cared about him, and even though he’d ignored a direct request to give her space, she was not going to shut the door in his face. God, no.
“Coffee?” she said.
“I’d pay a million bucks for a cup of coffee right now.”
“Sounds like a yes.” She went to the cupboard to get the fixings. The moment was emotionally charged, and she tried to defuse it. “I’ll take that million in cash,” she said.
“My check’s no good?”
“Only if you’ve got ID.”
She turned around. She had not realized how fast he had come up behind her. He gathered her in his arms and gave her a driving, passionate kiss. His mouth was cold, but the cold did not last.
He let her go. “Will that do?”
And then he stepped back, more embarrassed at what he had said than at what he had done. It was a corny bit of banter from a usually serious man. Under other circumstances, she would have groaned and asked him which Hallmark TV movie he had swiped the line from. But she was still reeling from the kiss.
She sat down at the table. He took the seat beside her. He reached for her hand. She shook her head, drawing her hand away.
“That was never our problem, Clay. That part, we did just fine with.”
“Then what is our problem? Damned if I can figure it out.”
“You know.” An edge to her voice now. He was playing dumb, and he was hardly a dumb man.
“I apologized.”
“Yes. You did. And I accepted that apology. But it still happened. I’m going to need some time.”
Restless, he rose from his chair. For the first time tonight, she was aware of his prosthetic leg; mostly she forgot about it. He moved so smoothly, so nimbly, that it was easy to do. Only when he made a sudden move—like bolting up from the kitchen table—did she remember. Clay had lost his leg three years ago in a building collapse. The collapse was caused by an explosion that rocked downtown Acker’s Gap. But with physical therapy, and with the kind of determination that still left her in awe, he had fought his way back. Now he cycled, he kayaked, he climbed mountains, he supervised a crew for his father’s construction company. He was a whole man again.
She corrected herself: He had never been anything less than a whole man. But he had needed to persuade himself of that, even when no one else doubted it.
He faced her, arms spread out wide to both sides, hands propped against the counter.
“I’m asking you for a second chance, Belfa.”
She knew what this was costing him. He was not the kind of man who asked for things. He was young—fourteen years younger than she was—but he had an old-fashioned self-sufficiency about him. He was, in fact, a lot like Nick Fogelsong. He took care of himself, knew his own mind, went his own way. And no matter what he said, he really did not understand what he had done to her.
It had been an ordinary night. A regular night, the same kind of night they had spent together so many times before. Clay brought over a takeout dinner. Their plan was to eat, watch something on Netflix, and then, perhaps, he would stay over. That usually only happened on weekend nights, when neither one of them had early morning work commitments. But he would be leaving town the next day for a builder’s convention in Richmond, and after that, he had some business in Virginia and Maryland. He would be out of town for ten days. Bell was going to miss him. She did not realize just how much until she thought about it, and was surprised to feel an intense, almost overpowering yearning for him, even though he was still here, and would not leave until morning.
Missing someone even before he left: That was new. And unsettling.
But it was a rocky night. They quarreled. She didn’t remember why. She’d be willing to bet that he didn’t, either. Something silly, trivial. It didn’t matter. Even before dinner was over, the tenor of the evening had changed. The mood shifted. Both of them brooded, unwilling to say what was really going on: After four years of casual good times with each other, the relationship had suddenly heated up. Things felt too serious. She was apprehensive about the age difference. And he worried about how much he loved her. Needed her. She knew that, because he had told her: He hated to be