Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Everyone at the table was watching them. The way Dylan looked at Clara-so warm, so gentle-made it impossible for some people to keep eating.

Simon slammed his chopsticks down. "This is a dining room, not your bedroom.”

Dylan paused, reaching for a napkin to wipe the corner of Clara's lips. He was about to say something when Clara looked right at him.

"Well, obviously it's not a bedroom. There's no bed," she said, completely matter- of-fact.

She was just telling the truth, but this really wasn't the moment for that kind of honesty.

The other people at the table all had expressions that were hard to describe.

Walter's face didn't give much away, but his hand tightened around his chopsticks. No one had ever been this bold in front of him before.

Mrs. Ferguson smacked the table. "Outrageous! Shameless! What kind of nonsense is that? How can a woman say things like that in front of her elders? And in public, no less? You-"

Clara blinked, genuinely confused. She didn't see what she'd done wrong—there really wasn't a bed here.

She leaned closer to Dylan, almost seeking shelter. "Honey."

Dylan's lips lifted in a calm, easy smile. "Mother, Clara's still young. She doesn't understand the rules yet."

Mrs. Ferguson's chest heaved with frustration. If this kept up, Clara was going to be the end of her.

How had this girl ended up in the Ferguson family?

A gentle hand started patting Mrs. Ferguson's back. Tara's soft voice floated over. "Mrs. Ferguson, don't let it get to you. Dylan's right-Clara's still young."

laugh. "Young? She's twenty-four, almost

else wondered how to smooth things over, Walter put his chopsticks

let's call it a night. Dylan, you too—don't bring her to the party. It's fine if she jokes around at home, but there'll be a lot of people there. Don't let her act out in front of everyone. No one will put up with

he looked

a little guilty, she grabbed his arm. "Should we go?

shook his head.

"Really?"

his face, trying to find any hint he

warm, fizzy feeling bubbled up in her chest. She still didn't know how a guy like him ended up being

past life, right? Otherwise, how

they left the old house. Pushing his wheelchair, she

at the grass

a plant in the corner. It would look so good

can we

"home"

over at the plant, trying to remember when it had even been planted.

the car, she was all smiles, massaging his legs

was always so easy-she just knew how to make someone feel better. It was her

people liked

Mrs. Ferguson

Ferguson, don't stress about Dylan. His career is taking

Ferguson thought about it, then nodded, reaching over to pat

that

brag about what you do, you just quietly take care of things. That's

the kind of woman