Page 48 of Truck You

But the hardwood floors are gorgeous. Rustic and dark, they extend throughout the entire house.

An arched entryway leads to the dining room. The walls are covered with China cabinets and buffet tables. The China cabinets are stuffed with more dishes than any one person needs. It looks like her grandma collected salt and pepper shakers based on how many sets there are.

The table is big enough to seat ten guests. I wonder if Clara ever entertains that many people. The only friends I’ve seen her talk with are the Mutters.

I set the table on the side closest to the kitchen. Plates, flatware, syrup, butter, and glasses for orange juice. When I turn back to the kitchen, I smile when I see Clara yawning and watching me with confusion.

“Good morning.” I smile.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I made breakfast. Please tell me you love pancakes. They’re my favorite, and I’m not sure our friendship will survive if you hate them.”

She chuckles. “Then it’s a good thing I love pancakes.”

I let out a dramatic sigh and run the back of my hand across my forehead, feigning relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to have to look for a new friend.” I tease. “Coffee?” I hand her a mug. “It’s just the way you like it. Two sugars and a dash of cream for color.”

She takes the mug, holds it up to her nose, and breathes in deep. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll bring everything in.”

While Clara takes her seat, I grab the sausage and pancakes from the oven. After double checking that everything is turned off, I join her at the table. She’s staring at the plate in front of her with wide eyes and an odd expression on her face.

“Everything okay?” I ask, hoping I didn’t do something wrong like set out her grandma’s special China that’s only used on special occasions. These dishes didn’t look special, but what do I know?

Clara snaps her head up and gives me an awkward smile. “Yes, I’m fine.” She clears her throat and takes a sip of her coffee. “It’s just, I’ve never really had a friend before that was a girl. Is this what girlfriends do?”

I smile, trying to push back the feelings that arise in me. I feel bad for her, but she doesn’t need my pity. She needs my friendship.

“I don’t know.” I answer honestly. “I have plenty of friends that are girls, but I spent most of my time around cars. Cars are easier to understand than people.”

“I can relate to that,” she says, and grabs two pancakes.

I do the same. We’re silent as we fix up our plates. Once we both have our pancakes buttered and syrup poured over the top, Clara starts again. “It’s why I love books so much. Books never judge me. Girls, however, they’re mean. I never had an interest in clothes or make-up or doing my hair. Playing outside with the boys or reading a book was always more fun. It didn’t help that I grew up with two beauty queens for sisters.”

I chuckle. “I bet that was fun. My mom wanted me to be a beauty queen. I was sixteen the first and only time she forced me to wear a ball gown. I went to the garage and changed the oil in my dad’s car out of protest. Ruined the dress. She’s never forgiven me.”

Clara laughs so hard she snorts. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

“After that, she realized I was a lost cause. She leaves me alone about girly things but still lectures me about cars.”

“I’m grateful my parents never tried to change me. In fact, they encouraged my friendship with Ash.”

I take a big bite of my pancakes and groan as the sweet maple syrup hits my taste buds.

“What was it like growing up with the Mutters?” I ask. “I bet that had to be interesting.”

She eyes me above the rim of her glasses, a small smile playing across her face. “You mean was Mac always like this?”

I feel my cheeks warm, and she chuckles. “You should see your face. You just turned bright red.”

I press my hands to my face, embarrassment taking over my entire body. Even my arms are blotchy with red spots. “I can’t help it. My skin hates me. I turn red at the slightest poke.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pick on you.”

“It’s okay.” I take a drink of my coffee before I meet her gaze. “So, what was Mac like? Was he always so hot and cold?”

She eyes me thoughtfully before taking a drink of her coffee. “No, not always. At least not with everyone. He doesn’t date a lot, but he’s had a few girlfriends over the years. Nothing serious though. He always kept them at a distance. I think that’s why he’s struggling with you.”

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