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“I genuinely have no idea,” he answered honestly. “I don’t think I would have left town. I love it here too much, and I have no desire to leave. Maybe I would have opened up a bar, or an outdoor touring company or something.”
“Small-town boy, through and through, huh?”
“Seems like it.”
“What was it like?” Valerie asked, her curiosity ramping up all over again. “Growing up in a place like this?”
Clark ramped into a long explanation of life in Snowy Pine Ridge, and she had to admit, it seemed more than ideal. To hear him tell it, growing up in this place made for pretty much the perfect childhood. There was community and support, and a roving cast of colorful characters that had been present for his entire life. It seemed quiet in a way that Valerie didn’t entirely know how to process.
After she heard all about his life, he began peppering her with questions—what it was like growing up in L.A., what are the best and worst parts of being a star? That question, at least, was easy for her to answer.
“The best part is easily the fans. It is the most bizarre thing to have people recognize you and genuinely care about the fact that you exist,” she said earnestly. “It’s heartwarming and overwhelming in the best possible way. But the worst part, and this part can get really, really bad, is the constant critiquing. Because I live my life in the public eye, everyone suddenly thinks that means that every facet of who I am is up for discussion.”
She paused, taking a moment to steel herself before continuing on.
“Who I date, what I wear, what my body looks like. And people can be vicious, sometimes. While the job is amazing, and it’s given me more opportunities than I ever could have imagined, it also can be really hard at times.”
“You know, this might make you think differently of me,” Clark said, his voice sounding slightly embarrassed. “And I don’t even know if I should be admitting this or not. But I’ve never seen one of your movies.”
“Not a single one?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up.
“Nope.”
She turned around entirely, then, sitting on one of the top steps and looking down at him through the railings. He hadn’t turned around to face her, though, and she watched him as he worked. Valerie couldn’t help but notice the way the powerful muscles of his back moved underneath the confines of his shirt as he continued to work on the trim.
“Did you even know who I was when we first met?” she asked, unsure of which answer she was hoping for.
This wasn’t an unheard-of thing. Not everyone was super into romance movies. But it was infrequent enough that it made her take notice when it did occur. With Clark, however, she was ranging wildly between wanting him to be impressed by her, and also flattered by the fact that he possibly didn’t know who she was, and he still had extended his hand and been nice to her.
“I did,” he answered hastily. “I’d seen movie posters and everything, and trailers for your movies. But I have never actually sat down and watched one. And for what it’s worth, you’re even prettier in person.”
His arm stopped moving as the last word fell from his lips and he turned around to face her. The blush that rose high in his cheeks matched her own, and she gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile.
“Thank you,” Valerie said, not wanting to embarrass him more by commenting on it any further.
Their conversation died out as the two of them turned back toward their work, with Clark moving on to a different window and Valerie moving higher up on the stairs. Without thinking about it, she hummed softly to herself, the melody of a Christmas Carol that had been on in the hotel lobby that had been dancing in her mind all day.
She lost herself in her thoughts, thinking about everything that she’d learned that day about Clark and the town as a whole. And Valerie was so deep in her own mind that she was no longer paying attention to what she was doing. One moment, she was humming and thinking about the way Clark had looked so cute when he blushed and the next second pain had erupted from her hand.
A hiss flew from her lips, and she dropped the handheld sander she’d been using, letting it hit the stair with a clatter. Glancing down at her hand, she noticed that two of her fingers were raw, with one of them scuffed and bleeding. In not paying attention, the sander had gotten away from her and went over her fingers.
Alerted by her sounds of pain, Clark came sprinting over. He bounded up the stairs in a flash and knelt down by Valerie’s side.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“The sander got my fingers,” she explained, holding up her hand to show him the damage.
He grabbed ahold of her hand, turning it this way and that while Valerie tried really hard not to focus on how nice and warm his hand was.
“There’s bandages in the kitchen,” he said, his brow creased with concern. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Valerie nodded, pushing herself up off the stair she sat on with her uninjured hand and followed after Clark. The moment they entered the kitchen, he turned on the faucet and began letting the water get warm.
“The soap is antibacterial. Go ahead and wash it while I get the rest of the stuff to fix it up,” he instructed, pulling open one of the cabinets and beginning to rifle through it.
Valerie did as instructed, letting the warm water run over her aching fingers before pumping on a bit of soap and beginning to scrub. It burned, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the initial pain had been when the sander had first scraped her skin, so she gritted her teeth and bared it.
When she was satisfied that it was clean, she turned off the faucet and grabbed a clean paper towel from the roll on the counter to dry herself with. Just as she was finishing, Clark appeared back at her side with two Band-Aids and an antibiotic ointment.
