Sweet Joymaker Page 11

  “Yeah, I’m trying to get ahold of Clint Walker for something. He wouldn’t happen to be with you, would he?”

  Maria straightened her spine. “Why?”

  “Mrs. Fisher said you were going out for supper.”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Can you hand him the phone? I tried calling him directly already.” His tone was amused.

  “You did? Why?”

  Levi laughed. “Mom?”

  “Fine.” She thrust her phone toward Clint. “He wants to talk to you.”

  What was going on?

  Clint frowned and glanced around. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Clint here.”

  Maria couldn’t hear Levi, only Clint’s end of things. Definitely mechanical. Not what-are-you-doing-having-supper-with-my-mom.

  Why would she even think that he’d call to meddle in her affairs? Because Levi always changed the subject whenever Clint came up in conversation. He clearly wasn’t comfortable with the idea of her dating.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, interrupting.

  Clint nodded, then looked down at the tablecloth again. “I can order the part. Yes. No, there’s time. I’ll order it tonight and it’ll be in tomorrow or the next day.” He ended the call.

  “What was that about? Is he still trying to fix that old tractor? He’s going to send good money after bad.”

  “He has a few projects on the go,” Clint acknowledged. He handed back her phone. “Supper should be here soon. I’m hungry.” He glanced around the bustling restaurant.

  “So everything is okay?” Maria confirmed, feeling as though she was still missing a piece of the puzzle.

  Clint nodded. “Just thinking through some logistics. Christmas always throws a kink in business plans. At least it’s not midweek this year.”

  “You know, if it’s for Levi, he’s fine having it done in January. There’s nothing urgent on the ranch at the moment. He’s my take-charge bossy son and sometimes he gets all worked up over nothing. Takes on other people’s problems to solve as his own.”

  Clint didn’t say anything, and she had a sudden, awful feeling that maybe he and her eldest son might never get along.

  They finished supper, then Clint gave Maria a ride home in Sonja’s borrowed car.

  “Thanks for supper,” she said, as they pulled up outside Kittim’s condo.

  “My pleasure.”

  “I’m going to paint some bags tonight. Are you going to come up and massage my shoulders?” She gave him a shy smile, feeling flirtatious and at the same time self-conscious.

  “While I’d love to see your artistic side in action again, I think I’d better order some parts so they’re in the shop for when I get home.”

  “Ignore Levi. He can be pushy.”

  Clint stared out the windshield. “I also have to get another coat on that scooter so I don’t leave Brewster hanging.”

  Maria felt disappointed. Was this how Clint felt whenever something from back home intruded with her vacation?

  Even though she knew the answer would be no, she asked, “Can you do it tomorrow?” He’d have all day before his late flight home.

  He shook his head. “You know how it is.”

  “Sometimes being an adult is no fun.” She held his hand over the console, admiring his features. He’d got a touch of sun across the bridge of his nose this week. “Hey, I’ve been hogging all your time. You didn’t even get to go boogie boarding again, did you?”

  “I’m actually rather grateful for that. Do you know how sorry I was the next day?”

  “You were sore?”

  He nodded.

  “You hid it well.”

  “Good.”

  She laughed at his sincerity. “It’s okay to be sore.”

  “Not when I keep going on about how our golden years will be our best.” He gave a remorseful pout, and she laughed again. “Me hobbling around would defeat my entire argument.”

  She cupped his chin, loving the tenderness in his expression as her skin contacted his.

  “I guess I better go up to the condo.”

  “You know, volunteers are notoriously flaky and flighty.”

  “They are?”

  “Yeah, they never do half the jobs they sign up for.”

  She leaned back in the seat, toying with the suggestion of skipping her tasks. She glanced over at him again and found his hazel eyes were sparkling. “I don’t think either of us has it in us to let our friends down tonight.”

  He chuckled and twisted his hands around the steering wheel. “You’re probably right. I guess I’d better just ravage you with kisses and send you up there to paint some beautiful beach scenes. Maybe you can paint my initials into the clouds.”

  “You give my talent much more credit than it deserves.”

  “That’s the part you focus on? I just told you I was going to ravage you with kisses.”

  “Oh, I mustn’t have heard that. You know, when you’re over the hill, first your hearing goes…”

  “Get over here, old lady.” Clint grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her closer. The first kiss missed her lips, landing on her cheek.

  She giggled, shifting in the seat so the next kiss landed exactly where she wanted it. Right on her lips.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning Maria sat in a beach chair outside the Morrison Mansion Bed and Breakfast, admiring the crashing surf. Clint joined her with a cup of coffee in each hand.

  Just one more day together. She had so much she wanted to talk about, as last night’s painting session had opened up her mind to dreams and possibilities. So many ideas. And she knew she could share them with Clint. They could build something together. They really could.

  He handed her a cup, not meeting her eyes.

  “Are you going to the big football game?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. Tomorrow morning she’d fly directly to Dallas to watch the Sweetheart Creek high school football team battle for the title of state champions for their division. Two of her sons would be coaching, and the stands of the giant stadium would be filled with friends and family. Clint planned to fly home tonight, but she wasn’t sure if he’d make the long drive to Dallas the very next day.

