“What?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know what he meant.
“Flinch away from me.”
She thought about lying, pretending he was imagining things, but the casual words just wouldn’t come. “You make me nervous,” she finally admitted.
His eyes widened. “Why? You’ve known me forever. You have to know I would never hurt you.”
Not physically maybe. Claire wiped suddenly damp palms on her skirt. “I’m not going to be one of those women, Riley. Let’s be clear.”
He shuttered his expression. “Oh, absolutely. I strive for clarity in all things. Which women would you be talking about?”
“I know you’re just teasing me, like you’ve always done. All these little comments about...about sleeping with me and having a crush on me when we were kids and everything. Kissing me. You’re just trying to see what kind of reaction you can get out of me. It’s no different from all those times you used to jump around the corner and yell boo just for the pleasure of hearing us squeal. I’m not going to fall for it anymore.”
Much to her relief, he stepped back a pace but only so he could glower at her from a better angle. “You’re going to have to help me out here. Clarity, remember?”
She hated feeling stupid and out of her depth and she finally just blurted out, “I won’t have a fling with you, Riley.”
He blinked. “Okay. Good to know.”
“It’s not that I’m not...um...that I wouldn’t...” Oh, she didn’t know how to do this. “I’m not sophisticated or worldly or any of those things. I’m a soccer mom. I’ve been a room mother for six of the last seven years. I’m the president-elect of the PTA, for heaven’s sake.”
“And that’s pertinent to this discussion because?”
“Because I’m not the sort of woman to jump into bed with anyone. Especially not you.”
His jaw tightened and she had the ridiculous feeling she’d hurt him somehow. “Why especially not me?”
“A hundred reasons. For one thing, I know you’re not serious about any of this, you’re playing some kind of game.”
“This is fascinating. Do go on.” His jaw had hardened and he crossed his arms across his chest, which unfortunately only served to emphasize the definition of his biceps.
“Well, you’re my best friend’s little brother.”
“Younger. I prefer younger. And only by a few years, Claire.”
Okay, that was true. If not for the fact that she’d known him all her life, the difference in their ages would be irrelevant. But she had known him. She’d seen him grow from a pesky kid to a surly teenager.
He was close, so close that she could see a muscle flex in his jaw. She wanted to kiss that flutter, just throw caution to the wind and...
The pressure in the room shifted as the front door was yanked open.
“Hey, Mom!” Macy called out from the entryway. “Guess what? Julie Whitaker has a sprained ankle, so guess who gets to play goalie tomorrow?”
Her daughter burst into the family room, overflowing with gangly, slim gorgeousness, even in practice shorts and knee-high socks. She grinned when she saw Riley. “Hey, Chief.”
“Yay for you! Goalie, huh?”
“Yeah. Jule’s super-good, so I never have the chance to goal tend, but she’s out for at least two games, so I get to fill in. Maybe if I do an awesome job, the coach will think about alternating us. I don’t mind playing forward, but I really love goalie.”
“That’s wonderful, honey.” With effort, Claire shifted gears to her mommy role. “You’ve worked hard to improve your skills and you definitely deserve it. Hey, I’m going to order pizza tonight and Owen’s picking a movie.”
“Okay. I’m going to go change and clean up. The field was super-muddy.”
In a rare show of affection, she slid her arms around Claire’s neck and hugged her, then bounced past Ruth in the doorway on her way out of the room.
“Thanks for the ride home, Grandma,” she said.
“You’re welcome, my dear,” Ruth answered. “Claire, good grief, who left such a mess out by the garbage can? They look like shingles. Is that Andy Harris here working on something? He needs to do a better job of cleaning up after himself.”
Riley stepped forward into her line of vision and Ruth’s mouth pursed like she’d just chomped into a peach pit.
“I left the mess, Mrs. Tatum. Claire lost a few shingles in the rains of the last few weeks, so I was replacing them. Don’t worry, I’m planning to take care of the garbage before I go.”
Her mother’s sharp-eyed gaze slid from Riley to Claire and then back again. Claire gave an inward cringe at the questions and suspicions she saw gathering there like an August afternoon thunderstorm over the mountains.
She braced herself, wishing she had some way to warn Riley of the cloudburst about to let loose.