“Yeah, the lighting is great on this side of the house.”
“What’s this?” She lifted the edge on the muslin cloth tentatively. He removed the drape and revealed the lump of clay beneath it, which resembled the basic shape of a head and shoulders of a woman.
“Eventually it’ll be a life-size representation of the soon-to-be fiancée of some good friends of mine. Her name is Lydia Webster. If Chance and Clayton Carlisle have their way, her name is going to change to Carlisle, too.”
“Nuh-uh! Really?” The look on her face must’ve been priceless.
“Yeah, that’s one of those things about Divine that’s—”
She didn’t hear any more of what he said as her gaze landed on a piece of sketch paper on a nearby table. “What’s this?” she said, cutting him off as she lifted the drawing. It was an uncanny rendering of her about the time she’d moved away from Divine, but there was a trace of sadness that was hard to pinpoint.
Clay stuck his hands in his pockets as he approached where she stood in front of the window looking at the charcoal drawing. “It’s a drawing of you.”
“When did you do this?”
“The night of the accident.”
“Why?”
Clay looked down at the image, so his eyes were shuttered. “I was working on something else and I guess that just needed an outlet. I don’t remember you sad like that. I don’t know why I drew it that way. You slipped away from us years ago and memories of you came back to me. I didn’t know if you were just passing through or staying and I just…needed to draw you. You know how us flaky, artsy-fartsy types are,” he added with a shrug and a chuckle.
Lily scoffed and rolled her eyes. “When I look at you, Clay, the last thing I see is a flaky, artsy-fartsy type, trust me.”
“You can have it.”
“No, I want you to keep it. You’ve given me the statue and that’s enough. And I’m in Divine to stay, Clay.”
“Good enough. Maybe I’ll frame it. Lily, seriously, you don’t have to worry about women coming around. Grace Warner, a matchmaking friend of mine, gets peeved at me because I don’t date more, but between business and this.” He gestured to the clay form on a small wooden table. “I feel pretty fulfilled. Women just add unnecessary drama to my life.” He slammed his lips shut, frowned, and then added, “That did not come out the way I meant it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you, not at all. The last woman I dated was a bit of a drama queen. A spoiled little rich girl. The black rubber marks you probably saw on my driveway were her parting gift a few months ago.”
Lily patted his bicep, noting its firmness. “And now I’ve come along and added even more drama to your life. I know you didn’t mean me in particular, Clay. But I am sorry about the incident at the hospital the other day. So…you have a vindictive ex-girlfriend running around Divine?”
Clay curled his lip. “Presley Ann Woodworth. Her daddy owns Stigall’s and a few other retail stores in the area.”
“Were you not compatible?” Duh, Miss Obvious!
“More like she didn’t get showered with the gold and jeweled trinkets she evidently thought were her due.”
“Really?”
Clay shrugged. “She didn’t like my hours, and she talked an awful lot, too. She moved on after her parting gift.” He gestured to the window in the direction of the driveway where there had indeed still been black tire marks marring the concrete surface when they’d arrived.
Clay directed her into his spare bedroom. The drapes and sheer curtains had been parted to let in light, which shone brightly on the old pine floorboards.
“It’s wonderful, Clay.” She felt like she’d been shown into a romantic bedroom in a bed-and-breakfast. He’d obviously spent time cleaning and sprucing up. There were dark-green rugs located on either side of the queen-size wrought iron bed. A fresh blue, white, and green patchwork quilt adorned the bed and created the focal point for accents around the room, on the antique washstand and dresser and a chest of drawers in the corner.
“All those drawers are empty and ready for you to put away your belongings and there are plenty of hangers in the closet. I thought about hanging everything for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled but didn’t want to invade your privacy.”
Lily grinned and said, “Trust me, there are no corsets, garters, or bustiers tucked in those suitcases, Clay. It’s all just basic stuff.” So boring, in fact, she hated the idea of wearing any of it. There was no money for shopping for a new wardrobe, though, so she’d have to suck that up, too.