  “I hope to, but I have some catching up to do.” He winked at her. “Some beach babe from Texas distracted me and suddenly my quick trip turned into a mini vacation.”

  Maria grimaced. Reality would hit them hard when they returned home. Chores and jobs were no doubt stacking up while, toes in the sand, they leisurely watched the sun crawl higher in the sky.

  She shifted in her chair, hoping to shift the direction of her thoughts, too. “It is nice you could stay longer.”

  He reached across the space to squeeze her hand, his eyebrows raising.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You know you’re important to me.”

  “Yes, you’ve said that.”

  “And what’s important to you is important to me.”

  “You’ve said that, too.” She set her cup in the sand. He was worrying her. “Are you okay?”

  “Maria, I—”

  “You ready?” It was Jeff, Clint’s friend, coming up behind them, truck keys in hand.

  “Where are you going?” Maria asked Clint.

  “I have to leave.” He set his cup down in the sand beside hers.

  “I thought you were staying until tonight?” She tried to keep her voice level, but her heart betrayed her, making it wobble slightly.

  “Something came up. I’m sorry.”

  Her surprise turned to annoyance. He’d just spent days pestering her about letting go and enjoying things. He’d made her feel guilty for enjoying how the ranch and her sons dominated her everyday life. He’d encouraged her to let loose, and then had turned around and secretly rebooked his flight to an earlier time?

  What could have come up? Some broken-down cars? Couldn’t his customers wait an extra few days? Yes, it was Christmas and people wanted to go places, but the man deserved a ho
liday.

  Just like she did.

  They stood, Clint turning to her as Jeff retreated to his truck to wait.

  “So now what?” Maria asked.

  Yesterday she’d said they’d date back home, and now he was cutting his trip short. Was it because he’d gotten what he wanted?

  Things were getting good, and now he was leaving.

  It was difficult to not let that seep in and reopen old wounds.

  “I’ll see you in Sweetheart Creek?” he asked, squeezing her hand again. She pulled it back.

  “The town has less than five thousand residents. It would be difficult not to.” Her tone said it all. The hurt, the disappointment, the feeling of betrayal.

  Clint shifted closer, his brows pinched. “I’m sorry. I know this is sudden. But trust me, it’s important.” He was looking at her as if she was supposed to understand, when he hadn’t even given her details.

  But she didn’t understand. They didn’t have enough history between them to bridge this moment. All she understood was that after a wonderful few days and a promise, he was suddenly turning around and leaving.

  And she hadn’t seen it coming.

  Maria watched Clint take a few steps toward the truck. He turned back, his eyes kind and seeking. “Please tell me you’ll see me in Sweetheart Creek.”

  Unable to speak, she simply stood by the chairs and waited for him to leave.

  He closed the distance between them again, his look so earnest she had to believe him when he said, “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for, Maria.”

  And there was that out-of-control feeling she hated. He was getting serious, fast. Her chest tightened. Her heart battled her mind, and she didn’t know what to think, say or feel.

  He needed to slow down and take a deep breath. She’d agreed to go on a few dates back home to stave off boring evenings alone. She hadn’t agreed to be the one he’d been waiting for.

  She’d long ago left behind that heady hope of falling in love at the drop of a hat and believing it would all work out, and he knew that.

  “We have too many miles behind us. How can you believe in an optimistic happily ever after? Especially based on such a quick whirlwind romance, or whatever this was?”

  “Sometimes you just know.” His hands reached for hers, gripping them.

  He was so confident, so sure. But how long would that last?

  “Haven’t you ever just known?” he asked, his shaggy locks giving him a boyish vibe.

  “What I’ve known is partnership. Roy was my focus for a long time, our lives entwined. Our love waned, but we still had what was important. We were in it together until the end.” And then he’d changed his mind, fallen in love with someone new.

  “That wasn’t love, Maria. A partnership is very different from love.”

  “A partnership is what’s left after the passion fades.”

  “Maybe if you’re with the right person it stays on.”

  “My boys still need me,” she whispered, extracting her hands from his.

  “Your boys are fine. They’re finding their own loves, their own lives.”

  “They need me on the ranch. They all lost a lot of weight when I was living in town. I take care of so many details.”

  “Being with me doesn’t mean you have to give that up. What’s important to you is important to me.”

  “Quit saying that! You know the ranch is my life.”

  “There’s no room in your life for me? Is that what you’re saying?” The hope and happiness she’d seen shining in his eyes faded. “Your sons seemed okay with me being around.”

  “They think you’re wonderful, but they aren’t ready for me to move on.”

  “Were they ready for Roy to do so?”

  “It’s different. I’m their mom.”

  Clint’s frown showed he disagreed. She knew it was a weak argument, but it felt real. Men left. Women stayed, picked up the pieces and ensured the children didn’t get too emotionally bashed in the wake of family turmoil.

  “Maybe they’re ready for you to live your own life. Have you thought of that? Have you tried talking to them like they’re adults?”

  His sharp tone of impatience was like a slap.

