This was meant to be a safe place where I could relax and recuperate.
Instead, it’d turned out to be another viper nest where the demons came out at night.
I finished adding a little makeup and noticed the blemishes on my dress.
Well, I’d gone this far…
I might as well finish the look.
I pulled the dress off over my head and tossed it in the wicker laundry basket.
I opened the wardrobe and flicked through one dress at a time.
I’d been quite a shopper while I was in the city.
I paused for a moment on the most comfortable items—plain summer dresses I usually wore when helping my parents out around the farm—before opting for something a little more… fancy.
After all, we did have company.
I didn’t want him to think I had bad manners…
Not that I cared what he thought, of course.
I slipped the dress on over my head and shimmied my body until it fell past my hips.
I checked myself in the mirror and altered the dress a little.
Lighter colors always looked good against my blonde hair.
It was the one feature I liked about myself.
He’ll never go for someone like you… I thought.
I slapped the thought down.
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I told my reflection and poked my tongue out for good measure.
Another knock came at the door.
“Coming!” I said.
Honestly, by the way my parents ran this farm, you would have thought they’d been trained in the military.
I threw the door open and was instantly taken aback when I found Clint standing on the threshold.
“Oh,” I said limply. “I, uh, was expecting someone else.”
“We both have to go downstairs for lunch and I figured we might as well head down together.”
He extended his elbow to me.
“Oh,” I said. “Right. Um. Good thinking.”
Unsure how to proceed, I took his elbow and let him lead me out of my room.
The formality struck me as strange as we were only in my parents’ house and it was the least formal place you could find.
“You look very beautiful,” Clint said. “Not that you don’t look beautiful all the time. I just meant…”
I couldn’t help but smile at him fumbling over his words.
Usually, it was me that suffered from that affliction.
The stairs weren’t wide enough for the two of us to move down shoulder to shoulder, so he motioned for me to head down first.
“Thank you,” I said, wishing he could have gone first so I could enjoy the wondrous display of his ass again.
I felt his eyes on me and couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder back at him.
He didn’t notice me looking.
His eyes, I was pleased to find, were fixed firmly on my ass.
I wondered why it was a good thing for him to ogle me that way and not Liam, but as it brought back memories of that asshole, I pushed it from my mind.
Clint met me at the foot of the stairs and this time I was the one to offer my elbow.
He grinned and took it as we entered the dining room.
As expected, my mom had been hard at work in the kitchen again.
Her skill was, unfortunately, not something that’d been passed on to me.
I could barely struggle with cheese on toast when I lived alone and ended up spending a fortune at restaurants that came nowhere close to mom’s recipes.
I was a little embarrassed when my parents extended their hands to say a prayer before our meal—another habit I’d let slip by the wayside when I lived in the city.
I slipped right back into it the moment I returned, but it was different with Clint there.
Funny how old habits were tied to the places they’d been formed and nurtured.
Clint was a good sport and took their proffered hands.
He followed their lead and bowed his head too.
I grinned at him over the dining table and glanced at him every few seconds to admire his facial features in the soft afternoon light.
I tore my eyes from his the moment my pop said:
“Amen.”
Mom had outdone herself again.
It was a full roast, something she usually only made at the weekend.
My grandma was from England and eating roast every Sunday for lunch after church became a regular habit.
It was a large meal with a whole chicken, baked potatoes, boiled vegetables, Yorkshire puddings, and thick gravy.
Mom had opted for the good china, so she was clearly trying to impress someone.
It wasn’t hard to figure out who that had to be.
Clint cut off a slice of chicken, added a little gravy and veg, and placed it in his mouth.
His expression was a thoughtful one.
As he chewed, he nodded and enjoyed the flavor.
His eyes lit up and he bent back down over the plate to enjoy more.
“Do you have roasts where you come from?” Mom asked.
She took a sip from her glass of wine.
Clint hesitated before replying.
“He can’t remember, Mom,” I said. “Amnesia. Remember?”
Mom nodded and waved away my reminder.
“But food is different, isn’t it? The body knows what it wants. And your body must respond when you see food.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Mom…”
She waved a hand at me again.
“Shush. Let him answer.”
Clint thought for a moment before answering.
“I can’t remember whether we ate roast or not where I come from but my instincts are the same. I smell this delicious meal and react the same way anyone else would. It smells and tastes delicious.”
“That has to be good, right?” Mom said. “Every day you get to try something new even though you might have had it a million times before.”
“I suppose so,” Clint said. “But in this case, I wish I could remember every one of those times I ate your delicious roast so I could savor it in the future too.”
Mom shifted on her seat.
It was the telltale sign she was pleased.
“Thank you. That’s a very nice compliment.”
“And I think you’re right about the body having a memory,” Clint said. “The body knows what it wants.”
He shot me a pointed look before lowering his eyes back to his plate.
Plenty of men had looked at me that way before but none produced the
