24. Clara
CLARA
Ishould be ashamed of myself. I’m like a teenager, giddy over some boy, my palms sweating, heart racing, skin prickling as I dish out lasagna for my kids.
I’m fully aware of Cole’s presence right there in front of me.
The weight of his unrelenting gaze is overwhelming but in the best kind of way that makes my belly clench with eager anticipation, like that feeling of being on a roller coaster as it reaches the crest of its very first peak.
After I finish serving, I take my seat, releasing the breath I’ve been holding.
My eyes meet Cole’s across the table while Billie drowns out the silence as she gushes over school, her new bestie, Brooklyn, and her teacher, Miss Darcy, who just so happens to be a friend of Cole’s.
Apparently this is what it’s like living in a small town where almost everyone knows everybody else.
“And we have two hamsters,” Billie says.
“You do?” Cole asks, genuinely interested as he cuts into his lasagna.
“Mm-hmm.” Billie nods. “One is named Francis and the other is named Silvia. And they’re”—a smirk curls my daughter’s lips as she looks about all devious, lowering her voice to a stage whisper and holding her hand up to the side of her mouth—“boyfriend and girlfriend.” Slapping a palm over her mouth, she giggles.
“Uh-oh.” Cole chuckles, his gaze sliding to me as he reaches for the salad bowl.
“So, how was the truck?” I ask, steering the topic of conversation away from boyfriends and girlfriends.
“So cool!” Tommy beams.
Cole grins. “I’ll get her down to Rick’s garage soon so he can check her over, but I think she’s all good.”
“Why is she a she?” Billie asks, her little forehead puckered with confusion.
“Who?” Cole asks, just as confused.
“Your truck,” she says. “You said she. Why is your truck a girl?”
“Oh, well.” Cole shrugs. “That’s a good question. I dunno. For some reason it’s just somethin’ I’ve always done. Referred to my vehicles as women.” His gaze flits to me yet again.
“Mommy says it’s rude to say she,” Billie says matter-of-factly.
I can’t help but smile. “I’m talking about calling an actual human woman she when you know her name,” I correct her.
“Oh.” Billie’s lips twist in thought.
“Your mama’s right. It is rude,” Cole says with a nod. “She don’t have a name so maybe she needs one.”
“Oh, can I choose?” Billie pleads, hands clasped beneath her chin as she bounces up and down in her spot.
“So long as it ain’t Curly.” Cole smirks causing Tommy to snort a laugh, and as I look between the two of them sitting there next to one another, chuckling between themselves, thick as thieves, my heart swells at just how close they’ve become.
Billie opens up easily, but Tom takes a long time to warm to someone.
The fact that he’s taken to Cole so quickly sure says something.
“Curly’s my doggy’s name,” Billie says, holding up the fluffy dog as if we’d forgotten. “I wanna name her…” She looks up to the sky in thought, tapping a finger against her dimpled chin. “Rose.”
“That’s a nice name, Bil,” I say, but when I glance across at Cole, I’m stilted by just how startled he suddenly appears.
As if he’s just realized himself, Cole pulls back a touch, wiping his mouth with his napkin and clearing his throat. “I like Rose,” he says sincerely, “but actually, that was my mama’s name.”
I suck in a soft gasp when his eyes meet mine, my skin flushing with the heat of guilt. But before I can apologize for Billie, Cole continues.
“And I don’t think I can call my truck Rose because if she breaks down again and I get angry, I don’t wanna accidentally cuss out my mama.” He winks at Billie, offering a wry grin.
“Where’s your mama?” Billie asks so innocently I don’t even have it in me to chastise her for being nosey.
Cole’s smile turns sad. “My mama’s in heaven.”
“Oh…” Billie looks down at her plate, her small shoulders shrinking a little.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy says softly.
“How about Dolly?” Billie suddenly says, a big hopeful smile on her face.
“Dolly?” Cole quirks a brow looking more than a little uncertain.
She nods excitedly. “Dolly Pardon.”
“Parton,” I correct.
“Dolly Parton.” Billie nods again.
Cole takes a moment to look off into the distance as if in serious deliberation. “You know what? Mama did love Dolly Parton. So, I think Dolly’s a great name.”
Billie beams clearly proud of herself.
