Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

26. Clyde

twenty-six

Clyde

M oving on from the park, I wandered downtown and poked my head into the shops I’d only observed from a distance.

I’d met Mr. Cole, my boss’s other half, a few times but hadn’t spent time talking to him. Still, he recognized me the moment I walked into the drugstore. As we chatted, it became clear why he and his wife made such a good couple. Again, I forced down the grief that I’d likely never have that in my life.

I felt really good by the time I headed back to Ruther’s place for our noon meetup. Crawford City really was special. Not that its shops and downtown were that different from any other small Southern town, but its people seemed to be…more. More friendly, more welcoming, more accepting.

I knocked on Ruther and Corey’s door and was immediately met by a happy-looking Ruther. “Hi,” he said, “come in.”

I stepped inside and was perplexed when I didn’t see Corey. Ruther seemed to notice and sighed. “So, Corey is buried up to his eyeballs on the project we’re considering for Crawford City. I’m afraid I’ll have to pry him out of his bedroom.”

I smiled. “I take it the meeting went well?”

“Better than we expected, but you don’t want to hear about all that, I’m sure. Let me go get Corey, and we’ll go to the wine tasting.”

I thought quickly. I knew I’d said we needed a chaperone, but wasn’t I just being silly? Ruther walked with me almost every night. It wasn’t like I was going to jump him in public, although I also knew I wanted him more now than I did before.

“No, let him be. Unless he wants to come, we can let your chaperone sit this one out. Besides, won’t someone be there to keep us in check?” I asked and winked, not knowing where my confidence came from all of a sudden.

Ruther laughed. “He won’t even remember our plans. When that man gets a new project in his head, he has a hard time letting it go. Let’s go. I can’t wait for you to try the wine.”

I followed him out of the condo and through the hotel lobby. Catherine, a woman I’d only met once, when she and her son, Dr. Allen, came to the café for dinner with Dr. Ash and his kids, met us at the counter.

“So, you’re interested in our wine tasting. Lance mentioned you’ve already been to the winery,” she said, and Ruther nodded.

“But Clyde hasn’t, and this is my treat.”

She smiled, and I didn’t see condescension on her face. In fact, she was smiling in a welcoming way, but some internal bullshit made me feel uncomfortable, like maybe I was doing some type of Pretty Woman thing.

“Come in and sit down,” Catherine said, leading us to a little wine bar area. It all seemed like a big fuss for something as simple as drinking wine. I was immediately embarrassed that I had no idea what actually happened at a wine tasting.

I watched as Ruther swirled his glass and sniffed the contents, cocking my eyebrow before I even knew I’d done it. When he glanced my way, he laughed. “Sorry, I should’ve asked. Have you done a wine tasting before?” I shook my head, though my blush was probably answer enough. He looked at me kindly, though. “Let me show you then.”

The smile never left Ruther’s face as he showed me how to swirl and smell, then told me what he smelled in the glass. I looked over at Catherine, who nodded approval, to make sure I wasn’t having my leg pulled.

“Okay,” I said and followed his lead.

“Now, what do you smell?” he asked.

I bit back the comment on the tip of my tongue that I smelled wine. Instead, I focused on what he’d said earlier. “I don’t know, maybe some kind of fruit?” I asked.

“What kind?” he prodded, and I sniffed again, shrugging when nothing came to mind.

“It helps if you close your eyes,” Catherine said, and I quickly looked over to see if she was making fun of me. Clearly, she was just being helpful.

I closed my eyes and sniffed, and this time, I thought I smelled cherries and said as much.

“That’s right, dark cherries, and I can also smell oak. That comes from the barrels it was aged in.”

“I can smell that, yeah,” I said, getting into it. “It also smells a little smoky, which is odd, right? It shouldn’t be smoky.”

Both Catherine and Ruther chuckled, automatically putting my back up. “No, it’s a good thing,” he said. “The winemaker would want that to be part of the experience.”

