27
“I only need a few things. You can wait in the car.”
“Yeah, I’ll just send you across a dark parking lot twice and let you load all the groceries.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself in a parking lot.”
“What would you do if some guy grabbed you and tried to shove you in a windowless van?” he asked.
“Ask him politely to leave me alone,” she answered flippantly.
Knowing the Colonel, Clara probably had a Saturday night special in her purse. “I don’t want to know,” he said, unbuckling and opening his door.
“Don’t want to know what?”
“Anything.”
She opened her stupid umbrella and got out of the car. It was barely sprinkling now, but perhaps she was made of cotton candy.
He was momentarily sidetracked by the thought.
“I’m going to load the groceries myself either way,” she said, taking his good arm and leading him towards the entrance.
There was something surreal about walking arm-in-arm with her in the dark, drizzly night, sharing an umbrella. Her fancy shoes made slight scraping sounds on the asphalt and her skirt swished against his pant leg. “No, you’re going to get in the car and turn my seat warmer on.”
“If you can’t even drive, how can you return a shopping cart?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
She gave him a quizzical look as she pulled a shopping cart free from the others in the carousel.
“Well, we made it,” she remarked as they entered the brightly lit little store. The part left unsaid being, And as I predicted, no one got shoved into a windowless van.
He didn’t totally buy her careless act; her father had always impressed on all of them that certain safety protocols must be observed in what was basically a border town. Jesse just hoped that Clara wouldn’t be cocky enough to let her guard down at the wrong moment.
It felt oddly cozy to peruse the produce section together. She considered the display of cut flowers with a thoughtful frown, giving him ample opportunity to ponder whether he liked her flowery, ankle-length skirt.
He did.
Eventually she selected a few bouquets and laid them in the cart beside her damp umbrella. “Oh, hey, Asher,” she said, when her young cousin appeared around the corner. “Saw your truck outside. Got your new tires on.”
Okay. Maybe she was more vigilant than she appeared.
Asher, who explained that he was on an errand from his own mother, waxed poetic about the tires he had saved up for until Clara gently redirected him. He denied all knowledge of his sisters’ experiences at the talent show in Dallas, but was able to say that they were expected home on Thursday.
“Isn’t he cute?” Clara asked Jesse when they had parted ways. “He’s so obsessed with his old truck.”
“Cute,” he echoed dutifully.
“Well, well,” an old woman said, leering at them. “If it isn’t the two lovebirds everyone’s talking about.”
Jesse looked doubtfully at Clara, but she took it in stride, saying good-naturedly, “Hi, Miss Sherry. Jesse, Miss Sherry’s the—”
“Postmistress. I remember.”
“Impressive recall,” she praised him. “Jesse met your sister last week when we picked up some hay.”
“Mabel told me. You don’t look half as bad as I expected after your little tussle. DeWitt’s all bruised and swollen, and you just got a neat little sling. Looks good on ya, too. Classy. Mabel’ll be real glad to hear that. Took a shine to ya.”
“Our boy’s pretty good in a fight, isn’t he?” Clara agreed proudly. “DeWitt had a weight and reach advantage but he sure came off worse. It’s clear he’s had no training.”
“Real shame. All those fancy muscles, and no idea how to use ’em. But you know what they say: the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
“You’ve seen DeWitt?” Jesse asked her.
“Sure did. Saw him get booked. Rumor is, he can’t make bail. He’ll be locked up a few days, probably, waiting on a judge. So, romantic dinner tonight? Guess you owe him, huh?”
“Oh, yes,” Clara answered easily. “Candlelight and everything. I’m making his favorite: chilaquiles. We’re getting married next weekend.”
“You think I can’t tell when I’m being fed bad intel?” Miss Sherry said, with a barking laugh not unlike her sister’s.
“What were you doing down at the police station so late at night on Valentine’s Day?” Clara asked innocently. “I sure hope nothing’s wrong.”