“I like Dolly,” I tell her softly.
“You know what else my mama liked?” Cole continues.
Billie shakes her head.
With a soft chuckle, he reaches across to the small glass vase in the center of the table, where I placed the sprig of redbud blooms Billie picked up off the ground earlier.
“Mama loved the redbuds.” He smiles, holding up the vase and grazing the small dark pink buds with his fingertip.
“I love them, too!” Billie beams.
“You do?” Cole lifts a brow.
Billie nods. “So does Mommy.”
Cole glances at me sniffing a laugh. “Hell, I was gonna cut ’em down.”
Billie and I gasp in sync, personally affronted by his words.
“But, since y’all like ’em, and Mama’d have my hide if she knew I cut down a redbud bush, I guess I can let ’em stay.” He winks at me, smiling across at Billie, and I swear my heart skips a beat.
Cole stayed after dinner and we played one of the games Mama Joy gave us—Hungry, Hungry Hippos.
The kids were up way past their bedtime for a school night, so after her shower, Billie was the floppy kind of exhausted as I helped her change into her pajamas, and she fell asleep almost as soon as her little head hit the pillow.
Now, as I walk out, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Cole standing at the kitchen sink, broad back to me, bubbles up to his elbows as he washes the dishes.
“Oh my god!” I rush over, grabbing a dish towel on my way to take over. “Here, let me—”
“Don’t even think about it,” he grits out, turning to me with a serious look in his eyes that isn’t threatening, but is full of the kind of warning that sends delicious tingles down my spine.
Suddenly, his hands are on my hips, soaking the thin material of my dress and causing me to suck in a gasp at just how close we are.
“Where I come from,” he says lowly, his tone dropping a few octaves, “the cook don’t clean.”
Between the look in his eyes, the searing heat of his hands gripping my hips, and his intoxicating scent, I’m practically panting, suddenly breathless, my head a fizzy, foggy mess.
Before I can even begin to fathom what’s going on, all the air in my lungs is ripped from me when I’m lifted off my feet in one fell swoop.
Cole picks me up and deposits me onto the kitchen counter, his hands remaining on my waist as he stands there, now eye-to-eye, staring at me in a way that feels almost invasive, like he can see straight through to my insides.
His eyes dip to my lips, and mine follow suit, landing on his mouth and my god, I can’t remember a time I’ve ever needed to be kissed, but right now it feels like if he doesn’t kiss me, I might actually cease to exist.
“Go on a date with me,” Cole rasps, his gaze lifting from my lips and bouncing between my eyes, searching for what, I don’t know.
“A… d-date?” I whisper.
He nods, lifting a hand to gently cup my cheek, lips curling up at the corners. “I asked Tommy. He said yes.”
My eyes flare. “You… you asked Tommy?”
He nods, a grin splitting his face. “I sure did.”
I feel my cheeks heat and I’m forced to avert my gaze, lest he see just how much he affects me. I get a feeling he knows, but I don’t want to see the proof in his eyes.
Tucking a finger beneath my chin, Cole tilts me back up, forcing my eyes back to his. “Say yes, Clara,” he whispers, his grin falling to a slightly less assured ghost of a smile. “Please?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat, looking between his eyes, finding a flicker of unexpected fragility in his gaze that does something to my heart. And then, with a shuddered exhale, I press my lips together to try hide my nervous smile. Closing my eyes, I nod.
“Look at me, darlin’.”
Darlin’. The word warms me through to my center and I open my suddenly heavy-lidded eyes, meeting his stare, his dimples making another appearance as his smile grows.
“Yeah?” He arches a brow.
I nod again, not bothering to hide my own smile. “Yes.”
Releasing a sigh mixed with a stifled groan, Cole sags a little, like he’s relieved, like he was genuinely worried I might say no. Leaning closer he rests his forehead against mine, those piercing blue eyes so close, and so full of something I can’t quite decipher.
“You really asked Tommy?” I find myself asking, trying to imagine how that came about.
Cole sniffs a laugh. “I’m a southern gentleman, baby. What can I say?”
I giggle, closing my eyes and basking in his closeness, in the way his scent wraps around me, and as I sit here enveloped in everything Cole, I can’t remember a time I’ve ever felt my heart race the way it’s racing right now.