Perfect Summer (14 page)

“Ruins the outfit, but okay.” She slid out of the Chinese torture shoes and into flat-footed, rubber comfort. Her feet sighed with relief.

Davis put his hand in the small of her back and led her west of the house to the top of a small hill. There was a nice view of green, rolling fields dotted with oak trees.

“This is where the kitchen will be. The sink will have a huge window looking out right here.” Davis made the outline of a window with his hands. “Over there will be our bedroom.”

Lilly looked around at the empty field. “I don’t understand.”

His head wound was worse than she’d thought. He was hallucinating.

“I want to build a life with you starting with a new house. I like this spot—”

“You’ve completely lost me.”

“You and me get married, build a house, and live happily ever after.” Davis stared at her. “I’d get down on one knee but it makes me dizzy.”

Her heart fell out of her chest, rolled around on the grass, and landed at his feet.

Lilly took one step back and looked him up and down. “Are you proposing?”

“Yes.” He was calm, cool, and collected.

“Huh.” She crossed her arms. Sweat soaked her upper lip. How could he do this to her? “This is the lamest proposal ever. I bet you don’t even have a ring.”

From his back pocket, Davis pulled out a small, black velvet box—the same box she’d seen the other day. He opened it. A good-sized emerald-cut diamond winked in the sunlight. “Do so.”

“Have you lost your mind? I’m old enough to be your”—she was going to say mother but that was just creepy and not true—“aunt.”

The crazy thing was, she wanted to say yes. The ring was magnificent, exactly what she’d have picked out on her own. How did he know her so well?

“We belong together. You know it, I know it.” He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t we be together?”

“How much pain medication have you had today?” She checked his pupils for dilation.

“I’m not stoned, I’m in love. I love you, Lilly, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why not say yes?”

“Why not? Why not? There are hundreds of reasons.” She couldn’t think of a single one.

“The age difference,” he said helpfully. “You’re a few years older than me. Who cares?”

She racked her brain, and it finally came through. “What about kids? I’ve already had mine, and she hates me. You deserve to be a father, and I can’t…give you…babies.”

The age difference really hit home. He was still young, and she was menopausal. He should find someone his own age, marry her, and have a houseful of fat babies. Nausea snaked through her stomach at the thought. She wanted to weep. Fortunately, she wasn’t a weeper.

“Family is what you make it. If you’d like to have more, I’d love to adopt, but I can live without kids. I can’t live without you.”

She hugged herself. “Why are you doing this? Everything was going so well, you know, before the whole horse-kicking incident.”

That was it.

A life-or-death experience sometimes did this to people. He was grateful that she’d saved him, and he wanted to pay her back by offering marriage. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m not doing this out of obligation. My parents had one of those marriages, and I swore that I wouldn’t ever do that.” He reached out and took both of her hands in his. “I’m asking you right here, right now, Lilly Leeds, will you marry me?”

Everything in her wanted to smile and nod, but she couldn’t do it, not to him. Someone had to be the voice of reason in this… relationship-type…um, relationship. “No.”

He dropped her hands. “Then go.”

He stepped back, shoving his hands and the ring into his back pocket. “And don’t ever come back. I’m done being your boy toy. If you won’t have me one hundred percent, then I don’t want you.”

Lilly waited for the punch line of this cruel joke, but Davis just stared at her. “Go.”

“Jail?” All the blood drained from Summer’s head, and she leaned against a desk. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I don’t got a lot of time to talk, but my father came home high. He was mad, we got into a fight, and I ended up here. Can you go check on my mom? Please?” Mario was talking so fast it was hard to understand him.

“Slow down,” she squealed out. This was bad. This was strike two. One more and Mario would be headed to prison.

Clint put his hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Mario’s in jail.” Summer pressed the speaker button and held the phone between them. “Is your mother okay?”

“I don’t know.” Mario’s voice cracked. “I haven’t seen my dad for weeks, and then he just shows up. First of the month—”

“I see.” Mario’s mom had gotten paid, and his father wanted money. Never mind that his kids didn’t have food or a safe place to sleep.

“Can you check on my mom?”

