
“Good, you’re still in business.”
Lupa winked at Claire. “You have a good one here.” He then patted Wade’s shoulder before heading back to the kitchen.
Wade rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for the interruption, but if you’re interested in painting, I can arrange it for this evening.” His sister-in-law Joy mostly used her studio for locals to sell their art on given weekends or gatherings for activity painting nights.
“I’d love that.” Claire beamed, forked her final strawberry, and pointed it at him. “But only if you join me.”
“It wouldn’t be a date without me there.” A broad grin stretched across his face as he texted Joy to check if her studio was available for the evening.
Claire popped the strawberry in her mouth, and he tried not to notice the pink juice it spread on her sweet lips. His phone bounced. Good, he needed the distraction. He swiped to the text message app.
Joy: You know you don’t have to ask. You’re family.
She’d added the code to get in.
He smiled, his heart pounding faster than usual. “It’s another date.” He lifted his phone in a mock toast. “We can draw strawberry waffles, late-night tea, and cupcakes.”
She laughed and raised her glass of milk to toast to his phone. “Too bad we can’t draw a whirlwind romance.”
“That’s what we have Toby for.”
Was he flirting? Whatever was between them, his heart stirred all sorts of emotions, and he couldn’t keep his gaze from her.
The smile curving up her lips and cheeks, the gleaming hair bouncing around her face, the glow in her eyes…
it all settled in his chest. This arrangement was for Bella, but maybe it was for him and Claire too—to reconcile their friendship.
Wade’s gaze lingered on Claire’s watercolor. The swirls seemed to mirror her calm focus. Her hand moved with precision, the brush gliding across the surface as if the painting were unfolding from her very soul. His curiosity piqued, he leaned over for a better view. “What are you painting?”
Whatever it was had a strawberry in it.
She pivoted, turned, and stood to block her canvas. Several inches taller, he could see the blue sky, but not much else. She shook her brush at him. “Nosy, aren’t we? I knew you were terrible at art, but I didn’t realize you’d resort to sabotage just to keep up.”
She looked adorable sassy. Unable to help it, he tugged her arm. “Let me guess. Strawberries?”
She rolled her eyes and squared her shoulders. “Wrong.”
“You leave me no choice.” He stepped closer, curled his hands around her waist, and nudged her aside.
“Not fair.” Breathless, she moved subtly, resisting, and he pivoted.
Soon, it felt like they were dancing, each step unplanned but in sync.
Her breath feathered over his cheek, warm and distracting.
His brain told him to move, but his every muscle refused the command when she leaned back into him.
Her body melted under his touch, and her protest faded into a silence that buzzed with unspoken possibilities.
Her gaze lifted to his, and the air between them thinned, charged with a pull he couldn’t ignore.
Her gaze slid to his lips, and he couldn’t remember his original plan.
His pulse quickened, and desire flooded him.
Her pursed lips beckoned, and he fought the memory of the berry flavor he’d tasted on them years ago.
Could he kiss her again? Where would that lead?
“I…” Her chest rose against his, and he felt his heart racing—or hers. “Art.” She shifted, and he dropped his grip. His cheeks aflame, he managed a smile when she moved aside. Still, her lingering warmth buzzed through his chest.
He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the intensity, his gaze falling to the canvas. A bowl stacked with fruit. “I knew strawberries were involved.” Was that his voice?
“It’s the only thing I know to draw,” she whispered, tugging at her apron.
He hadn’t needed an apron. His drawings were always simple cartoon-character sketches.
“I’ve seen your other paintings. What happened to yours and your mom’s art after your parents downsized and sold your childhood home?”