Clay poured wine for each of them. River swirled the deep red around in the glass before she sampled it. The Merlot had layers of blackberry, blueberry, and ripe plum with a very nice finish. She couldn’t help smiling.
“That’s very good.” Clay took a second sip.
“I agree.”
An awkward silence descended for a moment before River remembered her snack run to the Piggly Wiggly.
“Are you hungry? I picked up cheese and crackers and…um, mostly I just have cheese and crackers.” River fished in the brown shopping bag. “Oh, and chips.” She proudly held up a bag of BBQ kettle chips.
Clay was amused by River’s culinary display, or lack thereof. River clearly hadn’t planned on feeding anyone but herself, and now Clay felt bad for showing up unannounced. But unless Clay was completely off her game, River seemed happy to see her. River looked like the poster girl for sexy gym wear. The scooped neck T-shirt she was wearing dipped low enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of cleavage, and the running shorts gave a maximum view of her toned legs. Once again, River was barefoot. For some reason, this amused Clay and she couldn’t help smiling.
“What’s funny? Oh, wait, you don’t have an allergy to dairy do you?” River’s crestfallen expression was bookended by the wedge of cheese and the box of crackers she held in each hand.
“No, it’s not that.” Clay tipped her head toward the floor. “I’ve been around you only a few times, but you’re almost always shoeless. I was just wondering what’s at the root of your aversion to shoes.” She grinned as she sipped her wine.
River glanced down and then she smiled too. When she looked back up, her eyes sparkled. Clay decided that this casual, girlish version of River Hemsworth was completely enchanting.
“If you’d ever seen my closet you wouldn’t ask such a question. I love shoes, as many shoes as possible, but I also love any excuse to take them off.” She cocked her head as if she was thinking some deep thought. “You don’t have an aversion to toes or something do you? Or some strange foot fetish that I should know about?”
Clay snorted a laugh. “No, absolutely not. Your toes are adorable.”
As soon as the compliment escaped her lips, Clay felt her cheeks flame hotly. She felt exposed by the innocent compliment, as if River could see the unvoiced attraction hiding behind it. She wondered if River sensed her discomfort. Clay shoved her free hand in her pocket and busied herself looking everywhere but at River while River sliced cheese and piled crackers on a plate next to the neatly arranged slices.
“Shall we sit?” River motioned toward the sofa.
Clay nodded. How had this turned into a social visit? She’d had every intention of simply stopping by to check in, or so she’d told herself. Now she was joining River on the couch for wine and appetizers as if they were friends. She was suddenly nervous about where this might be headed. The softness of the sofa surrounded her as she dropped to a seated position. Was she leaning back too far? Were her legs too far apart? Her shins grazed the coffee table so she angled sideways a little. Clay smiled thinly around a mouthful of red wine. The Merlot was strong and full-bodied and was going straight to her head. Maybe cheese and crackers were a good idea after all. She’d always been sort of a lightweight on an empty stomach.
She reached for the food and tried to ignore the fact that River was studying her from the other side of the couch. River was angled sideways into the far end of the sofa, her legs tucked discreetly under her so that her abbreviated running shorts didn’t give too much away.
“So, I was a little surprised to discover that you used to live in New York City.”
Clay didn’t remember if she’d mentioned that she lived in New York. She didn’t think she had. Had River looked her up? She leaned forward, debating whether to leave.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted that out.” River shifted as if she were about to reach for Clay, but then she let her hand drop. “I found your paintings in my aunt’s gallery and I googled you. I apologize. I promise I’m not a stalker or anything.”
Clay exhaled and dropped back, slouching into the deep cushions. If River had googled her, then she probably knew all about Veronica and about the solo show.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. When I saw your work I sort of couldn’t help myself.” River studied her over the rim of her wine glass. “You’re a gifted painter.”
“Thank you.” Clay downed a mouthful of wine, focusing on River’s initial comment. “I suppose I always wanted New York, but I’m not sure I was ready for it.”
“What do you mean?” River seemed more relaxed now that Clay wasn’t poised to bolt for the door.
“Well, if you’re going to be serious about art you pretty much have to go to New York City, don’t you? I wanted to prove to myself I could make it there, that I could succeed there.” Clay sighed. “But New York is tough, maybe even more so when you succeed.”
“Where did you study art?”
“Wheaton.”
“That’s a great school.”
“Yeah, I really enjoyed college.” Clay reached for a slice of cheese and swallowed before continuing. “I sort of wish I’d studied more, but…” Her voice trailed off because she didn’t really want to get into the whole how I came out discussion, especially not right now with River.
“Girls?” River teased her.
“Maybe a topic for another time.”
“Speaking of girls, or I should say, women…Veronica Mann…she curated your solo show, right?”
River had definitely googled her public life in New York. Clay couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or flattered.
“Wow, you really know how to go right for the sore subject.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. We can talk about something else. I was just curious.” River reached for a few crackers and held them in her fingers as if she’d been dealt a hand of cards. She nibbled from the corners. “I know her professionally, and I suppose I wondered how well you knew her.”
