Page 1 of Sterling Clay

Chapter 1

[Mavis]

“What the hell are you doing?”

The gruffness in his tone was the last thing I expected, although I’m familiar enough with his voice which currently sounds like he smoked a pack of cigarettes when I know he doesn’t smoke.

“I—” I blink, stunned as the heavy downpour hammers at my skin.

For late September, the weather has been unpredictable, and this sudden deluge came out of nowhere. I hadn’t been to Sterling Falls since summer a year ago—nearly thirteen months—but I needed to be here. While I no longer had a home, I wanted to be somewhere more welcoming than where I’d been.

This was no pleasant greeting, however.

I’d debated even stopping. The mountain was dark, the hour late, and the trees around us drenched in rain which created an ominous atmosphere. Witnessing a pickup truck pulled off to the side of the road should have meant nothing to me. Stopping on the dark highway would be dangerous and foolish as I was a single mother with my six-year-old child in the backseat of my car. But I recognized the logo branded on the side of the truck, and noticed the hood propped up and a man bowed underneath it. I pulled over because it wasn’t just any man beneath that hood. He was someone I knew, sort of.

With my hazard lights on and a quick check of Dutton sleeping in the backseat of the VW Jetta, I set the parking brake and exited my warm, safe, dry vehicle to see if the man needed assistance.

Now, piercing blue eyes narrow at me. Eyes like ice when they’d been nothing but kind over the last five years. His silver hair is plastered to his face, charcoal-colored from the wetness of the rain. His leather jacket reflects how soaked the material is, suggesting he’d been out in the storm for a while. Standing here only seconds, the rain has seeped through my own layers of a heavy sweater and long-sleeved tee, plus my jeans. My entire body shivers from the unrelenting rain, making my sodden, cold clothes cling to me, chilling me to the bone. If Clay has been out here longer than I’ve stood here, he must be miserable.

“I thought you might need help,” I call out over the thundering downpour, my voice sheepish as I stand a few feet away from him. I hate this about myself. Hate how I cower. How anxious he makes me.

I wasn’t afraid of him. No, Clayton Sylver—Clay—would never harm me physically.

What frightened me was how attracted I’d been to him from the moment I first met him. A kind smile once upon a time. A friendly greeting whenever I entered his local business. The teasing banter he shared with his employees, reminding me his jovial behavior was nothing special toward me. His behavior was simply who he is—a good man.

So, his narrow-eyed glare and sharp words throw me off like the onset of this September storm.

Clay glances over my shoulder, the light from my hazards blinking red behind me. “You’re getting drenched. You shouldn’t be out here.”

Does he mean in the rain? Or simply out in the openness of the late-night road? Or maybe he even means I shouldn’t be returning to Sterling Falls after all that happened. However, that might be my own fear talking. Fear that as much as I loved this town, I might not be welcomed back here.

And I’m doubtful I’ve ever made an impression on Clay Sylver. I’ve simply been a customer over the years. A woman who thought she was decorating a house to make it a home. A woman designing a backyard for a child to play. A woman duped by the wrong man when the right one didn’t know I existed.

I’ve been crushing on Clay Sylver for a while now.

“I thought you might need help,” I repeat, a little stronger, forcing myself to hold my head a little higher as I take one giant step closer to him. My cold fingers are clasped together, tightening until they feel like they might crack. The rain is painful, like a harsh baptism, pelting my face and continuing to make me blink. My own hair is plastered to my cheeks like Medusa’s snakes, but I don’t reach for the strands. Instead, I remain stone still staring back at Clay.

I only want to help.

Holding my breath, I wait for him to tell me he doesn’t need me. Whatever caused his vehicle to be pulled to the side of the road, hood up, isn’t my concern. Considering a flashlight is propped up near the engine, though, the situation doesn’t look good for him.

Clay slowly turns his head, glancing back at his truck. Swiping a hand over his hair, which does nothing to remove the water in the continued downpour, his shoulders fall, and he gazes back at me.

“I guess I could use a ride to town.”

I nod once. “Need help with anything in your—”

A sudden hand, held upright, palm outward cuts me off. “Just get back in your car. I’ll be right there.” Frustration fills his voice. Maybe even defeat. He sharply turns back for his truck, and I watch as his broad back hunches. He hitches up the collar of his leather jacket as if that could prevent any further rain from hitting his body.

I spin away from him as well and briskly walk back to the Jetta. Once inside, I shudder and glance in the rearview mirror to check on Dutton again. Still peacefully asleep when he typically hates storms. Lucky little kid.

Reaching for the thermostat, I crank the heat and gaze into the side mirror to check on Clay’s progress. The hood of his truck is closed. The brightness of my hazards flash in measured time, flicking across the slick, dark road, and colliding with the front of his vehicle.

While looking to my left, the passenger door to my right opens, and I let out a squeak, shifting in the driver’s seat. Clay’s eyes crash with mine. Bent forward, he has a hand on the top of the passenger door. His other arm rests on the roof of my car.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, eyeing me, noting my surprise. As if I hadn’t asked him if he needed the ride.

“Get in,” I state quietly, quickly darting a glance to Dutton once again.