“Still live in the same apartment?” Summer stepped into her office and picked up her purse. One of her kids was in trouble.

Clint followed her.

“Yeah, same place you came for dinner.”

“You need anything?” She riffled through stacks of papers, searching for her car keys. Where they hell were they?

“Just make sure they’re okay. I’ll be fine here…I think. Thanks. The guard’s coming. Gotta go.” The phone went silent.

She rummaged through her purse for her keys, made sure her checkbook was in it, and rammed her arm through the strap. “Do you see my keys anywhere out there?”

She pointed to the classroom as she threw open the top desk drawer and dug in. Patting her pockets, she felt their outline in her back left. Yes. “Sorry to skip out, but duty calls.”

Clint stepped in front of her. “Is the father still there?”

She shrugged. Why did that matter? “I don’t know.”

She tried to move around him to get out the door, but he blocked her way.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes. Was he thinking of calling Jade and her cameras so they could film him helping one of her kids? That was going too far.

“It’s not safe. What if Mario’s father is still there?”

He was being kind, and she’d immediately thought the worst. What did that say about her?

“He’s a little guy. I’ll be fine.” She outweighed the man by a good thirty pounds, not to mention the two feet she towered over him.

“I’m coming. Get over it.” He folded his arms.

“This alpha maleness is kind of irritating.” And nice. He was worried about one of her kids.

Clint didn’t move.

“Okay, I don’t have time to argue.” She darted around him.

“I’ll drive.” It was a command, not an offer. Apparently the alpha comment had triggered a testosterone reaction. After scooping up his jacket and the cookies, he opened the door for her.

She glanced at the cookies.

“What? I’m hungry, and I don’t get homemade food very often.”

“What kind of car do you have?” Summer locked the door and pocketed her keys.

“Tesla Roadster,” Clint said around a mouthful of cookie.

“The only high-performance electric sports car.” Summer sighed long and hard. “At least you’re a green cliché.”

They walked down the hall and out the back door to the teachers’ parking lot.

“Of course, it’s black.” Summer pointed to the sleek sports car.

“You were hoping for red?”

“How about something a little less obvious, like pink or baby blue? If you want to stand out in a crowd, drive a purple sports car.” She pointed to her grandfather’s old green truck. “We’re taking mine. We’re going deep into the east side of IH-35. In your car, we’d be jacked before we got through downtown.”

Summer pulled out her keys.

Clint grabbed the keys as he passed her. “I’m still driving. That’s a cool, old truck. What is it?”

“A 1959 Chevy Apache. Her name’s Beulah, and she hates me.” Summer watched as he unlocked the passenger-side door and opened it for her. Manners, again. Clint wasn’t the average guy.

“If you hate this truck, why do you keep it?” Clint offered his hand to help her up.

She took it and climbed up. “She belonged to my grandfather, and he would haunt me forever if I sold her. Plus, I can’t afford a car payment until I finish paying for the car my ex-fiancé convinced me would be the perfect engagement present.”

That wasn’t strictly true. She could use money from her trust fund, but she’d have to ask her mother, and that would come with strings—the kind that tangled and choked.

Clint closed her door, walked around the hood, and climbed behind the wheel. His eyes turned as round as saucers, and he laughed self-consciously. “I can’t drive a stick.”

“That seriously limits your choice of sports cars. Scoot over.” Summer hopped out, walked around, and climbed into the driver’s seat. She shoved the key in, popped the clutch, and Beulah growled to life.

Summer backed out of the parking space, and they bounced on Beulah’s well-sprung seat.

“How do you turn on the air conditioner?” Clint fiddled with the dials to the old radio.

“See that silver lever with the black knob on the end?” Summer pointed.

“Yes.”

“You crank it until the window rolls down.” Summer rolled hers down.

“Got it.” Clint cranked the window all the way down then rested his elbow on the sill. “Just so you know, I excel at lots of other things.”

Defensive wasn’t a strong enough word for his tone.

“I’m sure you do.” Summer glanced at him.

He stared out the window, lips mashed together, sulking.

“It really bothers you to not be good at something.” Perfectionism. Her mother was the poster child for the condition.

