Sterling

by Foster , Delaney

  I pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. “Full house last night?”

  Miss Myra grabbed her coffee then leaned one hip against an ornate wooden sideboard. “I haven’t had a full house since Edna Westbrook decided to have a family reunion.” She cooled the liquid with her breath then took a sip before continuing. “Did you know she has eight children?” She set the coffee cup on the sideboard. “Eight! And nineteen grandchildren,” she said as though she wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t seen them for herself. I scooped a spoonful of eggs onto my plate but kept silent. Miss Myra stared off into the distance for a second then shook her head and smiled—like she was shaking off a memory. “It was nice, though, hearing children’s laughter bouncing off these walls again.”

  I grabbed a biscuit and the jar of homemade apple butter. “Well, surely you didn’t make all this food just for me,” I teased in an attempt to steer her away from wherever her thoughts seemed to take her.

  She picked up her coffee mug again and chuckled. “Oh, heavens no—” Her words were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “I do have another guest…”

  Steam seeped out of my freshly cut open biscuit. I had just reached for the apple butter but stopped as soon as I saw Claire at the bottom of the staircase. Her plaid pajama bottoms hung low and loosely on her hips, making her figure-hugging tank top seem that much tighter against her perfect fucking breasts. The top crept up her side and revealed just enough skin to make me want to put my mouth on her. A strand of long blonde hair escaped from the messy knot on top of her head and fell in front of her face. She blew it away. She caught me staring and immediately tugged the hem of her top as far down as it would go. I’d much rather have watched her pull it over her head and let me drink in her curves.

  “Oh.” She folded her arms protectively over her chest. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  Don’t hide from me, baby. I’ve seen it before. And I will see it again. Soon.

  I coated my knife in apple butter then covered the bottom of my biscuit. Her body language might say one thing, but her voice betrayed her. She sounded almost relieved to see me.

  Miss Myra shuffled across the hardwood floor and looped her arm around Claire’s. “You got up just in time. The eggs are nice and warm.” She tugged Claire toward the dining room, but Claire resisted.

  “I should change first,” she argued.

  Miss Myra flicked her wrist in the air. “Nonsense. You’re cute as a speckled puppy.”

  Not exactly how I’d have described her, but she was kind of adorable when her cheeks flushed like that.

  Claire let the older woman drag her to the table. A smile tipped the corners of my mouth when Claire pulled out a chair and sat across from me. She tucked the runaway hair behind her ear and cleared her throat.

  I reached forward and handed her the platter of biscuits. “She’s not lying. You woke up just in time.”

  “Oh, blazes. Look at the time,” Miss Myra sang as she made a show of looking at her watch. She hurried to the kitchen and set her cup in the sink. “I have a meeting at City Hall. I’m sure you two will be fine on your own. And don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean up when I get back.” She grabbed her purse from the living room and rushed out the door.

  “I wonder if she knows she’s still got curlers in her hair,” I said.

  Claire laughed and shook her head. Jesus, I’d missed her laugh. “Maybe she’s starting a trend,” she said with a shrug.

  I had gotten to know Miss Myra pretty well over the past year, and she was not the forgetful type. She was definitely up to something. “Maybe.”

  Claire grabbed a biscuit then a spoonful of eggs. “I can’t remember the last time I had homemade biscuits. I’m a sad victim of Pop Tarts and granola bars.”

  “I only get them when I stay here.” I salted and peppered my eggs, then looked back across the table at Claire. She watched me with big blue eyes. I could never say no to those eyes. “We’re hopeless,” I said, knowing she’d look away if she caught my double meaning.

  She didn’t. Claire kept her eyes locked on mine and smiled. Then she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth the way she always had whenever I’d said something she liked.

  “Completely hopeless,” she agreed.

  It took everything I had not to lean across the table and take that lip between my teeth. But it was too soon. There were too many walls to climb. If this was going to happen—and it was going to happen, regardless of Abigail’s threats—it was going to happen one step at a time.

