Page 20 of Between Our Hearts

But then Clark never came upstairs, and she knew with certainty that the tiny sliver of hope she’d be gripping had shattered in a way she couldn’t pin or screw it back together.

?Chapter 10?

“You wanted to talk to me?” In front of her scrubs, Sadie held the bright orange sticky note that he’d hung over her mirror. The black marker letters stated: We have to talk. I’m in the woodshop. Aimlessly driving around town last night, Clark had done a lot of thinking and come up with a plan.

Until hearing her voice, he’d still been pissed at Sadie. But now as the twilight sky silhouetted her body and the last of the sun’s embers haloed her auburn ponytail, he resisted the overwhelming urge to gather her in his arms. His wife was not standing in the doorway to his woodshop—some broken woman was. He’d never seen Sadie look so small, and he hated the sight of it.

Powering off his saw, he cleared his throat. “I wanted to let you know that I scheduled us another date night. For Sunday.”

Her auburn brows pinched. “But . . . why?”

Clark wanted to shout,To save our marriage, but instead, a deep, mournful part of him simply sighed. He didn’t know how to get from being twenty feet away, tersely talking to his wife, to where they’d been before they tried to give Lottie a sibling.

“I did a lot of thinking last night.” Her eyes darted down at his words, and he had to tighten his calves to prevent him from crossing the room. “And I realized we never really dated.”

Since the moment they’d met, they’d always had this insatiable need for each other. And because of her schedule, they’d spent those first few months before she’d found out she was pregnant in each other’s homes, usually half-naked. After that, it had been a blur of getting ready for a wedding, buying a house, and the mind-jolting reality that was parenting.

“Halloween happened and then. . . .” He let his sentence drop off as the familiar memory played automatically.

Clark surveyed half of the crowded living room before his eyes snagged on her.

Damned if he didn’t have a thing for redheads. Especially a redhead with curves straining the pale green fabric of her sexy surgeon costume. Technically, she was covered from head to toe in what looked like regular scrubs, complete with a surgical cap tied around her head, but on her, they looked incredible.

He was cutting through the room when a half-dressed zombie with extensive tattoos pressed a red cup into her hand. The zombie whispered something in her ear before continuing to pass three more cups to others.

“Hey.” His grin rose when he arrived before her.

She didn’t answer, but the smile on her lips hit his stomach with the force of a nail gun.

“I’m Clark,” he said, outstretching his hand.

“Clark.Right.” She extended the word as her eyes flowed over his black rimmed costume glasses, his open collared white dress shirt with a Superman T-shirt beneath, and belted black jeans. He’d even taken a strand of his hair and curled it over his forehead with a little pomade.

When her gaze flicked back to his face, a flash of what looked like uncertainty skirted across it. She took a deep breath before tossing back the entire contents of her cup in one large gulp.

“Sadie,” she said, setting the plastic cup on the fireplace mantel beside them and taking his hand.

Clark had seen enough rom-com movies over the years to have witnessed the portrayal of the spark when lovers first touch, and he’d often rolled his eyes watching that scene play out. But when Sadie slid her hand into his, it felt like the time an electrician on the job had left a live wire open and he’d brushed against it.

The stunned cough that came out of his mouth was as unintentional as it was slightly embarrassing. Sadie let go, wiggling her fingers as they returned to her side.

She lifted her chin, tilted her head an inch, and then said with the self-possession of someone who was used to giving orders, “Follow me.”

Clark fell into step behind her as she wove around the makeshift living room dance floor, through the kitchen, and down the entry hallway. An entertained smirk laced his lips as he followed her into the unoccupied garage before she turned and shoved him against the closed door.

Before he could take a breath, her lips were on his, the taste of fresh squeezed lemon juice and gin lingering on her tongue as it teased its way into his mouth. Those wiggly fingers gripped the sides of his face with a determined firmness.

His response was as enthusiastic as it was instinctual. He chased her tongue with his, ran his hands down her sides to grip her waist tightly, and pulled their bodies flush against each other. A throaty puff of air escaped her in response. Then her hands were just as wild as they dove into his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground.

“Sorry.” She started to crouch to pick them up, and he stopped her with a hand against her ribcage.

“It’s okay. They’re fake.”

That shyness played at her features again. At this proximity, he noticed her eyes matched the pale green of her scrubs.

“I don’t usually do things like this, but Parker said I should get out of my own way.”

Whoever this Parker was, he’d have to thank them later.

---