Page 6 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Six

Clarissa

E yes drooping, Clarissa arranged pecans atop the last of the pies laying on the steel table. Despite being used to early hours, the hours today had been brutal, but thankfully, compared to running tables, assembling the diner’s pie was a piece of cake. She snorted at her own joke.

“So, after this morning, you want to keep showing up at four to make pie twice a week?” Marissa asked.

“Sure do,” Clarissa said without missing a beat.

“Well, you seem to know what you’re doing, so the transition should be easy. I’ll come in this Wednesday and after that I’ll be doing just Sundays. With both of us here, it should go faster.”

“Whatever you need.” She smiled. Marissa was kindly and soft-spoken. Other than the instructions, there had been minimal small talk, this morning, Clarissa appreciated the mental break.

“All done!” Placing the last pecan, she beamed up at Marissa.

“Fabulous! Just set those in the freezer and I’ll start the cleanup,” Marissa said. “Don’t forget the date tags.”

Clarissa put lids on each pie, writing the date on a roll of stickers and placing one atop each. She rolled the cart to the walk-in freezer. Icy air danced over then settled onto her slick skin. After placing the pecan pies on the shelves next to the chocolate, she took a moment to fan out her shirt from where it was clinging to her back.

Back in the kitchen, she started grabbing dirty dishes and rags. Her shoulders hurt from all the mixing, but she had fun using the oversized kitchen utensils.

“Hey, Clarissa?” Jordan, one of the waiters, came back. “There’s a guy out front asking for you. Red hair, drinks decaf.”

Her stomach flipped and she dropped the mixing bowl. Various fillings and dish soap splattered into her hair.

“I can’t go out right now,” she said, steadying the bowl. “We’re busy.”

“I don’t mind,” Marissa said.

“No, I can’t leave you with all the cleanup,” Clarissa protested.

“We’ll be done here in about twenty,” Marissa said.

“I’ll let him know.” Jordan disappeared to the front before Clarissa could stop him. With any luck, Thomas would leave before her. Why was he here again? Why did she care?

“Wait!” Marissa grabbed her arm.

In her daze, Clarissa had been trying to put the dirty dishes on the ingredients shelf.

Why did him showing up bother her so much? He was just another customer, a regular now, like Jeff and Eugene. A beautiful, charming, superhero …

Nope, she wasn’t letting herself go there. She had no reason to think of him any differently. No reason for her to get excited he was there.

Just. A. Customer.

Focusing on the detailed and determined scrubbing of every surface, she forced her mind not to wander. Daydreams were a treacherous luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Her subconscious couldn’t be trusted not to deviate from the plan, wandering traitorously into the imagined arms of a beautiful lumberjack.

When she ran out of things to clean, she turned to Marissa.

“Do we need to do anything else?”

“Nope, that’s it.” Marissa took off her apron. “Donna wants to keep the pie as fresh as she can without having us come in to assemble every day. If we make any more, it won’t get sold before she’ll want it tossed out.”

“Do we need anything else cleaned?”

“You already cleaned everything. We’re done. Clock out already and I’ll see you Wednesday.” Marissa put on her jacket and grabbed her purse, heading for the back door.

After clocking out, Clarissa took her purse and locked herself in the bathroom. She scrubbed her hands three times, washed her face, and deliberated going straight home, ignoring Thomas.

Wouldn’t that be rude though? He’d given her no reason to think he might have ulterior motives or a nefarious angle. She could spare a few moments for him, couldn’t she? Taking care of Rachel didn’t mean she couldn’t have friends … did it? Is that what Tom was? A friend? Is that what she wanted?

With her mind made up, she sprayed herself with peony perfume and left the washroom. Grabbing her hoodie off the hook, she yanked her arms through the sleeves and zipped it up to her chin. The burn marks on her neck would still be visible, but there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

This would be the day she went to work without her turtleneck. At least she hadn’t worn her oversized Batman pullover.

