Sparked (26 page)

“I thought we could go for a swim then have a picnic.” 

“That sounds wonderful.”

His heart leapt in his chest. For once, she was going to accept something he’d given her without a fight. 

“Excellent,” he said, and parked at a place just a few minutes further up the road. It was a spot near Fort Austen where people rarely went. There was a longer hike to the beach below them, so it wasn’t very popular. Which was why he had chosen it. It had been worrisome the other night, how close they had come to those people on the beach. He wanted to be with her more than anything, but he wouldn’t subject her to town gossip.

He got out of the car and stripped down to his swim trunks.

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. I still want to know what your middle initial stands for,” she said, opening the door to swing her legs out as she unbuttoned her dress. 

A flash of red mesmerized Clayton as she stood and stepped out of it.

He could barely breathe. She was wearing the one-piece he’d picked out. He’d bought it to help shield her from prying eyes, but he could see immediately his plan was ill-conceived. The red fabric matched her red lips like it had been dyed for that very purpose, and the cut fit her figure perfectly. She looked like a damned pinup in the thing. People wouldn’t just stare, they’d take pictures.

“Clayton?”

“Yes?”

“I said you still haven’t given me a name.” 

“What?” He’d forgotten what they were talking about. All he could concentrate on was the fact that she was doing a very, very bad job of convincing him not to buy her more presents.

“Your middle name. You signed your letter C.A.B. What does the A stand for?”

“Oh! Right.” He grabbed the picnic basket and led her toward the trail.

“I’ll give you a clue. It’s for a man who had a famous lover.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“One of the most famous lovers of all time.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t half as beautiful as you,” he said. 

“Adam?” she asked. “Antony?”

“No. Now give me a clue. I’ve given you three.”

“You’ve given me one,” she said, taking careful steps as she navigated a particularly steep section of the trail.

Clayton glanced over the edge. It had been years since he’d come here. He hadn’t remembered how steep the drop was, how narrow the path. It was at least fifty feet down, and unlike the diving cliffs, the water below was littered with sharp boulders. No wonder people didn’t come to this spot often. He felt a pang of fear watching Cora step over the loose pebbles beneath her feet, and he thought he could see the fear in her eyes too. But she was agile as she walked.

“I’ve said that it’s for a man with a famous lover,” he continued. “That the lover in question is one of the most famous of all time, and that she wasn’t half as beautiful as you. That’s three.”

“The first two are the same and the last one doesn’t count,” she said. “You’re biased.”

“I have no intention of giving you another clue until you give me one in return,” Clayton said.

Cora took a moment to think about it as she continued down. Clayton watched her every move. How long was this trail? It seemed longer than he remembered.

“Arthur?” she asked. “For King Arthur and Queen Guinevere?”

“Wrong again. My turn for a clue.”

“Fine,” she said. “There was a song written just to invite someone of this name on a very particular sort of outing.”

“That’s one. You owe me two more.”

“And … my mother was named for the woman in that song.”

“You may have just given it all away, Cora.” If it was what he was thinking of, and his math was right, the song would have been very popular right around the time her mother was born.

“Then guess if you’re so sure of yourself.”

“I’m owed another clue, aren’t I?”

They reached the final switchback. It was so slim and so steep Cora didn’t even answer him. She looked too focused on not falling. Clayton stayed silent. He wasn’t about to distract her. But finally, they had passed it.

“Last clue,” she said, and cocked her head with a sly smile. “The songwriter wasn’t half so handsome as you.”

“Using my own sword against me. That’s cruel.”

“Oh, please,” she said.

“At least I know what your middle name is.”

His grandmother had been fond of that song. It had actually been one of his first guesses because it was so familiar. The tinny music played in his mind.

Balance yourself like a bird on a beam.

In the air she goes! There she goes!

Up, up, a little bit higher.

Oh, my, the moon is on fire.

Come Josephine in my flying machine,

Going up, all on, Goodbye!

“So, what is it?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m not going to tell you. I just know.” The look on her face was so piqued that he almost kissed her right there. But he thought it was probably a better idea to wait until they reached a spot where they wouldn’t fall to their deaths.

“Clayton Briggs, you are one of the most infuriating men I’ve ever met.” 

“Why, thank you,” he said, delighted at how he’d made her smile.

Finally, the trail opened onto the small beach. It was just as secluded as he’d remembered, and Clayton was glad. That swimsuit looked incredible on her, but it would look even better off.

He set the picnic basket on a boulder as Cora dove into the water. She popped up a few yards from shore, all glistening and perfect and everything summer should be. 

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.

He wasn’t about to make her ask twice.

But the moment his toes touched the water, an impish grin spread over her features. She giggled and flicked her fingers and sent a massive wave to topple him over. When he finally stood up again, her laughter sang like church bells across the water.

“You little minx,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll get you for that one.”

But the sly girl just wiggled her fingers again and knocked him right off his feet with another blast of water. 

When he got up this time he lunged for her immediately, but she was ready for him. A spout of water jetted her away, beyond his reach. She sat atop it, legs crossed like a queen. He wanted to lick the droplets sparkling like diamonds right off of her long, smooth legs. He wanted to lick farther than that.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she warned, holding up a finger. “New game. Not one step closer until you tell me your middle name.”

Clayton smirked. It was a small price to pay. 

“Anthony,” he said with a shrug.

“I
said
Anthony!” Distracted, her aqueous throne melted back into the surface of the lake and she slipped into the water right along with it.

“You said Antony,” Clayton said, taking a slow step toward her.

“So the famous lover wasn’t Cleopatra?”

“It was. I said I was named
for
him, not given his actual name.”

“Well that’s not fair at all.”

