21. Clara
Chapter twenty-one
Clara
C hristmas music is playing, my cozy robe is on, and a steaming mug of hot cocoa warms my hands. I slowly rock in the chair on my back deck in the quiet darkness. All perfect conditions for relaxation.
But I’ve never felt less relaxed in my life. And it’s all Clark Noel’s fault.
My mind was already overloaded with information leaving Sydney’s house today. Hearing more about Clark’s background, about all the traumatic elements that have added up to the man he is today . . . it made me want to hug Clark and punch some people simultaneously.
But then my mind tipped over the edge, watching Clark walk to our table. Davis and Syd obviously schemed the whole thing, but I’m not sure it went exactly according to plan. At least, I assume their plan didn’t end with Clark beelining it out of the bar like the building was on fire after dancing with me.
I don’t want to remember the strength of his hand on my waist or the sensation of his calloused fingers holding mine. I don’t want to remember the way the flecks of gold in his eyes crowded out the green the longer he held my gaze. I don’t want to remember the cold-plunge sensation washing over me when he dropped my hand mid-dance and ran away.
I don’t want to remember. But it’s all I can think about.
I sigh.
Slipping inside the sliding door, I lock it shut and take a seat at my writing desk. I have four different movie script files that I’ve created, only to stop a few pages in when I realize I hate them. I just can’t seem to find the right inspiration.
Perching my glasses on my nose, I’m reminded of Clark’s comment about me not wearing contacts. The thought of him peering that intently into my eyes makes me flush with warmth.
Clark’s frowning face fills my mind’s eye.
Opening a new document, I begin typing.