“Well, I’ll leave you to get situated. Let me know if you need anything.”
Lily returned his smile as he left the room. The clothing, mostly floppy polo shirts, T-shirts, and old blue jeans, was put away in a matter of minutes. She then set to unpacking the items in the boxes.
Her small jewelry box and a keepsake box from a friend occupied a spot on the dresser, and what few books she had took up less than half a shelf on the bookcase. JT had never been a reader and had criticized her for being a book lover, so there had seldom been money in the budget to afford them. Over the years her collection had gotten damaged or simply disappeared. She found the container of old photographs in a box her father had packed for her. He’d kept the mementos her mother had saved from her growing-up years with the intent of passing them on to her. Thinking she needed to check in with him again, she pulled her phone from her purse and discovered the battery was dead. She plugged her cell phone charger in, wondering if JT had cancelled her from their account yet.
She was tempted to open the box of photos but decided against it. Her emotions were so volatile right now, and she didn’t want to waste any more time crying about the past and things she couldn’t change. The steady throb from the incision site intensified. She’d been ignoring it since they’d left the shambles of her house because she was used to pushing herself under stressful circumstances, but now she grimaced at the fresh dart of pain.
After retrieving the pain medication from her handbag, Lily retraced her steps to the kitchen where she found Clay starting the meal prep for supper.
“From now on I’ll help you with the chores and meals.”
“That would be great but I don’t mind. I usually keep it pretty simple. I hope you like stir-fry. You relax and let me do the cooking for now. What can I get you?” There was genuine inquiry in his warm green-gold eyes. It was odd the things that were taking her by surprise. JT had never asked what he could get for her.
“Just a glass of water. I forgot to take these earlier.”
He filled a glass and brought it around the counter to her instead of just reaching across. He looked closely at her face, making her feel a little self-conscious. “Are you in pain?”
“A little. I should’ve taken one earlier when the pain started.”
“I would’ve stopped for a bottle of water for you, Lily. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because I’m not used to being around a considerate man.
Lily was unsure how to answer. She hated to keep reminding him of her ex-husband, so she simply said, “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I didn’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble, Lily. Hey,” he murmured, stopping her when she would’ve pulled away from him. His hands were gentle on her shoulders as she crossed her arms in front of her. “What is it?” His eyes told her he wanted the truth, and she realized she wanted to give it.
“I’ve learned to ignore pain.” He wrapped her in a hug, and she couldn’t help it when she leaned into him. Briefly, she pressed her cheek into his firmly muscled chest, and his clean, manly scent filled her nostrils, relaxing her. “If I stopped every time I had pain over the years, I would’ve been in much worse straits. JT hated weakness. The only reason I made it here the other day was because I have a high tolerance and could ignore it.”
“Yeah, until it was almost too late,” he growled, sounding irate.
She looked up at him, trying to understand the emotion in his words. “It was just
easier for me to ignore the pain over the years. I had to keep going, keep doing, moving forward otherwise I would’ve collapsed under all the pressure. I feel…”
Clay’s strong, muscular arms wrapped around her snugly, but he was careful to not squeeze too hard, which would increase her pain. “You feel what?”
“After all these years of treading water, of staying ahead of the tidal wave…I feel so weak. Helpless. I feel like I’m made of water myself, like there’s no strength or support for my muscles or bones. The least little thing would flatten me right now, and I’d just run through the cracks. Useless.”
The vibration of a soft growl rumbled through his chest, and her heartbeat sped up at the masculine sound, but not because it scared her. “Never useless, Lily. You’re hurt. You need time to heal. Take your meds. You can lie down if you want to. It’ll be a little while before supper is ready.”
Lily shook her head. “No. If I nap now I’ll have trouble falling asleep tonight. I didn’t get much rest in the hospital so I’m exhausted but I don’t want to be awake at three in the morning, either. Can I set the table?”
“Sure. Look around and make yourself at home.” He went to the entertainment center, turned it on, and slid a CD into the player. An old Keith Whitley song began playing.
