Chapter Six
Claire had never taken the stairs in such a rush before. If she didn’t slow down, she’d fall and break her neck. Knowing Nick was just behind her, she did her best to channel some sort of poise, even though her heart was beating out of her chest.
Why was she freaking out? All she’d done was grab his hand and hold it for a few seconds. A friendly squeeze, nothing more.
Or so she’d tried to tell herself in the moment.
Because then Nick had stroked her hand and the full reality had hit her in the face.
She was attracted to him. Big time.
And yet, as she careened through her house, Arthur’s eyes watched her from numerous photos on the walls.
Aside from hugging her dad, her brother-in-law and the odd friend, she hadn’t touched a man since Arthur.
She could argue that it was one innocent little hand clutch, but her thoughts had been anything but innocent at the time.
At the time, she’d wanted to shove Nick up onto her bed, straddle him and ride that bad boy until the cows came home.
From somewhere deep in her being, a man’s voice called to her. So…that guy, huh? Not exactly who I would have chosen for you, Claire Bear.
Arthur’s voice.
No. It wasn’t Arthur at all.
Her psyche was just messing with her, making her feel guilty. Arthur would never have said that. He never would have wanted her to be alone the rest of her life, if that wasn’t what she wanted.
What did she want? She hadn’t dared to ask herself that question in ages.
The food delivery guy rang the door again. No time for philosophical discussions now.
She arrived at the door and tucked her hair behind her ear, although she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if the delivery man had interrupted a full-on naked grope.
Nick stood a few feet behind her, but the air was charged. Even though she’d noticed he was careful to maintain a distance, it didn’t really matter. She felt him behind her. His energy had changed something inside the house, bringing with it a whole lot of confusion and a strange yearning.
Claire, do you even hear yourself? This is so ridiculous.
She whipped open the door. Joe Moretti, owner of the local diner, had been personally delivering many of Claire’s orders for the past three years, rather than sending one of his employees, and tonight was no different.
Joe had been friendly with Arthur, and Claire knew for a fact he liked to look in on her, as a favor to his buddy.
He also asked his wife to throw in extra fries or onion rings here and there.
As a result, Joe knew her regular order.
As she opened the door, he held out the bag of food.
“Claire, you doubled your order! Someone’s hungry. ”
Nick stepped up behind her.
Joe’s mouth fell open, but he recovered quickly. “Oh! I see. I, uh…”
“Hi, Joe.” Claire took the bag, set it down, and looked on the hall table for her wallet. “This is Nick. A friend.”
Nick held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Joe pumped his hand and frowned. Claire knew he was probably torn between cheering her on and warning Nick not to mess with his friend’s girl. “Uh, nice to meet you too.”
“Let me pay,” said Nick.
Claire held up her hand. “No, my treat. I insist.” She handed Joe the money, making sure to include a nice tip. “Keep the change, Joe.”
“Yeah, sure, thanks, Claire.” Joe stood there for a second. “Do you…need anything else?”
“No, we’re good, thank you.”
“Okay. Well, Marie threw in an order of poutine. She knows you like it.”
“You guys always take good care of me. Tell Marie I said hello.”
Joe nodded. He gave Nick another once-over, and slowly headed down the porch steps. As he headed to his car, he kept looking over his shoulder.
Claire waved to let him know she was okay, and not being held against her will by some weirdo who craved burgers.
Was it any wonder? Three fucking years. It seemed like forever, but at other times, it was as if only a day had passed.
Maybe she should have made an attempt to be more social all this time. No wonder the neighbors still treated her with kid gloves. Shaking her head, she shut the door.
Nick grinned. “Your friend Joe was about to ask me to step outside.”
“It’s a close-knit community.” She laughed. “He and his wife have been protective of me. I think you gave him a shock.”
“Yeah, I fully expect to see his face in the window while we’re eating.”
They brought the food into her kitchen and she set out some plates and napkins for them. By the time they’d dug into the steaming hot food, she’d almost forgotten how Nick had stroked her hand, and how good it made her feel.
Almost.
“So,” she said as they ate, “are you excited about your new show? It’s going to be a big change, I’d imagine.”
“Yeah, but I’m ready for the change.” Nick’s eyes lit up.
