14. Bobby
14
Bobby
Heart Springs
I stand on the pavement, looking up at the clear, bright blue sky, wishing the thoughts in my head were just as clear.
What the heck possessed Claire yesterday?
I can still recall her soft, sultry look as she asked me ‘why I did that.’ I could read that there’s more behind her question that meets the eyes. The possibility of what she meant plays like a broken record in my mind.
Is she in love with me?
Well, I think I am, but I don’t know if I can ever tell her that, right? It may be the coward’s way out, but I’m determined to hide behind the contract for as long as I can. It’s a flimsy barrier that doesn’t even protect me from the torrent of emotions threatening to drown me, but it’s all I’ve got to hide my true feelings for Claire.
A pang of guilt stabs my heart. Now I’m playing a game of double deception—one as Claire’s fake boyfriend, the other as a platonic friend who doesn’t have romantic feelings toward her. Claire must have sensed that something is wrong because she’s been avoiding me since yesterday.
The sound of the front door opening pulls my eyes to the house. The group of family members headed for the shelter troop out.
Mimi’s at the head. She waves at me, flashing a welcoming smile that momentarily softens the harsh edges of my mood. "Bob, so glad you could make it! We really appreciate you coming along."
Mike walks up and slaps me on the back, sporting a big smile. “Might say you’re part of the family now. Only family members go to this thing.”
Family huh? The word grates on my nerves. Will they still consider me family when they discover I’ve been playing them? I manage a smile for Mike as we head over to stack food and medical supplies into the back of the shuttle.
Minutes later, the scent of vanilla and wildflowers announces Claire’s arrival. A jolt arrows straight to my heart and I turn around to see her. She’s in a simple sundress that wraps her body so nicely that my breath hitches in my throat.
"We should get going," Mimi announces.
I nod and follow Mike into the shuttle from the shelter and we find a seat near the back. Claire settles in front with Mimi, but I can still smell her all the way back here. I steal a few glances, mesmerized by the ponytail that shows off her neck and allows some strands of hair to frame her face.
I’ve known Claire for eight years, and if there’s one thing I know, it's that she values her freedom and doesn’t really invest too much effort in romance. The last thing she'd ever want is a relationship. Things have been good, really good, with her. We've been having fun, rediscovering a connection that has transcended the terms of the contract.
Oh, it’s transcended, alright. Right into the realm of love, you idiot.
***
The shelter buzzes with the excited energy of kids who've got their faces turned to the stage where Mimi stands, flanked by Fiona and Claire, as she addresses the audience.
My eyes are fixed on Claire. She smiles brightly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes with a quick flick of her fingertips. It’s been hard to keep my eyes off her—for reasons I shouldn’t be thinking about now with kids around. Her smokey green eyes scan the room then lands on me. I maintain eye contact, staring directly at her, refusing to look away first.
“You wanna take that?”
I tear my gaze away to see Mike nodding toward my pocket. The low ring in my pocket grows louder. Taking a deep breath, I fish out my phone and a groan escapes my lips as I see the name Dad flashing on the caller ID.
The familiar knot of apprehension tightens in my gut. Ignoring the call is an option, a tempting one, but I know better than to let it simmer. Better to rip the band-aid off and hear whatever he has to say now rather than letting it fester, only making him come after me even harder.
I step out of the hall and press the phone to my ear. "Hey, Dad."
"Bob? Why are you not home yet?" You can hear his gruff demands through the receiver.
"Still busy, Dad.”
"Busy with what?" His tone sharpens. "What in Dallas is keeping you so occupied?"
I desperately search for an answer, and as I open my mouth to respond, I stop short, the words catching in my throat.
"Wait. How did you know I was in Dallas?"
A humorless chuckle comes through the phone. "I can find out what you ate for breakfast if it tickles my fancy, son. You should be home, that’s the agreement I had with your friend over at TenderCare."
Anger ripples through my chest. "I said I’ll be home, Dad."
"You better be, or I just might come to cart you to Florida myself." His voice is laced with a dangerous calm. “If you don’t honor the deal, there will be consequences.”
“Is that a threat?”
This is the conversation I've been dreading. His expectations and my quest for independence inevitably clash every flipping time.
"Does acquiring your little clinic sound like a threat?"
My jaw clenches. "Stay out of TenderCare’s business."
"Then come home, Bob," he barks. "I won’t ask again."
A beep signals the call’s end and I’m left fuming.
‘ Little clinic .’ The disrespect. Last I checked, we were the fastest-growing clinic in New York, rivaling the most prestigious hospitals around.
Liam Sawyer never makes an empty threat, and I know I have to find a way to wrap things up here quickly and go home if I don’t want him digging further into TenderCare. Maybe going home early is best considering how much things have gotten muddled up with Claire.