Clay did indeed make an excellent stir-fry. She watched a man cook for the first time in many years, delighted by the enjoyment he took from the process as he diced vegetables, peppers, deveined gulf shrimp, and heated the peanut oil. He gave her a crooked grin because her stomach growled embarrassingly when the vegetables, garlic, and rice hit the hot oil and filled the house with a mouthwatering aroma. She gawked in shock when he threw a large pat of butter into the skillet and then smirked at her reaction.
“I’m going to get even fatter. I can feel the pounds packing on as I watch you.”
Stirring constantly over the high heat, Clay lifted his gaze to hers. “Lily, you’re not fat.” His tone was muted, but so forceful, any reply evaded her. She looked away self-consciously when his eyes lingered on her breasts.
Whatever. She poked the pudgy flesh at her hip. “I’ve always been fat, even when we were little. And no matter how much I worry, struggle, diet or exercise, it’s never enough. I have good intentions, make myself the promise that this time is going to be different, and then the least little thing makes me go off the wagon.”
Clay waited until she met his eyes again before speaking. The gold specks in the mossy-green depths of his eyes sparkled with intensity as he murmured, “Lily. I said you’re not fat. You’ve bought into the stereotypes.” He removed the wok from the fire and kept stirring. “You were always so hard on yourself. If you’ll forgive me, your mom didn’t help much, either, with the things she used to say to you.”
Her mom’s words had echoed in her memories throughout the years. “Lily, is that really what you should be eating? Lily, that is quite enough. Lily, I was never that large when I was your age. Lily, perhaps if you ate less, clothes shopping would be more fun.”
“Mom meant well. She said she worried about me.”
“She probably did, but I think she may also have worried what other people thought. No, you were never stick thin, but no one in your family was. Even your mom was curvy.” Clay cringed and shuddered. “I can’t believe I just said that, but it is true. So it should come as no surprise that she’d have a daughter that was also curvy and voluptuous.” The honest and straightforward way he said it and the way he kept looking at her made her feel jumpy inside, but she wanted to believe him.
Setting the wok aside, he crooked his finger, and she followed him to the living room. She sat carefully to avoid jostling her incision, and he reached for a book and a magazine on his coffee table. He opened the magazine, which was a celebrity news and fashion weekly.
“I bought this for a recipe it had in the back. I don’t want you to think I’m getting in touch with my girly side or anything.”
Lily laughed, thinking there was absolutely nothing “girly” about the utterly masculine man sitting next to her. He turned to a photo spread of a fashion show and gestured to the models going through their paces on the catwalk. Next, he opened the book and laid it next to the open magazine. It was a compilation of the art of a famous pinup-girl artist. The scenes on the pages featured voluptuous, leggy, busty women. Several were partially or thinly veiled nudes in seasonal themes, obviously intended for a calendar from some bygone year. Several even had pale pink nipples visible.
Clay caressed her shoulder as he looked at her and then pointed at a catwalk model who undoubtedly suffered from anorexia judging by the hollows under her cheekbones, slightly sunken chest, and protruding joints.
“Can you tell me why this is now considered sexy, and this,” he pointed at one of the curvy pinup girls, “is considered overweight? Because I don’t get it.” He turned a page in the magazine and pointed to an ad for a metabolic weight loss energy shake program, one that she’d considered trying. “This is a multibillion dollar industry bent on telling you that you’re not good enough the way you are. And you’re worried because I cooked with butter and oil tonight. It’ll taste good and you’ll be satisfied by it. We won’t be going through a stick of butter a day, so you have no reason to worry. For my part, Lily, I’m more worried about why you see yourself as fat than anything else.”
“But my husband—”
“Abused you. You can’t trust his word. I don’t know why he complained about your weight. I think you’re beautiful, and I wish you could see it.” She glanced at him and wondered if the heat she saw in his eyes was just a trick of the fading afternoon sunlight.
