Page 12 of Cause When You Love Someone

I washed my hands, then opened the refrigerator. “Seems like you learned two lessons today.”

“Two?”

“Yeah. Don’t judge a book by its cover, and everybody isn’t your friend.”

Her mouth sank into a sad smile. “Don’t do that. Simone has been my bestie for over a decade.”

“Then she should know your triggers. When you told her you were done for the night, she should’ve made sure you made it home. We’ve been together for at least an hour, and you haven’t received one call or text. Real ones don’t move like that.”

“I can’t argue with you on that one,” she muttered. “Well, I appreciate you answering my call on your off day. They say the way a man treats women reflects the relationship he has with his mama. You and yours must be tight.”

“That’s only true when you have a good mother.”

Flashbacks of Mariah showing up at the club prompted me to shut the fridge door so hard, the glass bottles inside knocked against each other. When I faced Clarke, her penny-colored eyes were wide as she stared me down.

“My bad. Me and my mom don’t have a good relationship. If anything, my sister is the reason I treat women right.”

“You’re so lucky. I always wanted a sibling. Maybe then, my mom would have someone else to torture.”

“You have too much freewill to be locked in a box, Clarke. What do you think will happen if you say fuck everybody else’s feelings and do what you want?”

“Everyone will hate me.” She breathed a laugh through her slender nose.

“Your insecurities aren’t funny to me. Tell me the truth.”

“Okay. I’m terrified I’ll lose everything. I’m afraid my world will collapse if I remove the crutches. I’m used to them.”

“That’s real.” I nodded. “You know what else is real? Your ability to start over. Every day that the Lord allows you to open your eyes, you have the chance to choose how you want to live. Don’t take that blessing for granted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She pepped up. “Now, what’s for dinner?”

“Do you eat leftovers?”

Her brows lifted. “Did you cook them?”

“I did,” I countered, already removing the top on a platter of enchiladas I’d made the night before.

As I warmed up dinner, Clarke wandered over to the wine racks mounted on the wall. Though I rarely drank wine, I had been collecting expensive bottles for close to four years.

“Your collection is impressive. Your house is too. While you changed clothes, I peeked in one of your rooms. I didn’t expect to see the home library and abstract art and all the other cool stuff.”

I couldn’t decide if I was upset that she invaded my privacy or if I was pleased by her praise. When I looked away from the foil and food, I saw Clarke watching me with dreamy eyes as her tongue swept across her permanent pucker.

“Every time I see you, you inch further and further across a line you aren’t supposed to cross. You are a beautiful woman, and I can admit I judged you when we met. That doesn’t mean I care to deal with the people attached to you.”

She twisted her curves from side to side. “You never know. I may be worth the trouble.”

“I have a funny feeling I’m going to find out.”

We spent the next hour eating and sharing facts about ourselves that weren’t on Google.

I was blindsided by the news that she prayed every night and got warm at idea that she collected charm bracelets.

Her laugh was contagious, and listening to her reveal her insecurities wasn’t something I took for granted.

After her third glass of wine, Clarke excused herself, leaving me alone with the regret of having to take her home. I kept myself busy by straightening the kitchen, but Clarke’s vibrating phone caught my attention.

“Clarke! Your phone is going off.”

The silence that followed directed me down the hallway where a sliver of light snuck from beneath my cracked bedroom door.

Taken aback, I pushed it open and froze seeing Clarke’s dress on the floor and her body swathed in one of my graphic tees.

Though her eyes were shut, the grin on her face proved she was awake.

“The word boundary doesn’t exist in your world, does it?” I asked while getting closer.

“Let’s just say, I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.”

The corners of my mouth turned up before I could stop them. “Bad girl,” I whispered. “Your phone was ringing.”

“I don’t feel like talking. It’s the last thing I want to do.”

“What’s the first?”

“To lay with you. You’re my bodyguard. You’re supposed to protect my heart too.”

“I thought you said I was off duty.”

She swung the cover back. “Not anymore.”

With little hesitation, I placed my glasses on the nightstand and turned off the reading lamp.

As if she craved my affection, Clarke wasted no time giving me her back and molding herself into my body.

