Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
DECLAN
For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
It feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room, the lights overhead too bright. My pulse stutters in my ears, drowning out Joshua’s voice.
I’ve imagined Claire a hundred different ways since I left Boston. Her body draped over mine. Her laughter echoing around me. Her hair tangled in my hands. I’ve replayed that night like a favorite song, one I knew I’d never hear again but couldn’t stop humming anyway.
For the past few weeks, every time my phone buzzed, I jumped for it, hopeful it was her.
It never was.
I was so desperate I even resorted to trying to find her on social media. Turns out “Claire from California” doesn’t exactly narrow the playing field. I didn’t know her last name. Didn’t know what she did. Didn’t even know if she was real or some illusion conjured by scotch and regret.
I thought it was a lost cause. Thought I’d go the rest of my life without seeing Claire again.
I never imagined I’d see her here. With my son.
I blink, making sure I’m not imagining her. That this isn’t simply a manifestation of my deepest desires.
It’s not.
No matter how hard I try to blink it away, she’s still here.
And she looks even more beautiful than I remember. Her dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders, a simple black dress clinging to her curves in a way that should be illegal. But what has my attention, much like in Boston, are her lips. Painted red. Full. Plump.
And what makes it even worse is that I know how those lips feel. How they move. How they taste.
What I wouldn’t give to have one more taste.
But that ship has sailed. Especially now.
I force my expression into something neutral. Calm. In complete control when I’m anything but.
“It’s nice to meet you, Claire.” I extend my hand toward her.
The seconds seem to stretch as she eyes me, like she’s still processing this turn of events, too. After what feels like an eternity, she finally places her hand in mine.
The instant our skin touches, the same sensation of warmth and fire I experienced during our one night returns. But it’s even more electric. Even more thrilling.
“You, too,” she replies in that same soft voice I’ve imagined moaning my name more times than I care to admit.
I reluctantly let go, reaching to pull out her chair, but Joshua is already there, helping her sit.
As I lower myself into my own chair, I glance between Joshua and Claire, trying to figure out their relationship. When Joshua said he’d invited a friend to join us, I imagined another guy. Not a woman.
Not the woman who I had begging me to fuck her mere weeks ago.
“I ordered you a glass of sparkling rosé to start, since I know you like to pair your drink with your meal,” Joshua says to Claire, gesturing to the bubbling champagne glass in front of her.
“Thanks,” she replies with a tight smile.
I may not know her well, but I can physically feel the nervous energy radiating off her.
I’ve been to my fair share of uncomfortable dinners. But this one may just take the cake.
“The filet here is great,” Joshua offers, opening his menu, completely oblivious to the tension simmering between Claire and me.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, taking a sip of my scotch and stealing a brief glance at Claire.
She’s not the carefree, flirty woman I met in Boston. The woman who laughed with abandon. Who leaned into my touch like she needed it.
This woman is tightly wound. Guarded. Less spark, more steel.
And yet, she still makes my pulse race.
“Are you going to get the salmon?” Joshua asks her.
She jumps, darting her eyes toward him. “What did you say?”
He studies her warily. “Are you okay?”
There’s something intimate about the way he curves toward her, making me think they were once more than just friends.
The idea sends sparks of jealousy through me.
“Of course,” she replies in a voice pitched too high.
At least, higher than I remember.
She briefly closes her eyes, taking a calming breath. When she opens them again, they find mine, and she quickly pushes back from the table.
“If you’ll just excuse me for a minute.” She looks at Joshua. “Nature calls.” She rises to her feet.
I do, as well, the gentleman in me reacting on instinct.
“If our server comes back, order me the salmon and a glass of chardonnay,” she instructs Joshua.
“You got it.”
Her eyes briefly meet mine before she hurries away from the table. If she moved any faster, she’d be running.
“Sorry if she seems a little on edge,” Joshua explains as I return to my seat. “She’s been working constantly lately.”
I nod, doing everything to keep my attention on Joshua and not steal a glance at Claire’s retreating frame.
Especially the ass I remember spanking.
“What does she do?” I ask.
“She’s the head of marketing for the resort.” He leans back in his chair, pride warming his tone. “She’s basically been organizing the entire Holley Ridge Christmas Festival, which is a huge annual event around here. The tree-lighting ceremony is tomorrow night. She’s been going nonstop for weeks.”
So she’s in charge of Christmas.
Of course she is. It suits her. At least what I learned of her during our night together.
“I saw the lights on the drive in. It’s stunning.”
He smiles. “That’s all her. Claire’s determined. In the best way. When she wants something, she goes after it with everything she has. That’s what she’s been doing since the owner of this place hired her. Proving she has what it takes to do this job, despite her age.”
“How old is she?” I ask hesitantly.
“Same as me. Twenty-four.”
I nod, grateful for that. At least she’s not younger.
“You work here, too. Correct?” I sip my scotch.
