Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Mark turned to face him. “This doesn’t concern you,” he said coldly.
Clark remained calm. “If it involves Aurora, it concerns me.”
Mark sneered. “Do you even know anything about her?”
“Mark, stop it,” I demanded, stepping between them.
He ignored me, glaring at Clark. “People like you think you can waltz in and?—”
Clark’s eyes narrowed. “I’d watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” Mark challenged. “You’ll cause a scene? Go ahead.”
“Both of you, please?—”
But Mark pressed on. “You’re nothing but a low-life thug. You don’t belong here.”
In a flash, Clark’s fist connected with Mark’s jaw. Mark stumbled back, shock contorting his features.
“Clark!” I exclaimed, grabbing his arm.
Mark straightened, wiping blood from his mouth. “You’ll regret that,” he hissed.
“Consider that a warning,” Clark replied. “Disrespect her again, and it’ll be worse.”
Mark glared at me. “I can’t believe you’d choose him over me.”
“Mark, you need to leave,” I said firmly.
He shook his head before storming out, the door slamming behind him.
I released a shaky breath. “That escalated quickly,” I murmured.
Clark looked at me. “Are you okay?”
“I should ask you that,” I replied.
He shrugged. “I’m fine. He had it coming.”
“Maybe, but now there’ll be questions,” I said, glancing toward the dining room.
As if on cue, my mother appeared, eyes wide. “What happened? We heard a noise.”
I forced a smile. “Everything’s fine, Mom. Mark had to leave unexpectedly.”
She looked between us. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Clark answered smoothly. “Just a misunderstanding.”
She nodded slowly. “Well, if you’re sure...”
I touched her arm. “Really, it’s okay. Let’s get back to the others.”
Returning to the dining room, conversations resumed, though curious glances were cast our way. Clark stayed close by my side.
“Is everything alright?” Aunt Lydia whispered.
“Just fine,” I assured her.
Dinner continued, but the earlier warmth had cooled. As Clark squeezed my hand under the table, comfort washed over me.
“Well, despite Mark leaving, this has been one of the best Thanksgivings we’ve had,” Mom declared, clearing plates.
“I’ll do the dishes,” I offered.
“Me too,” Clark said.
In the kitchen, as we loaded the dishwasher, I turned to him. “Thank you for standing up for me.”
He met my gaze. “No one should talk to you like that.”
“I didn’t want things to get physical.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry if I made things harder.”
“You didn’t. Mark needed to hear the truth. And thank you for everything tonight.”
He leaned against the counter, a soft smile. “Happy to help.”
“Even if you did embarrass me with that story,” I teased.
“Admit it—you loved being called my Honey Bun.”
I laughed. “No... But you’re skilled at this.”
“At what? Dishes?”
“Fitting in. Making everyone feel at ease.”
He shrugged. “Just being myself.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted.
“Me too. Maybe we can make this more than just an act,” he suggested.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out, Clark?”
“Maybe I am,” he said with a twinkle.
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
“Fair enough,” he grinned.
As we rejoined the festivities, I let the feeling of being Clark’s girlfriend, for real, take over.
Clark sat beside me, his hand enveloping mine. His touch was reassuring, and I couldn’t help thinking how perfectly everything was going.
“Did you both grow up in Brevard?” Aunt Lydia asked.
“Yes, I attended Brevard High.”
Clark added, “And I went to Rosman High.”
“Small world,” Uncle Bruce remarked. “Yet you didn’t meet until Nashville?”
“It was fate,” Clark said, giving me a look.
I felt a flutter.
Mom approached. “Aurora, how long are you staying? I thought you flew in.”
“Clark rode his Harley here, and I flew because of work,” I explained.
“Ah, that makes sense,” she nodded. “But how did he get the motorcycle here so quickly?”
“He left a day earlier,” I improvised.
“Actually,” Clark said, “Aurora will be riding back to Nashville with me.”
I glanced at him in surprise. He winked.
Mom’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? So, you’ll be staying the night here, then? Or at your parents’ house?”
Before I could answer, Clark’s sister Kathy chimed in. “He doesn’t have a room at Mom’s anymore.”
“Is that so?” Mom looked at me. “What are your plans?”
“We were thinking of getting a place in town,” I said.
“On Thanksgiving night?” Mom asked. “Do you have reservations?”
“Not yet,” I admitted.
Mom shook her head. “Brevard is fully booked during Thanksgiving. With the leaves changing and the biking trails, tourists flock here.”
“She’s right,” Mary added.
“Well, that’s a pickle,” Clark said. “I’m sure your room is big enough for both of us, Honey Bun.”
“No,” I said immediately.
Mom’s face fell. “Aurora’s right. She has a twin bed. Maybe swap with one of the guest rooms?”
“Mom, no. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I’d rather stay at a hotel.”
“If you have trouble, my friend Haddy manages the inn in town. I’m sure she could find space.”
“That would be wonderful,” I replied.
“I’ll call her,” Mom offered.
“You don’t need to,” I started.
“It’s my treat.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins,” Clark said sincerely.
“Please, call me Sarah,” she smiled.
As Mom stepped aside to call, Clark leaned closer. “Looks like we’re sharing a room tonight,” he whispered.
There was a sudden warmth in my cheeks. “Very funny,” I murmured.
He chuckled. “Just keeping up appearances.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a bit,” he confessed.
Uncle Bruce joined us. “So, Clark, you’re a motorcycle enthusiast?”
“Absolutely,” Clark replied.
I watched them converse, amazed at how effortlessly Clark fit into my family.
Mom returned, pleased. “Good news! Haddy has a room at the inn.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Happy to help,” Mom replied. She paused. “It’s so delightful to see you happy again, Aurora.”
I felt guilty. “Thanks, Mom.”
Eventually, guests left. As Clark’s family headed out, he turned to me. “Ready to check into the inn?”
I nodded. “Yes, it’s been a long day.”
We gathered our things when Mom stopped us. “Wait a moment.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
She drew me close for a hug. “I’m glad you came home,” she whispered.
“I am too,” I replied.
She smiled at Clark. “Take good care of her.”
“I will,” he assured her.
Outside, we walked toward his motorcycle.
“Quite the day,” I remarked.
Clark looked at me. “I meant what I said earlier. Maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore.”
My heart skipped. “Clark...”
He held up a hand. “No pressure. Just think about it.”
I smiled. “Okay. I will.”
He handed me a helmet. “Ready for that ride?”
“Ready.”
As we rode toward the inn, I thought that maybe pretending had opened the door to something real after all.