Chapter 14 #3
"Oh, I remember it vividly. We'd gone into this little pub.
None of the local crowd would have anything to do with us.
Everyone just stared, but no one said a word.
We threw darts for a while. Drank a few pints.
Then we ended up at this old English estate.
You know, the ivy-covered walls. The stone facade.
Anyway, it rained—we got drenched—then we ran inside and dried ourselves in front of a large fireplace.
Only the fireplace contained a large bank safe full of Christmas lights. "
"Christmas lights? In a safe? What do you think it means?" she asked coyly.
"It means you should take a drive with me. Tomorrow. Let’s pack a lunch and head out. See the countryside."
“But you don’t own a car.”
“Everything’s for sale in this town…or for rent at the very least.”
Claire hesitated, biting back a grin. “I don’t know. After the way you treated me with that snowball…”
“Snowball?” Jay asked, a curious glint in his eyes.
“Ah, yes, well, that was my dream.”
“I'm all ears. I want every sordid detail. I mean, if you can remember that far back," he teased, repeating her words.
“In my dream, I threw a snowball at you, and it exploded into a hundred tiny basketballs when it hit your face. You pretended that I’d hurt you, screaming out like Marcia Brady when she got pegged with that football.”
“Well, the irony is not lost on me. My NCAA bracket blew up after the first round, remember?”
“Anyway, when I ran to see if you were okay, you rubbed a huge snowball all over my face and in my hair. I couldn’t even breathe. And then…” She stopped, lost in the memory of the still-vivid dream.
“And then what? Don’t leave anything out.”
He inched a little closer, giving Claire his full attention. Her limbs went all tingly, anticipating the moment their lips would touch. As delicious as it would be, Claire loved the tension.
“You said you couldn’t feel your nose so I, uh, I rubbed mine against yours,” she said, a flush growing on her cheeks.
“Like this?”
Jay leaned in and gently brushed the tip of his nose back and forth across hers, turning Claire’s insides to something that resembled the bowl of oatmeal she’d had for breakfast. A warm and mushy feeling.
She pulled back. “Uh, yes… just like that.”.
“Then what happened?” he whispered, sliding a skosh more in her direction.
When he reached and touched the ends of her hair, Claire lost her train of thought, flustered by a dozen different emotions.
"Well, then we… I-I don't remember.”
“Come on…” he coaxed, his voice low and husky. “You remember. Just say it.”
"Then we kissed." Her gaze fell to his lips. Full lips. Jude Law level lips. Perfectly shaped and so kissable.
Jay clutched his chest in mock surprise. “You kissed me? But you didn’t even know me.”
“For the record, it was you who kissed me.”
“Oh?” His mouth curved into a slow grin. “You mean like this…”
She hadn't stopped his advance in her dream, and she wouldn’t stop it now. He leaned into her and his name fell from her mouth as a whisper, just before she felt those full lips on hers. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before he pulled away and their eyes connected.
"I thought I'd never see you again, Claire,” he said, his fingers returning to her hair.
"I shouldn't have left the way I did. It was rude and—"
"No, you had every reason to do what you did. You thought I was married. I saw your ring and thought you were too, yet it didn’t stop me from flirting with you. Doesn't say much for my character, does it?”
“I’m not married and I never have been.” Claire glanced down her left hand for a moment.
"If I'd only been able to convince that bartender at the resort to tell me your last name.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait. You asked the bartender for my last name?”
“And your room number, and how you settled up your tab—cash, check, or charge.”
“You did not!” She gave his shoulder a playful punch.
“Short of getting down on my knees and begging, I tried every angle,” Jay said. “That bartender wouldn’t budge.”
"Cinderella didn't have a last name, yet the prince found her."
"Yes, well, you didn't even give me the courtesy of leaving a glass slipper now did you?" he countered.
Claire grinned. "You were looking for a glass slipper? Well, there's your problem. My slippers are pink. And fuzzy. With little whiskers and pointy ears."
She stood on the brink, about to lose herself in all things Jay.
Seconds later, his mouth claimed hers and Claire’s insides flamed.
Bodies pressed against one another, they fell back on the sexy, green sofa, picking up right where they left off earlier.
His lips left a trail of soft kisses along her neck.
Her fingers moved through his hair. She’d just turned her head to grant him greater access when he suddenly stopped.
He sat up and scrambled back away from her.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"What's wrong?" she asked, confused.
"It's not you. I-I just need a moment. Will you excuse me?"
He raked the collection of coins he’d dropped on the coffee table into his hand before disappearing down the hall.
Claire sat frozen, unsure of what happened and how best to proceed.
After a sixty-second reevaluation, she decided on the only plan that made sense.
She stood and adjusted her dress into its proper position then brushed her mussed hair back into place.
She'd just secured the belt of her trench coat around her waist when Jay re-entered the living room.
She didn't give him a chance to explain, but looked at him with the friendliest, most understanding smile she could form.
"I've had a wonderful time, but I think it's best we call it a night,” she said.
“Listen, I’m really sorry,” he began. “It’s just that I—”
She held up a hand, halting his apology. "Hey, there's no need for that. Dinner was amazing. Your place is fantastic. But maybe this wasn't… well, what I mean is… I think it would be better if I took a cab back to the hotel."
"It’s really late. I’m riding with you,” he insisted, pulling on his coat.
Their wait for an Uber lasted less than a minute. Always the gentleman, Jay opened the door for her. This ride differed, with no hand holding and no conversation. Claire gripped the handles of the Silver Screen bags tightly as she ran over the scene on the green velvet sofa, completely baffled.
I guess a drive out to the country tomorrow is off the table now.
When they arrived at her hotel, he followed her out of the car.
She took several steps toward the main door before his hand touched her shoulder, forcing her to stop.
Her heart beat a furious cadence. Preparing for the worst, she turned back to face him, having no idea how this goodnight scene might play out.
"Thank you again for a lovely evening and for the gifts,” she said.
"Claire, I…” He shook his head, struggling for the right words.
She took his hand, silencing anything that might further contribute to the most grandiose awkward moment of her life.
"Goodnight, Mr. Avery," she said softly.
She gave his hand a quick squeeze, then disappeared inside the hotel.
As much as she wanted to, she didn’t look back.
Just steps inside her suite, she let go—throwing her new coat and purse on the floor in frustration. Seconds later, her shoes and dress landed beside it. Her chest heaved, and she lost it. Tears fell as she paced back and forth, still mentally dissecting what had just happened.
Everything was fine… until it wasn’t. I couldn’t have said anything to upset him. We were kissing, not talking.
And it was incredible.
And I didn’t want to stop.
These and a thousand other thoughts followed her to bed. Lying in the dark room, she popped her knuckles. The sound echoed loudly in the quiet space, minus the ring finger on her left hand, which refused to pop. Well, if that’s not a sign…
Her thoughts turned from Jay to Calvin and the ring.
Tears returned—quiet, soft tears of reflection.
She tried to imagine what Calvin might be doing at that exact moment.
Then, she did the unthinkable. She scrolled through her contacts and stopped on his name.
She’d never deleted him from her phone. She hesitated for a few seconds then placed the call.
Her heart beat so loudly she could hear it in her ears.
“Hello?” a man answered.
He didn’t have a British accent. Claire’s heart caved. Lucy probably made him get a new number.
“M-May I speak to Calvin?” she asked, her voice quiet and unsure.
“Listen, I don’t know who this Calvin guy is, but this isn’t his number anymore! Stop fucking calling this number!”