But he had already crossed the distance between them. In the next instant, he had her in his arms, holding her so tight her own arms were pinned at her sides. He bent his lips to her collarbone and she tilted her chin to the golden evening sunshine with a soft, satisfied moan.

“Cora Josephine Hollis,” he said. “You’ve been very, very naughty.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Clayton

After they had sated themselves, they dressed and laid a blanket out over the sand. Clayton made plates for them then sat down with his back against a boulder. She settled in between his knees, the back of her head against his chest as they ate. He loved her there, sun-tired and love-worn and lazy. He crossed his left arm over her chest to bring her closer and rested his chin on her crown as they watched the sun set in a sweet, comfortable silence.

He didn’t want to ruin this moment, but there were things they needed to discuss and he didn’t know how long she could afford to stay away without arousing suspicion. He leaned his head back against the still-warm rock, growing cooler by the second as the sky dipped toward blue.

“Cora, I’ve had something of an inspiration about our situation.”

“An inspiration?”

“Yes. It occurred to me today while I was staring out my window at work. I noticed there’s an empty shop across the square.”

“Oh?”

He had to present it to her delicately. It would be difficult to convince her regardless, but doubly so if he didn’t select his words with the utmost care.

“And it made me realize there’s a void in this town. We have the general store and the butcher. The Belvins do dairy deliveries, but we’re still missing something.”

“What?”

“A bakery. You should open a bakery, Cora.”

She shifted away from him, looked up at him like he was crazy, but didn’t say a word. 

“Just hear me out. That shop’s been empty for as long as I can remember. Mr. McPherson owns that building. He’s been looking for a tenant for years, but every business who’s considered it has either been too large for the space or so small they couldn’t justify the rent.”

“Clayton—” She drew further away and tucked her knees close to her chest so she wasn’t touching him at all anymore. 

“I know I could negotiate a good deal with him. Any sum would be better than it standing empty, right? As it is, he has to pay someone just to keep it clean so it doesn’t devalue the other shops in the building.”

She frowned. He could see that he was losing her, but he kept on.

“Don’t you want to know the best part?”

“All right,” she said. 

“The best part,” he continued, “is that there’s an apartment above the shop that’s part of the lease. It’s not much, just two bedrooms and a single bathroom, but there would be enough room there for both you and your sister.”

“Oh, Clayton,” she said. But her eyes looked so defeated now. It was a look he hated. Couldn’t she see how much potential she had? Couldn’t she see that she could do anything if she set her mind to it? It was infuriating.

“Just think about it. It could work.”

She stood and walked away from him a few paces. “Opening a bakery takes money. Lots of money. It’s not just the lease. It’s the ovens and the display cases and the ingredients and other tools. Not to mention packaging and window dressing and advertising. Do you know how much an industrial mixer costs? Because I do, and it’s more money than I’ve made in the last two months.”

“You
have
thought about this,” he said, standing to join her. If she was looking into industrial mixers, then she hadn’t just thought about it, she’d researched it. She knew it was a good idea. So why was she giving him such a hard time? Hadn’t he made it clear that any money she needed was at her disposal? At least this way she could have a part in earning it back.

“Of course I’ve thought about it. But that doesn’t mean it’s possible. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? You might as well be telling me to just go out and buy a house.”

He knew she would reject the next words out of his mouth, but he had to try. He took her hands in his. “I’ll give you all the money you need. Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

Cora dropped his hands and drew herself up to her fullest height. That’s when Clayton realized how large of a mistake he’d made.

“I don’t need charity,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

“For Christ’s sake, Cora. It’s not charity.”

“What else would it be? I can’t afford it on my own, and you’d be doing it solely to help me.”

“And you don’t think I have anything to gain? I need you in my life, Cora. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe.”

“Well, this is too much. I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

“I can’t allow you to do it. That’s a ridiculous amount of money.”

He didn’t want to insult her, but the kind of money they were talking about was nothing to him. He could do it out of the profits he expected from his most current investment and still have more than enough to live on for the year. Or he could sell his boat. Or his car. Not to mention his upcoming trust fund. It would barely make a dent in that. But he knew saying so would only upset her more.

It was a strain to keep his words even. “It wouldn’t even be a mild inconvenience.”

“No.”

Her words were so firm, her body language so closed that he knew she would hear nothing more about him supplying the money. Which meant he had to propose the next option—the one he already knew was a long shot.

“Then what about a loan from the bank? We could do it through my new community loan program. Banks give out loans to new businesses all the time.”

“Not to unmarried women, they don’t.”

Clayton stopped, silent. Truthfully, he hadn’t even considered this. All he’d been thinking about was how to get his father to sign off on it. But she was right. His bank—all banks—required women to have their husband cosign for any loan. He hadn’t ever thought about how difficult it must be for an unmarried woman to obtain financing. She would need someone to vouch for her—a family member or a trusted friend. He’d never even seen a single woman try. How was someone like Cora supposed to change their situation? Sometimes it felt like every card in the deck was stacked against her.

“And I’m not just an unmarried woman,” she continued, “I’m a Murphy. I have no collateral, no money to put in whatsoever, and I’m the daughter of one of the most untrustworthy men in town.”

“I’ll sign for you.”

“I won’t let you be financially responsible for me, Clayton. I just won’t.”

He didn’t understand it. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she let him do the simplest thing to help her?

Then another thought crept into his mind. Could there be more to this than she was saying? Perhaps it wasn’t the money that was the problem. Perhaps she was unsure of her feelings toward him. Maybe she’d felt pressured to tell him she loved him back after he had declared his love. Maybe she didn’t want his help because she didn’t want to attach herself to him. He felt all his muscles tense, stiffen.