Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara woke up as the sky was turning gold and pink. For a moment, she just lay there, the leftover pain from earlier dulled by sleep. But now that she was awake, her head buzzed like someone was drilling straight through her skull.

She sat up slowly, took a breath, and opened the door-almost bumping straight into Dylan.

He wasn't in his wheelchair today. He stood tall in all black: shirt, pants, the whole look.

Clara's hand paused on the doorknob. "Is there anything to eat?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

Hunger again.

Dylan nodded, reaching for her hand before he even seemed to think about it.

Clara was moving slower than usual and didn't dodge, so he ended up leading her downstairs, their hands linked.

Through the big living room windows, she caught sight of the two dogs wrestling in the yard and Charles standing by the old tree, arms folded.

He noticed her right away, sliding the glass door open and hurrying inside. "Hey, sis, feeling any better?"

She could tell he meant it, so she gave him a small nod.

Charles went to sit next to her, but Dylan pulled out the chair first, nearly making Charles miss his seat entirely.

Charles shot Dylan a glare, clearly annoyed, but Dylan just put the chair back where it belonged and sat down like nothing happened.

Charles took a breath and sat across from Clara, forcing himself to cool off. "So, are we still going out tonight?"

She had promised him earlier that they'd go out if she felt up to it after her nap. Clara glanced at Dylan, asking almost on instinct, "Is that okay?"

He was wiping down her utensils, but his hands froze for a second when she spoke. Was she...checking with him?

He lowered his eyes and said quietly, "Yeah."

Clara exhaled, relieved. Maybe Dylan wasn't as impossible to talk to as she thought.

Ever since she found out he-well, liked her-she realized things went smoother if she softened her tone a little. Before, she'd always butted heads with him, and he'd only get more stubborn, keeping her stuck here at Palm Bay. Neither of them had been happy.

Maybe she was finally figuring out how to deal with him.

She dropped her gaze, catching a glimpse of him placing the cleaned utensils in front of her.

The chef brought out dinner. Dylan quietly moved her favorite dishes closer to her.

A pang hit her chest. She'd always noticed Dylan knew exactly what she liked to eat, but back then she was

too resentful about being forced into this marriage to care.

Now, she couldn't ignore those little things. Even sitting so close, why did her

chest still ache? How did Dylan end up falling for her anyway?

She thought back: after waking from the accident with no memory, she'd called him. His voice had been cool but gentle-he was the first to ask if she was really hurt. fo

Clara fiddled with her spoon, silent.

Dylan picked up on her mood and asked softly, "You don't want to eat?" "That's not it."

She was just wondering how she could have missed all of this.

She ate slowly, finished her meal, and got ready to leave with Charles.

Before heading out, she glanced back at Dylan. He sat on the couch, straight-

backed, laptop open, already absorbed in work. Black really did suit him.

She walked a few steps, then called out, "I'll be back before nine."

His fingers paused on the keyboard, knuckles flexing tight.noveldrama

"Okay."

Clara climbed into the car, finally finding her phone-Dylan had given her a new

one, supposedly to keep her from contacting anyone else.

Whatever. New phone, same problems.

She didn't notice how, bit by bit, she was lowering her guard.