CHAPTER SIXTEEN CLARKE
Chapter Sixteen
Clarke
Clarke sighed as he trudged reluctantly through the snow toward the front door. At least someone had shoveled a path to it.
He wouldn’t be here if not for three things: the snowstorm, Steven’s tractor, and Ceci Rivers’s aunt.
He still didn’t know how her aunt had gotten him to accept her invitation.
Not to mention how she’d gotten his number.
He tried to get out of it; he’d said no thank you more than once, but somehow at some point that no had turned into a yes.
He wasn’t even sure he’d ever voiced it.
After that, it was only a matter of her telling him what time he would be coming over.
He knocked on the door. After a moment, it swung open.
Clarke couldn’t say which opened wider, the door or Ceci’s eyes as she stared back at him. She was wearing jeans and a bulky sweater, but all he could see was that catsuit as his eyes drifted down. Inch by unbearably slow inch.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Shouldn’t you be out over the Atlantic by now? Or better yet—in it?”
He drew a deep breath. He would do his best to remain civil. But he’d also have to rid himself of that image in his dream. He wondered whether he’d gotten all the slopes, curves and other things right, as his eyes drifted to her crotch.
He blinked.
Stop.
“My flight got canceled because of the storm,” he heard himself saying.
“Okay, but what are you doing here, here?”
She looked down at Holly and her eyes softened, flashing a flicker of blue. But when she shifted her gaze back to him, it disappeared and those gray clouds grew dark and stormy.
That’s not a good thing, right? I shouldn’t like it.
He clenched his hands and told himself he didn’t.
You don’t like it. You don’t like it. You don’t like it.
So why can’t you convince your body not to like it?
“Can we come in? It’s too cold for Holly out here.”
She stepped aside, allowing them to enter.
Once inside, he knelt next to Holly and removed her leash.
Glancing up at Ceci, he had a sudden recollection of kneeling before her in his dream.
He’d told himself not to go back to sleep after she’d cracked that whip.
He’d tried to stay awake, but at some point he’d drifted off.
And things got worse. Or better. Depending on your perspective.
He’d gotten down on his knees before her while she’d remained standing—a wild and fierce cat—looming over him and looking down at him. He felt his cheeks burn.
“I have to take off her booties,” he stammered, removing them from Holly’s paws and placing them on the floor next to the door.
Why the fuck are you explaining yourself to her?
“You can join Boudica by the fire,” Ceci said, smiling at Holly.
But Boudica had already sensed she was here and came bounding toward them, greeting both Clarke and Holly. After that, the two dogs scampered into the living room.
Clarke looked around, at any point within his field of vision, so long as that point excluded her.
The credenza to his left, on it, an empty vase, and a bowl with some keys in it.
To his right, a cast-iron umbrella stand—no umbrella.
There wasn’t anywhere else his eyes could go in such a small and confined spot.
A dust bunny in one corner gave him only a moment’s respite before he began to feel claustrophobic.
Something came to him and his tongue, which was as heavy as a beached whale, suddenly felt a little lighter; something more like a fish that escaped a tank and flopped about on the floor.
“I see you already got someone to shovel your driveway.”
“Are you suggesting I can’t do it myself?”
“No, did you?”
She crossed her arms.
Did she do that because of the way I’ve been looking at her? Damn that fucking catsuit!
“No, I didn’t.”
He grinned. He hadn’t meant to. He didn’t want to. At least not in front of her. But he was starting to feel restless, itchy, even squirrely. The only other time he felt like this was before a race.
She glared at him. “Not this time, but I’ve done it before.”
He nodded, but she was looking at him funny. Was he still grinning? He was telling his mouth not to. But he couldn’t be certain it was cooperating.
She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips. Just like in that dream. Only minus the catsuit.
Fuck the catsuit!
“What?” he heard her ask.
What? Why is she asking me that? I didn’t say fuck the catsuit out loud, did I?
“Did you say something?” he asked.
It was probably the safest response.
“I’m wondering why a person who is so fussy about good manners would show up somewhere uninvited?”
“But,” he stammered, “we, I mean, Holly and I were invited. Your aunt—”
He got no further. She turned on her heels and stormed out of the foyer. He hurried after her.
“You look like shit by the way,” she said without turning around.
His cheeks flamed. “Why, thank you. Ever the charmer. I didn’t sleep well. Damn cock.”
She suddenly stopped and he ran into her.
Instinctively, he grabbed hold of her so she wouldn’t fall. He felt her plump, round ass up against his dick. And damn, if it wasn’t twitching and squirrelly.
