5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

W hen Clark returned, Dottie and Cleo had pulled the bags out of the car and trunk and locked the car door. “We’re just over here,” he showed them, “but unfortunately there was only one room left.” Cleo stopped in her tracks. What? Not that she could really afford her own room, but how could she share with strangers? She’d never shared a room before with anyone. Besides, it was one thing to drive with these people but another to lose consciousness around them. They could kill her in her sleep. Other than sleeping in the car, however, she didn’t think she had a choice, so she trudged after them.

Clark had procured a room with two queen beds. Cleo did not look forward to sharing a bed with Dottie, especially after being subject to Dottie’s repertoire of snores already in the car. But she’d still prefer that to sharing with Clark. Maybe they’d let her have a bed to herself?

Cleo brushed her teeth at the sink while she waited for her turn in the bathroom where she changed into sweats and a comfy shirt. Shoving everything back into the bag, she exited the bathroom and saw that Clark was already spread out across his bed, his hands clasped behind his head, starfishing with the best of them. Lying on top of the covers with his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling steadily, he was completely asleep. Watching him, Cleo felt the pull of attraction that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt it for Jameson.

“Ain’t he just a sight for sore eyes?” Dottie said behind her.

Cleo jumped a little, afraid she’d been caught ogling. Dottie continued, “I mean, that is one good-lookin’ man. You don’t see men that good-lookin’ every day. Or every year. I haven’t seen a man that fine since…1999.” Dottie chuckled at her little rhyme and then climbed into bed.

Cleo couldn’t understand her attraction to him. She could objectively agree that Clark was an incredibly good-looking guy, but so was Jameson, and she’d never had this kind of reaction to him. Maybe it was because Clark’s attractiveness was in a manner wholly different than any of her past boyfriends. Jameson was 75% cacao dark chocolate, smooth and rich but bitter. Clark, on the other hand, was white chocolate, cookies and cream maybe. If Cleo preferred cookies and cream to 75% cacao, she’d never tell Jameson. Not that she’d likely have that chance.

Cleo dragged her feet to the other bed, debating the merits of sleeping on top of the covers so as to minimize the chance of getting too close to Dottie. She wished that if Clark were going to just sleep on top of his covers that she could somehow extricate them out from under him so she could have her own. She’d checked the closet and drawers and found no extras.

Dottie snuggled down into the bed and Cleo saw there was no helping it; she’d have to get over her aversion to sleeping by her. Cleo pulled up the blankets and slipped under the sheet. Rolling to her right, away from Dottie, she was aggressively pulled back as Dottie tugged on the covers. “No stealin’ now, Little Princess. You have to share just like everyone else.” Cleo wanted to stamp her foot and might have if she weren’t lying down. She was sick of that nickname. She wasn’t acting spoiled, was she? She felt like she’d been nothing but accommodating since she met Clark and Dottie.

Cleo examined the covers that now covered only half of her body, noting that on Dottie’s side they were hanging well off the bed. Who wasn’t sharing? It wasn’t worth the fight, though, so Cleo rolled back over and fell asleep.

In the night, she awoke shivering, only to discover that Dottie had all the covers on top of her now and Cleo had none. She sat up and peeked at Clark. He’d rolled to one side of the bed at some point and there was just enough room for Cleo to slide into the other half. She slowly lowered herself to the mattress, but her movements must have disturbed him because just as she relaxed her shoulders, he rolled over until he nearly spooned her. The heat radiated off him onto her back, raising gooseflesh all over her arms. He was so close. What would he do if he woke up and found her next to him? She prayed she woke before he did in the morning so he wouldn’t discover her there.

Unfortunately, when the morning light filtering through a gap in the curtains woke Cleo, Clark was already up and tying his shoes. His grin was smug as he asked, “Have a nice sleep?”

Cleo ran her hands through her unruly hair. “No, in fact, I did not. Madame Memphis here stole all the covers in the night.”

Clark observed the state of the other bed and said, “If you’d wanted to sleep with me, you had only to ask.”

“Keep dreaming, Cleavage Clark,” she replied, and took herself into the bathroom to shower while he chuckled behind her. Scrubbing the gallon of hair products out of her hair from her wedding was incredible. Cleo felt like a new woman. And after eating the breakfast sandwich Clark had brought her, she felt like she could tackle anything.

Clark wore jeans and a green t-shirt this morning that showed a slice of his back as he bent over his luggage. Compared to the oxfords and button down he had on yesterday, this dressed-down version of him was quite delectable. Good thing Cleo wasn’t attracted to anything else about him, not least because she’d been engaged 24 hours ago. Wait, was she still engaged now? She’d considered herself not engaged the minute her toes hit that first step out of the church, but did Jameson know that? She’d left her ring behind, so hopefully that sent the message she’d intended.