"Everything alright?"
I turn to find Fiona, her lips curled with thinly veiled amusement as she watches me with narrowed eyes.
"All good.” I step aside to walk away, but she blocks my path, her smile widening.
Staring at me with interest, she asks, "Where’s Claire?"
I cock my head to the side in an unfazed look. “Why ask me that? You were just on the podium together.”
She taps her index finger with an outrageously long fingernail on her chin. "Seems you guys haven't been together five minutes since yesterday."
"Are you stalking us, Fiona?" I shoot back, my voice rigid with anger. "Nothing better to do with your time?"
Her smile falters for a second, then returns, a bit more strained this time. "Just curious," she stammers. "Maybe your little love story with Claire is experiencing an unexpected plot twist."
“As if we’d ever tell you anything.” I shake my head and without another word, I shoulder past her, moving quickly towards the roar of children's voices.
Suddenly, kids with clothes plastered to their skin shoot past me like a pack of drenched rats, squealing loudly. I grab the arm of one straggler, a little girl with bright orange pigtails dripping water onto the floor.
"What happened?"
"Rogers broke the faucet!" she shrieks, pointing a shaky finger towards the back of the hall.
I jog down to the door to see Claire inside. She’s ankle-deep in the puddle, standing with her hands holding a rag over the broken faucet. Water splashes her, but she barely notices the dress sticking to her skin, showing off her curves.
She’s perfect.
Tom’s been right all along. The one woman my dreams are made of is as unattainable as they come. We’ve come too far as friends to start over, and besides, I’m leaving in a few days. That’s what I should be focusing on.
She catches me staring. “Bobby! Come on over here and help.”
“You need a plumber, not a doctor.”
She rolls her eyes and waves me over and I wade through the ankle-deep puddle that's formed in the center of the floor. A tap is free from the wall, spewing a torrent of water, transforming the room into a makeshift indoor fountain.
“Mike went to get help since I somewhat slowed this leak down before he got to me. Know a way to shut this off?” she asks with bubbly, helpless eyes that make me want to go to war for her…to protect her.
I swallow hard and look away from her. Okay, Bob, think. There has to be a way to shut this thing off. Spotting a shutoff valve beneath the sink, I wade towards it, the cold water soaking my jeans from the knees down.
I wrestle with the rusted knob and Claire nods, hope glimmering in her eyes.
“I think it stopped!”
Just as she steps towards me, the floor beneath her betrays her. She loses her footing and yelps in surprise as her body makes its way to the floor.
My instincts take over and I lunge toward her, arms flailing. We collide in a tangle of limbs, sliding across the wet floor like a couple of clumsy ice skaters.
As we land with a thud, my foot somehow manages to hit the valve, sending a fresh spray of water over us like a grand finale to our performance. We just lay there, her body pinning mine to the ground, gasping for air, drenched and defeated.
I feel blind, searing heat spread between us as she adjusts her hips on top of mine. I look into her green eyes, knowing she feels it, too. She moves slightly, and I immediately feel the stroke set off waves of sensation across my body. I wrap an arm around her waist, holding her tighter, looking at how her eyes flicker with heat.
We linger in a long, intense silence. Just as I start wondering if I should kiss her or push her away, a rowdy chorus of kids nearby breaks the silence.
"Well, this is a turn of events," Claire chuckles, wiping dripping hair off her face.
"Yes, it is.”
Her smile widens, a gleam in her eyes. "As much as I’d like to just lay against your rock-hard chest, I think we should get back to fixing the faucet."
I nod. “We should.”
Even with my words, it feels like the hardest thing in the world to make myself move. I want to stay here forever, with her lying across my chest, feeling her body snug against mine. She feels so perfect, so good against me. She has to feel the same way I do. Maybe I should have let our conversation carry on yesterday.
Claire swallows and her tongue slips out to lick her lips. “We’re getting wet, Bob.”
“Let’s get to it then.”
She nods toward the side of my head, and I look up to see that I’m gripping her hands tightly. I growl gently and let go of her wrists before moving my body back.
We both climb to our feet, and I take a step away from her to allow myself some breathing space. My head feels heavy, almost like I’m high on something.
Yeah. You’re high on Claire Carter, you idiot.
I can smell her all over my body. And seeing her wet clothes cling to her body doesn’t help my train of thoughts.
“What do you need me to do?”
Plenty of things, but they are bound to get us messier, not dryer. And they’re things that should never happen between friends, except there are huge benefits attached.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it,” I say, my voice slightly trembling.
I smile at her, and she waves back. If only I could go back to the time when she was just my friend, the spoiled girl I always have to take care of.
Now, it’s complicated.