  I had to steer the conversation, keep it simple. For now. “I thought you’d be staying with your gram.”

  “I couldn’t. I was going to, then she…” Claire dropped her fork and the sound of silver against ceramic echoed across the room. “I couldn’t.”

  I wanted to ask why. I wanted her to tear down her walls and have her confide in me again. But I knew she wouldn’t, so I didn’t. “Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed to see you again…”

  So much for baby steps.

  Her expression stilled, and she slid her chair away from the table. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost. “I really need to get going.”

  Mayday. Mayday. We’re going down.

  “You didn’t even finish your breakfast.”

  Claire grabbed the biscuit from her plate and took a bite as she walked away without another word.

  And there it was, the crash and burn. Good thing I was excellent at putting out fires.

  Of course, Jayce would be here. I was the punchline of an inside joke between fate and Mrs. Abraham. Okay, maybe that was harsh. I should’ve known the minute I saw him that he’d be staying at the B&B. According to Mrs. Abraham, that’s where he always stayed. And maybe deep down inside a part of me hoped Jayce would be here, that I would see him again. But I didn’t come to Clover Creek for Jayce. I was here for my gram. And that’s what I needed to focus on. Starting with returning the car I’d borrowed last night.

  As I pulled the denim shorts over my hips, I felt more aware of my bare legs than I ever had before, more aware of my body than I had been before. My fingers brushed the skin on my thighs, and an electric jolt shot through my stomach. What was happening to me? Why did I suddenly care what my legs looked like? Because Jayce Sterling was in town? Yeah, because he’d never seen them before… or the rest of me for that matter. God. The thought of Jayce 2.0 seeing me naked made me quiver. The thought of seeing him naked made me want things, things I hadn’t wanted from anyone—not even David—in a long time. Okay this was ridiculous. That was not happening. Move along, Claire.

  I tied the laces on my light pink Converse and headed downstairs. Two more days. I could totally do this.

  I went to clear the dining table, even though Mrs. Abraham had said not to. Following directions never really was my thing. Apparently, it wasn’t Jayce’s thing either. He stood at the kitchen sink with his dress shirt rolled up at the cuffs, humming while his head bobbed back and forth to whatever tune played in his mind. The ceramic plates clanked against everything—each other, the white porcelain of the farmhouse sink, the silverware. The kitchen filled with a chorus of clanks and Jayce’s humming. Suds bubbled over the top of the sink. He was washing the dishes for Mrs. Abraham. I smiled to myself. Freaking adorable. This man was going to be the death of me.

  I giggled when he accidentally sang a lyric out loud, then I immediately clasped a hand over my mouth. Jayce spun around, slinging suds across the kitchen. A heap of bubbles landed on my cheek.

  “Shots fired,” I yelled across the room. “Oh, it’s on now.” I marched toward the sink, letting my eyes narrow in on him.

  He cocked his head when I dipped my hand into the sink full of suds. “Wait. First, you spy on me. Then, you startle me. And now you’re what? Going to drown me?” he questioned.

  “Oh, no. I don’t look good in orange, and we both know the judge in this town has it out for me, so…” I grabbed a handful of suds and the water
that came with it and plopped it right in the middle of Jayce’s face. Bubbles fell from his nose, to his chin, then to the floor and created a tiny puddle.

  He squinted his eyes closed and blew almost all of them away. “You realize this means war?”

  I turned to run, but he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back. My small body crashed into his tall, firm one. We were so close. He smelled so good. I could’ve stood here and let myself melt into him. My heart thumped so hard against my chest that Jayce probably felt it too. Yeah, we were that close.

  Then, of course, because I was about as good at sexy moments as a kindergartener is at calculus, I slipped on the wet floor. Jayce tightened his grip around my waist to hold me steady. Now we were even closer, if that was at all possible. Tingles. My whole body tingled at his touch.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His usual smooth voice was almost a whisper. A leftover sud dripped from his nose onto my face. His finger touched my chin and tipped my head up slowly.