I nodded, trying not to appear as awkward as I felt. “Now, you taste it,” Ruther said, closing his eyes as he took a drink.

I did the same thing, and although the flavor was good, I didn’t quite get why there was such a fuss over what was just wine. Sure, even I could tell it was better than anything I’d bought in the discount aisle of the grocery store, but was it worth all this? I doubted it.

“What did you taste?” Catherine asked.

I shrugged. “Not much, really.”

“Okay, so this is going to feel strange, but bear with us,” Catherine instructed, pulling out a glass from below the bar. “Sometimes you need oxygen in your mouth to catch all the flavors. It’s terrible manners, especially down here where people are still worried about such things, but when you drink, let air into your mouth before swallowing.” Then she demonstrated how to do it, and Ruther did the same.

“Yeah, that’s weird,” I said. “I hate to tell you both, but I might be out of my element here.”

Catherine laughed. “Dear, everyone is out of their element when it comes to wine at some point or another, but if you aren’t comfortable—”

“No, it’s not that,” I said, knowing this was something special Ruther was trying to do for me. “Okay, show me again. I don’t want to end up spitting wine all over my shirt.” I knew from experience that getting a stain out of light-colored clothes was a pain in the ass.

They both showed me one more time. I tried it, and, to my surprise, I actually did taste some of the flavors I’d smelled earlier. “Wow, okay, I thought you were just putting me on, but I taste more flavors now.”

Catherine winked at me. “We’ll turn you into a wine snob before you know it,” she said, putting the bottle on the counter.

She opened another bottle and did the same thing again, and I ended up laughing with them as they prompted me about the flavors. I was feeling the effects of drinking too much wine when we were done, and Catherine pushed a bowl of pretzels toward me and instructed me to eat a few.

When someone in the lobby caught her attention, she said she’d be right back, then dashed off.

“This was fun,” Ruther said and leaned against me. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe I just really liked him, but I leaned into him and then looked up at his handsome face.

“It was, and I never would’ve thought tasting wine would be fun.”

“Maybe we need to get you out more,” he said in a whisper, and when he leaned down, I took his mouth with my own. I pulled back when Catherine came back, and I knew the blush on my cheeks was as much about the kiss as it was the alcohol.

“Shall we dive into another bottle?” she asked, and I immediately put my hands up. “No, absolutely no more for me. I’m already buzzing from what we’ve tasted.”

“Then another time,” she said and began putting the bottles away.

I nodded but doubted there’d be another time. “Which wine did you prefer?” Ruther asked, and I pointed toward the pinot. Not because I could tell much of a difference but because that’s the one he’d said he preferred.

“Good, we’ll take two bottles,” he said to Catherine, then turned to me. “Corey is making lasagna, but before you get excited, it’s just Stouffer’s. I think this would pair well with the wine. Will you join us for dinner?”

“I…sure,” I said and glanced over at Catherine, who was smiling ruefully. I didn’t take her for a gossip, like most of the town, but she was clearly enjoying how all this looked. I almost said no to Ruther because I was not supposed to be developing relationships, but my brain short-circuited and I accepted his invitation.

Our kiss, brief as it was, had blown my mind and opened the way for more, which I wasn’t ready for. Luckily, I think Ruther figured that out because that evening at dinner, we enjoyed listening to music, talking about the project, and eating. Just as friends would.

My mom used to make frozen lasagna as a special treat. Certainly not something we had often because even though it was cheap, we could seldom afford it. The fact that it was something special, though, set the evening apart for me.

As the sun set behind us, I yawned before I could stop myself. “Sorry, I’m used to going to bed early these days. It’s been a really nice day. Thank you both,” I said and stood to go.

Ruther stood with me and waited while Corey said his goodbyes. We walked out into the hallway, and I was just about to say goodbye when Ruther stepped up to me. I didn’t resist. I wanted another kiss as much as he did.

