Sweet Joymaker (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #3) - Jean Oram Page 0,10
door. She kissed him goodbye and he drove back to work.
“Especially after our Texan artist dolls it up,” Clint said, winking at Maria.
“I’m glad I’ll be gone by the time the gala rolls around,” she stated. “Then you’ll have to deal with the fallout for it not being painted with a unique design.” She patted his arm.
“Right, the boys’ team has their state championship game on Friday. You’re heading straight from here to Dallas?”
Maria nodded. “When do you head back?”
“Tuesday.”
“Next week?” she asked.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” She’d assumed he would stay longer than two days.
“It’s a tough time of year to ditch my responsibilities at the shop.”
She looked at the scooter. It still obviously needed a lot of work, which meant she might not see as much of Clint as she’d feared. Now that the option was off the table, she felt disappointed.
“I know. Gearing up for Christmas is a lot of work.” She still had some shopping to do and she hadn’t even started her baking.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “You need this time.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
“It’s true.”
She focused on their earlier topic, not quite ready to discuss her need for away time. “So we’re both reneging on your promise to make this scooter cute?”
“Not at all. You’re an artist, right?” He started up the engine, then listened to it for a second.
“No.”
He gave her a steady look and she frowned. She used to paint landscapes as a private hobby, but that was before having the boys. Which made it a lifetime ago. She likely didn’t recall how to mix colors, and she’d definitely never painted a vehicle.
“I don’t paint any longer.”
“Ha! I knew it. You are an artist. I could sense it.”
Maria rolled her eyes.
Clint pulled a screwdriver out of the toolbox in the grass and adjusted something on the machine, then revved it up a few more times before turning it off. Satisfied, he put the screwdriver back in the box. “Seriously, Maria. Will you help with the scooter?”
She shook her head.
“We can’t leave Sonja and Jeff to the wolves. Well, wolf.”
“You made the promise.”
“Fine. So just help with the painting. You and I can put a few coats on this puppy.” He tapped the machine’s handlebars. “We don’t have to paint any art on it. Just get it blue.”
“I thought this was his project.” She gestured toward the departing truck.
“I saw how busy he is with last-minute Christmas orders. Jeff says he’ll do it, but I’m the one who convinced him. He’ll either get to it around March when things slow down again, or else lose out on a paying job by working on it now.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“I know.” Clint gave her a look that was best classified as puppy-dog eyes. “But I can’t do it alone.”
Great. She had no plans other than to help Kit with the odd fundraiser task, and now guilt would wrack her if she didn’t step in and help Clint, too.
“I know nothing about painting a scooter.”
“Just choose the right blue. I might get it wrong and then it won’t win cutest scooter. Please?”
“Fine. I’ll pick the color.” That was easy and would take about five minutes, and might appease her sense of guilt. “But remember—not my project and not my responsibility.”
He nodded solemnly and handed her a helmet.
“What’s this for?”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
Maria gave the machine a dubious look. The pair of them on a scooter? The thing was barely big enough for one adult, let alone two. She’d have to cuddle so close she’d be like a second skin.
“We’ll look like a circus act with both of us on that together.”
“Are you calling me a clown?”
“Does the nose fit?”
“No, but the shoes do.” He winked again and laughed.
“I used to be hesitant about motorcycles, too,” Sonja said, walking by with a box labeled Fairy Lights that had been sitting outside a nearby shed. “But I found a driver I trust, and now I love going for a spin down the highway. You’d enjoy it.”
“I don’t think so.” She was too big, and too old to do something so frivolously silly. “We’re not a couple of teenagers.”
“Why let them have all the fun?” Clint shot her a grin full of trouble and youth.
She was starting to worry about him. His lust for life seemed focused around forgetting his age, and they were approaching sixty. They didn’t have time to deal with road rash, jellyfish stings or pulled muscles.
“I love that you have such a love for life,” Maria said