Lily looked at the photos of the catwalk models and the images in the art book. “You’re right, but…ugh…look at me, Clay. Really. I’m out of shape. I probably couldn’t walk half a mile without getting winded.” And that wasn’t the only problem she had, thinking of the tattoo again.
Clay smiled and shrugged. “So get in shape, but don’t kill yourself trying to lose weight, especially not to please someone else. Any man who thinks you should lose weight needs to pull his head out of his ass. You can make use of the elliptical trainer in your bedroom if you want to. My neighborhood is pretty quiet so you could walk if the weather’s nice. I might even walk with you. I don’t get to the gym to lift weights as often as I used to, but after you’re fully recovered you could come with me, if Emma okays it. But don’t pressure yourself to do that if it doesn’t make you happy.”
That was exactly the point, she realized. She had no idea what made her happy because she was used to being in avoidance mode with JT. Avoiding outbursts, avoiding trouble of any kind, avoiding angering him. She had avoided so much for so long she had no idea what it was she wanted to do to make herself happy.
How screwed up am I?
Lily nodded and sat back. “You’re right, Clay. Thank you. It’s going to take a little time. I’ve thought of myself as fat, sloppy, and lazy for a long time.”
“Probably because he used those words on you like a mantra. No more. If you want to work out on the elliptical, you can. Now, woman, I cooked and I expect you to eat,” he said as he rose from the couch.
She allowed him to help her to a standing position and then seat her at the table in the kitchen. The shrimp and broccoli stir-fry was incredibly good, and she ate every mouthwatering bite. She couldn’t recall a more satisfying meal.
Afterward, they relaxed in the living room and watched television. Clay had placed a big, fluffy pillow on the couch next to him for her to lay her head on and that was where she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Six
Clay sat beside Lily, her head resting on the pillow. She’d seemed so exhausted, he’d decided to not press her to talk any further. Time would heal a lot of her wounds and there was no reason for him to rush the process. He was inordinately pleased that she was staying with him. Her house had been a mess, and he’d wondered how she would manage the cost of the extensive repairs.
/> Lily shifted suddenly and clenched her hand resting on the pillow into a fist. She whimpered, and her whole body went rigid. Feeling for her, Clay laid his hand on her shoulder and gently stroked her arm, hoping to soothe her back into peaceful sleep. He tucked a stray dark lock behind her ear and then stroked her soft cheek with the tips of his fingers. She shuddered lightly but seemed to settle after that. Clay silently cursed the bastard who was responsible for her nightmare.
She was supposed to see Emma the following week to have her stitches removed, and Clay wondered if maybe counseling would be a good idea. She had issues with her appearance that bothered him. She viewed herself in a very negative light, and it made him sad because she was truly beautiful, beneath the tired, beaten-down exterior. He was glad he’d chosen to get involved last Saturday after the accident.
Once she’d relaxed into deeper sleep, Clay rose from the couch and went to her room to turn down the quilt and covers on her bed. Lifting her gently, he carried her to her room. He enjoyed the warm, solid weight of her in his arms. The tingling in his groin signaled that other parts liked it as well. He felt a little guilty because there was no way she’d be interested in men right now. It was a testament to just how tired she was that she never stirred once.
* * * *
“Thanks for letting me use your phone, Clay. I probably should’ve called Dad last night.”
“You’re welcome, Lil,” Clay replied as he opened the windows in the living room. The morning was cool, and they’d decided to open the house and let the fresh air blow through.
Lily discovered that morning that her phone, while fully charged, was completely useless. JT had shut off her number. She counted herself lucky because the only way she’d hear from him now was through her lawyer. That was fine with her.
“Mind if I sit on your back porch?”
“My house is your house,” Clay replied as he fought with a stiff window lock.
She slipped out of the back door and carefully took a seat in one of his Adirondack chairs. The treed, shady yard was dappled here and there with sunlight, and she sighed happily as she breathed in the cool, dry autumn air. It seemed she had arrived in Divine as the seasons changed, and she felt invigorated by it.
Divine Phoenix [Divine Creek Ranch 10] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6