He sat in the far booth of the dining room, a single cup of coffee in front of him. Offering a warm smile, he stood when she came to the table. Frowning, she hadn’t fully registered how freakishly tall he was until that moment … The top of her head hardly came up to his shoulder.

“Hello.” She shuffled her feet.

“Good morning, Clarissa,” he said. “Are you done with your shift?”

“Yes, why?” She eyed him. What was he plotting?

“I’d like you to sit with me for more than three minutes.” He laughed. “I’m still working to fight my way out of the ‘stranger’ category, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it any harder than it has been. As it is, I’m starting to feel like a stalker, coming here every day just to see you.” His fair skin turned red, matching his hair.

Seeing him flush made her mind wander. What else made him turn red? Her own face went warm. “You were coming here, just to see me?”

“Of course.” He tilted his head, reminding her of a dog. “I thought I was being painfully obvious.”

It seemed like he had more than friendship on his mind. “Maybe I should go.”

“Allow me to buy you lunch.” Flushing darker, he failed to mask the pain rushing his face. Clarissa wondered if all redheads blushed this easily.

“If after talking to me for five minutes you still want to leave, I won’t stop you. Please.”

He was pleading now. Somehow this lumberjack of a man looked like a dejected puppy.

Too late, Clarissa realized she’d genuinely hurt him with her rejection. Was it because he honestly liked her, or because he was an insufferable ass used to always getting his way? Chewing on her lip, she deliberated, then sat down.

He settled in across from her, visibly relieved, and folded his hands atop the table, his eyes boring into her. Shifting in her seat, she pulled the neck of her hoodie further up.

Her hands were restless, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. She wanted to get lost in his gaze, but if she did that, she’d end up blurting something inappropriate at him. Her mind needed a distraction. A safe topic a friend would talk about …

“Are you new in town?” she asked.

“No, my family has been here for a few generations. If not my great grandparents, then cousins, aunts, and uncles.”

“I see. I just. Well, I recognized your name and the business, but I don’t recall seeing you around. So, I wasn’t sure.” She was babbling—he seemed to have that effect on her.

“My family tries to keep a low profile.” He chuckled. “In a town this small, it isn’t hard to become the topic of gossip. Since we run such a prolific business, staying out of said gossip is extremely important. My siblings and I all went to the public schools, but we try very hard to fly under the radar, so to speak.”

“I see,” she said. She felt like an idiot. There had to be something she could talk to him about … something that wasn’t her burns, her dead parents, or the attack the other night. What did friends talk about?

“What do you like to do outside of work?”

Albeit relieved he was taking the reins, she wasn’t sure how to answer. When was the last time she did something other than chores or work?

“My aunt and I go on walks most days. Sometimes I draw, it’s been a while though.”

His smile brightened. “What do you like to draw?”

“Landscapes, trees, the birds,” she said.

“That’s lovely. I’ve always enjoyed art. My family house is full of it. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting on the floor, staring at it. I tried to replicate a lot of it, with absolutely terrible results.” He laughed. “But I’d like to see your art. Something tells me it’s beautiful. What was the last piece you did?”

“I honestly can’t remember. There’s always more important things to get done.”

“Something that makes you happy should be important,” he said.

“Well.” She shifted in her seat. “When you put it that way, it sounds so straightforward and simple. But life isn’t simple. It’s messy and complicated. Sometimes temporary joy has to be pushed aside for responsibility.”

Thomas’s stare was unwavering, as if he could see into her soul, past her every pretense.

“What about you?” she deflected. “You work at your family business and spend your nights beating up bad guys and your days sitting in a diner.”

Thomas laughed. “When you put it that way, I sound unhinged.”

“For all I know, you are.” She deadpanned. To her surprise, he laughed harder. The sound vibrated through her chest, making her feel lighter.

“I sure hope not.”

“I think part of being unhinged is that you don’t know you’re unhinged.” She gave a small chuckle despite herself.