  “I’m not using them as an excuse,” she said sullenly.

  “Then why don’t you get to have a life? Why can’t you find love?”

  “It’s not love.” Her voice wobbled.

  “What are you afraid of?” Clint asked. His tone was soothing, as though he was attempting to prevent a breakdown.

  She was strong, though. Too strong to fall apart. She was strong enough to look out for herself and make tough decisions.

  “Clint, I think you’re special. I love spending time with you, and our dates have been wonderful. You’ve brought me a lot of joy.”

  The muscles in his jaw tightened. “You’ve brought me a lot of joy, too.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea, however. I’m sorry.”

  “I love you, Maria.” His jaw tightened with determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “See? That’s just it.” A flash of anger, hot and searing, ripped through her. “Men leave, Clint. They make big promises and then they take off. You don’t love me, because you don’t know me. You think you do, but you don’t. You say what’s important to me is important to you. But you know what’s important to me right now?” She pointed to the sand beneath her feet, her anger rising like the ocean waves. “Here? Today? You and me spending time together. That’s important. And you’re leaving. You’re breaking your promise to me.”

  Clint inhaled slowly. She could see him contemplating what to say, how to talk her off this edge so he could stick to his plans.

  “It’s too fast, Clint. I’m not ready for this kind of stuff.”

  He swept his hands through his hair in frustration.

  “I’m not ready for more hurt. I’m not ready to turn my life upside down for someone else.” She crossed her arms, daring him to argue. “I told you we could see each other, but you’re already breaking promises and assuming I’ll just be here, all happy as a sideline thing.”

  “Maria…” The exasperation in his tone was new. He turned away with an exhalation, then swung back to her, his tone more patient. “Maria, you’re more than a sideline thing. Can you believe that? Could you believe for one minute that maybe I’m not leaving you?”

  “Funny, because you’re about to get on a plane. That’s called leaving. You’re going home twelve hours before you said you were.”

  “Hours, Maria. Mere hours.”

  She crossed her arms once more. He couldn’t talk her out of this. Her husband had left, her father had left. Even her son Cole had left, and was barely in contact. She couldn’t take more heartbreak. Couldn’t take more promises of love and devotion, just to have it all ripped away. She needed someone who would be there every single step. Clint had made her believe she was important, and this sure didn’t show it.

  “I thought I was worth more than some fears to you,” he said. “I guess I was wrong.”

  He began walking toward the truck, and Maria could’ve sworn he took a piece of her heart with him. A piece she hadn’t realized still existed.

  Of course her fears had played a role in things. Just as Clint’s had. He’d moved too fast. How could either of them know if this was love? He hadn’t even told her why he was leaving. And yet he expected her to trust him and understand?

  How had their lovely morning on the beach turned so foul so quickly?

  Maria emptied their coffee cups and set them on the steps leading up to the bed-and-breakfast. She walked back to Kit’s condo, lost in her thoughts like she’d gotten lost in painting the gala’s canvas bags last night, her hopes and dreams for the future building with each brushstroke. In all her thoughts Clint had played a starring role. Ideas had come to her on how she could give her sons more space, leave herself more time to enjoy the finer side of life with Clint and friends. Hobbies, travel possibil
ities and more. She’d been ready to live life to the fullest.

  And now this.

  How could he just leave?

  What was so vital back home?

  He kept saying that what was important to her was important to him.

  Her sons and the ranch were important, but he wouldn’t be going back for that. There was nothing for him other than to fix the stupid tractor. And that wasn’t at all urgent. Him spending time here, with her… That was important.

  He made no sense.

  At least with Roy she’d understood why he’d left.

  And saying he loved her? Had Clint not been listening to her all week? She needed to go slow. She’d agreed to one thing, and when she’d turned around he was practically on bended knee, proposing.

  She stormed into Kit’s apartment and kicked off her shoes. She stopped in front of the table in the kitchen nook, her eyes catching on the canvas bags.

  She picked one up and studied it critically. Maria wanted to crumple it in her hands, throw it in the corner and stomp on it. Instead, she inspected it while sinking into a chair.

  The painting wasn’t half-bad. Not the most original art, but nice. With good detail.

  Nonthreatening.

  She’d never be an artist, but as a hobby, painting was a fine one.

  She stacked the dried bags and wondered if Clint had finished the scooter. It was so unlike him to up and leave. Or maybe she didn’t truly know him.

  She sorted the paintbrushes and supplies. In one of her dreams last night, she’d imagined herself all decked out for the gala. Clint had been wearing a tuxedo, and she’d been so happy. In her dream, the night had been unlike anything from her real life. She’d chatted with the movie star Eric Slade, listened to Ariana Carol’s beautiful singing, and hung out with the town’s mayor, Amanda Strickland, and many others.

  Moving to Kit’s guest room, Maria began packing up the things she wouldn’t need before tomorrow morning’s flight to Dallas. Instead of living her grand fantasy, she was flying home to support her boys and their football team.

  She wouldn’t give up her family for anything, but she still felt a strange sense of loss for what might have been if the timing had been better with the gala and Clint.