Prove Me Wrong (2 page)

Chapter
Two
Clara

              “Oh come
on
, Geoff,” I panted as I pulled at the antlers. The head barely budged. “This is just ridiculous.”

              “You could say that again,” a deep voice said from behind me, dryly.

              I gasped and whirled around, letting go of the antlers in my surprise.

              Standing behind me was a man that looked like thunder incarnate. Big, powerful, magnetic, and just a touch frightening. He was all of those things. Standing well over six feet tall, he had a brush of dark hair that matched his dark stubble. Even in the dark light of predawn, I could see the glint of his dark blue eyes. They were the shade of deep ocean. His gaze was mesmerizing and hypnotic as the dark shades of blue shifted from azure to almost purple in the light.

              He was wearing a black leather jacket over long black jeans but I could tell immediately that he had a body to match his powerful presence. His build alone was broad and tall like a quarterback. Nothing about this man seemed to be soft or flabby.

              In short, I had never seen a man like this before.

              “Who the hell are you?” I asked breathlessly.

              An amused dark brow quirked up. “The man watching a potential animal murder cover up. What the hell are
you
doing?”

              I looked down, seeing the moose head again as if for the first time. “Oh, right,” I said, remembering my task. “Geoff.”

              This time both the man’s brows went up. “Geoff?” he said incredulously. “Do you name all your victims before you decapitate them?”

              I rolled my eyes as I took another grip on the antlers. “
I
didn’t decapitate him. He came decapitated,” I said, as if stating the obvious.

              The man watched me with marked amusement as I tried to heave the stupid heavy thing. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Because otherwise, it’d be ridiculous.”

              I gave a sigh and rolled my eyes again. If the stranger wanted to chat, he would need to do it while working then. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?” I demanded.

              The man looked surprised but he only hesitated a moment before carefully approaching the head, looking warily at it as if it might still try and bite him. “What are you trying to do here?” he asked.

              I jerked my chin towards Mackleson’s Hardware Store. “I’m trying to get Geoff in there,” I said, grunting a little as I pulled. “I need to get him in the back room.”

              The man looked over Geoff with some hesitation as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing before bending down and grabbing the head around the neck. With a massive heave, he lifted Geoff clean off the ground.

              “God, how big was this thing when it was alive?” he grunted as he carried him towards the hardware store.

              “Never mind that. Just don’t bang his antlers as you bring him in,” I said, making sure the whole head fit through the narrow doorway. The man grunted as he followed my lead towards the back room. I quickly opened the swinging doors and held them back so he could come through with Geoff.

              “You can set him down right there! Next to that light!” I called out. “But be careful! Don’t hurt him!”

              “Oh, heaven forbid I hurt a dead fucking moose head,” the man grunted as he put down Geoff near the light. But despite his words, he was careful in making sure the antlers didn’t smack into anything.

              With a huge sigh, the man straightened up. The back room was dim. Only one of the freestanding lights was turned on. But it was enough to dully light up the entire back room.

              The man looked around slowly in surprise.

              “What is this?” he asked quietly.

              I smiled as I looked around the room, a little proud. “It’s my studio,” I said. “It’s where I photograph all my pieces.”

              “Your pieces?” He looked down at me, eyes dark and curious.

              I nodded. I gestured towards a large knotted wood bench behind him. “I make furniture,” I said. “And Alex let’s me use the back room here to photograph them. I don’t have enough space to work
and
photograph at home.”

              The man turned towards the bench and then whirled around at me in surprise. “
You
made that?” he asked incredulously. He gave me a thorough look over, as if judging if someone like me could really possess any carpentry skills at all.

              I straightened myself up, raising my chin a little. “I definitely did,” I said without an ounce of hesitation. I took a great deal of pride in my work and never took anyone’s belittling of it well.

              The man stood there, staring at me in silence. Without Geoff between us, I could now get a sense of just how tall this guy was. He literally loomed over me. And with those dark blue eyes searching me, I started to feel my skin prickle with a heat I hadn’t felt in a long while.

              “What’s your name?” he asked finally.

              I gave him a bright smile. “Clara,” I said. “Clara Daniels.” But before he could ask his next question, I cut him off by adding, “And I’ll tell you my age, alma mater, and drink of choice once you’ve helped me set Geoff up on that wall there.”

              The man looked back down on Geoff as if he had momentarily forgotten about him.

              “You want me to nail the moose head onto the wall,” he said in a flat voice as if still not able to believe he was standing next to Geoff.

              I shrugged. “For a start,” I said, now eyeing my studio space. “But we’ll see where Geoff works best in the photo. I don’t know exactly where he’ll look best next to the bench.”

              The man turned around and hefted up the moose head. “Of course,” he muttered. “The dilemma we all have every morning of where to put the moose head.”

              But he obediently headed over to the wall I had pointed out, muttering some more under his breath.

              I felt an undeniable grin tugging at my lips.

              Today was turning out to be an interesting day.

***

              “So how long have you been making furniture?” Jonah asked. His large hand nearly swallowed the coffee cup he held.

              I made eye contact with Jeanie, the waitress on duty today at Bull’s Diner, and she immediately grabbed the pot of the good hot stuff and came over, refilling both of our cups.

              “Another early day, Clara?” Jeanie asked with a knowing grin.