River was plainly fishing for details. The wine or the soft cushions or both were coaxing Clay to relax. Relaxing made her inclined to share. Why not talk to River about what had happened in New York? Maybe talking about it would help. This could be like therapy with a stranger. She and River didn’t really know each other, and it wasn’t like Clay had any intentions of ever going back to New York City. River was in the same profession as Veronica. Maybe she could shed some light on things, on how Clay could have judged everything so wrongly.
“I knew her well, although, upon reflection, not as well as I thought I did.”
“Were you involved with her?”
“If you mean did I sleep with her? Yes, regrettably.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” River shifted on the sofa. “I mean, not about the sleeping together part…about the regrettably part.”
River reminded herself that this was not a date. She still hoped that Clay might turn out to be a client. But her libido hadn’t gotten that message. She’d definitely taken the conversation down a more personal path asking about Veronica, but she’d felt some strange compulsion to know the story behind the photos she’d seen online. A cloud settled over Clay’s face, and River was truly sorry. She’d clearly opened some wound for Clay. She got up and retrieved the bottle from the kitchen.
“Veronica Mann is a predator.” She poured them both more wine.
“Where were you a year ago with that heads-up?”
River laughed. “Sorry I wasn’t there to warn you.” River sank back into her corner. “But she’s not the reason you left New York is she?”
Clay leaned forward and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Instinctively, River touched her arm. Clay looked down at River’s fingers on her arm and then met River’s gaze. Clay was upset, and River felt like a jerk for being so flippant about a subject that Clay hadn’t gotten over.
“I should go.” Clay stood up.
“Are you sure you can ride after drinking wine?” River had completely r
uined the moment, and she wanted a chance to salvage things. And then she remembered. “One of my aunt’s neighbors brought over a casserole earlier. I could reheat it if you’ll stay.”
Clay seemed surprised by the invitation.
“Come on, stay, and no more talk of evil exes, I promise.” She was standing close to Clay and couldn’t resist touching her arm again. The light contact sent warm tendrils of electric current all through her body. “Besides, I might need help figuring out how to operate the oven.”
Clay laughed, and the weight of the air in the room lightened. River couldn’t help smiling. She’d managed to bring a smile back to Clay’s face and that pleased her.
“I take it the kitchen is not your domain.” Clay followed her to the refrigerator.
“Definitely not.” River swiveled, setting the large dish on the counter near the oven. “I don’t cook. But I have other talents.”
“I have no doubt about that.”
River was sure she was blushing at the comment and the teasingly flirtatious look that followed. River watched as Clay turned on the stove and set the temperature.
“About this casserole…I’m not exactly sure if this is supposed to be an entrée or dessert.”
“In the Deep South, where the words Jell-O and salad can be used together to describe an entrée, those two things are definitely not mutually exclusive.”
River laughed. Clay seemed comfortable in her aunt’s kitchen, and River was reminded that there was history here for Clay that she knew nothing about. There were things she wanted to ask Clay, but she wasn’t sure what safe topics might be.
“I’m surprised I’ve never met you before. I mean, you know, if you’d visited Eve we’d have probably met sooner.” Clay crossed her arms and leaned against the counter as they waited for the oven to reach the proper temperature. River couldn’t help noticing Clay’s subtly sculpted biceps. Hands and arms. Clay had strong hands and arms, leanly muscled and toned. For an instant, an image flashed through her mind of Clay, hovering above her, braced above her on those arms. River cleared her throat and looked away.
“I wasn’t really close to my aunt. You probably already guessed that.”
Clay nodded.
“It wasn’t by choice. I’ve only recently discovered that she and my father had a bit of a falling out…um, maybe conflict is more accurate.” River didn’t really know Clay well enough to go into all the details, and Clay was polite enough not to ask for more.
“That’s too bad. Eve was an amazing woman.” Clay wandered from the kitchen to the hallway. She examined the photos as she sipped her wine. “I miss her.”
“I’m sorry I won’t get the chance to know her.”
“She’s the reason I started painting you know. She helped me get into college too.” Clay looked at River.
“Really?” River was curious, but this time she waited for Clay to continue rather than pelting her with questions.
Clay moved slowly down the hallway, pausing to look more closely at particular framed photos as she sipped her wine.
“I remember when this photo was taken.” Clay smiled and pointed at one of the images halfway down the hall.
River joined her so that she could have a better look.
“Eve had helped me enter some drawings into a local art competition, and one of the pieces won second place. She and her partner, Peggy, drove me over for the opening in Savannah, and then we all went out for dinner afterward to celebrate.”
“Is Peggy…is she…”
“Peggy died several years ago from cancer. She and Eve were together a long time, as long as I can remember anyway.” Clay’s eyes were heavy lidded and sad. “They lived here together. And I used to stay here sometimes.” She pointed toward the doorway opposite the photos several feet away. “That was my room.”
