Chapter 3
Can I get you something to drink?” I ask as I put a large slice of lasagna on a plate. I didn’t expect to see Clark tonight, but after a long day, he’s welcome company. “I have beer and wine. Which do you prefer?”
“Beer sounds great, thanks.” Clark watches me, and desire crackles inside me. I’m suddenly intensely aware of Clark watching every movement I make.
“Here you go,” I respond, smiling as he spreads the cloth napkin on his lap and digs in.
He looks at me with such gratitude that I feel like I’m finally seeing beyond his gruff exterior. He’s never been rude, but he’s never had a quick smile when we’ve talked.
“Betty, this is honestly the best lasagna I’ve ever had.” Clark takes another bite and a swig of his beer. You’d think the man hadn’t eaten all month.
“Thank you, Clark. I”m glad you like it.” I take a sip of my wine. “Do you want seconds?”
“Oh, no thanks. It’s tempting, though. I might go into a coma if I have any more,” he chuckles.
“Thanks. It was my grandmother’s recipe. I loved cooking with her.”
“Is family important to you?” Clark looks at me as he wipes his mouth and pushes his plate back. He leans back in his chair and puts his hands on his stomach. Pride wells up in me when I see him looking sated and happy like that.
“It is. My parents are still in the Portland area. I miss them. We talk every week.” I nod at a picture of us on a side table from a vacation on the Oregon coast. I remember falling into bed exhausted every night because my dad and I ran up and down the beach, flying kites all day.
“If you’re close to your family, how come you moved to Jefferson?”
I look from the picture back to Clark. “I wanted to live in a small town. We’re not far from Oregon, so it’s easy for us to visit. I also wanted to move somewhere that wasn’t insanely expensive to buy property. I want a house and property of my own, but prices are insane in Portland, and I didn’t think I’d ever afford anything there.”
Clark’s eyes widen in surprise, and he looks at me with a new look in his dark eyes. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” I smile. “I want to build a legacy for the children I want to have. I’m guessing you know what I mean.”
He nods. “If you want advice, you can pick my brain.”
“Thank you! I’ll certainly take you up on that. I’m still working on saving a down payment for a house of my own. There’s a promotion I’m up for at work, which would sure help a lot with that.”
A slow smile appears on Clark’s face, making me sit up straighter. He’s clearly impressed, and until this moment, his admiration isn’t something I knew I needed.
“You’re different from the women I’ve met before, Betty. I respect that.” Clark now has a full smile on his face, and he takes another drink from his beer. My uncertainty about his comment must be written all over my face. “What I mean,” he says, putting his beer back on the table, “is that the women I meet all seem to aspire to do nothing other than pop out babies and live off their man.”
“What’s wrong with wanting to be a mom?” I ask, my hackles rising. I want a family and a career, but I have plenty of friends who want to be a stay-at-home mom.
Clark raises his hands. “I apologize if that came out wrong. There’s nothing wrong with women who want to be moms – nothing at all. What I mean is that I meet a lot of women who see me as someone with a good job and who owns property, and they get dollar signs in their eyes like I’m their ticket to an easy, luxurious life.”
The flare of my temper cools as I listen to Clark. “Sure. I’ve met women like that. Heck, I work with a woman like that. Everyone knows she’ll never work a regular job again once she’s married. But,” I say, pushing my plate away. “That’s not me. I want a family and a career.”
“And you want to build security for your future children. I admire that, Betty. A lot.”
“Thank you,” I say, giving him a small smile. Despite my attraction for him, I’m a little wary that he sees most women as gold diggers.
“Let me help you with these plates,” Clark offers as we stand from the table.
“Thank you,” I reply, stacking our empty dishes before passing them to him.
We move in comfortable sync as we carry everything to the kitchen. It’s hard not to stare at him as his muscles flex under his shirt. An overwhelming urge rises in me, telling me to drop everything, pull him into bed, and feel those muscles for myself.
“Betty, your cooking was absolutely delicious,” he says, snapping me out of my lusty haze. “It”s been a while since I”ve had a home-cooked meal like that.”
“Thank you, Clark. It was my pleasure,” I respond, warmth spreading through me at his praise.
“Oh, before I forget.” Clark puts the lasagna dish on the counter and turns to me. “Reason I came over. My buddy Leo came over today. We need to dry the closet out as much as possible. So leave your heat up high and point a fan at the closet. We’ll do that for a few days, then I’ll re-hang the plastic sheeting. The sheeting is a protective measure in case any mold has started inside the wall. We won’t know until we take the wall apart, but I want your things to be protected.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Thanks for the update. What happens when the wall is worked on?”
“Well, depending on what they find, it could be an easy fix. If there’s a lot of damage, I’ll pay for you to stay somewhere while they do the work. It won’t be healthy for you to sleep in the middle of that.”
Maybe I could stay with him?Then I remind myself that I need to stop with these fantasies about Clark. He’s my landlord, not a date.
“Okay. Just keep me posted.”
“Will do. They should be back in a few days. Ideally, they’d be here tomorrow, but they’re slammed because of these storms.”
“That’s understandable when—” I’m cut off as the lights suddenly flicker.
“Must be a power surge,” Clark says, glancing up at the ceiling as lightning zigzags outside.
The room snaps into darkness, and a boom of thunder explodes outside a few seconds later.
“Clark!” I cry out, startled by the sudden darkness.
His strong arms encircle me instantly, pulling me against his solid chest. His breath warms my ear as he whispers, “It”s okay, Betty. You”re safe. Shhh.”
My heart hammers in my chest. Even though my fear of lightning is real, being in Clark’s arms – one of his hands rubbing my back – erases most of my fright. A sigh escapes my mouth as I lean in and relax into his arms. Standing in the darkness, part of me doesn’t want the power to come back on because I don’t want this moment in his arms to end. A musky scent on his skin feeds the flame of desire I’ve felt all night. His shirt is freshly laundered, like he made the effort to put on a clean one before coming over here.
“Thank you,” I murmur, tilting my head up. “Clark...” My voice comes out as a shaky whisper. The darkness enables me to overcome the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing. With Clark’s arms wrapped around me, everything is a blur of wordless emotion, desire, and need.
“Betty...” Clark’s voice is raw and jagged, and his hot breath sears my skin. “I”ve wanted to do this all night.”
“Please,” I moan, lifting my face to his as he leans in.
I open my mouth, ready to taste him and give myself over to him. His strong hands move over my curves, pulling me tightly against him. My body is electric with desire, and it’s intoxicating. I want to give everything to Clark. I’ve never met a man who made me feel even a whisper of what Clark does. It’s like my body recognizes that Clark is the Right One. Saying no to him isn’t a possibility.
Just as our lips meet, the lights pop back on, and we blink rapidly as we adjust to the sudden light.
We look at each other in surprise and step back hastily. Clark looks at me intensely, and when he takes another step back, I can see that he feels like he made a mistake.
Because why would an experienced man like him be interested in a virgin like me?