“I was the one who named herCecilia. I didn’t know what it means. Do you know?”
Clarke shook his head.
“It means blind or hidden. Ironic. Turned out to be appropriate. Who knew?”
Blind? Hidden? Appropriate?
Just then, Pixel and Ceci burst in through the front door, stomping and shaking off the snow that clung to them. “It’s freezing!” they cried in unison.
Ceci entered the living room and fell back into a chair, draping one arm over the back. Only she didn’t exactly fall into it. Because her body didn’t move as one solid piece landing in one solid thud. The languid, liquid movement was reminiscent of the way she’d moved in that catsuit, suggesting a high degree of flexibility. She caught him looking at her, and he quickly looked away.
“Did you bring in theCornhole Husker?” Aunt Delilah cried.
“You can’t expect them to deliver the paper given the storm,” Ceci said.
Clarke’s brow wrinkled. “Cornhole Junction has a paper?”
Ceci chuckled. “More like a brochure or pamphlet. If there are two pages, that means it was a big news day.”
“Well, I want to see it when it comes,” Aunt Delilah said. “I’m sure the two of you made the front page.”
Ceci scoffed. “Kind of hard not to when there’s only one page.”
“Perhaps, but I’m betting you’ll be at the top of it in big, bold letters.”
Clarke felt his heart leap to his throat and then suddenly dive to his gut. The whole reason for coming here was to avoid this kind of thing. Then again, would it really matter? Who reads theCornhole Husker? No one outside this rinky-dink town.
Aunt Delilah patted his knee. “I’m sure they have a photo of you two holding the trophy.”
He sighed. Okay, that makes sense. Fine. No big deal.
A photo of them holding a trophy doesn’t suggest anything beyond what the date was—a social obligation.
Aunt Delilah tapped his shoulder. “Speaking of that trophy, what do you think?” she asked. The trophy sat alongside other trophies Ceci had earned for racing. But the trophy for the Pawsome Sledding race held a special place of honor. It sat dead center and out in front. He couldn’t help smiling, seeing that. Although glancing at all those other trophies made him wonder why she’d left driving Formula 3 for the management side of Formula 1.
“It looks good there,” he said.
“It does,” Aunt Delilah agreed. “A good beginning. It bodes well for the future.”
Clarke frowned.
Future?
“In addition to that, you won’t have to bother with any of the angst or quarrels you do when you really care about each other. It’s just a business transaction. A mutually beneficial business transaction.”
Is she referring to that scheme of Roxanne’s?
Ceci glared at her aunt. “I told you, he doesn’t want to do it, Aunt Delilah.”
He didn’t. He’d said as much. But looking at her now and thinking of that catsuit, he wondered why.
“Did you?” Aunt Delilah asked. “I must have forgotten. Why is that?”
Lots of reasons, his rational brain was telling him.
She’s combative. Always wants her own way. Always thinks she’s right. Not to mention, I suffer physical injury when I’m around her.
But all those things led him to wonder what she would be like underneath him, on top of him, in front of him, alongside him.