“No, no, nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re buying an awful lot of ground beef. You must have something special planned, yourself.”
“Dear me, I better get goin’,” Miss Sherry exclaimed, with a look at her wristwatch, and hustled away.
“Buh-bye,” Clara called after her.
“Kind of weird, hearing the words ‘reach advantage’ come out of your mouth,” Jesse told her as they cruised down the baking aisle.
“Stop thinking so much about my mouth,” she advised kindly. “And don’t get any ideas; I do not know how to make chilaquiles.”
“I do like them,” he admitted.
“I know you do, and now the whole town knows, so maybe Mrs. Nunez or one of her friends will bring you some tomorrow.”
“They don’t travel well,” he said humbly. Better not to get his hopes up. “Why’d she rush off like that?”
“Miss Sherry’s sweet on the sheriff. Guess she didn’t want to talk about it.”
No doubt about it, her mood had definitely, if inexplicably, been improved by the kiss. She was back to her wily ways.
“If they get married, you can call her Miss Sheriff,” he suggested, and she gave him a severe look.
They made short work of Dr. Wilder’s shopping list, and as they waited in the checkout line Clara texted swiftly.
“Updating Birdie?” he guessed. There wasn’t much guesswork involved; this was the first chance she’d had to send a text since they’d kissed again.
“Yep.”
“She’s not going to blab it around, is she?”
“Birdie’s a vault.”
Uh, huh. “What’s she doing these days?” he asked, to see how well she could carry on two conversations at once.
“Med school.”
“Oh, yeah? Where at?”
“Houston. Graduating next spring.”
“Already?”
“She’s a year older than me.”
The texting hadn’t slowed. “What’s her interest?”
“Pediatrics.”
“Nice.”
“She’s a genius,” Clara added.
“You’re all geniuses,” he sighed.
She looked up in surprise. “Even me?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, you’re the evil kind.”
She smiled.
He jerked his head toward the cashier. It was their turn.
“Hiya, Clara,” the young woman drawled. “And this must be your friend the doctor.”
“Jesse Flores, Laura Nichols. Laura and I went to high school together.”
“Hey,” he said briefly.
“Well, hey yourself,” Laura returned coyly, rapidly swiping groceries without looking down at them. “Y’all dating?”
“Oh, no, he’s available,” Clara said cheerfully. Then she looked sympathetic. “Oh, you know what, though? He doesn’t date repeat felons. Bummer.”
Okay, there might be some bad blood there.
“Must not date spoiled little rich girls, either,” Laura said with a tinkly laugh. “You want a plastic bag?”
“Yes, please. I don’t have mine with me.”
“Thirty-seven even.”
Clara tapped her debit card on the little doohickey. “Don’t need a receipt. Take care of yourself, Laura. Stay out of trouble.”
“Y’all have the night you deserve.”
They paused outside the sliding doors so Clara could return the cart. When he lifted the groceries out of the basket, she made no objection. “What was all that about?” he asked.
She opened her umbrella again. “She was one of my best friends until she made out with my prom date. At prom.”
“Oh, yeah? Who was he?”
“Joe Del Amo. Pair of skanks deserved each other.”
“You have been on some bad dates.”
“Right? It was humiliating!”
“What were her felony charges?”
“ Drogas . What else? She claims to be clean now, if you want to shoot your shot.”
He may not understand what made Clara tick, but he knew enough about women to let that one go by. “Love when you whip out the Spanish.”
“How’s my accent?”
“Meh.”
She laughed—confident.
He put the groceries into the trunk while she got into the car, and before he closed the hatch stood for a moment in the cold, misty dark imagining that parallel universe where he and Clara were eating chilaquiles by candlelight. The grass was always greener in a parallel universe, he reminded himself. But he knew just how her warm brown eyes would look across the table. He could see her smiling at him. He could smell the dang chilaquiles.
“Think maybe I do have a concussion,” he said as he got into the car.
“I’m tellin’ ya,” she replied supportively.