Desperately Seeking Epic(78)

But being away didn’t keep me from thinking about her. I couldn’t stop. I made it a month before I returned. I told myself I was only going home because my mother would be moving soon and I wanted to see her before she left. She did move, about a week after Sap passed away. Maybe her moving was part of it. But not really. I came back to see Clara. I’d hoped time apart would break the spell. But nope.

Sap passing away was hard. He was a dear friend. And when Clara showed up with that shitty casserole, I think that was when I realized this woman was it. I didn’t want to admit that to myself, but it was that moment. I know it. But I told myself she wasn’t into me—not like that. Sure she had let me kiss her, but I’d kind of made her. She definitely didn’t like me, or so I thought.

Until she kissed me.

On my porch.

While I was in my underwear.

It was a mess. She practically clobbered me. She botched it. But only at first. Once I caught myself and knew we wouldn’t topple to the ground, she owned it.

I didn’t speak to her for a few days until I went back to work. She acted like nothing had happened. We were back to Paul and Clara, business partners. That drove me f*cking nuts. But I went with it. If she could be cool, so could I. We’d hired a new pilot and he was doing a few practice runs with me and the other divers. It was just a simple day—nothing special. That’s what I thought when I dove out of the plane.

Then my chute didn’t open.

It’s not the first time it had happened, but it was still scary as f*ck. Luckily, my emergency chute saved the day, and I landed safely, but my adrenaline was through the roof. I needed a release. The sun was just about to set when I made it to my truck after landing. I’d driven separately from the others and when I passed the office, I noticed Clara had left Marcus to close up. Her car wasn’t in the lot. The two had started an unspoken trade-off, where one stayed and the other left in the afternoons. The less they had to see one another, the less they fought.

I didn’t even bother to stop at the office. I kept telling myself to go home or go grab a beer somewhere, find a woman, any woman other than Clara, that lacked inhibitions and scratch my itch. I told myself that over and over, right up until I pulled in Clara’s driveway and cut my truck off. Even as I climbed the stairs to her porch, I told myself what a horrible idea this was. I begged myself to turn around. But I didn’t. I was never one to listen to the voice of reason. Where’s the fun in that?

I knocked on the door a few times, but there was no answer. Her car was in the driveway though. She was definitely home. I trudged down the steps and rounded the house, making my way to the back yard. If she was here, I was going to see her. It was almost dark, but there was enough light to see where I was walking. The sound of a radio played softly as I turned into the backyard.

And there she was.

Humming with the music, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Didn’t she know I was hanging by a thread?

She was barefoot, wearing this green cotton dress. The material was worn and faded, making it practically see-through. Her back was to me as she shook out a sheet and began folding it. She line-dried her clothes—that’s where that clean linen scent came from that drove me f*cking crazy.

I approached her slowly, but she turned before I reached her. She startled and placed a hand to her chest. “Is your goal in life to scare me into a heart attack, Paul James?”

As she caught her breath, I watched her as she continued to fold the sheet until she stopped and looked up at me. Tilting her head, she eyed me suspiciously. “What’s up with you?”

I couldn’t play coy with her. Not that day. I was too wound up. So I laid it all out on the line.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She froze.

“I don’t know what this is between us. I go from hating you one minute to wanting to bash my brains in because I can’t stop thinking about you the next.”

Silence. She. Said. Nothing.

“I need . . .” I swallowed hard. She was probably going to punch me in the balls for what I was about to say. Don’t do it, Paul. Just leave. You haven’t damaged anything yet. Just. Leave.

I didn’t listen.

Of course, I didn’t.

“I need to feel you.” It was the politest way I could put it. Hopefully, she got the message.

Her cheeks turned pink as her gaze dropped from mine for a moment as she absorbed my words. Then meeting my eyes again, she said, “I’m not the kind of woman that just hooks up, Paul.”

Still wasn’t listening. I stepped toward her. Stop, Paul! I begged myself.

“I know that.” What the f*ck was I saying?

Her chest rose as she sucked in a ragged breath. She was speechless. That was rare.

“If you don’t . . . if you’re not interested . . . I’ll go. No hard feelings.”

A few seconds passed where we just stared at one another. She seemed as if she didn’t know what to say, and, well, I’d said too much. Maybe.

Finally, she pulled her comforter from the clothesline and spread it on the ground. When she stood beside it, her gaze fixed on mine as she pulled the hem of her dress up and over her head.

No bra.

No panties.

Just Clara.

“Take your hair down,” I told her. And she did. No eye rolling or sassing. It was so unlike her. Her hair billowed down before she ran her fingers through it, trying to tame it. I tugged my shirt over my head and let it fall to the ground. As I unbuckled my belt, I toed off my shoes. Once I was naked, I took a few steps so that I was inches in front of her.