CHAPTER ELEVEN CLARKE
Chapter Eleven
Clarke
Once they’d put the leashes on Boudica and Holly, they walked through the town in silence. He glanced at his watch.
“Time to go already?” Ceci asked. “Or are you just calculating how much time you’ll have to spend here in order for your departure not to be deemed rude or impolite?”
“No, that’s not—I wasn’t—”
Damn it. What is it about this woman that leaves me tongue-tied? Why do I sound like an idiot? I am not an idiot.
He looked around. There was a lot going on, but he wasn’t sure what they should do. She must know, he thought, gazing at Ceci.
“Have you come to this event before?” he ventured.
“Just once. Last year.”
They were walking by some booths with colorful items—ceramics, pottery, sweaters, and candles. He stopped at one when he saw a silk scarf awash in a translucent and vibrant blue, with just a hint of pale purple and gray along the edge.
He picked it up and ran his fingers along it. “This is lovely. Did you make it?” he asked the girl who stood in the booth, beaming.
She nodded.
“Are these forget-me-nots?”
“Yes.”
“Did you purchase the silk with this color?”
“No. I dyed it.”
“Very singular. The detail. The delicacy. Your hands, your fingers must be very, uh, very—”
“Skilled?” Ceci ventured.
“That’s it.” Clarke smiled at the girl but then hastily examined the price tag before handing the scarf back, when he saw he’d made her blush. “I’d like to buy it,” he said as he dug in his pocket. After pulling out a wad of cash, he counted out the money and handed it to the girl.
She frowned without taking it. “You’re not going to haggle?”
“Haggle?”
“It’s tradition,” Ceci said. “Everybody haggles. No one pays the price written on the tag.”
“It’s fun.” The girl grinned. “It’s that time of year when everyone gets to be kind of Scrooge-like because they’ve spent too much for Christmas. We purposely write down higher prices knowing we’ll sell it cheaper. That scarf isn’t worth the amount on the price tag.”
He looked at the scarf. “Yes, it is. Here,” he said, presenting her with the money.
The girl sighed, but took the money, wrapped the scarf in tissue paper, placed it in a box, and put the box in a bag. She handed it to Clarke.
“I mean it. It really isn’t worth that much.”
“And I’m telling you it is,” Clarke responded as he took the bag from her.
He turned and walked alongside Ceci, Holly and Boudica trotting by their sides.
“You could try to get into the spirit of things. It’s tradition, and the people here have fun with it.”
“But I meant what I said. It really is fine work, worth every penny I paid for it. It would be wrong to pay less.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed.
He held out the bag. “Here.”
Ceci frowned, looking confused.
“Take it,” he said, shoving it at her so that she was forced to. Otherwise, it would have dropped to the ground.
“Why?”
Now he was the one confused. “It’s the scarf.”
“I know that. But why are you—what are you—are you—giving—”
He cut her off. He wanted to get the moment over as quickly as possible. It felt awkward to begin with, and she was only making it more awkward. “Yes. I am giving it to you. It suits you.”
“I don’t wear scarves.”
She held the bag up, offering it back to him, but he ignored the gesture.
“Well, then give it to your friend Pixel.”
“But this wouldn’t look good on her. Not her colors.”
“I agree. It would look good on you. They’re your colors.”
“Well, thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know that. But this—uh—this date is really quite inexpensive. It feels like I should do something to make it more, more—”
“Special?”
Special? No, not special.
“So,” she said, “it’s important how much you spend when you take someone on a date?”
“No. But this, what we’re doing here is because of the auction. And that was a lot of money, so it just seems right that you should get a date—not a date, an experience—a whatever that’s somewhat in keeping with that sum. I don’t know. Can we stop talking about this?”
“Fine, but if you’re going to buy me something, how about some food? I’m starving.”
“Okay, sure.” He surveyed the various food vendors, cringing at the options—deep-fried pickles dipped in dark chocolate, chocolate cake dipped in caramel, corn dogs dipped in melted cheddar cheese. Surely, there must be some real food around here. Maybe a café, restaurant, or coffee shop?
