Page 81 of Enticed
“Uh, that’s borderline stalker behavior, Penny. And seriously dangerous. You could have caused an accident between us,” I chastise her behavior while hiding how impressed I am with her dedication to finding me. “Did Clara put you up to this?” I stand tall again—tempted to give back the food, but curious what the point of all of this was.
“All she asked was for me to drop it off to you today. She didn’t specifyhowI got it to you,” she winks, and I let out the first real laugh I’ve felt in a week.
“Did she really think that lasagna was gonna make everything better?” I’m not gonna lie—the fact that she went to the trouble and made this for me—even though it’s a thousand degrees outside and hot food doesn’t sound very appetizing—well, it tells me she’s attempting to smooth things over.
But it’s going to take a lot more than my favorite food to patch up the mess we’re in.
“No. She knows she has more groveling to do. But this is a start, don’t ya think?” Penny tilts her head at me, assessing my reaction.
I stare down at the container, then back up at Penny. “It’s a start. But I’m not done being mad.”
“Hey, I didn’t say you had to be. All I’m saying is—let this be the beginning of the wooing, Coop. Let Clara, sweep you off of your feet,” she bats her eyelashes at me and another laugh escapes my mouth.
“We’ll see,” I smirk at Penny. “But hey, no more of your Fast & The Furious stunts, Penny, got it?” I point a stern finger in her direction to which she offers me a salute.
“Aye, Aye, Captain!” She shouts before cranking her engine and merging back onto the road like the responsible driver I know her to be.
“What the fuck was that about? Dildos? And is that lasagna?” Luke peers at the container in my hands.
I place the container on the center console and then run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s from Clara. The lasagna. Not the dildo. That woman is Penny, her neighbor, one of the horniest old women I’ve ever known in my life.”
Luke bursts out into laughter. “I don’t even want to know why the woman has dildos in her car. But why is Clara making you lasagna?”
I shake my head. “I think this is her attempt at trying to apologize.”
Luke is partially aware of what happened between Clara and me, but I think I have some details to fill him in with.
“Well, is it working?” He asks as I pull back onto the residential street and continue to drive.
“It didn’t hurt,” I reply before reviewing with Luke the entire debacle that got me into this sour mood in the first place while we cruise around for the next few hours.
When I finish the Italian goodness that I’m pretty sure is my mom’s recipe and lick the fork clean, I plop the container back on my desk at the station and then remember the note attached to the lid. Peeling the tape off, I open the paper and my brow furrows when I take in Clara’s handwriting.
Cooper,
I want you to know that I currently have blisters on my fingers as I attempt to write this. Apparently oven mitts were invented for a reason. Anyway, I know that it’s going to take a lot more than lasagna for you to forgive me, but I figured the best way to win over a man is through his stomach. That’s what they say, right? Any who, I called your mom to get her recipe since I know this is your favoriteandbecause this is the meal you made for me that night you surprised me at my house. Walking in my door and seeing you there, in my kitchen, wasthemost romantic thing any man has ever done for me. You know why? Because no man haseverdone anything like that for me—because I’ve never let them. I’ve never really done the relationship thing before, until you. Which means I have no idea what I’m doing and explains why I was such an idiot when I should have just told everyone the truth the other night. I’m so sorry, Cooper. But if I’m being honest, it’s probably not the last stupid thing I’ll ever do. I know my explanation doesn’t make everything go back to normal—I have a lot to make up for. But please let this be the start—the beginning of me showing you how much I miss you and want you in my life. The past few days without you have been miserable. And I promise, I’m going to make this right.
Always yours,
Clara
I know this is Clara trying to smooth things over—but it’s going to take a lot more than food to make that happen. However, I can’t help the half-smile I wear as I glance at the empty container—knowing she probably woke up early this morning to make it, which cost her sleep, which makes her cranky, which makes me happy that she sacrificed something she deems important to show me how much she cares.
However, I never doubted that Clara cared for me—I saw that in her eyes and how she’d touch me when we were together. I heard it in her words and how often she would thank me for saving her life. It was in her buying my favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s for the nights when we would binge Netflix shows and creamy treats before fucking like rabbits, and stocking my body wash in her bathroom for showers at her house. It was in the generous donation that she spent for the Date the Deputy auction, claiming she was saving me from Misty, when she really was claiming me for herself. It was in the banter back and forth between us, the flirting and sexual tension that we finally gave into and fuck, I’m glad we did.
I never doubted that she cared—It was the words she never uttered out loud in front ofothersthat hurt me. It was that her fear of what everyone else thought—particularly my sister—that prevented her from admitting we were together that ripped my heart from my chest. Because the two of us together—there was nothing wrong with it. It was right. It’s what I want.
I’m just not sure if Clara is one-hundred percent there yet, but her gesture shows me she’s trying.
The next day I decide to go for a run with Roark instead of the gym. Cash text me last night and apologized for pushing me and I reciprocated for my behavior, but the truth is I needed to hear it. I don’t consider myself an unreasonable guy, but the fury I’m holding inside is definitely preventing me from seeing the real problem with my reaction. I don’t want to hold on to this animosity towards Clara forever—but I just don’t know if a relationship will ever happen between us like I want it to until she figures out whatshewants.
And I have no control over that—no timeline to follow, no checklist to mark. It’s all on her, which makes it even harder for me to focus. I want to solve the problem—run over to her house and tell her to own up, shout from the rooftops that we’re together, maybe run away and start over somewhere else if that’s what she needs.
But I know that’s not what I really want either. The life I’ve established in Emerson Falls is the one I want to share with her—because when you realize that the one thing that has been missing from your life was theright person—not the perfect job, or house, or an obscene amount of money, material possessions that you thought mattered but you quickly realize they don’t—nothing else brings you joy like it did before that person was there to share it with.
When I open my front door to leave, I almost trip and fall flat on my face as my foot catches on something on my porch. Untangling my feet from beneath me, I realized I tripped on a dog leash and a package of tennis balls.
“What the fuck?” I say through a half-smile as I bend down to pick up the items. Roark barks at me when he sees the balls, his thoughts instantly going to a game of fetch, I assume. There’s a note attached to the plastic tube encasing the bright yellow orbs, which I detach and flip open while trying to control Roark going wild on his leash.