Page 7

I grin. “Twenty thousand was all you, librarian.”

Clara’s cheeks turn pink.

There she is.

I remember that blush.

Clara was always around when we were kids because she and Lila were attached at the hip.

Quiet. Sweet. Seven years younger than me.

Mostly invisible.

Until I came home after a baseball game and caught her staring at me across my mother’s kitchen. She walked straight into a cabinet. I haven’t thought about that in years but I’m definitely thinking about it now.

Clara Bennett grew up.

A lot.

“See something you like?” I ask.

Her gaze snaps away from my mouth. “No.”

“You were staring.”

“I was not.”

“At my mouth.”

“No.”

“My dick, then?”

Her eyes widen.

“Ryder!” Lila smacks my arm. “You cannot say that to Clara.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s Clara.”

I look at Clara.

Pink cheeks. Green eyes. Pretty blue dress.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s nice.”

“I’m nice.”

Both women laugh.

“Fuck you both.”

Clara smiles.

Better.