aClaire part 3

This is my submission to Creative Writing- Write Something And Win Some SBD run by @aubreyfox

Claire - part 3

photo courtesy of google

Claire brought the heavily laden tray out to the porch. Jake got up to help her place it on the table.

“Wow. I thought I was getting a coffee. This looks fabulous. Been a while since I had home made Cinnamon buns.”

“Made them last night, so not really fresh.” Why on earth did she say that? She felt silly, and she could feel her cheeks turning pink. If Jake noticed, he didn’t say anything.

He leaned his long lean frame back in the chair and sipped at his coffee all the while gazing at her over the rim. It made her more than a little uncomfortable. She was beginning to regret opening the door to this stranger.

Her gaze shifted to the worn plank floor to avoid looking directly at him. She noticed his polished boots. Clean and shiny. Worn but in good condition. Not like Frank’s, dirty with muck from the barn, putrid smelling and worn thread bare.
Her caught her looking at his boots, cleared his throat. Her azure blue eyes came up to meet his steely grey. Butterflies were fluttering about her stomach.

Claire quickly averted his gaze and offered him one of the cinnamon buns. He looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind.

They talked of small things, the weather, crops, and animals. She didn’t know what else to talk about. She had hundreds of questions swimming around her mind but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask them. She felt like a tongue tied teenager.

Time past more quickly than she had realized. Frank and the boys would be coming to the house for lunch soon. He guessed that she was nervous about something as she kept glancing at her watch. He offered to help her clean up and take the tray into the house. Shocked by this kind gesture she made the lame excuse that she needed the exercise.

“Well, it has been a real pleasure meeting you, new neighbour. I hope we get to run into each other again, soon. Perhaps I’ll get to meet your husband and the rest of the family then.”

No, you don’t want to meet them, she thought to herself.

She watched as he climbed into his older pick up truck and gave a half hearted wave as he drove down the dusty lane. As the dust settled and she could now longer see him she felt a pang of regret.

Claire hurried into the kitchen and cleaned up the dirty dishes. Wouldn’t want Frank to be suspicious. She didn’t need the Spanish Inquisition happening today. Looking in the freezer she found some inspiration for a quick lunch. She wouldn’t want Frank to think that she didn’t put an effort for his meal.

One hour later, Frank and the boys stomped in from the barnyard. Lunch was ready. A big pot of Chilli, fresh biscuits and of course her cinnamon buns, minus two.