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

“Let’s get you home.”

“I’ll pay for whatever it costs to clean your seats.”

He shook his head. “They’re leather. I’ll just wipe them down with a damp rag. They’ll be fine. You, however, might need to be hosed off.” He said it with a grin to show he was joking.

“Thanks for being so understanding,” she said, as he gathered up the rest of the trash and got out of the car once more to throw it all away.

Understanding? Hell, he was barely holding it together. He put the car in Drive and followed her directions to her house. “Come on in while I change. We can talk about Chelsea over coffee, if that’s okay?”

“Sounds good.”

No, it didn’t. It sounded idiotic. Impulsive. And he should leave. Now. But something drove him to open his car door and follow her up the steps to her house.

It’s just coffee. She hasn’t propositioned you. You’re her daughter’s doctor, for God’s sake.

He was the one who’d called to arrange this meeting in the first place.

Which meant he should have asked her to come to his office, not a fast-food joint.

But surely Jessi had patients who were acquaintances or the children of acquaintances during her years of working in the ER. And it would make sense that she might meet them in the hospital cafeteria or a coffee joint to catch up later. It was kind of hard to work in a town where you grew up—no matter how large—and never expect to run into anyone you knew.

Only Jessi was more than an acquaintance.

And what they’d had was more than a quick hello and goodbye.

That was years ago. They’d spent a little over an hour down by a creek, hopped up on hormones and the thrill of graduating from high school. And she’d been distraught by her father’s unbending rules.

It was in the past. All of it.

And that kiss beside his car at her mother’s house a week ago?

Fueled by memories of that shared past. It wouldn’t happen again. Not if he could help it.

She unlocked the door, glancing behind her as if to make sure he was still coming. “I’ll get you that rag if you want to wipe the seat down while I change. I’ll leave the front door open.”

“Sounds good.” And if he were smart, he’d leave the rag just outside the door afterwards and take off in his car before she could come back out of her bedroom.

And that would be just as unprofessional as kissing her had been.

At least that was his mental excuse, because after wiping up the few drops of milk shake from his seat he found himself back inside her house, calling up the stairs to her and asking her what she wanted him to do with the rag.

“Just put it in the sink and have a seat in the living room. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Instead of doing as she asked, he rinsed out the rag and hung it over a towel bar he found in her utility room. Then he spotted the coffee machine on one of the counters and a huge glass jar filled with those single-serving coffee filters that seemed to be all the rage nowadays. He had one of the machines at home himself. The least he could do was make the coffee while he waited. He’d just found the mugs when Jessi came traipsing back into the kitchen, this time dressed in a white floral sundress similar to the one she’d worn during dinner at her mom’s, her feet bare, hair damp as if she’d showered.

He tensed, before forcing himself to relax again.

Of course she’d had to rinse off. She’d had a sticky drink spilled in her lap. It meant nothing.

“Sorry, Clint. I didn’t intend you to get the coffee ready, too.”

“No problem. I just thought I’d save you a step.” He realized something. “Where’s Cooper?”

“At Mom’s. He’s a communal pet, remember? I get him tomorrow.”

“Ah, right.”

She reached in a cabinet. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Just sugar.”

She set a crystal bowl down and then went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a container of milk. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

They worked in silence until the coffee was done and they’d moved into Jessi’s living room, which was furnished with a huge sectional and a center ottoman. Pictures lined the fireplace mantel and as he took a sip of his coffee he wandered over to them. There were several snapshots of Chelsea doing various activities and one of a more formal military pose. She was soft and natural in every photo except the last one, since official portraits were supposed to be done sans smile. But even in that one there was a spark of humor lighting her eyes that the woman back at the VA hospital lacked.

There was one picture of Jessi and Larry in their wedding attire. Both of them looked so young. Larry would be forever ageless, never having had a chance to really grow up and become a man.

He might still be alive if someone hadn’t …

Her earlier words came back to mind. If he were still alive, Clint would probably not be standing here in her living room right now.

He probably shouldn’t be, regardless.

And the sight of the two of them smiling up at each other sent something kicking at his innards. A slight jabbing sensation that could have been jealousy but that made no sense. He’d been the one who’d left. What had he expected Jessi to do? Dump Larry and wait for him to come back for her?

He hadn’t. He’d never set foot in Virginia again until now. And if he’d known who Chelsea was before he’d agreed to come, he doubted very seriously he would be standing here now.

“Clint?”

Her voice reminded him that he was still staring at the picture. “Sorry. Just seeing how Chelsea was before she deployed.” He turned and sat on the shorter leg of the sofa perpendicular to her. “She smiled a