21. Chapter 21 – Lucy
M y phone buzzed as I wrapped up work for the day, back aching from hunching over the final assembly on a wall sconce.
Clay: How do you feel about late-night picnics?
Lucy: Favorable, if you’ll keep me warm.
My heart melted in my chest. Goofy and sweet was a deadly combination.
Lucy: Can I bring anything?
Clay: Your patience.
I snorted. It was like he didn’t know me at all. But for him, I’d try. I put away my hand tools and gloves, stowing my safety glasses before shutting off the lights and passing through the door from the oversized garage that housed the studio and showroom and into my house.
Grabbing a quick snack and shower left me plenty of time to brood before Clay picked me up.
For a man who had been married and widowed, he sure threw around the word “marriage” a lot.
I’d been content alone for so long, it was strange to admit, even just to myself, that he was wearing me down.
Maybe it was desensitization, but thinking about being tied to a man forever wasn’t so scary. So long as that man was Clay.
I tugged on my heavy jacket over my jeans and sweater as Clay knocked on my front door.
He grinned down at me from my front step.
Looking good enough to eat. Freshly showered and shaved, dressed in a warm plaid flannel, jeans, and hiking boots.
He projected clean and outdoorsy in a wholesome, lumberjack kind of way that sent my pulse hammering.
“Hi, honey. Ready to go?”
“You sure I don’t need to bring anything?” I asked.
“Just me.” He said it smugly, extending his hand. “C’mon. We need to get settled before it gets much darker.”
The sun had set, but there was still a faint glow limning the horizon in the distance. Clay bundled me into his truck and drove to the outskirts of town.
“We’re not going to your place?” I asked.
“Nope. I’ve got something special planned.”
He seemed so pleased with himself that I didn’t press him for details. He drove with his left hand on the wheel, his right hand covering my knee. He did it easily, naturally, as if we’d been this close forever. It was a stark reminder of how much we’d changed. How much I’d changed.
I’d believed that part of me was shut down forever. But maybe it’d just been dormant. Waiting for the right man to trust again.
He pulled up to the American Camp entrance, gate closed and locked tight.
“Is this a security pit-stop?”
“Nope.” Clay smiled mysteriously, hopping out. He unlocked the gate, swinging it open, before driving his truck through and locking it behind us.
“We’re sneaking into the national park? Who are you, and what did you do with Clay Robertson? What would the other park rangers say if they knew we were sneaking in like this?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but if you’ve been paying attention, the park rangers are kind of a rebellious bunch.
” We parked, and he pulled a cooler and heavy blanket from the back seat.
He put on a headlamp and offered me a second one.
“Safety first.” We picked our way along the trail, hand in hand until it became too narrow to walk side by side.
Stars were peeping out, their glittery warmth above unable to take the edge off the crisp fall night.
A few clouds lingered to the south, but the view to the north was unobstructed.
Grassy fields that were lush and green in spring had dried to a golden brown, forming a crunchy carpet beneath our feet.
A light breeze carried the scent of the sea.
I could just hear the waves crashing over the sound of the grasses riffling in the wind.
It felt like Clay and I had the world to ourselves. I paused, hypnotized by the waves rippling, their dark magic uninterrupted by boat traffic.
It was a little eerie, being out here all alone, but also peaceful. No one but wind, waves, and wildlife within miles.
Our hike wound through the plains far above the beach and, thankfully, far from the cliffs. A flash of motion caught my eye—a fox darting in the distance. I stilled, scanning the nearby meadow.
“Robertson, you’ll protect me from any wildlife, right? You didn’t come out here to feed me to the bears?”
His gentle chuckle sent a wave of sensation rolling down my spine, his confidence calming the preternatural prickle of vulnerability. I had Clay.
“Honey, I promise you, there are absolutely no bears. The only thing that will eat you up tonight is me.” His grin flashed white in my headlamp. “And I don’t bite. Unless you ask me nicely.”
We walked a few minutes more. Clay paused in a small clearing, where the grass was a bit flatter. Thankfully, it had been dry the last few days, so it wasn’t muddy. We stretched out the blanket, and he dropped the cooler on one corner, extending a hand.
“Care to join me for dinner?”
He switched off his headlamp, and I did the same, settling at his side. Clay extracted a handful of small containers, spreading out a feast of meat, cheese, and crackers, along with a bottle of wine.
“Small oversight. I forgot glasses,” he admitted sheepishly.
“But did you remember a corkscrew?”
“No need. It’s a twist-top.”
“Then we’re in business.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I wanted this to be a classy memory.”
