Page 45 of You Had Me at Chocolate

Clem glanced up into his earnest expression, his brow furrowed in concern. “No.” Well… maybe a little. But. “She’s my mother, Jude. She’s spent years of her life nurturing me. I’d be a pretty awful daughter if I got on with life when she needed a little nurturing. I know she has Dad and Marietta, but he needs support too and I’m capable and willing.” She smiled at Jude who was still frowning. “I’m not turning my back on changing up my life. I just want to make sure they’re going to be okay before I make my big move.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he conceded. “Just don’t… lose sight of what you wanted, okay? Take it from me, life can get in the way and before you know it, ten years has gone by.”

Clem heard regret echoed in his quiet, carefully chosen words and she would be lying if she wasn’t a little worried about that happening. About life taking over and never putting her house on the market and going back to work at the library because the funds she’d so diligently set aside to tide her over until the new year were running low. About her ambitions going on the back burner out of guilt and duty.

And she appreciated him putting it out there.

“I’ll do you a deal. Seeing as how you’ll be sticking around, I give you permission to kick my butt into action if you see me stagnating again.”

He smiled, his teeth nice and white amidst all the auburn-gingery goodness of his whiskers. The pale peridot of his eyes an unwavering calm. “You’re on.” He stuck his hand out. “As someone who has benefited gratefully from a Clementine Jones ass kicking, I would be proud to return the favor.”

Clem laughed at the barely disguised glee in his voice. Now Jude was here and they’d reconnected, leaving Marietta would be even more of a wrench but knowing he had anointed himself keeper of her goals was strangely comforting. She slipped her hand into his, that now familiar awareness of him lighting her up everywhere. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“What are friends for?” he teased.

And Clem’s ribs suddenly felt way too tight for her lungs.

*

The first knock on the door came at just after five and Clem hurried to answer it while straightening the back vertical seam of her silky black stockings. She’d gone for her usual witch outfit just a slightly less PG version most Marietta folk had come to expect from her.

But she wasn’t the same Clem anymore, damn it, so why not switch up the witch?

She ditched the grotesque mask complete with long black hair instead choosing a tiny black pointy hat pinned jauntily to her curls. Gone too were the thick white stockings with wide bands of black horizontal stripes and stilettos had replaced the pointy toed, hobnailed boots. Her eye makeup was subtle rather than horror-film dramatic—apart from the glossy red of her mouth—and her usual plain black dress was showing off some cleavage instead of being buttoned all the way up her neck.

Cleavage admirably assisted by the addition of a push-up bra.

“Jude,” she called, looking over her shoulder one last time at the seams as she pulled up at the door. “They’re here. Can you bring the treats?”

As she reached for the handle she heard a spooky, “Bwa-ha-ha-ha,” and glanced toward the kitchen to find Jude standing in the doorway, dressed as Dracula in head-to-toe black, including a cape with a collar that stood high and flashed red from the lining. His face was powdered, his lips were pulled back to expose fake pointy plastic teeth, his coppery hair gelled back into a prominent widow’s peak.

He was the perfect comic book vampire. With red hair.

For some reason, Clem hadn’t expected him to get in costume and she stared. He should look ridiculous—a grown man with a powdered face and gaudy plastic fangs—but hell if it didn’t work for him. She’d never got the vampire attraction—this brand or the sparkly ones—but, good lord, she got it now.

He whistled bringing her out of her blatant ogling. “So, what kind of a witch do you call that?” he asked as his gaze moved up and down her body. She hadn’t dressed like this for Jude but her belly did a funny little dip at his scrutiny.

“Sexy witch.” Shoving her hands on her hips, she stood tall in her spiky black heels. This was who she was now. Confident, go-getter, globe-trotting Clem. She straightened her shoulders. “Is it working?”

Okay… maybe she had dressed like this a teeny-tiny bit for Jude.

“Let’s just say I think we might need some cardiac meds as well as the treats. For all the daddies and granddaddies.”

His compliment made her a little dizzy but the second knock interrupted the buzz followed by little voices yelling, “Trick or treat.”

Tamping down on the dizziness, Clem turned and opened the door to find three little moppets carrying orange pumpkin-shaped pails on the doormat. “Oh my goodness,” Clem said pressing her hand to her chest. “It’s Belle, Jasmine, and Mulan. Hey, Jude,” she called over her shoulder, “how lucky are we?”

The little girls twirled around showing off their costumes then said, “Trick or treat,” again in unison.

Jude swept in, brandishing his cape with a flourish and a well-timed, “Bwah-ha-ha-ha,” which had the little girls squealing in delight. They gasped in awe as he presented the bowl with all his carefully made goodies. “These are awesome,” Mulan said, staring at her wrapped tree.

Clem nodded and pointed at Jude. “He made them.”

All three girls gaped up at him. “You can cook?” Belle said, like it was the most miraculous thing she’d ever heard.

“He sure can,” Clem confirmed. “He’s the best.”

“Wow,” Jasmine said on a breath out as they continued to gaze at him like he was Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy and a freaking unicorn all rolled into one.

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