Dearest Clementine (40 page)

I clear my throat. Trying to sound in control and demanding, I say, “And don’t think you’re going to get off easily.” Surprised by my own double entendre, I smirk as I nestle my hand against his sinfully carved hip and squeeze. “Time to run the bases.”

When I slide my body over him, his eyes widen ever so briefly before his lids shutter closed. He inhales deeply, and I love that I affect him this way. Judging by what he has pressed up against my stomach, I dare say he’s hot and bothered. Good. That makes two of us.

As I lean in closer, he flashes me that grin. “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you talk baseball?”

I’ve never understood couples who can’t get out of bed. Until now.

I give him a devilish grin. “Wait ’til you hear me talk football.”

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33 -

Gavin (Three weeks later)

Of course. Of course she plays beautifully. Through the glass, I see her small hands gliding over the keys of the piano. Clementine’s been coming down to practice for the last week so she can prep for Carly’s fundraiser. When she gets to the chorus, she tilts her head, and her long hair cascades over her shoulder, and as though she realizes I’m spying, she stops.

I tap on the door, and she stiffens. I know what she’s thinking. She’s afraid I heard her play, afraid that she sucks because she thinks she sucks at everything, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. That’s why I call her my golden girl. She has too many talents for her own good. Well, except math, but that only means I get to tutor her, which is a bonus in my book.

Her hair is darker now than when school started, but in the sun, her blonde highlights make her glow like an angel.

Yes, I’m so ass-over-head in love with her I can’t see straight. But I don’t tell her that. I have too many fears about freaking her out and losing her. Damn. I have nightmares about it. I’m not about to tell her that either. After what she went through with Angelique and that sick fuck Wheeler, I don’t want her to worry about anything else. I know she has a lot on her mind as she finishes her new novel.

“Hey, babe,” I say as she opens the door to the practice room. “You sound great.”

Her eyebrows lift and her lips purse before she flicks me in the arm, making me laugh.

“I thought you said these rooms were soundproof.”

God, she’s even more gorgeous when she’s pissed.

“I said they were
mostly
soundproof.” I flash that grin I know she loves, and her icy exterior melts a little. Then I go in for the kill, kissing her on the forehead, and once I have her up against my chest, I don’t let go. That’s when she sighs and wraps her arms around my waist. “So you have boxes you need help with?”

Clementine nods against me. I’m not sure if that’s code for some kind of naked activity, but I try not to let my mind wander in case she really just needs a mover. I’ve been trying hard to not be a big boner around her, which is difficult since about everything she does is sexy. Only she doesn’t know it. That’s why she’s irresistible.

But I want her to know that our relationship is about more than sex. So I told her as much. That was a great discussion. She ended up yelling at me, telling me she was afraid she was defective and she wouldn’t blame me if I didn’t want to sleep with her again.
As fucking if.
I’m not entirely sure how a goddess like Clementine ends up with one ounce of insecurity, but it’s my main mission in life to make her understand that she’s extraordinary, inside and out.

“Are we still meeting up with Olivia and Kade for dinner?” she asks as she slips her hand in mine.

“Yeah, he texted me the address of the restaurant this morning.”

Olivia has taken the semester off to recover from the trauma of what happened this fall, but she talks constantly to Clementine and Brigit. I think they’ve formed a kind of support group that’s helping the three of them get through this. Agent Robertson told Olivia’s family that Clementine helped piece together some of the missing parts in their investigation. Like the fact that Wheeler had access to a yacht, which is why no airline had any record of him returning stateside in July.

Although authorities added rape to Wheeler’s charges of kidnapping, to see the way Olivia is handling everything, you’d never know he held her captive in his guest house for almost three months. She says she’s just grateful to be alive and doesn’t want him to take anything else from her.

So far, the identity of his first rape victim–the one he attacked when he was in college–hasn't been made public, but I've heard through the grapevine she is preparing to testify against him. And because of all the photos Wheeler took of Clementine, the district attorney tacked on stalking charges, which could add another five years to his sentence when that asshole is found guilty.

I know it bothers my girl to have her name dragged through the media because of Wheeler, but she says if Olivia can handle it, she can too. And fuck if I don’t love her more because of how brave she’s been through all of this.

Olivia and Kade have been hanging out, and even though he realizes she won’t be ready for anything serious for a while, he says he wants to wait and see what happens with their friendship. I’ve never seen Kade try so hard to not be a dumbass. Olivia’s disappearance really changed him. Clementine and Kade are even tight now, which is shocking to everyone who knows them because their fights are legendary.

When we get to Clementine’s apartment, there’s a box out in the living room with her name written on the side. I recognize it as the one her brother brought over a while back.

“Is this the box? Do you want me to get rid of it?”

She shakes her head and pats the seat next to her on the couch. She’s biting her lip. Clementine does that when she’s nervous or afraid. It’s adorable. And sexy as hell.
Focus, Gavin. The girl clearly doesn’t want sex right now.

Tilting her head down, she glances up at me and smiles shyly. Man, that smile. For a girl who tends to scare most men, she’s surprisingly shy, unsure even. Thinking about her like this makes my chest hurt. I know—I’m going to lose my man card at this rate.

“You’re always saying you want to know me better, so I thought we could go through it together,” she says, swallowing.

“Sure. Sounds good.” I try to sound chill when I respond, but I know this is a big deal for her. She’s breathing harder and fisting her hands at her side. I remember the argument she had with Jax when he brought it here and can tell she’s about to lose it.

