Clayton
The drive back from Grady’s felt longer than usual. I’d been hoping Rachel would come along.
I’d had a whole plan in my head where I’d introduce her to Grady and his wife Magnolia, let her taste Magnolia’s amazing apple pie, maybe drive her up to the overlook where you could see three counties on a clear day. Then I’d show her all the parts of Red Oak Mountain that made it special. The community garden on the edge of town. The swimming hole where I’d spent every summer of my childhood. Old Pete’s general store with its creaky floors and penny candy jars that hadn’t changed since 1962.
If I could just show her some of themagicin this place, maybe it would be enough to win her over.
But instead, she was probably sitting at my kitchen table right now, writing up the report that would deny Mrs. Andretti’s claim and break my heart in the process.
Rachel had already told me what was happening between us was just physical. I was the one refusing to believe it.
Nuts whined from the passenger seat, picking up on my mood the way he always did. Bolts just pressed his wet nose against the window, oblivious.
“I know, buddy,” I said, reaching over to scratch behind his ears. “I like her, too. But let’s not get too used to having her around.”
But I wasn’t convinced she would really leave.
It was illogical to feel that way, given that she’d told me point-blank this was just physical. But I couldn’t ignore the magic of being tangled in the sheets, whispering confessions to each other.
She’d felt it too.
Our connection was too strong.
Whatever the fuck was happening between us was mind-blowing. Or cock-blowing, to be more specific. I’d never wanted a woman as badly as I wanted Rachel.
And now that I’d had her, all I wanted was to make love to her over and over again.
Six times between last night and this morning hadn’t been enough. Not even close.
I pulled into my driveway and killed the engine, staring at the warm glow of light coming from the kitchen window. She was still in there. Still deciding the fate of people I cared about. Still deciding whether to stay or go.
I needed to find a way to convince her to stay without scaring her off in the process.
If she were local, I’d let our romance play out nice and slow.
But there was a time limit on our love affair unless I made some bold moves.
“Come on, guys,” I said to the dogs, pushing open my door. “Let’s go see the woman who’s going to break our hearts.”
Nuts and Bolts bounded out of the truck ahead of me, their tails wagging as they raced toward the porch. I followed slower,my boots heavy on the gravel, trying to prepare myself for whatever came next.
I’d barely made it to the bottom step when the front door flew open.
Rachel stood there with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on her face, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, and her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. She was still wearing my flannel; the sleeves rolled up past her wrists, and she looked so beautiful it made my chest hurt.
“Clayton!” She was talking so fast I could barely keep up. “I found it. I found the loophole! Section 7.4.2 of the policy manual covers emergency stabilization repairs even without permits, as long as they were necessary to prevent further damage. And an ice storm definitely counts as an emergency. That means I can classify your repairs as temporary stabilization and approve the current claim based on its own merits. Mrs. Andretti gets her money and you don’t get in trouble and I don’t have to lie on the report because it’s all technically legal, even if my company would be mad if they knew I was using the clause this way. But I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just interpreting the policy in the most favorable way possible for the homeowner, which is completely within my discretion as a senior adjuster and—”
“Wait.” I held up my hand, my heart pounding. “Slow down. You’re saying the claim’s approved?”
“Yes!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me up the steps onto the porch. “I found a legal loophole. HomeGuard might be annoyed if they ever figure out what I did, but it’s still completely legitimate. Mrs. Andretti keeps her house. Her niece has a home. And you don’t face any legal consequences for helping a neighbor in need. I just have to pretend I don’t know that she’s not planning on spending the claims money to fix the repairs correctly. And she’ll need to sign a statement saying she plans to do the right thing.”
Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled.
Mrs. Andretti was safe. The sweet old woman who’d always treated me like a son wasn’t going to lose everything because I’d tried to help her.
But then reality crept back in, cold and unwelcome.
“That’s great news. But what happens next?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. “How long until you leave?”
