Chapter 4
FOUR
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
“ T hat’s not Dr. Owens,” Elle repeated, shaking her head.
The man that strode across the yard wore a muscle-hugging black T-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and a navy Yankee’s cap she’d last seen earlier that morning.
“It’s Doc, Dr. Owens’ son.”
Each clue clicked into place like pieces of a puzzle she had no idea she was putting together. Uncle Pete’s shock that she didn’t know his first name was Clayton. CJ stood for Clayton James; she had forgotten that.
“Mrs. Coates. Coach.” CJ smiled, reaching the bottom of the steps where Elle and Tobey stood, a pink pastry box in his hand.
“Call me Pete.”
“You can call me Countess Coates,” Janet joked, descending the stairs with her head raised like a member of the royal family.
“Yes, madam,” he chuckled, giving Janet a quick bow before handing her the pastry box.
That was sweet. Elle’s lips lifted.
“Eleanor, nice to see you again.” The brim of his ball cap hung low, hiding a wink that Elle detected with a tiny movement of his cheek.
A flood of annoyance tinted with something else she chose not to examine heated her face, while he stood across from her apologizing to Jerome for being late because he was stuck “goating.” Elle nearly spit out her wine.
“Goating?” Jerome and Tobey asked, faces pinched in confusion.
“It’s the new sheeping.” He smirked.
Prickles of embarrassment heated her skin. “Oh, look. I’m empty.” She drained her glass. “I’ll get more.”
Elle turned, swung back, and for some unknown reason curtsied as if addressing royalty. At Tobey’s slacked mouth and CJ’s bemused expression, Elle realized what she’d done and ran into the house.
Laughter followed as she stepped through the sliding glass door into the house. Placing her wineglass on the kitchen’s granite countertop, she headed to the bathroom at the back of the house.
Behind the bathroom’s closed door, she leaned against it and waved a hand in front of her face. It wasn’t like her to get tongue-tied at boys from her past. With his tattoo and muscles, Clayton James Owens AKA Doc AKA CJ was not a boy.
The most verbal interaction they’d had in school was at the Winter Ball her junior year. It was the first time she’d felt pretty thanks to her purple lace dress. Well, until Summer Michaels had squeezed her once plump arm, squishing Elle’s fat.
Upset, she sat on the school bleachers watching everyone else dance until someone touched her arm for the second time that night. Turning with a growled, “Asshole,” she had found CJ Owens. Angry, at herself, at Summer, even at CJ, she’d pivoted to leave, but a misplaced foot sent her sailing. Only the hard floor below hadn’t caught her. CJ had. For a moment he just held her until a group of boys made a joke about him doing better. He mumbled “Shut up” and righted her. They stood quiet until she walked away.
Elle blew out the memory with a long breath. As she opened the door, CJ and Janet’s voices drifted from the kitchen where they discussed the dessert he’d brought.
“Frosted sugar cookies are Eleanor’s favorite.”
CJ cleared his throat. “I know.”
He knows? Elle’s mouth dropped open.
She paused in the hall as Janet lamented the strict diet Elle had embraced thirteen years ago to lose the extra weight she’d always carried.
“We just worry,” Janet said.
Elle’s mouth grew dry. They didn’t need to worry. She was in control. She was Elle.
“Is there something to worry about?” CJ’s tone dripped with concern.
“No, not like that. We’re parents. We worry about everything. Let’s take these outside and grab some grub.”
Elle waited for the shuffling of feet and slide of the door, before emerging. Her empty wine glass was filled. Janet must have refilled it. Wine in hand, she peered outside at the people she loved, adored, and who worried for her and, in return, people she worried for. So, why did it feel easier to stay on this side of the door?
Pete appeared, plate in hand, motioning her to come out. Spine straight, she stepped out.
Elle took the seat next to Tobey at the small four-person patio table. Tobey’s arm slung over his fiancé’s shoulder, his fingers slow danced across the soft cotton of Jerome’s T-shirt. Contentment brightened their faces.
It tickled Elle’s heart to see their happiness. At seventeen, Tobey had come out to his parents, but never really dated. Ten years later, he’d met his person. As far as Elle was concerned, it had been worth the wait.
“Here you go.”A forearm obscured Elle’s view. Small paw prints prowled toward a bottle of water clutched between lean, sexy fingers. “I thought you’d want to hydrate. It’s warm,” CJ offered, warmth filled his expression.
Claiming the other seat beside her, he flipped his baseball cap backwards revealing a boyish grin and bright eyes. Eyes so different from what she remembered. Still gray, but now soft like the early morning sky. The citrus smell from the Little Red Barn drifted off him, making her wonder who owned that fresh scent.
“How are you finding the Airbnb?” Jerome asked, forking a bite of potato salad.
“It’s perfect.”
“See, I told you not to worry.” He pointed his food-covered plastic fork at CJ. “You’ve been renting out that place for over a year.”
“Being nervous means you care. I still get nervous before big projects or meetings. Even if I have done it a million times,” Elle said, her gaze meeting CJ’s.
“She gets it.” CJ grinned, tapping Elle’s upper arm with the palm of his hand.
A tiny current of electricity spread from where his hand touched her. The brush of his skin over hers was so different from the last time he touched her when the long lacy sleeves of her dress served as a barrier.