“When I’m not at work,” he said, “I enjoy outdoor sports.”

Well, that was a vague and odd thing for him to say. Typically, someone would elaborate with the specific activity.

“I also help take care of my family,” he said.

Take care of his family … The way he said it held a burdensome undertone, falling heavy from his lips. Clarissa instantly recognized there was so much more to that simple statement than what he’d said, similar to how she sounded when deflecting conversations about Rachel.

Was he a caretaker for a sick family member too? Or was he a surrogate father figure? No matter which it was, she felt an instant connection with him.

There were so few who understood the gravity, the constant crushing weight, of being a caretaker. Sure, everyone sympathized, but they could never truly understand. Perhaps having him in her life wouldn’t be so terrible after all. She didn’t have anyone she could talk to about this. Perhaps, but she still needed to be cautious.

“Taking care of family … it’s a lot to shoulder,” she whispered, pulling at the hem of her hoodie. Part of her was desperate to spill everything to him. To confide in him the depths of her despair and absolute loneliness of caring for Rachel. “Especially if you don’t have any help.”

“Hi, Clarissa.” Jordan came up to their table and she silently thanked him for the interruption. “You and your friend ready to order?”

“It’s on me, please.” Tom gestured for her to go first.

“Oh no, I’m not—” As she opened her mouth to protest, her stomach growled loud enough for the other two to hear. Grudgingly, she decided she would eat here and skip dinner. “Veggie omelet and a water.”

“Make that two omelets, please.” Tom handed over the menus.

“Thanks, Jordan.” She turned back to Tom. “You spend a lot of time with your family,” she said, not wanting to tell him about Rachel yet.

“I do. There’s a lot of them, as I said, but I guess you could say I’m an unofficial head of the family.”

“Isn’t that a little old school? Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude!”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not entirely wrong. They are very old-fashioned, well, not all of them, but enough of them to make it frustrating.”

“Is it like a religious thing?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t too personal as she was evading the more personal topics of her own life.

“No. It’s not that, it’s more … tradition based. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it.”

“Understandable, each family has its own ‘thing.’ Some are worse than others.”

“Is that why you live with your aunt?”

“Yes, and no … It’s a bit of a story,” she whispered, blinking at her hands.

“You’re upset,” he observed. “I’m sorry, we can talk about something else. Let’s go with fluffy. What movies are your favorite, books that kept you up all night reading?”

Snorting, she grasped at the change in conversation. “I remember when I first read The Glass Castle and The Jungle , I stayed up all night because I was crying.”

“Sounds like you need some happier books.”

She laughed darkly. “I haven’t been to the library in a while. I’ll put it on my list of things to do. For movies, I usually watch whatever my aunt picks. She likes those cheesy rom-coms from the nineties, the more ridiculous the better. Sometimes we watch them and laugh.”

“What do you watch when it’s your choice?” he asked.

“Batman,” she admitted, and he laughed.

“A specific one?”

“Just any Batman really, it’s a bit of a problem, to be honest.”

“There are worse things to be obsessed with than The Caped Crusader. Seriously, I know a grown man who watches My Little Pony every day.”

“That’s rough.”

“You’re telling me, I have to hear about it.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked.

“You caught me.” He held his hands up in surrender.

She laughed too loud. With a pang, she realized it felt good. She was enjoying his company a little too much. She should get up and leave, but she really didn’t want to. How long had it been since she had a pleasant conversation for the sake of it?

Outside of work, of Rachel, when was the last time she talked to anyone? This little tryst was curing the pit of loneliness that’d been eating away at her. Maybe talking with him wasn’t nefarious after all.

“What about you, what movies or books do you enjoy?” she asked.

“Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie. It might have been a Christmas movie my sister made us all watch.”

“She made you?”

“Maria’s professionally trained in how to argue. I pick my battles wisely,” he admitted.

“Smart man.”

“It happens occasionally.”

