19
On Monday, which was Valentine’s Day, he was surprised to see Clara in blue jeans for the first time. A flattering trouser, dark wash, high in the waist and flared in the leg—straight out of the 70s, and her Farrah Fawcett hair and brown leather platforms concurred. Her cropped sweater had a big pink heart stitched on it.
“Adorable,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“I mean, retro,” he amended.
“I knew what you meant,” Clara said.
Which was interesting, because he didn’t even know what he meant.
“Valentine’s Day has never been cuter!” Yoli declared when she came in.
“Thanks, Yoli.”
“Girl, your legs are a mile long! Let me see those shoes!”
Clara laughed, but good-naturedly lifted a foot and pulled her pant leg up to reveal a knee-high boot with a five- or six-inch heel. “These were my mom’s thirty years ago.”
“Dr. Wilder had style! That’s where you get it. Are they comfortable?”
“Yes, they’re very comfortable. And warm, too.” She stood up as she spoke, and Jesse blinked to find himself at eye level with her. She smiled.
And she smelled good, so he said carelessly, “Weird. Is there coffee?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Thanks.” He stopped by Dr. Wilder’s office on his way to the kitchen to exchange his jacket for his white coat.
Yoli joined him at the coffeemaker and grabbed a mug while he poured his. “You should ask her out!” she whispered. “She doesn’t have a Valentine yet.”
“I don’t do Valentine’s Day,” he reminded her.
She frowned. “Okay, party pooper. Have it your way.”
There was a knock at the back door. Jesse walked over, coffee in hand, and threw back the dead bolt.
“Hey, Colonel. Come on in.”
“Thanks,” Clara’s father said, entering with a heart-shaped red box in one hand and a pie in the other. “My wife asked me to pick up this pie for all of you. It’s Oreo.”
“Ooh, Oreo, my favorite,” Yoli said appreciatively. “I’ll take that off your hands.”
“Nice. Thanks,” Jesse added.
“My daughter around?”
“I’m here,” Clara said eagerly, coming in. “Hey, Dad! Is that for me?”
“You know it,” he answered, handing her the box of candy. “Pound of See’s dark. Happy Valentine’s Day, princess.”
She beamed at him, hugged and kissed him, and offered him coffee.
“No, I can’t stay. You’re going out tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, with Yoli. Why? You want some privacy?”
“Yes,” he said seriously. “Your mother doesn’t want to go out, so we’re celebrating at home.”
“Gross,” Clara said with a grin.
“You can stay with me,” Yoli offered. “We never got to have our movie night last weekend anyway.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“Good, thanks.” The Colonel’s dark gaze moved to Jesse.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find something to do,” he said.
“Just until eleven or so.”
“No problem.”
He turned back to his daughter. “Seen DeWitt Petty lately?”
“He was here when I got to work this morning, sitting on the porch steps. He asked me if I was free tonight.”
The Colonel’s eyes were laser-focused on her. “What did you tell him?”
“Well, I didn’t want him looking for me tonight,” she said, untying the big bow around her box of chocolates. “So I said I was going to Fort Stockton with you.”
He nodded slowly. “Good. How’d he take it?”
“He seemed fine with it. Told me to have fun.”
“All right. Let me know if you see him again.”
“Okay.”
The Colonel said good-bye, made momentary eye contact with Jesse—one of those ten-minute conversations packed into a glance—and let himself out.
Well, it looked like Jesse’d been assigned to Clara’s security detail for the evening. The best laid plans of mice and men often went awry, and his were no exception. He tried to feel annoyed about it, but instead he was getting…satisfaction? Anticipation?
Col. Wilder himself was the one who had impressed on Jesse that anything worth doing was worth doing well, so his conscience was clear when he pulled a red rose from the vase on the counter, shook off a few drops of water, and faced the adorable woman in the heart sweater.
“Will you be my Valentine?”