He was about to suggest they look for such a place but became transfixed by the expression on her face. Her eyes shot around the booths and flashed every time she landed on an option.
“Hmmm let’s see, maybe some Comet Corn or deep-fried Twinkies! Or no, Elvis on a stick!”
“Elvis on a stick?”
“It’s a deep-fried banana-battered peanut butter cup wrapped in bacon and dipped in chocolate. On a stick.”
“What?” he exclaimed, horrified.
Surely there could not be such a thing. Why would there be such a thing?
“That’s it!” she cried, pointing her finger at a booth.
“No. Absolutely not. I refuse to pay for a deep-fried banana-battered peanut butter cup wrapped in bacon and dipped in chocolate. On a stick.”
She shook her head. “No, forget that.”
Clarke sighed. “Okay, good, what would you—?”
He stopped mid-sentence because she upped and walked off.
“Come on!” she shouted over her shoulder.
Finally, he caught up to her standing in front of a booth.
He frowned. “Deep-fried s’mores?”
“You don’t know what s’mores are? Don’t tell me you’ve never had one. If you do, I’ll think you seriously deprived as a child.”
“I know what s’mores are. I’ve had s’mores. But deep-fried? Why would you deep fry a s’more?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Because you can.”
“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should do it.”
“All right, then answer me this. Why wouldn’t you deep fry them?”
“Maybe because of the oil, the fat—s’mores are already filled with plenty of stuff that’s bad for you, sugar and God knows what else goes into marshmallows. Why would you add to that?”
She shrugged. “I already told you. Because you can.”
“And I already told you, that doesn’t mean you should. Or don’t you make a distinction between what you can do and what you should do? Are you telling me you have no moral compass?”
She patted her pockets. “It seems I left mine at home.”
He looked up at the sky. God grant me patience. He drew a deep breath before fixing his eyes on hers.
“Even you must agree there are some things you shouldn’t do.
I would add some things you shouldn’t say, but then as we both know, that moral principle has escaped you altogether.
Still, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and think even you would admit there are some things that ought not to be done. ”
“Really? Even me? Okay, Sir Stick, you tell me one thing I ought not to do. And no stealing from the Ten Commandments, like ‘thou shalt not kill.’ Because you yourself have broken that commandment. Why just taking into account today, one day thus far, I couldn’t begin to count the number of bugs you’ve squashed, stomping them to smithereens. ”
Clarke stared at the snow.
Do bugs crawl over snow? Or do they live under it? Where do the bugs go when it snows?
She glared at him and then took a step toward him. He told himself to take a step back, but his feet ignored his brain and remained fixed. Maybe it was because of her eyes. They’d gone stormy and gray. He swallowed and inched back a bit.
She tossed her head. “Are you really going to make my eating marshmallows—sugar, corn syrup, gelatin, and air into a moral issue?”
“Is that what they’re made of?”
She nodded. “Oh, and I forgot to mention water. Certainly, you can’t object to water. The purifier of souls, saints and sinners alike.”
His mouth twitched. He knew it wanted to smile, and he was working hard not to let it. “How do you know all that?”
“Pixel told me.”
I wonder if Pixel can answer my bugs and snow question.
He sighed. “If this is what you want, so be it. I guess I would think you’d leave the s’mores for dessert. Have something more substantial, some protein first. But if you want deep-fried s’mores …”
He was about to order from the man, but Ceci stopped him. Her eyes suddenly flashed as she looked at something behind him.
“Good idea.”
“Okay. What do you want?”
“Krispy Kreme burgers!”
“What?” he cried as she and Boudica took off. “Come on, Holly.”
He arrived at the booth just in time to hear her order.
Clarke watched as the man placed a burger with melted cheese and two strips of bacon on top of a glazed doughnut that had been sliced in half. He placed the other half of the doughnut on top.
Clarke paid the man and sighed as he handed the burger to Ceci.
How is she going to get her mouth around that thing?
He almost asked but stopped himself, feeling his cheeks heat up.