Fuck, she can probably feel it.
My God, she smells like she did in that dream.
I want to turn you around, hoist you up on my shoulders like I did last night, grip both cheeks of your ass, and slam you up against a wall before diving into your pussy.
Only when she pulled herself loose and took a step back did he realize he was still holding onto her.
“What do you mean damn cock?”
He blinked.
Did I—no, not possible. I didn’t say. That.
He swallowed. “I—I—meant rooster. I stayed at that pilot’s place. There was a rooster that wouldn’t stop crowing.”
She made a face. “You must have imagined it. They only crow at the break of day.”
“Well, apparently this rooster’s circadian rhythm is out of whack.”
A reluctant laugh burst from her lips. He knew it was reluctant by the pause that followed. It looked like she was trying to hold her breath to keep the laugh in check.
A moment later, as though remembering why they didn’t like each other, she turned on her heels.
“Aunt Delilah!” Ceci shouted as they entered the living room.
A beaming Aunt Delilah held out her arms and walked right past her niece.
“I’m so glad you could come.”
He could see she was going to do the European thing and kiss him on both cheeks. So, he did likewise. But he was surprised when she pulled him back in for a third one.
“Three kisses bring good fortune,” she said, winking at him. “Which means I suspect they’ll have cleared the runways by the end of today and you should be able to fly out tomorrow. Given that’s what you want, of course.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
It’s very much what I want.
She shook her head, clicking her tongue and making a tsk-tsk sound. “Look at that eye. Poor boy.”
“Aunt Delilah,” Ceci cried. “You could have told me you invited someone to my house. Pixel and I have plans.”
Aunt Delilah turned around. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” snapped Ceci.
“What are your plans, Piper?” Aunt Delilah asked.
Piper had a lost look. “Well—”
Ceci jumped in. “Right now, we’re going to make snow demons. Come on, Pixel.”
Soon thereafter, Clarke heard the front door slam.
“What are snow demons?” he asked.
“What most people refer to as snow angels.” Aunt Delilah grabbed his arm and led him to the sofa.
“Ceci has such a drive to make an impression, it doesn’t really matter to her if it’s a good one or a bad one.
” She invited him to sit down and then sat beside him.
“Do you have a good relationship with your father?”
The question caught him off guard. He hesitated. “I guess, I mean, it’s pretty good.”
“Translation—it’s complicated. I understand. As I was saying, with Ceci even a bad impression is better than no impression at all.”
Clarke couldn’t escape the feeling she was trying to tell him something but expecting him to connect the dots. Maybe so that she could truthfully deny having told him at some point in the future, if necessary? Clearly this had something to do with Ceci’s father.
“So snow demons rather than snow angels,” he ventured.
She nodded.
“What about her mother?” he asked.
“My sister died giving birth to Cecilia.”
Clarke swallowed. “I see.”
“I was the one who named her Cecilia. I didn’t know what it means. Do you know?”
Clarke shook his head.
“It means blind or hidden. Ironic. Turned out to be appropriate. Who knew?”
Blind? Hidden? Appropriate?
Just then, Pixel and Ceci burst in through the front door, stomping and shaking off the snow that clung to them. “It’s freezing!” they cried in unison.
Ceci entered the living room and fell back into a chair, draping one arm over the back.
Only she didn’t exactly fall into it. Because her body didn’t move as one solid piece landing in one solid thud.
The languid, liquid movement was reminiscent of the way she’d moved in that catsuit, suggesting a high degree of flexibility.
She caught him looking at her, and he quickly looked away.
“Did you bring in the Cornhole Husker?” Aunt Delilah cried.
“You can’t expect them to deliver the paper given the storm,” Ceci said.
Clarke’s brow wrinkled. “Cornhole Junction has a paper?”
Ceci chuckled. “More like a brochure or pamphlet. If there are two pages, that means it was a big news day.”
“Well, I want to see it when it comes,” Aunt Delilah said. “I’m sure the two of you made the front page.”
Ceci scoffed. “Kind of hard not to when there’s only one page.”
“Perhaps, but I’m betting you’ll be at the top of it in big, bold letters.”
Clarke felt his heart leap to his throat and then suddenly dive to his gut. The whole reason for coming here was to avoid this kind of thing. Then again, would it really matter? Who reads the Cornhole Husker? No one outside this rinky-dink town.
Aunt Delilah patted his knee. “I’m sure they have a photo of you two holding the trophy.”