“Okay, okay.” Harper laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender. She moved slowly toward the back of the store, her eyes dancing with laughter as she winked at her sister. “I’m going. Have fun, you two.”
Clara’s eyes narrowed, and she let out another little growl that only seemed to amuse her sister more. I didn’t bother hiding my smirk as Harper finally disappeared into the back room, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.
“She seems fun,” I remarked dryly, my gaze shifting back to Clara.
“She’s nosy.” Clara sighed and shook her head, though the faint amusement in her eyes softened the annoyance. Her attention returned fully to me, her arms folding across her chest as she looked me up and down slowly, one brow arching in an unmistakable challenge. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t know me nearly well enough to declare you’re here for me.”
A slow grin curved my lips as I tilted my head, deliberately letting my gaze drift over her face again, lingering briefly on those lips that had haunted my thoughts for days. “Oh, I know exactly what I need to, Clara. You’re mine.”
Her eyes widened in surprise for half a heartbeat before they narrowed again, her mouth twitching with a hint of sass as she lifted her chin stubbornly. “Yours? Pretty sure I don’t see your name on me.”
“Not yet,” I drawled, stepping just close enough to feel the warmth of her body radiating through her T-shirt. “But give it time.”
She let out a huff of breath that was equal parts amused and exasperated, one delicate brow arching. “That line work with all the other girls, Ronan?”
“Wouldn’t know.” I let the honesty ring clear in my voice. “Never wanted to say it to anyone else.”
Her expression softened just a fraction, and she ducked her head slightly, a faint smile teasing her lips. The vulnerability of that reaction tugged at something deep in my chest, making my voice rougher when I spoke again. “But if you’d rather I prove it, I’m more than happy to show you exactly how serious I am.”
Clara’s head snapped back up, her cheeks flaming even as that sassy smirk returned, brighter than before. She shifted her weight slightly, one hand landing on her perfectly curved hip as she met my stare without flinching, her voice low and teasing. “Maybe you should worry less about proving how serious you are, and more about showing me you can keep up.”
I chuckled, the sound rumbling in my chest as I leaned in just close enough that my lips brushed against her ear, satisfaction flaring hotly when I heard her breath hitch sharply. “Oh, baby, I promise keeping up won’t be a problem. The real question is if you’re ready to find out.”
Her eyes flashed with a mix of anticipation and defiance, but the bell over the front door jingled before she could respond, breaking the moment. A group of customers filed in, chattering excitedly, their attention quickly shifting to the nearby bins of sweet potatoes.
Clara sighed softly, clearly torn between continuing our conversation and tending to her customers. I eased back, offering a faint, amused grin. “I’ll wait.”
Her gaze locked on mine again, the warmth and curiosity in her eyes making my chest ache. She shook her head slowly, her voice amused when she murmured, “You better not cause any trouble while you wait, biker boy.”
“No promises,” I drawled, moving toward a spot near the counter where I could watch her and lean comfortably against the wall. My gaze never left her as she went to greet hercustomers, her laughter effortless as she helped them select their produce.
As I stood there, I realized something with absolute certainty—I would keep coming back for Clara until she realized exactly how serious I was about making her mine.
I stayed where I was, my arms folded loosely across my chest as I watched her move through the store like she belonged to it just as much as the land outside. There was nothing rushed about her, even when there were three customers at once asking questions and shifting baskets around. She handled all of it with an easy rhythm, her voice bright as she rang up purchases, laughed at something a kid said, and reached across the counter to hand over a bag with a soft “have a good day” that sounded genuine every time.
My attention tracked every small detail whether I wanted it to or not. How her fingers moved over the register keys—quick, confident, but a little absent-minded when she got caught up talking. The subtle shift of her hips when she leaned to grab something behind her, the worn denim pulling tight in a way that made my jaw clench as I pictured those same hips rocking against me, her hands gripping my shoulders while I buried myself inside her. Heat pooled in my gut, and I dragged a slow breath through my nose, forcing the fierce need down before it got the better of me in the middle of her family’s damn store.
She caught me watching her at one point, her gaze flicking up through her lashes, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks when she realized I hadn’t looked away. Instead of shying away from it, she held my stare for a second longer than necessary. The slight challenge in her eyes made something dark and satisfied flare in my chest. Then she turned back to the customer like nothing had happened, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.
Fuck.
By the time the last customer drifted out and the bell gave one final jingle, the quiet that followed felt charged in a way that had nothing to do with the heat outside. She wiped her hands on a towel, setting it aside before turning toward me fully, her weight shifting onto one hip as she leaned lightly against the counter.
“You planning on buying something,” she asked, one brow lifting, “or just standing there looking intimidating all afternoon?”
“Depends.” I pushed off the wall and closed the distance between us again. “You available tomorrow night?”
The words came out like a question, but there wasn’t much give in my voice. I watched her closely, tracking the way her pulse jumped in her throat and how her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the counter.
“For dinner,” I added in a rougher tone.
Her lips parted like she might answer right away, then she hesitated, a little crease forming between her brows as she shook her head. “I…can’t. Not tomorrow.”
My jaw tightened a fraction. “Why not?”
“We’re getting ready for the fall festival.” She gestured vaguely toward the back, then out toward the land beyond the windows. “It starts Saturday, and there’s still a ton to do. Decorating the corn maze, setting up the stands, and hauling stuff around. My whole family will be working on it all week.”
There was an apology in her tone, but not hesitation. The event mattered to her. I could see it plain as day in the way her eyes lit when she talked about it, and how her shoulders squared like she was already halfway out there working.