  The room shrunk. My heart hammered. Warmth spread across my skin at the brush of his fingertips against my chin. I swallowed hard. As hard as I tried, as much as I knew I needed to, I couldn’t look away from him. I couldn’t even move. I wanted this. I wanted him.

  “I thought I told you two to leave the mess to me,” Mrs. Abraham called from the living room.

  Jayce dropped his hand, and air filled my lungs again. I let out a long breath and stepped out of his arms. We both turned to face the owner of the inn as she made her way into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Abraham looked over our sud-covered faces and wet clothes and laughed. “Although, I can’t say I’ve ever done it quite like this,” she said. She handed each of us a cotton dish towel then made her way to the sink.

  I stood as far away from Jayce as I could while I wiped my face. “Sorry for the mess, Mrs. Abraham.”

  The woman laughed again. “Oh, no you don’t. There’ll be no apologies here, young lady. Now y’all go. Both of you. I’ll finish up.”

  Neither one of us were about to argue with a woman who just went to town with curlers in her hair.

  The whole drive to my gram’s, I thought about what happened in the kitchen at the B&B. Being that close to Jayce brought back feelings I’d spent years trying to forget. I was thankful Mrs. Abraham walked in when she did. That was a hot mess waiting to happen. I was five-point-two seconds from ripping my clothes off and showing Jayce that more than my face had gotten wet.

  I pulled into the drive just as Annie tossed her overnight bag into the back seat of her car. “Hey, Annie. Sorry I’m late.” I wasn’t about to explain why, so I left it at that.

  “No worries. I’ve still got twenty minutes until the shop opens, and I can make it there in ten.”

  I climbed out of the car and tucked my phone into my back pocket. I stared up at the big white house, and my nerves fluttered in my belly. Why was I nervous? It wasn’t the first time I’d been alone with Gram. This whole trip was just one big prescription for some Xanax and a week at the beach. White sand. Waves crashing on the shore. And that awesome little diner with the world’s best peach cobbler.

  “Claire?” Annie’s voice yanked me out of my trance.

  “Right. Sorry. I was… eating cobbler on the beach,” I replied. Annie tilted her head to one side and pulled her brows together. “Never mind. Yes, of course. Go. We’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  I was sure by the look on her face that what Annie meant to say was, “Did you take your meds today?”

  “I’m sure. Now, go before you’re late.”

  Annie’s expression softened when she took my hand. The girl couldn’t be a day over twenty-five, but her eyes held all the wisdom of someone twice her age. I regretted every negative thing I’d ever thought about her.

  “Hey, Annie,” I added before Annie got in her car. “How is she today?”

  “Today’s a good day,” Annie replied with a smile that was genuine and sweet. A smile that calmed my nerves at the sight of it.

  I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. I followed the brick-paved walkway to the front steps. I wasn’t greeted with the colorful blanket of flowers that lined the porch in years past. Wilted stems fell across dried mulch. Weeds broke through the ground where tulips used to be. Bleakness where joy used to grow. I was thankful for the way the darkness of last night kept the garden hidden. It gave me a little more time to process everything. The flower beds were Gram’s pride and joy. I would have never imagined a day when she’d let them go.

  The porch swing swayed in the summer breeze. I stood in front of the glass-paned door and took a deep breath. “Hey, Gram. I’m here,” I called out when I walked inside.

  I set the keys on the table in the foyer on my way into the living room. My fingers traced the squares of the colorful quilt draped across the back of Gram’s sofa. That quilt had kept me warm on more winter nights than I could count. I would curl up on the sofa in front of the fire, cover up with that quilt and read for hours.

  “Gram?”

  She wasn’t in her cozy chair or in the kitchen. The house was quiet. Eerily quiet.

