A Lasting Impression

for.”
    She narrowed her eyes, pretending to be offended. “And just what does that mean?”
    “I’m not about to tell you my secrets. Let’s just say you covered your lack of enthusiasm fairly well.”
    “Except to you.”
    He winked. “Except to me.” He looped Truxton’s reins over a branch, and Claire did the same with Athena’s. Sutton took a few steps forward. “Pretty up here, isn’t it? Prettiest view in all of Nashville.”
    Maybe it was the softness in his voice or the way he looked out over the countryside as she’d done earlier, but Claire didn’t get the sense he was intentionally trying to change the subject. “Yes, it is. I’d love to paint it. Someday.”
    “Which reminds me . . . Your canvases and paints were just delivered. That’s what I came to tell you. I told Eli and Zeke to put everything in your room. I thought you’d want to know.”
    “Thank you, Sutton. I was hoping they would arrive soon.” She could hardly wait to open up everything. And how thoughtful of him to ride to tell her. His gaze settled on a point in the distance, and she wondered . . . “What are you looking at?”
    He inched back toward her, pointing. “See that rise just there to the left? Near where that bird’s flying right now?”
    She moved closer and peered down the line of his arm. “Yes, I see it.”
    “That’s Laurel Bend, my family’s land. Our house stood just over that hill there. My grandfather built it in 1817, when my father was a boy.”
    “Our house stood,” he’d said. Past tense. She sneaked a look at him, remembering his comments from last night and hearing the same subtle hurt in his voice now that she had then.
    “My grandparents raised seven children in that house.”
    She felt herself responding to his sad smile. “And how many did your parents raise?”
    He turned to her, his face close. “Only one. They wanted more, but . . . it never happened.” He lowered his arm, studying her with an intensity that sent a shiver through her.
    “I don’t know whether my parents wanted any more children or not,” she whispered, thinking it strange now that she didn’t know that. Yet being this close to him, seeing the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes, she felt no interest in exploring the question. “But regardless, I was it.”
    He smiled. “And I’m betting you were more than enough for them both. For your father especially, when it came to fending off interested young men.”
    His words wounded in a way she knew he couldn’t fathom, nor had intended, and she turned away.
    “Claire . . .” He urged her back, but she resisted. “Claire,” he whispered again, closing what little distance there was between them. His hands on her face were her undoing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken about your father with such casualness. I’m—”
    “No, Sutton. It’s . . . not that.” She tried to smile and brush it off, but a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “It’s nothing.”
    He wiped it away with his thumb. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
    She shook her head, unwilling to tell him more.
    He leaned closer, his features tensing, as though he were wrestling with something, and losing. “I need to tell you something,” he whispered, his voice husky. “About . . . me and Cara Netta.”
    Cara Netta. The name made her pull back an inch or two.
    The lines at the corners of his eyes grew more pronounced. “Cara Netta and I . . . We’ve spoken and . . .” Certainty deepened his gaze. “I want you to know that the understanding between us has changed.”
    “Changed?” Claire whispered.
    He looked at her long and steady. “She and I have been friends for many years. And, somewhere along the way, we confused our friendship for . . . something more.”
    Something more. That was a good term for what she felt for him. Something more than friendship. Far more . . . Whatever conversation he’d had with Cara Netta, it had pained him. Claire could tell by the regret shading his expression. And no doubt, that conversation had hurt Cara Netta too. Which explained her reticence that morning at breakfast. “Does Cara Netta agree with your conclusion? About . . . your friendship?”
    He didn’t answer immediately. “Maybe not right now. But I have no doubt she will, given time.”
    Knowing Cara Netta what little she did and how much she seemed to care for Sutton, Claire questioned how soon that would happen. Yet she couldn’t deny a sense of relief at the news.