“Did something happen with your family?” River was almost afraid to find out. Protectiveness surged at the thought that Clay, at a young age, might have been kicked out of her home for being gay.
“My dad passed away when I was a kid. It was sudden…a heart defect. And my mom married the first man that she dated after.” The expression on Clay’s face grew more serious as she studied a few other photos along the wall. “He and I never got along, and I think he was more than happy to have Eve mentor me in art so that I was out of his hair and sometimes out from under his roof.”
“How old were you when they got married?”
“Thirteen. I was fifteen when he took a job in Tampa and they moved away. There was no way I was gonna go with them. I stayed here with my grandparents. And Eve kept helping me improve my painting skills.” The oven chimed and Clay slid the casserole dish onto the middle rack. “It was all for the best. Mom and Gary still live in Tampa. She’s happy and I’m happy for her. And I definitely made the right decision to stay here and finish high school with my friends.” She leaned against the counter and rested her palms on the edge. “Now you know my whole sad story, including Veronica, and I know hardly anything about you except that you like to drive barefoot, that operating a stove exceeds your technical abilities in the kitchen, and that you own a gallery in the City.”
River laughed. “Sorry, have I been asking too many questions?”
“More like I’ve been talking nonstop.” Clay wiggled her empty glass in the air. “I think it’s the wine. Maybe I should switch to water if I’m going to ride that bike home.”
There was an instant where River almost offered that Clay could stay as long as she liked, but that seemed too forward. Although, as the thought rose and was quickly dismissed, River realized that she liked Clay, really liked her. There was something really solid about Clay. Her presence grounded the air around her, and River had the strongest urge to lean into the weight of it. Not that she wasn’t grounded herself, but she was always in motion, and Clay…well, Clay was tranquil, unruffled, and easy. Not just on the eyes. Something about Clay’s energy made River relax.
Chapter Thirteen
Clay took one last bite of the casserole and then set her fork down. It was hard not to keep eating, but as it was they’d finished off almost half of it along with one more glass of wine for River. Clay had switched to water because a third glass of Merlot would definitely have impaired her ability to ride home safely.
She still hadn’t managed to get too many personal details from River. Maybe she’d been asking the wrong questions.
“Do you run the gallery in New York all by yourself?”
“I have one employee, Amelia. She’s a friend from college so she’s more of a partner than an assistant.”
Did partner mean partner or lover?
“How long have you two been together?”
“Oh, when I said partner I didn’t mean it like that, I simply meant that we don’t have a typical boss, employee relationship. We were friends before we started working together.” River pushed her plate aside. They were sitting across from each other, eating on the countertop of the island that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Amelia is great, you’d like her. I told her to google you too. She thought you were really cute, but she’s straight, so don’t get any ideas.” River covered her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
The wine was clearly going to her head. She was adorably tipsy.
“I should probably go.” Clay stood up. The attraction she was feeling for River hadn’t lessened as they’d talked. More wine and conversation was just going to make it harder to leave. Besides, it was getting late. “Thank you for letting me hang out for so long, and for the food. This was really…fun.” She realized as soon as she said it that it was true. Tonight had been fun. River was fun. Clay couldn’t remember the last time she’d said that about an evening out with anyone. She’d definitely been in a funk for weeks.
“Are you sure you’re okay to ride that bike?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. And I don’t have that far to go anyway. My place is close by.”
River follow
ed her to the door, but didn’t open it. They stood facing each other in the low light of the dimly lit living room. A lamp was on across the room, and it highlighted River’s profile. She wanted to kiss River. The urge was overwhelming, like she was some small astral body circling a star and gravity was slowly reeling her into a shrinking orbit. She leaned closer, their faces only inches apart. River looked up at her expectantly, her lips slightly parted, but at the last instant before contact, River shifted, kissing her lightly on the cheek. Clay was surprised by the kiss, and she was sure it showed on her face. Was River giving her the brush-off? Friendly and cordial, but a brush-off nonetheless. Clay reached for the door.
“Okay, well, have a good night.” Clay wasn’t sure what else to say.
“You too.” River stood in the doorway as Clay walked to the curb.
Clay tried not to read into what had just happened, but that was almost impossible. What had she expected? She showed up unexpectedly, talked about her ex and her high school drama with her stepfather. What a complete downer she must be. Loads of fun. She was probably lucky River hadn’t kicked her to the curb two hours earlier.
Clay smiled thinly at River, who was still standing in the open door, backlit by the living room lamp. She adjusted her helmet and then gave a quick wave before she rode away.
* * *
River closed the door and covered her face with her hands. What was that? Clay had most definitely been about to kiss her. There was no doubt about it, and she’d panicked and kissed Clay on the cheek before they could kiss for real. What was wrong with her?
She swept her hands up and then down through her hair. There were a few slices of cheese left on the plate so she put the dish in the fridge and then collected the wineglasses and rinsed them in the sink. There was only a half glass left in the bottle as she held it up to the light, and she knew she’d drunk most of it. Clay had judiciously stopped after her second glass.
Take My Hand Page 9