Perfect Summer (37 page)

“I don’t understand.” Summer studied him. What was with the roses? What was she missing?

“This is your grandmother’s rosebush. The one your grandfather gave her right before he died. I wanted to find out what kind it was so that I could get you another one.” Clint handed her the last piece of paper.

Summer’s mouth fell open. Not only had he remembered her grandparents’ story, but he’d gone way far out of his way to restore something that she treasured. It was the one thing that she truly wanted for herself—her grandmother’s rosebush. And he’d known that because he got her…understood her for who she was and loved her anyway. Summer took a deep breath, opened the window of her heart, stepped out onto the ledge of possible disappointment, and jumped over the edge. She crumpled up the paper. “I don’t need to see what it says. I—”

“Are you sure? Because it’s kind of cool, if I do say so myself.” He plucked the paper out of her hand and uncrumpled it. “Not to brag, but I just might be the best boyfriend ever.”

“Really? Is it poetry? Because Jonathan Redding wrote me a poem in the fifth grade. I believe it went:
I’d kiss the ground you walk on, but you’d probably step on my lips.
That’s pretty hard to top.” She took the wrinkled paper from Clint and glanced down.

Mr. Grayson,

I love the name. Perfect Summer it is. I’ll let you know as soon as I know if the cuttings root.

Perfect Summer. That’s a wonderful name for a rose.

Jan

“Since I get to name the rosebush, I chose Perfect Summer.” Clint touched her face. “If you need poetry, I’m sure that I can come up with something. Christ, I’d hate to be outdone by a fifth grader. Here goes. There once was a girl named Summer, who drove a truck the size of a Hummer—”

She cut him off with a kiss. “I love you, and I want happily ever after. I deserve it…. We deserve it.”

“You’re damn right we do.” Clint shot her his most charming smile. “Those cuttings will root, you will have a rose named for you, and I’m going to plant the first one right next to your front door.”

He wanted to live in her tiny little house? “So—”

“Marry me.” He cupped her face and traced her cheekbones with his thumbs. “I don’t have a ring, or a plan, or a speech. I didn’t strategize or make flash cards so I would remember the talking points. I don’t care about World Wide or football or fame or money. It’s just me asking you for a lifetime.”

Summer couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Yes, of course yes. You had me at pasta.”

Clint visibly relaxed. “Just my luck, I fell in love with a romantic.”

“The promise of carbohydrates makes me deeply emotional.” She kissed him again. “Perfect Summer, yes, I am.”

• Title page
  
• CHAPTER 1
  
• CHAPTER 2
  
• CHAPTER 3
  
• CHAPTER 4
  
• CHAPTER 5
  
• CHAPTER 6
  
• CHAPTER 7
  
• CHAPTER 8
  
• CHAPTER 9
  
• CHAPTER 10
  
• CHAPTER 11
  
• CHAPTER 12
  
• CHAPTER 13
  
• CHAPTER 14
  
• CHAPTER 15
  
• CHAPTER 16
  
• CHAPTER 17
  
• CHAPTER 18
  
• CHAPTER 19
  
• CHAPTER 20
  
• CHAPTER 21
  
• CHAPTER 22
  
• CHAPTER 23
  
• CHAPTER 24
  
• CHAPTER 25
  
• CHAPTER 26
  
• CHAPTER 27
  
• CHAPTER 28
  
• CHAPTER 29
  
• CHAPTER 30
  
• CHAPTER 31
  
• CHAPTER 32
  
• CHAPTER 33
  
• CHAPTER 34