“Do you need a knife and fork?”
She laughed. “A knife and fork? For a burger?”
“Why is that so funny? I’ve seen people use a knife and fork to eat a burger.”
“I’ll just bet you have. Any time you look in the mirror.”
She opened her mouth and took all of it in.
He watched her bite down. Some juice from the burger caught at the corner of her lips, and without thinking he lifted his hand and was about to wipe it away with his finger.
He felt a jolt as though his heart and stomach had collided.
He pulled back, hastily grabbed some napkins and thrust them at her.
“You have some—” He tapped the corner of his mouth with his finger.
“Thanks,” she said as she wiped it away with the napkin.
“One thing confuses me.”
She laughed. “About the Krispy Kreme burger?”
He nodded. “Yes. I mean, normally with a burger, you’d put ketchup or mustard on it. But with this, I mean, the doughnut … that sounds awful. So what do people put on it?”
She grinned. “Nothing. Like the best things in life, it requires nothing more than itself.” She took another bite.
He chuckled.
Is this what happiness looks like? When she’s happy? Because she looks happy.
He’d never known anyone who put so much energy into life and at the same time got so much out of it.
He’d sometimes told himself that it was just an act with her.
All the saucy barbs she threw at him, the way she paraded around the paddock and any party or public event.
But now, there was no one to witness it but him.
It looked real. It felt real. He actually felt a little—is it possible—envious?
“Did you hear me?” she asked.
He started. Had she asked him something?
“Um, I’m sorry, what?”
She held the burger out. “Would you like a bite?”
He shook his head vigorously. “No. Thank you. No.”
Her lip curved. Something sparked in her eyes. He blinked.
“Your lips say no, but your eyes say yes.”
His heart picked up pace. He knew that feeling when he was behind the wheel at the start of a race, but it seemed out of place here.
We’re talking about a damn burger sandwiched between a doughnut for god’s sake.
She brought the burger closer to his lips. “Come on, just a little bite.”
He thought about that switch. Flipping it could lead to bad things. It had led to bad things.
His heart wasn’t just pounding faster. It was pounding harder. He could hear it ringing in his ears.
Don’t be a tool. It’s just a burger. Just a … Fucking. Burger.
That burger was close. Real close. Dangerously close. He felt his lips part. She grinned and placed the burger up against them.
“You’ll have to open wider.”
He did and bit down.
Damn.
That is good.
Real good.
Really, really, really good, he thought, staring back at her as he chewed.
She smiled. “Good, right?”
He nodded as he chewed.
Two whimpers broke the spell. He looked down at the drooling Boudica and the pleading eyes of Holly. He’d brought along dog treats, but that was like offering them cardboard in the face of this kind of dog nirvana.
He turned to the guy behind the booth. “Could I get just a burger, just a plain burger with nothing on it? I’ll pay the regular price.” He paused. “And while you’re at it, another one with the doughnut.”
“The Krispy Kreme burger?”
He nodded but kept his head turned away when he heard her laugh.
He tore the plain burger in half for Holly and was about to give Boudica the other half when he paused, looking over at Ceci. “Is it okay?”
“Sure.”
When the man offered Clarke the second burger, he held it out to her. She grinned, shaking her head. “No, thank you.”
After he finished it, he ordered another.
Ceci laughed, her eyes wide in disbelief. “You surprise me, Sir Stick.”
He looked down at the burger in his hand.
That’s why I didn’t want to take the first bite to begin with. This is the problem with giving in to temptation.
Flipping that switch on could lead to things he would regret much more than eating a second Krispy Kreme burger.
He thought of Naomi and Niles.
Regret is too small a word.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
What must his face have looked like for her to ask that?
Don’t go there.
This day was turning out to be all right, maybe even better than all right, especially given how much he’d dreaded it. He thought maybe it was going all right for her too.
Don’t make it not all right for her.
He shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong. My mind just wandered.”
I’ll just have to turn that switch off, he thought as they headed to the deep-fried s’mores stand.
After today.