“I’ll settle for just a happy memory with you.”
His eyes gleamed in rising moonlight. “Just wait. Patience, remember?”
Anticipation tickled at my nerve endings as we ate and talked. He shared a story about a retired couple who’d visited the park earlier that day, telling him all about their wedding on the bluff.
“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
He stilled, gripping my hand tightly in his. “Luce, how many times do I have to ask before you believe me?”
“Yes, Robertson. You’re very funny. But I’m being serious. After Jen, do you see yourself doing it again?” I waved a hand at our surroundings. “Having a wedding?”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Jen always said I rushed headfirst into things. Glassblowing and proposing in the same week? She’d have called it peak Clay. She was cautious. Steady. We were kids who grew up together. I didn’t know yet what I’d lose.”
His voice went quieter, almost reverent. “She was the first person I loved. But that chapter is closed. Loving her taught me how fragile life is. How fast it can change. And how important it is to grab on to joy when you find it.”
He looked up at me then, his brown eyes solemn in the moonlight. “So, yeah. I could see myself getting married again. If it’s right. If it’s real.”
He sighed, a big puff of air that sounded like it had been pulled from the depths of his soul. Loud, even against the wind rustling the grass. His dark eyes met mine, earnest and unflinching. His habitual half-smile vanished, leaving only sincerity.
I squirmed under the weight of his gaze. I’d wanted to tease him, but all pretense of joking had fled.
“Lucy Millen, you are quite possibly the love of my life. The only way I see myself getting married again is if you’re my wife.
” He leaned in, lips brushing mine. “But, since you don’t seem to believe me, I’ll stop asking.
” He kissed me again, slower this time. Like a vow.
“For now. I can’t preach patience and not practice it. ”
His words knocked the breath out of me. I’d been the one to ask the question, but I wasn’t prepared for the raw honesty of his answer. I’d expected teasing. Banter. A joke or dare. Not truth.
My fingers drifted to my lips. I could still feel him there.
Clay Fucking Robertson.
The man painted a picture of a future I yearned for with every breath. One I wanted, maybe more than I should.
The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine. My tongue tangled, wrapped in all the words I couldn’t say. Not yet.
Something flared out of the corner of my eye. I blinked. Clay’s broad smile took me by surprise.
“Lie back, Luce. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
I snorted, adding a smile to soften the harsh sound. “I don’t think we can call it a surprise anymore. I’ve pretty much come to expect it when we’re alone together.”
“Not that . C’mon.” He urged me back, tilting next to me until we were stretched out under the stars, my hand in his. “Look.”
He extended one finger. The sky shimmered again. Hues of green danced in the sky to the north, flickering and twinkling in a cascade of faint color.
I gasped. “Is that the northern lights?”
“Yep.” He sounded smug, but he’d earned it.
The sky was magnificent. I couldn’t look away as the colors shifted and flared, fading before brightening the sky again. We were far enough from the light pollution on land to catch it in all its glory – the greens and reds. Clay gathered me into his arms, and I snuggled closer, seeking his heat.
“Beautiful.” The reverence caught me by surprise. But it really was magical.
He kissed the top of my head, nuzzling at my ear. “Yes, you are.”
I lost track of time, entranced by the sky dancing in cascades of brilliance above, Clay’s arms around me. If life could be just like this, always, it’d be perfect. But nothing perfect lasted forever. Slowly, the northern lights waned, and I yawned.
Clay’s warm breath stirred my hair. “Ready to pack up and head home?”
“No. But yes,” I admitted, shifting. My legs had grown stiff, lying on the hard ground.
We packed up, flicking on our headlamps before hiking back to the truck. We walked in silence, content with the quiet that had settled around us.
“Thanks for tonight.” I glanced across the bench seat at him as he drove us back to town. “It really was magical.”
He reached for my hand, kissing my knuckles before landing our clasped hands against his muscular thigh. “It was my pleasure, honey.”
We didn’t speak as we climbed the steps.
Maybe neither one of us wanted to break the spell just yet.
Clay followed me inside, dumping the cooler and blanket in my living room before following me to the bathroom to brush our teeth.
Our late night would leave me dragging tomorrow, but it was worth it.
Lying in Clay’s arms under the northern lights was a memory I’d cherish. But just brushing teeth with him, his hip bumping mine companionably, was special too. Maybe because I could picture myself just like this, every night forever.
Clay leaned over the sink to spit and rinse, his shirt riding up enough to expose one of his Sharpie freckles.
I grinned around my foamy brush. The man didn’t know when to quit, and I had to admit, I was coming to love it. Maybe even count on it.