“It’s not that.” He continued to watch the passing scenery. “I don’t like
you
seeing that I can’t do something.”

“Because I’m the only person who knows the other thing you’re not good at?” Summer rolled her eyes. “Welcome to my world. I’m not good at anything. It takes a hundred and twenty percent for me to muddle through life. Do you know why I teach at-risk kids?”

He stared straight ahead but shook his head.

“Because I’m dyslexic. It took me six years to graduate from Texas A&M, and that’s after I flunked out of Tulane. I had to work twice as hard as everyone else just to pass. I have no talents, was not meant for greatness, and have embraced imperfection. Join the crowd, and cut yourself some slack.” Summer said. Abject mediocrity had its advantages.

“It took guts to turn dyslexia into a college degree.” He watched her. “You can cook, and you’re the best teacher I’ve ever seen.”

Now he was defending her?

“And it took guts to choose a career in the spotlight when you have a fear of public speaking. Perfection is an illusion. If everyone were good at everything, the world wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.” Summer reached over and patted his knee. “Tell you what, scoot over here, and I’ll teach you how to drive a stick. Then you’ll only be bad at one thing, and since you ignore that anyway, it doesn’t really count.”

He took a deep breath and moved to the middle of the bench seat and straddled the stick shift. His hard thigh rested against her flabby one. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Summer was about to inch away when she remembered he wasn’t here for her.

“You’ll be fine. You shift while I drive. That’s how I learned.” She pointed to the eight-ball-sized handle. “Do you know the ‘W’ pattern? First is here, second, and so on.”

“I’ve seen it done.” The
I’m-not-an-idiot
was implied. His hand closed around the black knob. “How do you know I won’t cause an accident?”

A blue pickup in front of her slammed on the brakes.

“I trust you.” Summer flicked on her blinker, checked over her right shoulder, and changed lanes. “Besides, Beulah’s made of steel. She can take a hit or two.” Summer eased off the gas. “Shift to second.”

Clint wobbled the gearshift and ground into second. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem. You’ll get the hang of it.” Summer nodded. “Now, third.”

This time the transition was smooth. “See? You’re a natural.”

Clint grinned sheepishly. “Thanks.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m bad with electronics, can’t figure out my computer or cell phone, and I don’t understand how to record more than two TV shows at a time on my DVR.”

“My…my…my, but the road to hell is paved with electrical gadgets.” She shook her head. “No one can figure out how to record more than two shows on their DVR, it’s impossible. NASA physicists are working on the issue right now.” When he didn’t laugh, Summer patted his knee. “Your biggest problem doesn’t have anything to do with ineptitude but the inability to ask for help. When you want to learn something new, find someone who knows the process and ask for help, like the pancakes. Calling in reinforcements isn’t a sign of weakness. Just the opposite—it’s a sign of character. Isn’t that what you do on the football field?”

“What?”

“Don’t you throw the ball to the best person to score instead of running all the way to make the goal—”

“Touchdown. It’s called a touchdown. How could you go to a Big 12 Conference school and not know about football? Especially A&M? Recently, their program hasn’t been the best, but the fans are very enthusiastic.”

Really? All he’d gotten from her little speech was that she didn’t know jack about football?

“Downshift to second. I didn’t go to the games because it was hot and you have to stand up the entire time and the bleachers rock. I’m uncoordinated. Recipe for disaster.” And she’d never had a boyfriend to take her. “Do you always deflect compliments and change the subject?”

“Are you nuts?” He turned to her. “I live for compliments. Comes with the territory. I’m shallow.”

“You wish. You’re deeper than you let on. Playing a part is easier because it’s what people expect.” They stopped for a light, and he shifted to first without being told.

Silence drummed like a heartbeat as cars crossed the street in front of them.

“Is that experience talking?” His tone was serious but quiet.

“I wish. Unfortunately, I’m not complicated enough for subterfuge—what you see is what you get.” If she could be someone else, then she’d be petite and beautiful. If she could be someone else, then her mother and Jack would have loved her. If she could be someone else, then she’d be able to look herself in the mirror and smile. But she was who she was…damn it.