              I grinned back, lifting my cup for the caffeine ambrosia. “Gotta get my photos in before Alex opens the store,” I replied. “You know how whiny he gets when I’m still back there snapping away with customers around.”

              Jeanie gave a jingling laugh at the accurate description of Alex. She shook her head smiling as she walked away.

              “Since I was about twelve,” I answered Jonah after taking a fortifying gulp. Since it was so early, the diner was just Jonah, Jeanie, and me. Oh and of course, Ralph, the cook in the back.

              Jeanie returned to the counter where she pulled out her notebook from under the register. It was the notebook where she kept track of her Mary Kay sales. On top of being a world class waitress, she was also a beauty consultant for Mary Kay. I had made the mistake of letting her do a make over on me once.

              Although wonderfully bubbly and kind, her aesthetics for make up and mine differed wildly. For almost a week, I had permanent raccoon eyes from inability to remove the black tar she had called mascara.

              “That’s quite the hobby to take up at twelve,” Jonah replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He pulled back suddenly, a little surprised.

              I raised a questioning brow.

              “That’s actually good,” he said in surprise, holding the coffee cup in front of him like an alien artifact.

              I snorted and giggled. “Right?” I said, taking another delicious sip. “Bull’s has been open for about two decades now and I’m pretty sure those pots are the same pots that they had on opening day. I think all the ghost pots of coffee brewed are still lingering in the glass. It makes each successive pot more delicious.” I closed my eyes and inhaled the coffee aroma. When I opened my eyes, I saw Jonah staring at me with an indescribable look that was partly amusement and partly curiosity.

              “What made you get into woodworking?” Jonah asked, resuming the conversation.

              I tilted my head a little. “It was my dad’s thing. He was always making stuff and when I got old enough to be trusted with a drill and hammer, that’s what I started doing too.”

              Jonah gave a faint smile. “What does your old man think of your furniture? You think he’ll like the moose head?”

              I returned the smile and shrugged. “If he could see it, I’m sure he’d love it. He was always proud of me, even when I made a six legged chair.” I laughed, remembering that project. I had been thirteen and convinced the chair would herald a new wave of design in furniture making.

              “Was?” Jonah asked softly, his eyes intent.

              I nodded. “My dad died when I was nineteen,” I said simply. Enough time had passed that I could now say those words without feeling my entire heart shatter. Now there was only the tiny crack that ached desperately. “But he would’ve loved Geoff.” I grinned.

              Jonah didn’t return the grin right away. He watched me. “But your mom? Where’s she then?” he asked.

              I bit my bottom lip. “She died when I was born. She was diabetic and it was a rocky pregnancy,” I said, saying the words in one quick breath. I gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to bum you out with such a tragic history of my life. I’m an orphan now but I’ll tell you, I know my mom loved me when she was pregnant with me. And I double dog know that my dad loved me when he raised me. I had the best parents a kid could ask for. I just didn’t have them for very long.”

              I shrugged, that familiar ache in my chest still dully thumping along in rhythmic beats. “But that’s more than some kids can say,” I said.

              Jonah sat quietly across from me. The diner had a gentle hum to it as the sounds of pots and pans being stirred into action in the back echoed through the front room.

              “You’re right,” Jonah replied softly. “It is.”

              I gave the mystery man a look. “What about you? Mr. Jonah I-Have-No-Last-Name?” I asked, teasing gently. “You know my whole life history now but you haven’t said a word about your own.”

              Jonah raised a dark brow. “Something tells me that I barely scratched the surface on your history,” he said in a deep voice that hadn’t failed yet to make my skin ripple in warmth. This man had something electric about him and it was dangerously intoxicating.

              “Well something tells me you’re not from Hanover,” I said, naming the town closest to us. Judging from his clothes, I could tell they were expensive. Very expensive.

              And his car! It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine. Did people really drive cars like that in real life?

              Jonah quirked his lips. “No, I’m not from Hanover,” he said. He took a sip of the coffee, grunting in approval at its taste before saying, “I’m from out of town.”

              I raised a brow. “Oh I see. You want to hold on to that mysterious bad boy image for as long as you can, huh?”

              Jonah looked at me in surprise. “Bad boy? What makes you think that of me?”

             
Oh please.
The man oozed danger. If the idea of forbidden fruit could be personified, it would be this man. I didn’t know what it was about him but I knew enough to know that this was a lethal man.

              “Well,” I said, ignoring his last comment, “what are you doing in a place as remote as Irvington, Vermont? This isn’t exactly a huge tourist draw, if you hadn’t noticed.” I grinned. The town boasted a population of three thousand on its best day.

              Jonah took in a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. He glanced out the window towards the street where his unbelievably flashy car was parked out by the old pick ups and sedans. The morning light had now lifted across the skies and it was looking to be a beautiful day.

              “I just thought I’d go exploring,” he said, keeping his eyes on the window.

              I watched him, admiring his profile. The strong jawline, the straight nose, this man was a photographer’s dream model. He could sell ice to an Eskimo.

              “So just passing through, huh?” I asked, feeling an unexplainable pang of regret at just thinking about his departure.

              Jonah was quiet a moment before he turned the full force of his gaze towards me. My breath caught in my throat as I looked into those deep blue pools that seemed to search me down to my very marrow.