Page 65 of The Opposite Effect

Obviously, I can’t read Clara as well as I thought I could.

I hate that more than anything.

The seething rage bubbling my blood simmers to a slow boil when I catch the quickest giggle. I stop frozen in my tracks and crank my neck. It is only faint, but there’s no doubting who the laugh belongs to.Clara.

My eyes rocket to my bedroom when the soft babbling of aconversation sounds above me. Once my eyes travel from the living room to the loft, I notice the door to my rooftop garden has been cranked open.

The quiet hum of dialogue between two female voices grows louder as I climb the staircase. From the high tone and limited vocabulary of the second voice, I can easily tell it belongs to a child.

I hit the stoop of the stairs when a female child’s voice asks, “Are you staying here long?”

I round the corner to discover my eleven-year-old neighbor, Clementine, sitting next to Clara on the frayed double couch. They have two half-full wine glasses of soda and a bowl of plain chips sitting on a makeshift pallet coffee table.

Clara finishes twisting a piece of Clementine’s thick wavy hair into a fancy braided design before she answers Clementine’s question, “I don’t know. Brax said it could be days or even weeks before I can go home.” A grin curls on my lips when a mask of worry slips over Clara’s face during the last half of her sentence.

Clementine huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. After placing a tie in Clementine’s hair, Clara adjusts her position so she’s facing the girl. “Don’t you want me to stay? I thought we were having fun today?”

Clementine’s shoulders hunch forward. “It isn’t that. It’s just… just… you shouldn’t get comfortable. You won’t be here for long.”

“Oh,” Clara breathes out heavily at the same time I mutter, “Are you trying to scare off my girl, Clementine?”

Clara and Clementine’s heads snap to mine in sync. Clementine smiles a cheeky grin I’ve seen numerous times over the past six months. It’s usually worn when she’s creating mischief for Ms. Hartler who lives in apartment 2B.

After shaking her head, denying my claim, Clementine turns her eyes back to Clara. Clara slants her head to the side and staresat me like she’s shocked to see me standing on my rooftop garden. Her pupils are wide, and her plump nude lips are parted.

I need those lips on me. Anywhere.

“Clementine, I think I hear your momma calling you.”

Clementine springs up from the sofa. “Really?” She angles her head to the side and hoists her ear into the air. “I don’t hear anything.”

Like the stars aligning in the sky, the faint holler of Mrs. Daphne bellows up the stairwell. If I were a religious man, I’d send thanks to God. Since I’m not, I simply thank my lucky stars.

Clementine’s eyes bug before she rushes to the door. Her brisk pace slows when I say, “Clementine.”

When she cranks her neck back to peer at me, I hold out the packet of Mars bars I’m clutching in my hand for her. She smiles a broad grin before she crosses the space between us. Her steps are so fast, she reaches me in less than a heartbeat. I learned early on in life that candy is my best ally in keeping any female in my life happy.

If only Clara were a fan of sugar.

Still grinning, Clementine snatches the chocolates out of my hand and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. My brow cocks over her audacity. She’s always been a little showy around her friends from school, but she’s never taken it this far before.

She must be trying to impress Clara.

Clementine’s girly giggle is only just heard over the stomping of her feet as she gallops down the stairwell. When the front door slams shut not even two seconds later, I drift my eyes back to Clara. Her expression is even more shocked than it was earlier.

In a nanosecond, she switches the appearance of her face, changing it from stunned to forthright. “How’s your grandma?”

I smile. “She’s good. A hurricane couldn’t slow her down.”

Clara releases a deep breath before a rare and genuine smileetches onto her mouth. I’m in trouble with this woman. I’ve only been away from her a little over three hours, and she hasn’t left my mind. I knew the day she walked back into Inked she’d be trouble. I just had no clue the type of trouble she would cause.

Clara curls her feet under her bottom when I take the empty seat next to her. “Tread carefully with Clementine, Brax,” she mumbles while brushing her hand over the sticky lip gloss stain Clementine left on my cheek. “She’s too young to understand the repercussions of chasing an unattainable man.” Her voice comes in barely a whisper. “I wish someone had given me the same warning.”

“Isaac?” I ask, even knowing I could be throwing the first grenade in World War III.

Like I could be any more shocked the past twenty-four hours, Clara surprises me again by simply nodding. “Despite what everyone thinks, I did care for Isaac… a lot.”

I nod. The fact she was going to get his name inked on her hip is a pretty compelling point.

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