Waves of pleasure rolled through my system as his lips collided with mine. I could’ve dived in deeper, taken more from him, but even my slightly inebriated brain remembered why I couldn’t. I pulled back and placed my hand on his chest. The same chest I’d wanted to explore earlier that day, but instead of indulging in those notions, I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, Ruther, I’m really sorry,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I like you and all that, but I’m not…I don’t need…sorry.” I stopped to catch my breath. Ruther didn’t move but kept his strong hands on my sides as I struggled to find the right words. “Things were bad before I moved here, really bad, and they involved a nasty boyfriend. I can’t let myself get into another relationship, even if it’s just a fling. I can’t—”

I bit off the last statement, knowing I’d start bawling like a baby if I went any further.

Ruther leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Clyde, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I like you, and if we need to keep things platonic, so be it. But there’s no use denying I want you too. The more I get to know you, the more I want you.”

I nodded, and the tears fell then. “Give me some time, okay?” I asked, and his warm smile sent shivers all over my body.

“You take all the time you need, Clyde. I’m not going anywhere. I might have to go back to New York at some point, but I won’t be gone forever. Crawford City seems to need me, and I think there’s something between us that deserves further study as well, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then let’s see what happens,” he said, but before he could pull away, I drew him into a tight hug and held on, letting myself feel what it would be like to have someone like Ruther hold me.

I didn’t really believe there was much to explore or study, as he’d said, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy imagining it. Sweet afternoons tasting wine and laughing with friends. Quiet walks home after work, even simple pleasures like an early morning donut. Those were pipe dreams for someone like me.

The reality finally caused me to step back. “See you at the café,” I said and walked away before I did something foolish like kiss him again.

“Oh, you weak, weak man,” I said to myself as I rushed toward the motel. I’d learned my lesson, though, and despite the happiness I felt from the fantastic day, I knew not to go unaware of my surroundings again.

No one was around except a group of what looked like a bunch of teenagers. There was loud music pumping out of the bar across the street, which made me hopeful that I could get to my room unnoticed.

I locked my door behind me and fell onto the bed. Today had been beyond amazing. I jumped up, brushed my teeth, and got ready for bed.

I touched my fingers to my lips, remembering what it felt like when Ruther kissed me. The scratch of his well-maintained beard, the taste of the wine we’d shared.

Ruther was my fairy tale, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy dreaming of a handsome prince for once. Even if they were pipe dreams.

The wine lulled me into a deep sleep, a sedative that worked like no other. I was so content, dreaming of a sexy Ruther, more wine tastings, and sweet walks together.

At first, when the hand came across my mouth, I didn’t react. Having been asleep, I’d thought it the caress of a lover. Then I woke up and registered the pressure of someone straddling me.

“Aah, there’s the slut. Open your fucking eyes and look at me!”

I jerked and squirmed to get away, but Jimmy’s weight had me pinned to the bed. His hand pressed against my mouth, preventing me from yelling for help. “You motherfucker, did you really think you’d get away with stealing my fucking cash? I should beat the life out of you.”

I noticed a hand that wasn’t Jimmy’s slide over his shoulder and saw the biker from the other night. He wasn’t smiling creepily like last time. Instead, he looked worried, like he was afraid Jimmy might make good on that promise.

“Get off,” I mumbled into his hand, then bit it.

“Ouch, you fucker!” he yelled and hit me across the face.

“No, not fucking again,” I said and wrestled an arm free, then took a swing at him. Yeah, Jimmy would probably keep his promise. I didn’t know how he got in here, but damned if I’d let him kill me without leaving evidence that he was my murderer.

I managed to scratch him before Jimmy’s man helped hold me down, giving Jimmy another chance to get a punch in and causing me to writhe in pain.

“This isn’t cool, man. I can’t go back to fucking prison,” the guy said.

Jimmy paused but didn’t take his eyes off me. “You have fifteen minutes to get me my fucking money, all of it. If you don’t, I’m going to beat you so fucking hard you won’t recover. You understand me?”

I nodded. I’d known my reckoning was coming, I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. “Okay, okay,” I said between agonized breaths, the pain where he’d hit me still ricocheting through me. “I need to get to an ATM.”

