Claire Knows Best by Tracey Bateman Read Free Book Online

shoulders. And suddenly the warm, muggy spring night gives me a chill. He looks down into my eyes
     with such intensity I’m getting a little freaked out.
    “What’s going on?”
    “You know, you don’t necessarily have to stay with Mom.” He says it like that. Just out of the blue. After two hours of shopping
     and planning he’s changed his mind?
    I frown, my heart running a little faster at the seriousness of his tone. He truly doesn’t want me to stay with his mom. “Hey,
     Greg. If this makes you uncomfortable, I can stay at a hotel or a bed and breakfast.” I have to admit, I’m a little offended,
     despite the great Joyce Meyer preaching that warns against a spirit of offense. Still, who is he to suggest it and then take
     it back? “Just call your mom and tell her I said thanks anyway.”
    “Wait. Don’t fly off the handle.” He pulls me close until we each have our arms wrapped around the other’s waist and I’m staring
     into eyes filled with tenderness.
    “I never fly off the handle. Besides, you’re the one that brought up having me stay with her in the first place. So why’d
     you change your mind all of a sudden?” I’m pouting like a teenager or a young bride. I’m fully aware of the manipulative properties
     of this. But something inside of me has digressed in the past few hours ever since Greg started with the whole “Me Tarzan,
     you Jane” routine. My independence swung away on the vines of a strong alpha male. And I discovered it might be kind of nice
     to have a guy take charge.
    “It’s not that I don’t want you staying with her.” He presses his forehead to mine and I melt at his hero-like action. “It’s
     just that I want you staying with me.”
    My stomach turns somersaults. “Let’s not even consider that possibility. We’ll get ourselves in trouble if we do.”
    “What I mean is…” he hesitates. “I mean, what if we just go ahead and get married?”
    “What?”
    “You know we’re headed in that direction, anyway. I wanted to wait until Christmas to give you a ring.”
    Oh, that’s so sweet. I smile and press a kiss to his lips.
    “So, what do you say? Tomorrow we can apply for the license and be married in a week.”
    For one second of fantasy, I consider it. I really do. Even though I’ve tried not to be the impulsive type lately. The thought
     of no more lonely nights, having someone to lean on when I need to be weak—those things appeal to me. And let’s face it, Greg’s
     perfect. He’s the kind of guy any girl would kill for. So what’s wrong with me that I can’t force a “yes” from my closed-up
     throat?
    Rick, the toad-sucking cheater. It’s all his fault. He’s ruined me for other guys. And, believe me, it’s not because he set
     the bar so high that other men don’t have a chance to measure up. Just the opposite. I expect guys to let me down.
    So far Greg’s been just a little
too
perfect. Know what I mean? What kind of guy checks the tires on his girlfriend’s minivan and takes it in for an oil change?
     What kind of guy cooks Chinese (because restaurant Chinese is too high in sodium and calories when I’m on a diet) and brings
     it to me at my desk so I can keep working on my deadline? Oh, and then to top it off, cleans up the kitchen and quietly goes
     home to spend a Saturday night alone?
    Like I said: too perfect. I keep waiting for Hyde to show up and shred my heart into a million and one pieces. I guess it’s
     just that I feel too safe. Come on, even Jesus said, “When they cry peace, safety, then shall sudden destruction come upon
     them.”
    Well, all right, that was slightly out of context, and quite possibly misquoted. I don’t want to start a new Amazonian, men-hating
     cult for women scorned. But the fact remains that when a woman has been hurt, it takes a while to trust again. I’m not ready
     to turn over my heart, soul, and body to someone else just yet. Not even Greg.
    “I can’t,” I say softly.