She shivered in my grasp, encouraging me to hold her tighter.

The next day, we would have to deal with the consequences of putting ourselves first, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

“So, this is what it’s supposed to feel like,” she muttered.

I pressed my nose into her hair and suffocated myself in her scent. “Clarke.” I groaned. “You’ve been free for a couple of weeks. That doesn’t mean you’re ready to jump into something else.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The good thing is I’m free to fuck around and find out.”

“Yeah, okay, Billy Bad Ass,” I baited while tugging on the silk garter belt around her thigh. “You wear things like this all the time?

Her girlish giggle spread through the room. “Maybe.”

The night was still for a second before I muttered, “I like it.”

“Hm. Do you like me?”

“Maybe.”

The long night out with my club brothers, mixed with my morning workout, caused me to arrive at Ms. Louise’s cooking class a little after noon.

Nine months ago, I signed up for the class out of boredom, yet I picked up skills I used anytime I was in the kitchen. Most times, I was the only man in the room unless one of the ladies dragged their partner along.

I purposely left my phone in the passenger seat before I hopped out of my truck and hurried to the suite. In the past, Ms. Louise met me at the door with a warm smile and an apron in hand, but this go around, the sound of giggles and chatter replaced her hospitality.

I stepped through the door and saw the ladies were situated in the back of the classroom. My first thought was that a private event was taking place, and Ms. Louise forgot to tell her other students. I turned around to leave, yet a familiar face bolted my New Balances to the floor.

“Superman!”

A batch of butterflies danced around my gut as the unofficial nickname soared through the room. When the popular lady maneuvered out of the man-made circle, the students wandered to their posts, giving us a minute alone.

“Clarke Rose. What are you doing here?”

“You don’t look happy to see me.” She pouted.

“It’s not that. I’m just . . . shocked. Did you know I would be here?”

“Yeah,” she replied in an innocent manner. “The night I stayed at your place, I heard you mention a cooking class in Chandler. I did a little research, and Ms. Louise’s was the only one scheduled for today.”

I pulled at her full skirt. “Did the website say something about the dress code?”

“No. I dressed like a Stepford wife because I wanted to. A girl can dream, can’t she?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “There ain’t nothing wrong with dreaming.”

Dazed, I massaged the hair on my chin as her honesty sank in. It had been a few days since our nightcap, and though I hadn’t gone to look for her on my day off, I was glad she came to see me.

“All right. Since you’re living in a dream world, you won’t need this.” I snatched her phone from her grasp and slipped it into my pocket. “If you really did your research, you know phones aren’t allowed in here anyway.”

“But, what if . . . never mind. All right. I can do it.”

We left our uncertainties behind once I led her to the two-man station near the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone!” Ms. Louise addressed the class. “I see we have some new faces in here. Welcome! I’ll give you step-by-step directions on how to make something amazing from scratch.”

“From scratch?” Clarke’s outburst tore through the silence. “I’m sorry. The website said we’d stick to the basics. The only thing I make with confidence is money and oatmeal.”

Ms. Louise gripped her wide hips. “You walked in here looking like a beauty out of the fifties, and now, you’re scared of a little action?

Cut it out. You got this. I think the fine man next to you will help too.

” She winked. “Now, before we get down to business, I need everyone to wash your hands, then grab a pair of gloves. There’s a caddy on your station with everything you’ll need to make a key lime bar. ”

Once Ms. Louise was done giving us the rundown, we got down to business.

At first, Clarke seemed to be in her own world, grinning every so often at something I wasn’t privy to. But after about ten minutes, she cleared her throat and glanced at me.

“Can we talk while we cook?” she asked after a while. “You’re in the zone. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You being here is a distraction. A good one,” I confessed while slipping an apron from her hands. Like she was a mannequin, I laced the polyester material over her head, then tangled the strings around her small waist.

Though my vision lingered on her white heels, I could feel the fire in her eyes melt away all the reservations that kept me from pressing her back against a wall the night we slept together.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” I heard myself ask.

“I’m just thinking. How did you get here? A cooking class. A motorcycle club. You’re a collector. You have expensive taste, and I’m not talking about material things. Where does it come from?”