Page 35 of Taking a King

My awe must show on my face because Claire’s expression shifts to one of confusion.

“What?” she asks, lifting her whisky to her lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Before I can say anything, Hope speaks. “He’s had that goofy ass look on his face since you took the stage.” Everyone turns to look at her, myself included. “I think you have a fan, Claire.”

Claire leans over and kisses my cheek. “I have him under my spell.”

I lean over and capture her mouth for a kiss. It’s quick and nowhere near as involved as I’d like for it to be, but we’re in public and surrounded by her family. I have just enough time to feel her soft lips, hear the surprised catch in her breathing and taste a faint hint of the whisky she’d been drinking. Then it’s over. I grin at her.

“I’m president of your fan club, remember?” I murmur.

“Aww!” Hannah gushes. “You guys are so adorable!”

Claire’s cheeks flush pink, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the stage lights this time. She leans her head on my shoulder and sticks her tongue out at the others who are making kissy sounds and teasing us.

“Shut up,” she mutters in a teasing tone. She picks up her glass and downs the rest of her whisky.

I plant a kiss on the top of her head. “You were amazing up there,” I say in a low voice just for her.

She doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, she snuggles closer to me. When Van asks if anyone wants another drink, she holds up her empty glass in answer. There’s a relaxed and dreamy quality about Claire now and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a result of her performing. It’s as though she’s content and at peace in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever been. I’d like to think my being here has something to do with that, but for all I know this is how she always is after a performance. Whatever the reason, I love seeing it. The happiness she feels seems to radiate off her and hit everyone around her, including me. I’m grateful to bask in its glow for as long as she’ll have me.

Chapter Eighteen

Claire

On Monday, I go to the Jester to work the front desk. It’s a job I’ve done plenty of times over the years. All the King kids have done practically every job there is to do at the inn at least once. Our parents thought it would build character and I guess they were right. I know I’ll never look down on a table busser or a housekeeper now that I know how much hard work actually goes into their jobs.

Every employee at the inn is vital to keeping it running smoothly. I don’t know how my brother does it. Well, he has Quinn to help him manage it now. And she’s been amazing since she took over the job from Hannah. They don’t need me nearly as often as they used to. One of the usual front desk clerks had to have a root canal today, so Quinn asked if I could come work for a few hours. I’d agreed to it before Garrett had been here. Part of me is regretting my commitment now, especially when I’d had to leave him standing half-naked in my kitchen this morning. He’d looked so sexy, grinning at me over a cup of coffee wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts. It had nearly been enough to convince me to stay. But I’d forced myself out the door and into my car before I could do something crazy, like jump his bones right there in the kitchen.

I try to wipe the goofy grin off my face before I go inside. I know Quinn will spot it immediately and tease me. And I damned sure don’t want my brother to question me about it. Finn has never been the type to pry too hard into my life. I know he wants what’s best for me and I know he worries about my future. But he’s never tried to push me into anything I didn’t want for myself. And he’s never meddled in my love life. Not that I’ve had much of one since college.

I’ve had a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing too serious. And none of those relationships felt like what I have with Garrett now. I try not to analyze those feelings too closely. It’s far too soon for that. It’s been less than 2 weeks. I need to focus on enjoying my time with him instead of worrying about what my feelings mean. I’m happy and that’s enough for now.

I make my way inside to the Jester’s reception area. I see a few guests waiting to check out as well as more making their way into the dining room for breakfast. Quinn is working behind the desk, and she shoots me a grateful smile when she sees me.

“Claire, thank goodness,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course,” I say, smiling at the guests. “Happy to help.”

I log in to the second computer and gesture for the next guest in line. “I can help you right here,” I say. “I hope you enjoyed your stay.”

As the couple gushes over their room, the view and the food, I work at the computer to get them checked out and on their way. I assign a bellhop to load their bags into their waiting car and bid them a safe trip home. It’s easy work and most of it I do without much thought. Quinn stays at the desk until the rest of the guests are checked out and we make plans to have lunch together before she returns to her office in the back. Once the morning rush is over, I don’t have much to do besides answer the phones and daydream about Garrett. Normally, this time of the morning would drag by slowly, but with my thoughts occupied, the time flies. Before I know it, the morning is gone, and the afternoon desk clerk arrives to relieve me.

My phone rings as I’m reaching for my purse, and I hurry to grab it. I give the clerk a little wave and retreat to the back hallway. The number is local, but I don’t recognize it. I answer it, hoping there hasn’t been some emergency with my family.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling for Claire King.”

“This is Claire speaking.”

“Claire, this is Bridget Morris from Oak Hill Elementary school. I’m calling about the music teacher position.”

My heart hammers in my chest and I suddenly feel like the air is too thick. I make my way outside onto the porch for privacy. I’d wondered if they would call. I hadn’t wanted to get my hopes up. I still don’t think I have the right qualifications, but I’m hopeful this call is a good sign.

“We reviewed your resume and we’re impressed with your skills,” Bridget says. “We were hoping you might be able to come meet with us for an interview.”

For a moment, I’m shocked into speechlessness. They want to interview me. That means they liked what they saw enough to take a chance on someone without a teaching degree. When I finally remember how to form words, I agree to come in on Friday for an interview. After the call ends, I stand there for a full minute grinning like an idiot. I can’t believe it. I’d sent in my resume on a whim, convinced they wouldn’t look twice at someone with no formal teaching experience and only a bachelor’s degree. But they want me to interview. This might be the break I’ve been waiting for.

---