“Handymen has been great, but when my brothers and I first started it, we knew nothing about the TV business. I feel like I’ve learned so much, and that it’s time to expand on that knowledge.
Handymen has a certain format, a certain vibe, and in some ways, you get constrained by that format.
I get to branch out more now.” He waved his arm around, as if the room represented where he would branch out.
“You’ll be in charge.”
“I will. It’s a little intimidating, but I’m pumped to try it,” he said, giving her a fist bump.
Nick was the sort of person who gesticulated a lot as he talked, which amused her to no end. He took a couple of quick bites, swallowed quickly and returned to the conversation, gesturing with animation. She liked watching him speak, liked the way his hair moved and how he smiled so easily.
His biceps and pecs were pretty darn easy to look at too.
It didn’t long for Claire to realize she’d stopped eating, and that she was hanging on his every word.
Somehow, she managed to drag her eyes away long enough to finish her plate and go back for a bite of the extra poutine.
She was glad Nick had some as well. He’d worked so hard.
Truth be told, he’d pretty much thrown that dresser together himself, even though he’d made it seem as if he was just helping her.
There was something very considerate about Nick Zorn. Even though he always seemed cocky and flirty on his show, he was more cautious in real life, full of kindness. Maybe he was just taking extra care around her. God only knew everyone else did.
Then again, maybe he really was the total package.
There had to be something wrong with him, aside from being squeamish around cats.
A small part of her, a part she’d kept hidden for so long, wanted to know more about him. Wanted to know everything.
She felt guilty for wanting anything connected to Nick.
She’d turned the radio on so they had background music while they ate. At one point, a Phil Collins song started playing. As Nick played with the last bits of food on his plate, he whispered an excited, “Yes.” His head started bobbing to the music.
“You like Phil Collins?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s one of my percussion heroes. I wish I had his talent.”
“You play drums?”
“Michael and Eli and I…we have this band. There are a couple of dive bars that let us play the odd gig.”
“Let you play? I’d imagine they’re only too happy to host the Handymen brothers. You must be good.”
“Tolerable, I guess.” He shrugged. However, as Phil Collins launched into one of his iconic drum solos, Nick played along on imaginary drumsticks, without missing even a beat. He might only be air drumming, but Claire could see he knew how to handle the instrument.
“I’m impressed. If you guys have a gig coming up, I’d love to check it out.”
His face darkened and he dropped the imaginary drumsticks. “We’re not playing right now.”
“Oh. You’re probably too busy, what with the new show starting up.”
“Something like that.” He looked toward the kitchen window, his gaze unfocused.
Claire waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed lost in his thoughts. If it had been anyone else, if it had been Arthur, she would have been quick to ask if something was wrong. But this was Nick Zorn, and at the end of the day, she wasn’t sure she had the right to pry.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I remember reading in your file that you studied photography. Had you been doing that for a living when Arthur passed?”
She fought the sucker punch to her gut. “You saw that, huh?”
He nodded.
“Well, I had been doing some photography, but I didn’t really have a chance to pursue it like I would have wanted to.”
“It sounds like there’s more to that story.”
“You really want to hear it?”
“Only if you want to tell it.” He rested leaned on the table, arms crossed. This time, he seemed to be hanging on her every word.
“I met Arthur through my photography. He found my number and asked me to come out here to take some photos of the place. We started dating. His parents had run Haven for decades, but Arthur inherited it from them after they died. Having grown up here, he really didn’t want to sell the place.
Besides, he’d grown up around cats all his life.
So, he decided to keep it and make a go of it.
When I married him, I pretty much knew my life would be full of the fuzzy creatures.
I’ve always been an animal lover too, so I was excited to help him in the family business. ”
“But your photography?”
“It sort of got pushed to the side. The sanctuary demands a lot of time. I had to make a choice. Arthur never pushed me to make that decision, though. I made it willingly.”
“And now?”
“Now…let’s just say there are moments when I feel like I’m in over my head.
I didn’t go to school for business. I graduated from Ryerson University’s Images Arts program, with photography as my specialty.
It didn’t exactly prepare me to run a cat sanctuary.
I try to keep things going, and my volunteers help so much, but it would be fair to say I struggle here and there. ”
“How did Arthur die?”