“Yeah. I do a bit of everything. My official title is head groundskeeper. I’ve worked here since I turned sixteen and have done pretty much every job there is, from bussing tables at this restaurant to maintenance to everything in between.”
“Sounds like you’ve made yourself pretty indispensable.”
“I’d like to think so.”
A brief silence passes between us. I should use this opportunity to learn more about him, but I can’t stop thinking about Claire and who she is to Joshua.
“So, you and Claire,” I say after a beat. “Are you two just friends, or is there something more?”
I feel myself hold my breath as I wait for his response, fearful I’ve already fucked up whatever relationship I might have with Joshua before we’ve had a chance to get to know each other.
“There used to be.” He shrugs, lifting his beer.
“Used to be?” I prod, needing more of the story. Not because I’m interested in learning about my son, which is the only reason I should be questioning him about this.
But because I want to know more about Claire.
“We realized we were better off as friends. And we are.”
I nod, unsure if I should be relieved over the idea that he no longer has any romantic feelings for her, or horrified over the possibility that my son and I may have slept with the same woman.
Claire returns a moment later, and I feel her before I see her. Just like in Boston. She sits back down, her movements careful. Thankfully, the waiter shows up then, giving me a brief reprieve from my unnerving thoughts as we place our dinner order.
Once we’re alone again, Joshua turns the conversation toward Claire, bragging about her accomplishments like the proud friend he clearly is. She smiles through it, but it’s strained.
“This dinner’s supposed to be about you two. Not me,” she says after several minutes of Joshua regaling me with all the hard work she’s put in over the past several months. It’s obvious she doesn’t take compliments well. “What do you do, Declan?”
She turns to me, but doesn’t look me directly in the eyes, everything about her stiff and tense, a complete opposite from the carefree and relaxed woman I was lucky enough to spend one incredible night with.
“I’m a lawyer.”
“In D.C., correct?”
“How did you know that?” Joshua asks, furrowing his brow.
Claire hesitates, her lips parting as she struggles to come up with an explanation. “You must have mentioned it,” she finally says with a soft smile.
He studies her for a beat, and I’m convinced he can sense something is off. If they’re as close as they seem to be, it wouldn’t be too hard for him to realize she’s not being completely truthful.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Joshua,” an older woman interjects as she approaches our table, pulling his attention away from Claire. “There’s a problem with several of the heaters on the south lawn. I hate to ask, but do you mind taking a look at them?”
“Of course.” He pushes to his feet, looking between Claire and me. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“Certainly,” I respond, although I can sense Claire’s nerves over the prospect of being left alone with me. She doesn’t show it, though.
“We’ll be fine,” she assures him.
He gives her a small smile, then follows the petite woman, leaving me alone with Claire for the first time since Boston.
Earlier this morning, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again, let alone see her.
And now we’re sitting mere inches away from each other in a darkened restaurant overlooking an idyllic lake.
Claire purposefully avoids looking at me, directing her attention out the windows as she fidgets with her hands. The hum of the restaurant fills the awkward silence — clinking silverware, soft holiday music, the murmur of nearby conversations.
I hate everything about it.
When I can’t take the tension anymore, I murmur, “Claire.”
“Declan,” she says at the same time.
We both laugh nervously. God, that laugh. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it until now.
I gesture toward her with a smile. “Go ahead.”
She lifts her chin, a hint of the Claire I saw in Boston returning. “I didn’t know who you were that night. If I had…” She trails off, exhaling hard. “It never would’ve happened.”
“I didn’t know who you were, either,” I respond, then chuckle under my breath. “In fact, the reason I was even in that bar is because I’d just found out about Joshua and I needed something to help me take my mind off the fact that I had a son I never knew about.”
“And that was me.”
“That was you.” I meet her gaze, low and even. “I’m glad it was you. That night… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
A blush blooms on her cheeks, and she bites her lower lip to reel in her smile. God, what I wouldn’t give to bite that lip like I did in Boston.
But this isn’t like Boston.
I know who she is now.
She’s my son’s friend.
A woman he very well could have slept with.
Who he once had romantic feelings for.
There are some lines even I won’t cross.
And this is one of them.
So instead of allowing myself to be drawn into her, I clear my throat and drag my eyes back to my drink.
“Regardless of how incredible that night was or how I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, it’s probably for the best if we don’t tell him.”
She straightens, blinking repeatedly before averting her gaze. “Right. Of course.”
“I want to try to build something with him,” I explain. “I don’t want to risk that by him finding out about us.”
Claire is quiet for a long beat, her expression completely unreadable. Finally, she looks my way and forces a smile.
“As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing for him to find out. It was just one night. We can pretend it never happened.”
“Exactly.” I swallow hard, hearing those words leave her mouth harder than I thought it would be. “We’ll just pretend it never happened.”
Although, I get a feeling that’s easier said than done.