“I’m beginning to see what you are talking about. What about you?”
“I have a sister, Myra, who is married to a preacher,” Clara answered. “It doesn’t take a genius to know which one of us…”
“No, it doesn’t,” Nash butted in. “But I’m still in the dark as to why you were so upset.”
“I lost my bartending job in Amarillo and waited until I was on the verge of living in a shelter before I swallowed my pride and went home to Fritch. I needed a place to stay until I found a job, but when my mother and grandmother found out what I had been doing, they really did want to send me off to that rehab place I told y’all about. I hadn’t seen Aunt Bernie in years for all the reasons I just told you about, but she was my last hope.”
Clara stopped and stared out over the wooded area. She drew in a long breath and went on. “I half expectedher to tell me to hit the road, but she has showed me nothing but love and compassion from the time I walked into her bar. I was crying because I was angry, humiliated that I had to come to her for help when the family had treated her like a pile of steaming cow manure, and I was quite literally broke and hungry. Twenty-eight years old, third-generation black sheep, and needing help.”
“That kind of situation would bring a grown man to his knees,” Nash whispered.
Clara was so sleepy that when she blinked, she had trouble opening her eyes. “Thank you, and now I suppose we had better call it a night. I’ve got to go to the Paradise with Aunt Bernie tomorrow. I hope you were serious about me working here if you buy the place.”
Nash put out his cigar, stood up, and extended a hand toward her. “Very serious, and I appreciate that you shared your story with me.”
She put her hand in his, felt that familiar zing, and could almost see the sparks competing with all the stars in the sky. “Thank you for listening and for offering me a job.”
She let go of his hand and stumbled over the chair when she took a step. She grabbed for something to break her fall and had a split-second visual of breaking her neck as she pitched backward. Suddenly Nash’s strong arms wrapped around her body, and her chest was pressed tightly against his. Her pulse had jacked up so high that her heartbeat pounded like a rock band’s drums. Sheintended to move away from him and make a joke about being clumsy, even though she felt so safe right where she was. But when she pulled away and looked up into his eyes, she froze.
He moved his hands from her waist, tucked her messy red hair back away from her face, and cupped her cheeks in his big hands. Desire shot through her body when his thumbs made lazy circles on the soft spot below her ears. For the first time, she truly understood the old saying about being putty in a man’s hands. The song that had played on the jukebox that evening ran through her mind. The lyrics asked if he would lay with her in a field of stone, and would he still love her when she was down and out.
Everything, including doubts, fears, songs, and adages left her mind when she saw his thick dark lashes flutter, his eyes close, and realized that he was going to kiss her. She moistened her lips, tiptoed, and moved her hands up from his chest to wrap them around his neck.
For the next few moments, she and Nash were the only two people on earth in a vacuum-sealed bubble. His lips on hers and the passionate kisses gave them life, and if they ever stopped, she felt as if she would evaporate into nothing but a vapor.
But then the bubble popped, and reality hit her like a wrecking ball.
“That was a mistake,” she muttered.
“I disagree,” Nash said with a smile.
“We can’t… We work…together,” she stammered.
“We can, and we do, and we are adults. We can compartmentalize our work and personal lives.” He grinned as he drew her close for a hug and then kissed her on the forehead.
“Good night, Clara,” he whispered.
His warm breath melted all the determination to not get involved with him right out of her heart and soul. Who would have ever thought that cigar and whiskey breath could make such fiery-hot kisses? Or was it the tickle of his soft beard on her face? Then he walked away into the darkness, leaving her shivering even though the temperature was still in the high eighties.
Chapter 9
Not only had Bernie never pulled a trailer behind a vehicle, but she also hadn’t had time to get the hang of driving a new truck with all the bells and whistles that the newer models had. She didn’t even turn on the radio for fear that the noise would distract her. Driving in deafening silence gave her mind plenty of time to think about the next phase of her life.
Item number one on her roller coaster of thoughts was the difference in Clara that morning. She had seemed both excited and sad at the breakfast table, not totally unlike what Bernie had seen in Luna. The mixed emotions were still in Clara’s expression that morning as she stared out the front window. Bernie chalked it up to her having jumbled feelings about putting down roots in a town the size of Ratliff City.
She has found something that makes her happy, but she has to want it bad enough to grab on to it with both hands and hang on for dear life,Bernie thought as she crossed the Taovayas Indian Bridge over the Red River and into Texas.
What are you going to do about it?The pesky voice in her head asked.
I’m going to fix it,Bernie growled in her mind and then smiled at the next idea that popped into her head. She could sell Nash half of the Chicken Coop and give the other half to Clara. That way her niece would never be beholden to anyone again. She had always planned to leave the fortune she had amassed over the years to Mary Jane’s girls, but since Clara had come to her for help, it would be only fair that she also got a little inheritance.
Bernie nodded in agreement with her decision, but decided to mull it over for a while before she made her final decision. It would bind Nash and Clara together and make them a business couple, but in time, if she gave them plenty of time alone, it would develop into something personal, too.
“Yes,” she muttered.
“What was that?” Clara asked.
“I was agreeing with an idea I had,” Bernie answered. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