The foursome fell into a mixture of comfortable silence and superficial conversation typical of barbecues. Uncomplicated conversation, about the wedding, the reception, the honeymoon destination. Perfect for a summer evening.
Of course, no family barbecue could be without its controversy. As a not-so-serious argument about the flowers broke out, Elle found herself watching Jerome and Janet square-off over their four-months-long battle about carnations versus roses for the wedding centerpieces. Both their bemused and, perhaps, a tad beleaguered other halves joined in as their backups or referees. It was likely the latter, not the former.
Happiness fizzed in Elle’s belly at the sight. “I love them.”
“They love you.” CJ placed his warm palm on hers.
Again, with the prickles.
“Jerome has been talking for weeks about how excited they are that you weren’t just coming back for the wedding but that you’d be here for a month. They’ve missed you.”
“It’s hard to...” She paused to think of the next words. What she wanted to say is it’s hard to come back here, but instead she said, “…take time off work.”
“It’s hard.” His eyes seemed to say, “I get it.”
She shifted in her seat. “At what point did you realize it was me? Was it with the goat or when you arrived here?”
“When you lost the tug-a-war with Feta.”
“Feta?” Elle choked on a sip of water.
“Naturally the goat would be named that.”
“Naturally.” She smirked. “I’m surprised you recognized me. It’s been almost twenty years since we saw each other.”
“Your hair is straight. You don’t wear glasses and you dress differently, but you have the same smile.” An infectious grin played on his lips.
The same smile? Heat flamed her cheeks. “I had no idea that was you.”
A playful knowing glint sparked in his eyes.
“So, are those your goats?” she asked.
“No. Just checking on some patients. We service some of the county’s farms.”
“How long have you been a veterinarian?”
“About ten years.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.” A full-face grin lit his expression.
She returned that big smile. “I guess that explains all the paws. The welcome mat, key chain, and that.” She pointed at the tattoo on his corded right forearm.
“Yup. Speaking of paws; Thank you for the mug you left on my porch.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Although, from what Pete said, it sounds like you thought you were giving it to my dad. I’m happy to drop it off to him if you’d prefer.”
“My superpower seems to be the ability to embarrass myself in front of you without even trying or even knowing you are you.” Elle raised her hands, covering her eyes. “I guess I haven’t done a good job keeping up with most people from Perry.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Although, you never answered my question. Do you want me to give my dad the mug?”
“No. It’s for you.”
“Thank you.” His smile got just a little bigger and something fluttered in her chest at that.
“I know you said not to be embarrassed, but there were so many clues that it wasn’t your dad. They call you Doc. Nobody ever called your dad Doc. He was always so formal with his bow ties.” She motioned with her hands.
“Those bow ties. He even wears them golfing.”
“More evidence of my foolishness. The name Clayton on your note. The divorce,” she blurted, then winced at her misstep. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m the Doc, not the doctor. I’m the Clayton, he’s the Chris. I’m the one with a failed marriage.”
“I wouldn’t call it a failure.” She squeezed his forearm gently, her tone soft. “Janet would be overjoyed if I was divorced, because it would mean I dated someone long enough to get married. You shouldn’t call it a failure. You tried. Some of us don’t even do that. Plus, failure is just success preparation.”
“Success preparation?” One eyebrow arched, his head tilted. “That’s smart. Did you come up with that?”
“It was Kevin Smith.”
“Silent Bob? Are you spewing life advice from the director of Clerks ?” he guffawed.
“Hey, the guy that brought us the phrase ‘snoochie boochies’ has much wisdom to bestow.”
He threw his head back in a full body laugh and her nerves hummed as if hearing a favorite song.
“I am sorry you got divorced, especially if you’re sad about it.” She placed her hand on his.
“Thank you.” He rested his other hand on top of hers.
“I’m glad you love what you do. It makes sense.”
“Most folks thought I’d be a people doctor like my dad.”
“Well, most people are morons.”
CJ barked out another laugh that matched his big smile.
She beamed. “I remember how green you were when I sliced my finger while we volunteered at the Nursing Home in high school. You were ready to play medic until you saw the blood. Also, you did 4-H and were always raising farm animals.”
"Didn’t realize you noticed all that in high school.” Bemusement glinted in his gray eyes.
Raking her teeth against her bottom lip, she shrugged. I hadn’t either.
“I remember you were always taking the lead on school projects and organizing activities. It makes sense that you’re in management.”
Elle shifted in her seat, now aware of how he saw her, then and now. “Yeah. I’m the National Director of Virtual Medicine for Sloan-Whitney. I’m assuming Jerome has mentioned that.”
“He and your whole family. Pete tells everyone you’re a big wig.”
“ Hardly .”
“He’s always bragged about you. In high school, Coach sang your praises.” He smiled, deepening his voice in an accurate impression of Uncle Pete. “Eleanor is taking twelfth grade classes and she’s only a junior. Eleanor collected one-hundred pounds of canned food for the food bank. Eleanor saved Christmas from the Grinch.”
“Enough.” She raised her hands, giggling.
“It’s sweet. He’s proud of you, Eleanor. As he should be. You’re impressive. You always have been.”
“Thank you, CJ.” Their gazes wove together. “My friends call me Elle.”
His mouth quirked. “My friends call me Clayton.”
“Clayton,” she said his name slowly, allowing her lips to try it out. Elle held her water bottle up in a toasting gesture.
“Elle.”He pressed his water bottle against hers. A simple toast to them.