Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

He frowned, surprised by the information. But people sometimes hid their problems well. “Does she know about the suicide attempt?”

“Yes. But she wasn’t there when it happened. She only knew … afterwards.”

He touched her hand. “You sure you want me to come?”

“I’m not sure of anything right now. But Mom is right. Chelsea is her granddaughter. One she hasn’t seen in over two months. It’s time to start letting her know what’s going on. I—I just want to feed her the information in bits she can process. She’s been through a lot in the past five years.”

Since her husband’s death.

“I understand.” He withdrew his hand and sat up straighter. “I’ll let you answer specific questions, and I can fill in any of the medical gaps. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. Thanks so much, Clint.”

Well, at least she hadn’t thrown his card away. Then again, she hadn’t kept it in her wallet either. “If you’re done, I’ll take you back to the house. I’m pretty sure you don’t want us arriving in the same car.”

She handed him her plate and waited until he’d thrown them both in a nearby trash receptacle to answer.

“Probably not a good idea.” She smiled and stood to her feet. As they made their way back to the parking area, Clint had one thought. He hoped tonight went a whole lot better than his day had.

Jessi’s plans for a relaxing evening at home looked like they were shot to hell. Between helping her mom set the table and dragging her makeup bag from her purse to touch up the dark circles under her eyes, she was getting more and more antsy. It was one thing to spend a few relaxing hours at the fair. It was another thing entirely to eat a meal with him while her mother grilled them about Chelsea’s condition, which of course she would.

She’d just put the last swipe of mascara on her lashes when the doorbell rang and Cooper started up with the baying his breed was famous for. She froze, the makeup wand still in her right hand. Sucking down a breath, she quickly shoved it back in the tube, blinked at herself in the bathroom mirror and headed to get the door.

By the time she got halfway down the stairs she saw her mother had beaten her to it, apron wrapped around her waist. The door opened, and Cooper bumbled forward to greet the newcomer.

As Clint bent to pet the dog, Jessi couldn’t help but stare. He’d evidently showered as well, because his hair was still damp. Dressed in a red polo shirt that hugged his shoulders and snug black jeans that hugged other—more dangerous—parts, he looked better than any funnel cake she’d ever had. He straightened and went over to kiss her mother’s cheek, while Cooper continued to snuffle and groan at his ankles.

His eyes came up. Met hers across the room.

A sting of awareness rippled through her as his gaze slid over her white peasant shirt and dark-wash jeans before coming back up to her face. One side of his mouth pulled up into something that might have been a smile. Then again, it could have just as easily been classified as a modified grimace. Either way, the action caused that crease in his cheek to deepen and her heart rate to shoot through the roof.

Sexy man. Sexy smile. Stupid girl.

Hurrying the rest of the way down the stairs, she grabbed Cooper’s collar and tugged him back into the house, while greeting Clint with as much nonchalance as she could muster under the circumstances. “Glad you could make it.”

Not that there’d been much choice on either of their parts. Her mom had made sure of that. And right now the woman was the perfect hostess, ushering Clint in and offering him a drink, which he declined. That surprised her. He’d been such a rebel in high school that everyone had assumed that he’d played it loose and easy with alcohol, although she’d never actually seen him touch the stuff.

Her mom glanced at her in question, but Jessi shook her head. She needed all her wits about her if this evening was going to go according to plan. If she could help it, they were going to avoid talking about Chelsea as much as possible, and when her mom pressed for information, she would be honest but gloss over some of the more depressing aspects of her granddaughter’s present situation. Like the fact that she either didn’t want to talk about what had precipitated her suicide attempt, or she had simply blocked out that portion of her life. Who knew which it was? And it wasn’t like Clint had had much time to get to the bottom of things. He’d been her doctor for, what … a little under a week?

“You look lovely,” Clint said to her once her mom had gone to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on their meal. Cooper, obviously hoping for a few dropped morsels, puttered along behind her.

“Thank you.” She bit her lip. “I’m really, really sorry you got caught in the middle of this.”

“It’s fine. I haven’t had a homemade meal in …” He paused. “Well, it’s been a while.”

A while since someone had cooked for him? Jessi found that hard to believe. A man like Clint wouldn’t have any trouble finding dates. He was even better looking now than he’d been in high school, although she never would have believed that possible. Gangly and rebellious as a teenager, he had filled out, not only physically—which was impressive enough—but he now had a maturity about him that had been lacking all those years ago. Oh, he’d made all the girls, including her, nervous wrecks back then. But as a man—well, she’d be hard pressed to say he wasn’t breathtaking in a totally masculine way. From the self-assured smile to the confidence he exuded, he gave her more than a glimmer of hope that this was a man