Finally, I can’t stand one more second like this so I reach over and pull her into my lap. She laughs, surprised. I kiss her neck slowly before I reach down to her waist and wiggle my fingers against her ribs.

“Gavin! Don’t tickle me! Damn it.” She tries to get up, but I throw her down on the couch. She’s laughing, and she’s pissed, and fuck, I love her.

She pauses, mid-gasp, and reaches for my shirt, yanking me down to her.

But before my lips reach hers, I stop. “No, I’m not your sex toy. We have to open your box first.”

She snorts. “You know that sounds sexual, right?”

“Baby, I’m trying to incentivize you to stop spazzing out.”

“By using your body?” She can’t hide her amusement.

“We could go with chocolate or a latte, but you seem to like my body.”

Her tongue peeks out between her teeth, and her hair is fanning out beneath her. Then she rakes her fingers down my chest as her eyes pass over me languidly. “I
love
your body.”

I’m having a difficult time focusing on the goal here. I clear my throat and try to think about who won the World Series last year and the year before that and the year before that. When I think I can construct a coherent sentence, I kiss her nose and pull her up.

“You can use and abuse me any way you want after we get the box open. It’s not a big deal. Just stuff from high school. Everyone has junk like this.” I know that she didn’t date for years over all the shit that went down her senior year. Sorting through this will be therapeutic, which gives us a better shot of making it for the long haul, so I have to stay focused here because this girl is most definitely my long haul.

“Really?” She looks hopeful.

“Yup. My mother saved some flowers she gave me when I graduated and it grew mold.”

She giggles. I’m always surprised by how little it takes to make her laugh.

The box is still sealed with clear packing tape, so I grab my keys and run it along the length before she gets a chance to get scared again. I look in and shrug.

“See, yearbooks and photos. Nothing major.”

She peeks into the box. Then at me. Her shoulders relax and she smiles, interlacing her fingers through mine and plants a kiss on my cheek, and I don’t know if winning a Pulitzer could feel this good.

For the next hour, she pulls out books and photos and knickknacks. I grab a picture from homecoming and one from prom and set them side by side. It’s like the before-and-after photos of a car wreck. In the first, she’s glowing, all smiles and charm. She’s in a crowd, but it’s like she’s the center of it, as though the force of her gravity is pulling everyone toward her. In the second photo, she’s posing with a couple of friends, but the light has gone out of her eyes. She’s mechanical, stiff, hurt.

Her movement next to me catches my attention as she flips through her freshman yearbook. She covers her mouth because she’s embarrassed about her hair when she was fourteen, and I laugh when I see it because she looks like a tiny supermodel. Right now, she seems so relaxed, like the past doesn’t consume her anymore. She smiles, and it’s blazing and brilliant.

My heart thumps quickly as I realize I have the “before” girl sitting next to me on the couch. She’s full of light and energy and boundless determination. I mean, who writes two books in college?

Her professor, Marceaux, the one she says tortured her to write about intimacy, loved her submissions in class and not only wants to help her edit her new novel for publication this winter, but she wants Clementine to guest-lecture next spring. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be jealous.

And at least there’s an upside to the Wheeler bullshit. After he outted her in class, her book sales for
Say It Isn’t So
skyrocketed. Not only can she pay off her school loans, but she’ll have something left over. She’s already had a full-time job offer at the campus bookstore, but I’m trying to talk her into taking next year off from everything to write. I know she wants to dust off some of her other story ideas and polish them up for publication. I want to help her do that.

“What?” she asks, looking at me puzzled.

“What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?” She looks at me sideways, and I wonder if she knows she owns my ass.

This is it. This is the right time. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving? I was wondering if you’d like to spend it with me in Connecticut.”

Her mouth opens into an “o” and she inhales deeply. She’s quiet. For too long. Shit. Maybe this is too soon.

“You mean with you and your family?”

“They might be there.” I look up at the ceiling and shrug. “Someone has to cook the bird, and I’m sure as hell not gonna do it.”

She lets out a nervous laugh. Taking a long strand of hair between her fingers, she suddenly gets interested in the very tip, like she might have an errant split end.

I know this is new for her, being in a relationship. God, it’s new for me. I’ve dated girls, girls I actually thought I was serious about, but everyone pales in comparison to Clementine. Sometimes she makes me feel like I could forget how to tie my shoes if I’m not careful.

That thing in my chest, my heart, beats a little erratically as I wait for her to say something. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and scramble for a little more footing.

“You know, if you’re not up for it, no biggie.”

“No, no, I would love to meet your family.” There she goes, biting her lip, giving me that shy look. “I was thinking, though, that maybe you could come with me. To see mine.” Her big blue eyes are wide as she studies my face.

I don’t breathe. I’m not sure I even blink.

She nods, understanding my confusion. “My father called, and he's in town for a while and wants to see me. I told him I wouldn’t visit if my mother was there, but he said it would only be Jax and me. But I’d like for you to come too. If you have the time.”

I know what this means. She hasn’t been home since high school, and she’s asking me to go with her. If my girl wants me there, damn straight I’ll be there.

“Of course I’ll go with you.” I lean over and rub my nose against hers as I lace our fingers together.

I think back to our freshman year and wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t taken that leave of absence and I had asked her on a date like I planned. Except I came to class that day to find her seat empty.

Her eyes flutter closed, and just like that, she’s too far away.

Wrapping my arms around her, I lift her onto my lap so that she sits astride me.