She tilted her head, willing her mouth to form words. “That’s one of the problems, and I’m beginning to sense it’s not going to happen.”
Clint grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. His midnight-blue eyes searched hers, and the dam broke. Tears slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He glanced behind him and drew her to his chest.
That was all she needed. Sobs broke loose as her tears wet his polo shirt. She sniffed, trying to force back the ache rending her body. Foolish. That’s how she felt. She’d lost control, and her disappointment had knotted into a wad of sickening self-pity. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m being ridiculous.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“But I’m not a crier. Tears and I are strangers—were strangers—and I want it like that again.”
“Really.” He looked at her with question. “Why?”
“Tears are weak, and that’s something I’m not.” Though she said it, the words felt like a lie. Somehow she’d weakened and had turned into a pile of mush. No one liked mush, especially her.
“Even men cry, Paula.”
The sincere look in his eyes gave her a start. She studied him, confused. Who was this man? Strong, confident and yet tender. The vision tripped in her mind.
Clint glanced toward the garage and then motioned toward the house door. “Can we go inside?”
She sensed he wanted privacy, and Uncle Fred didn’t always know when to vanish. She led the way to the side door. They entered the kitchen, and she pulled two glasses from the cabinet. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Hold on a minute, okay?” He motioned toward the backyard. “I want to see if they’re finished. The more I think of it, I’d rather we go for a ride and talk without interruption.”
She knew what he meant.
He turned and hurried down the landing to the side door without giving her a chance to respond. But maybe that was good. Saying it wasn’t necessary would have been dishonest. Being with Clint would be the best experience she’d had all day.
She returned one glass to the shelf, turned on the tap and filled the other. Her mouth felt dry, and she gulped the cool water, wishing away the depressing feelings that had overtaken her.
Though Clint’s offer had met her need, she didn’t want their first conversation since Ashley’s party to be like this, but she needed to dump her worries somewhere rather than lug them with her, and Clint had volunteered. A true rescuer of many kinds.
As she set the glass in the sink, Clint returned and stood on the landing. “I hope it’s okay for you to leave.” He studied her a moment. “Will you go with me? You’re guaranteed no interruptions.”
Her usual resistance had disappeared for once. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and followed him outside.
“By the way, I told Devon and your uncle we were going out for a while. I didn’t explain.”
“Thanks.” She felt protected with Clint. He had a way of making her feel safe.
He motioned her to go ahead and steered her toward his Jeep across the street. There, he held open the door as she alighted, and then he slipped into the driver’s seat. “What about a park? The weather’s great, and it won’t be like this for long. We can pick up a sandwich and drink....” His eyes caught hers. “Or will that mess up dinner? I’m guessing you do the cooking for your uncle.”
“True, but he has plans tonight at the seniors’ center. He has a lady friend.” She pictured her uncle’s boyish charm when he talked about Alice. “She’s from the church.”
Clint pulled away from the curb as he chuckled. “You can’t find a better place to meet someone.”
She shriveled into the seat, and though she knew he didn’t mean to make her feel ashamed, he had. Being a believer was important to him. Fleeting images skipped through her mind, pictures of her and Clint walking into church...maybe with children, but those images weren’t her, and she sensed he was letting her know that if she had ideas about a relationship, she’d better forget them.
He turned onto Hilton Road and pulled into a parking spot to pick up a sub sandwich. When he stepped out, he leaned back inside. “Want to come in and see what they have?”
His church reference had saddened her. Though he didn’t mean it to, she suspected he was right. For a Christian, where better to find friends? She shook her head. “No. Surprise me?”
Arching an eyebrow, he shrugged and closed the door.
If she’d gone inside, she may have been able to dismiss his comment. It wasn’t necessarily a warning. He knew she hadn’t grown up in a faith-filled family. As yet he hadn’t rejected their friendship.
When he exited the sub shop door, he swung the bag and dangled it in the air, a silly grin on his face, and for a moment it caused her to smile. Clint could do that for her.
He slipped into the car and handed her the sack. “Now to Harding Park. It’s close.”
They rode in silence, her mind on him and her problems, and his mind...? She couldn’t even guess.
“Wouldn’t you know.” He motioned toward the park as they approached.
“What’s wrong?”
“Who would think. It’s busy today.” He pointed ahead as they turned the corner.
She spotted the problem. The few picnic tables appeared filled, and some people were playing with toddlers at the nearby swings.
“They’re enjoying the last days of summer.” He waved his hand again in another direction. “Soccer game going on, too. So much for being alone.”
She eyed the food bag he’d handed her. “We could eat in the car.”
“I have a better idea, and it’s close.” He followed the street around a bend and turned at the next corner onto Inman Street. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Before she could figure out what he meant, he pulled into a driveway.
He shifted into Park and turned off the engine. “My house. It’s quiet and I have an umbrella table in the back if you prefer.”
She studied the two-story yellow-sided house with white trim. A castlelike turret jutted from one side, and the porch reflected more old-world charm, with four columns supporting the roof. The architecture was enchanting and different from any home she’d noticed in the area. Intrigued by the look of the house, she pictured Clint inside.
Maybe he had an old-world charm, too. Each time they met, she noted his staunch values and ways. Old-fashioned manners of opening doors and holding chairs, niceties that had been lost by most of the men she’d known. “It’s really pretty, Clint.” She admired the well-kept yard and the turret—it made her feel like a queen.
He jumped out, came around to her side and opened the passenger door. “Thanks.” He motioned toward the side of the house. “Let’s go in back.”
Though disappointed not to see the inside, she walked beside him. When she rounded the corner, a flagstone patio extended from what might be a kitchen door. A table and four chairs in deep green and a matching umbrella took most of the space. Farther left, he had two outdoor recliners sitting in the sun with a small table between them.
She settled onto a chair, and he used a napkin from the bag to brush off the tabletop that already looked clean.
“I hope you like turkey and ham with cheese.” He slid a wrapped sandwich in front of her.
“It sounds good. Perfect.” She folded back the paper as he set a napkin next to the wrapper. Her stomach rolled a low growl. “I didn’t realize how hungry I am.”
“And