Sweet Joymaker (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #3) - Jean Oram Page 0,14

happy,” Clint remarked, biting into one of the apples he’d packed.

“I am.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He looked like he wanted to brush back her hair when the wind whipped it across her cheek. He refrained, and she wasn’t sure if she felt disappointment or a heightened anticipation of when he might reach out again, as he had when taking her hand.

They snacked in silence, Maria impressed and satisfied with his selection of food, from dark chocolate, chunks of specialty cheese, apples and nuts. It wasn’t what she’d expected, and it thrilled her to eat something more than a practical but uninspired sandwich.

“The scooter ran well. Looks like I can paint it,” Clint said.

“And replace the seat cushions.”

He laughed. “And that.”

Then it would be done, and he would have no reason to extend his stay. There’d be no unexpected moments to look forward to. Indigo Bay suddenly seemed a lot less exciting without the prospect of him being around.

“I’m free for dinner tomorrow. Want to go out somewhere with me before my flight? It would be an early supper, since I’ll be leaving Charleston at nine.”

“Like on a date?” Maria asked.

“If you’d like it to be.”

She considered that idea for a second, before retorting quickly, “Would you?”

“I believe you know my intentions, Maria.” His hand settled over hers.

Oh, there it was. He wasn’t going to allow this to remain light and fun. He wanted something big and real.

“I’ve been admiring you for many years,” Clint said, his fingers tracing hers.

“We hardly know each other.” She took her hand away to busy herself with packing up the last of their lunch.

“I know plenty about you.” When she gave him a look of disbelief, he continued, “I know you’re patient and kind. You care about your community and friends. You’re the glue that holds your family together, and you always put family first.”

She nodded in agreement. That was what a dutiful ranching wife did. Farm and family first. His words could have described nearly every hardworking ranching woman in Texas.

She waved her hand. “Everyone knows that.”

“Something more personal then?”

She dared him to cross the line, breathlessly waiting to hear what he would offer.

He hesitated, and she feared he couldn’t think of something special and uniquely her. Had he stopped to think and realized that her entire existence could be filled by anyone?

With one arm along the back of the bench, Clint hitched himself closer. He pushed a piece of hair off her face, securing it behind her ear, then kept his hand there, cupping her cheek. His voice was low, his body blocking them off from the world. Now it was just the two of them, nobody else.

“I know that when you’re feeling like your whole world is being rocked by a tsunami, you grow quiet. That’s when you show your greatest strengths. That’s when you step in and make things better for everyone else.”

Oh, how she hoped he’d kiss her. Right here. Right now. Forget tomorrow or even five minutes from now. She wanted that kiss. She wanted to be recognized and held and cherished by this man who was bringing tears to her eyes.

He continued to lock her in his gaze, as solid and sure as the scooter that had brought them here. A swell of emotion caused her to blink and look out at the ocean, willing the wind to dry her eyes. Clint had dropped his hand, and he shifted to sit closer, hip to hip, his right arm still along the back of the bench behind her.

“I know you’re used to being independent and alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she whispered, thinking of her boys. Their lives, their adventures, their projects, and now girlfriends for some of them.

“You’re not used to having a man in your business.”

“I was married for almost forty years,” she said, her voice shaking.

“As much as I like Roy, I don’t think he did good by you.”

Maria bristled. If Clint thought slighting Roy was the way to win her over, he was mistaken. She stood abruptly, wondering if she could figure out how to hail one of those ride shares back to town from here.

“You’re not used to being noticed. Only when you’re missing, when something isn’t done.”

“I’m appreciated,” she said stiffly.

“I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t speak ill of my family and their intentions.”

“I don’t mean to, and I’m sorry if I’m coming off that way. You and Roy built an amazing family and raised five intelligent, hard-working boys who are great additions to our community. Not to