“An ATM?” Jimmy asked with a suspicious grin on his face. “When did you get uppity enough to use a bank?”

“Do you want the money or not?” I asked, knowing my attitude was likely to land me another punch, which Jimmy looked as if he was about to deliver. But the guy still holding me shook his head and to my surprise, my ex actually listened to him.

“Okay, take him over to that fucking drugstore. They have an ATM outside. Once he’s got my fucking money, we’ll bring him back.”

The guy pulled me out of bed and barely allowed me to pull my pants on before he manhandled me into the pickup’s front seat. It was the same black truck I’d seen earlier. Jimmy crawled in next to me, pressing me between them.

I got out of the truck when they pulled up to the ATM and fumbled for my new bank card. I’d yet to do anything with the thing besides call using Mrs. Cole’s restaurant phone to activate it.

I had enough in my account to cover what I’d taken from Jimmy. It cleaned me out, but I silently thanked the universe I’d been saving every dime possible since working at the café. Jimmy and the other guy hung back, probably to avoid the ATM camera catching their image, not that it hid my split lip or that I was at the ATM with no shirt on in the wee hours of the morning.

“Hurry up!” Jimmy yelled, and at that moment, I decided to leave myself fifty dollars. It wasn’t much, but it gave me something if…when I had to run again.

I shoved the cash and the card into my pants pocket, and handed him the money when I got back to the truck. He counted it and laughed. “This ain’t enough.”

“Jimmy, it’s what I’ve got.”

“You go back over there and get me all of it.”

“It is all the money I have, fuck!” I said, hoping someone in the tiny town might hear us and come to my aid—no such luck. Crawford City was dead this time of the morning.

He looked at me, then over at the ATM, and back again. “You might be a piece of shit, but you ain’t never lied. Best you ain’t lying now, but I weren’t kiddin’ neither, this ain’t enough for what you put me through. I’ll be back next week to get the rest, and you best have this much or more waitin’ for me, you hear?”

“I won’t have that much, maybe half that. But that’s it, Jimmy, I ain’t got nowhere else to get money.”

He laughed. “Trailer trash,” he said. “Next week, you best get me every cent you can!”

I nodded and stared at them as they sped off, leaving me bloody and shirtless in the middle of downtown. I held my stomach where Jimmy had punched me. They hadn’t let me put shoes on either, so I had to wander back through town barely dressed. At least I didn’t have an audience to watch my humiliation.

By the time I got back to the motel room, my feet were bleeding from accidentally stepping on broken glass. I couldn’t even cry because there was no one to blame for this fucking predicament other than myself. I locked the door, not that it had done me much good. The son of a bitch that’d helped Jimmy must’ve somehow gotten ahold of a key.

Ignoring the pain in my feet, I pushed a dresser in front of the door. Damned if I’d let him come back and try again. Even if I knew I wouldn’t sleep, I needed at least a moment’s notice to get ready to fight.

I was tired of men beating the shit out of me, and if Jimmy came back, I swore to God himself I’d kill the son of a bitch. He’d been paid and needed to leave well enough alone, although I doubted he would. I didn’t have much choice but to pay him next week. I had no evidence he’d come into my room in the middle of the night, and he’d been smart enough to stay out of the way of the camera in the ATM, so it’d just be my word against his.

Once the sheriff heard I’d stolen from him to begin with, I’d be going to jail anyway. He had to know, though, I wouldn’t become his fucking patsy. If he kept pushing me, I’d take jail over this.

I thought about calling Lewellen. Yeah, she was a piece of shit too, but she’d come if I called. Not that I could call. My motel room had no phone, and I hadn’t paid for more minutes. I had been planning to do that the next time I got paid. Now, I wouldn’t have the cash.

But I’d make enough this week to pay Jimmy off once and for all. Then, I’d cut town if I had to. No matter how much I loved it here. I was compromised now. Jimmy knew where I was, and he’d likely never let me live in peace.