Dottie folded her arms across her chest as she leaned one shoulder against the door. Her cotton candy hair was even more wild this morning. She shout-whispered in a voice that carried to everyone in the room, “I see you waited until I was asleep before you snuck over to seduce Clark.”

Cleo took a step back. “I did not seduce Clark.”

Clark looked up from his packing and smirked at Cleo.

“So, he was smart enough to rebuff your advances.”

“He was asleep!” Cleo defended. “I moved to that bed when I woke up freezing in the night because you stole all the covers!”

“A likely story. I never steal covers.” When was the last time this lady had slept next to anyone? Next she’d deny that she snored.

“Well, you did last night.” Cleo gathered up the makeup she was going to apply before she remembered there was no one here she needed to wear makeup for.

It had been so long since she’d even had an option not to wear it; her fiance? had expected it, and even her father made subtle digs about a makeup-free face, guilting her into applying it. She had worn it daily for years. She threw the eyeliner back into her bag and tugged it closed. Cleo was living for herself from now on. Her flight from the wedding yesterday had finally given her the freedom to do that.

“Let’s get moving,” she told the others. She grabbed the keys from Clark and took her bag out to the car, then got in the driver’s seat. A little twinge of disappointment pricked her when Dottie climbed into the passenger seat, forcing Clark to sit in the back for the first time this trip. She ignored the sensation. She was done with feelings for the time being. They could all go jump in the lake. “Tell me where to go, Dottie.”

In the end, Clark navigated her back to the freeway, and this time she didn’t make any wrong turns. She cranked up the radio as they headed southwest through Virginia, skirting the edges of West Virginia, North Carolina, and Kentucky. It was a shame they weren’t going to travel into those states. Cleo had never been to any of them. There were a lot of states they would drive through that she anticipated checking off her list on this trip, however. Cleo had visited more places outside of the United States than inside it, which felt rather unpatriotic.

As Cleo drove, Dottie regaled them with story after story of her life on the ranch. When she’d told them about it yesterday, it had sounded run-down and pathetic to Cleo. But in the bright light of a new day, Cleo admitted that it had started sounding charming, maybe around the story of eating farm-fresh eggs with buttermilk straight from her own chickens and cows. The only thing that didn’t sound charming was realizing where the bacon must have come from; Charlotte’s Web had traumatized her as a girl, and she was clearly still affected by it. It was all well and good to eat bacon from pigs you don’t know, but when they’re your pigs? That would be a deal breaker for Cleo.

“How long have you lived on the ranch?” she asked.

“It’s been in my family for a century or so,” Dottie answered with pride. “One of the oldest ones in Tennessee.”

“Well, if we don’t have any mishaps, we should get you there by tonight,” Clark said.

Dottie nodded. “And then you must be my guests.” She quickly added, “I insist,” even though neither Clark nor Cleo had objected. Cleo had done a 180 about being willing to stay at Dottie’s, she realized. She knew she wouldn’t actually turn down free lodging, even if it was questionable.

When Dottie ran out of stories to tell them, she insisted they play car games. She suggested the alphabet game but wouldn’t allow anyone to use letters from anything but license plates. Fortunately, she allowed them all to play it silently, which meant the car was blessedly quiet for the first time today. An hour later Dottie announced she’d finished, and when she questioned Cleo where she was in the game Cleo lied and said “I just can’t get past Q” when in actuality she’d quit at B.

Then Dottie made them play “I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing” and everyone had to say something in alphabetical order. Cleo’s head hurt from all the alphabet games that were forced on her, and she was relieved when it was time to stop for lunch and gas.

Cleo jumped out to get the gas and stretch her tired legs. “I guess it’s about my turn to drive,” Dottie said, climbing into the driver’s seat when the tank was full. Cleo opened the back door and was surprised when Clark followed her in.

“You take the front,” she said.

He shook his head and whispered, “Please don’t make me sit by her again.” She rolled her eyes and moved to get out, but he grabbed her arm and held her there. He offered no explanations why, but his hand didn’t leave her arm until she relaxed back and buckled her belt. A thrill chased up her spine at his touch. Cleo couldn’t remember the last time a man’s touch had affected her that way, but it wasn’t surprising; she did find Clark attractive.

Dottie glanced behind her. “What am I, a chauffeur?” When Clark nodded, she smirked but didn’t offer any more commentary, turning her attention to finding lunch, then getting back on the road.

Cleo opened her notebook to the drawing she’d been working on before. She’d been sketching a face but didn’t realize until now that it was Clark’s face. That wasn’t unusual for her to sketch people she spent time with, but he didn’t know that. She had to make sure he never saw this.

Dottie tried to convince them to do another game that Cleo was sure she’d hate, so she quickly interjected, “I have a fun game!”

Clark looked skeptical. “Such as?”

“Such as…twenty questions.”

“Oh yeah? That’s a fun game for you?”

“It is when there’s a penalty for the person who loses.”