Scars Like Ours | Red View Romance #2

🐈 Fifteen

Fritters stretched out on the windowsill behind Ethel as Cliff fiddled with the tuning wrench and kept his eye on the chromatic tuner sitting above the backplate. So maybe he didn't have plans to play the instrument any time soon--it didn't mean he couldn't spend the morning tuning it. He wasn't loitering around in the den because it had a view of the store parking lot, where Annie would likely park again; he was just keeping busy and happened to be doing it in that room.

"Even you know that's not true, don't you?" he asked Fritters, who blinked in response as Cliff stood from the music stool to stretch. Even as he did so, he let his gaze wander down to the parking lot--and felt his heart jolt when he saw Annie hoisting a small easel out of the trunk of her car.

She came. And if he wanted to talk to her, to see her painting, he should just go down there and say hello.

"And make it completely transparent that I've been waiting by the window hoping for her to show up," he mumbled, more to himself this time than to Fritters.

Cliff closed the piano cover, refusing the urge to make his way down to the orchard. He'd wait. He'd wait until she was out painting among the trees, then he'd go for a walk and casually run into her instead of sprinting down to the parking lot like an idiot--even if he already felt like one.

He'd spent the afternoon yesterday lamenting, wishing he'd stayed in the barn with her instead of fleeing like a coward. Why did he have to be so afraid of playing in front of anyone?

It shouldn't have mattered since she'd already heard him--and of every piece for her to walk in on, of course it had to be that one. And hell, he'd played with her, just to prove it to her that she could. Where he got the courage for that--especially to put his hands on hers--he'd never know. But they'd been having fun, she was laughing with him, and the conversation was good enough for him not to be so stuck in his head.

But at the idea of practicing while alone in a room with her, he'd made up an excuse about work and left before she could ask too many questions. He could've just stayed. Played something mind-numbingly easy. He could've simply said he was finished and stuck around just to talk to her. But he panicked. What else was new?

He stalled for as long as he could convince himself to, checking his emails, going to the kitchen for a cup of water and to give Fritters a treat before grabbing a flannel from his room to keep warm in the somewhat chilly weather. But soon enough he was heading for the door, the orange cat hot on his heels.

"You wanna go for a walk too, huh?" he asked, opening the front door and letting his friend slink out in front of him. He didn't have to worry that Fritters would run off--maybe he should have, but he didn't. He'd learned to read the cat, and could tell that he wanted nothing more than fresh air and to harass the birds and any pesky mice that might have been looking to make a home of the orchard for the next few months.

Plus, while it would feel too self-aggrandizing to say Fritters loved him, he knew he had the cat's trust. Fritters saw him as a friend--or at the very least, someone who cared enough to keep him safe and well fed. Since he'd gotten used to being domesticated, he never gave Cliff any reason to suspect he wanted to run away.

He trotted in the grass alongside Cliff, who took the dirt path that led to the rows and rows of trees. There were a few other cars besides Annie's and Adam's in the parking lot, and Cliff made sure to keep his head down, wishing he'd thought to bring a hat. He'd been so focused on seeing Annie that he'd forgotten about the possibility of being seen himself.

His panic eased as he got further and further from the store--the idea of running into one of the few employees of McAden Orchard didn't bother him as much, because he was fairly certain Dawson would have mentioned his new appearance to them by now. As long as they knew what to expect, they might not be so disgusted.