Chuckling, she allowed herself to get lost in his gaze. When was the last time she laughed so easily or felt so much like herself?

“Are you still close with your siblings? You mentioned doing business with them.”

“We’re close with business and personal. Although my youngest brother doesn’t come home much. It’s … complicated for him.”

“The old-fashioned traditions?”

Tom nodded. “In a way, we bonded over them, but he still prefers to keep his distance from Fairville.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, we’re figuring it out.”

A few times she caught him glancing at her hoodie and neck, but he didn’t comment. Finally, she’d met someone with enough manners not to comment on someone else’s scars unprompted.

With the hoodie zipped all the way up, the top pulled around her neck, she knew she looked ridiculous and didn’t care. She’d show him her burns when she was good and ready—if she ever was.

“Two omelets.” Jordan set the plates on the table. “Jeff told me to bring you this.” He set a bottle of hot sauce down.

“Thanks, Jordan,” Clarissa said.

Despite the omelet being piping hot, she ate with vigor. When her stomach started to cramp, she had to stop. As she sipped her water, her mind wandered back to the night she worked at The Barrel.

Running orders for the tables, she’d seen every patron in the place. She was so shook up after what happened, she hadn’t realized Thomas hadn’t been in the bar. If he wasn’t in the bar, why had he been there? Also, Alister had gotten in a few good hits to his face, but he didn’t have a mark on him.

She was positive his fair ginger complexion would have shown the slightest bruising. Once more, did he just leave Alister in the parking lot?

None of this occurred to her until now. Clearly, she wasn’t in her right mind after the attack. She should have called the cops.

“What are you thinking about?” Tom’s voice pulled her back to the present. “You look … concerned.”

“It’s about the other night,” she said.

“Yes?” He set his fork down.

“What happened after I left? Did you call the cops? I probably should have reported it, but I didn’t even think of it.”

“You were shaken, most likely in shock. I’m not surprised you just now thought of it.” He sighed. “I was going to tell you when I returned your necklace, but you seemed so disturbed when I brought it up. I still should have said something.

“After walking you to your car, I returned to … the man.” His voice came out like a growl, his lips curling over his teeth, and his eyes flashed. She was startled by the sudden violence. “I intended to take care of him, but he was gone.”

“Gone?” Her voice trembled.

“Yes. I don’t know where he went.” His jaw flexed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take care of it properly for you.”

“He’s still out there.”

Tom nodded.

“But … he hasn’t come back. I haven’t seen him since. Maybe you taught him his lesson.”

The feeble attempts to convince herself didn’t work. Recalling the way Alister talked to her in the diner that morning, his demeanor—he was not a man who was easily swayed.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly. She thought he was placating her and she appreciated it. The middle of her workplace was the last location she wanted to have a panic attack.

“I didn’t see you in The Barrel,” she blurted, trying to distract herself.

“What?”

“The bar, I didn’t see you inside when I was working. What were you doing there if you weren’t drinking?”

“I was picking up a friend.”

Clarissa didn’t know why, but she thought he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Apart from the occasional celebratory glass, I don’t drink,” he said. That, at least, she could tell was true.

“Is it the same reason you don’t drink caffeine?”

“Yes. My body, let’s just say it doesn’t handle it well.”

“It’s probably better not to have any anyways, doctors always seem to find new reasons to only drink water.” She picked at the last of her food while she babbled.

“Clarissa, would you do me a favor?”

Oh no, this is it. This is where he asks to wear her skin or sell him her used panties.

“That depends on what the favor is.” She frowned.

“If you do see him again, call the cops immediately. Don’t try to run or fight him off. Men like that, they enjoy it. Just call for help.”

“I can do that, but I can’t promise if something happens I’ll just sit there and let it happen,” she said.

“I understand.”

“There’s more?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Would you consider calling me, if you were in need? Not just in dark parking lots, but if anything happened and you needed help. I want you to know you can call me.”