  “I brought us a snack.” We’d always had the best laughs when we made desserts together. I hoped it might help rekindle pieces of our old routine. I set the paper grocery bag onto the kitchen counter and went to the stairs.

  “Gram? Are you upstairs?”

  Panic swelled with each step I took without hearing a response. The bedrooms were empty, and no one was in the bathrooms. If this was what Annie called a good day, I was afraid to see a bad one.

  “Gram?” I yelled one more time before fear splintered up my spine.

  No answer.

  She was gone. Gram was gone, and I had no idea where to even start to find her.

  I turned into the driveway at my father’s house at ten minutes ‘til eight o’clock. Jared Sterling waited on the front porch with his lunch box on his lap. He had that look in his eye, the one that made me feel like a teenager who’d stayed out past my curfew—for the second time in one week.

  “Sorry, Pops. I was helping Miss Myra clean up after breakfast.”

  It was just a tiny white lie. I was helping clean up. If standing in the kitchen imagining Claire dripping wet was considered cleaning up. We were so close. Two more inches. One more second. And my lips would have tasted hers. My dick strained against my zipper the minute I grabbed her tiny waist. There’s no way she didn’t feel it. She wanted it every bit as much as I did. I saw it in her eyes, in the way they fell to my mouth when I tipped her chin.

  “I’m sure she appreciated that,” Jared replied as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  She seemed to appreciate the effort, at least. I didn’t tell my dad that Miss Myra had to finish the job. Or that I had to go upstairs and blow dry my shirt before I could leave. I probably could’ve taken a cold shower too. If I’d had clean clothes.

  “Come on, Pops. Seat belt. You know the rules.”

  He rolled his eyes then buckled in. “I don’t know why the big deal with these things, they’re a pain in the ass.”

  “That pain in the ass could save your life one day.”

  Pops huffed a laugh then looked out the window at the tree-lined street. “Only way this thing is saving my life is if it comes up with a cure for cancer.”

  I hated when my dad talked that way. Like it was the end of the world. Like he’d given up. Maybe if I’d come around more often, my father would have more to look forward to. Why hadn’t I thought of any of this before now?

  Because I’d spent too much time running from Clover Creek and its secrets. Now I’d found a reason to come back, a reason to face them once and for all. I’d found the hope I needed to start over again. All I needed was forgiveness. Starting with my dad.

  “I owe you an apology, Pops.” I pulled into an empty parking space in front of the steel factory and put my SUV in park.

  “I told you it’s okay. I’m happy you helped Myra.
Shows I raised you right.”

  I shifted in my seat so that I faced my father. “Not for being late. For leaving the way I did. For not ever coming back. For not being here the past thirteen years.”

  Pops swallowed hard then cleared his throat. He looked everywhere but into my eyes. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. You had your reasons.”

  “I did. But I should’ve talked to you about them instead of running. It’s just… I was so angry. At you. At her. All of it.”

  Pops gripped the handle of his lunchbox until his knuckles turned white. After what seemed like hours of silence, he turned to face me. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot from unshed tears. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. I never meant for you to find out the way you did.”

  “I love you, Pops.”

  “I love you too, Son.”

  That was the first time in a long time that either one of us had spoken those words out loud.

  The Walk-In Closet was the only real clothing store in Clover Creek. The pharmacy sold T-shirts, and the general store had a few things. Nothing said “Please, Claire, take me back” like a Coca-Cola T-shirt and cargo shorts.

  Annie’s shop looked every bit its name. White shelves and rods that were fully stocked and organized by color lined the bright white walls. In the center of the store was a huge island surrounded by upholstered benches for trying on shoes. It was exactly that—one big walk in closet.

  She greeted me with wide eyes when I walked into her store. “Jayce Sterling? In my little shop? Something’s not right.” Annie leaned toward the large glass window at the front of the store and looked outside. “Is it snowing in June?”

  “Look at you. All grown up. And with jokes, too. Who would’ve thought it?”