“What, my own personal knight in shining armor on speed dial?” She snorted.

“If that’s how you want to think of it, then yes.”

Her laugh cut off. “You’re serious.”

“Very. I get the impression you don’t have many people like that in your life. I’m offering myself up. Take my business card, it has my cell on it, that way you don’t have to commit to giving me your number right now, but you have mine if you need me.”

Taking the card, she stared at the shining lettering. It looked high quality. “Thank you, but I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

“Would it be cliché to say I feel protective of you?” His face became sheepish. “It’s my nature. You can ask my sister and she’ll vouch for me.”

“Let me guess, you were the big brother that scared off all her dates?”

“Something like that.”

Jordan came by with the check as Clarissa was putting the card in her wallet. Tom went up to the counter to cash out, then waited for her by the door. He held it open for her and walked her to her car.

Turning to tell him goodbye, she jumped. He was standing closer than expected. Close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off him and the scent of his cologne to waft into her senses. It was musky and deep; she thought there were undertones of amber and pine. The illogical urge to reach out and place her hand on his chest, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingers, came over her. She shot it down.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low.

“For what?” She looked up at him.

“For giving me more than three minutes today. I enjoyed talking with you.” He brushed a piece of hair from her face.

She would have swooned if not for the involuntary flinch that jerked her head away from his touch. He withdrew without comment. “I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.”

She nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.”

“It seems I set the bar fairly high for myself, I’ll brush up on my knock-knock jokes for next time.” He smirked. “Have a good rest of your day, Clarissa.”

She got in her car, and he closed the door after her. In a daze, she turned the key. Had he said ‘next time’?

What the hell was she doing? Hadn’t she told herself she wasn’t seeing any men until she got things sorted out with Rachel?

Eating lunch at work didn’t count as ‘seeing,’ did it? She just had to keep her head about her and not get too excited. She couldn’t allow herself to get invested in him—she wasn’t going to see him outside of work. But the occasional friendly conversation wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

Rachel was in a good mood when she returned to the double-wide. It was before noon, so Clarissa turned on music and they danced around the trailer while she deep cleaned. By one, every surface smelled of bleach or lemons. She saw Rachel had eaten her peanut butter sandwich, so she made a pot of spiced rice and beans for her dinner. After a walk, Clarissa put on one of Rachel’s favorite movies, then pulled out her small collection of nail polish.

“Doing your nails for the prom?” Rachel asked.

“Sure am, I can do yours too.”

“That would be great! My dress is baby pink, do you think you have anything that would match?” Rachel was having another one of her days where she thought they were both juniors in high school.

Before the movie ended, Clarissa had painted their toenails in pink sparkles and their fingers various shades of blush. Putting away the polish, she settled next to Rachel on the couch and took her hand.

“Did you hear back from that boy?” Rachel asked.

“Which one?”

“The one you asked to prom. Are you going together?”

“Nah, I decided to just go with the girls.”

“That’s good too. I’m still debating on if I should tell Billy-Joe yes. He’s the only one who asked me, and I’m not sure that’s a good reason to go with him.”

“That’s true. You should go with someone you want to, not someone you feel obligated to.”

Rachel nodded at her as if it was the wisest thing she’d ever heard. For a junior in high school, Clarissa supposed it was.

Rachel popped in another movie. Clarissa watched the flashing screen without paying much attention to what was happening. Pitter-patters of rain echoed off the trailer as night fell over them and her mind wandered to thoughts of good Samaritans and pleasure versus obligation.

At first she was worried spending time with Tom was an obligation because he’d saved her. But today had opened her eyes. She genuinely enjoyed him. He was so easy to be around, to talk and laugh with. That was certainly a pleasure. One Clarissa hadn’t had in … well, ever.

After everything in high school—the shower stunt, as she’d grown to call it—she’d shut herself down emotionally and physically. Then Rachel was diagnosed before she got the chance to start over. Maybe this was her chance?