“My life is a disaster,” Clint said the second Rafe opened the door of his veterinary clinic. “I can’t believe what’s happened.”
And he couldn’t. This morning, everything had been perfect. A night of love, a huge breakfast to stoke their energies for more love—and then Daisy had shown him the newspaper article. He could tell she hadn’t wanted to. She’d been anxious, as if she already knew what his reaction to it would be.
But she hadn’t wanted him to hear about it from anybody else, hadn’t wanted him to be surprised by a comment from one of the folks in town. He appreciated that, because the article had upset him enough to trigger a hasty retreat—the last thing he’d wanted to do just a few minutes earlier.
He’d driven around for an hour before being drawn like a homing pigeon to Rafe’s house. Not to his house, exactly, but to the front stoop of his clinic, which opened into the house. Clint realized gloomily that he’d even parked down the street instead of in the drive, like a cagey thief. He knew Rafe checked on things at the clinic, even on Sundays, and Clint was on the front stoop waiting for him. As soon as he saw the light go on in the clinic, he hammered on the door.
“How long have you been sitting here?” Rafe asked as he let Clint in.
“An hour. Maybe two.” Clint followed him to his office. “I needed some time to think.”
“Two hours?” Rafe shook his head. “What were you thinking about? And why didn’t you just come into the house? We’ve been back from church for hours.”
“I told you. I needed to think.” Clint flopped into the chair facing Rafe’s desk. “My life is ruined.”
Rafe sat in his desk chair gazing at him with the patient look on his face that both of his friends knew so well. Rafe was the practical one, which was why Clint needed to talk to him. If anyone could figure out a solution to this mess, it would be Rafe. He loved Jake, but he’d just laugh.
“So?” Clint prompted when Rafe didn’t offer any advice.
“You haven’t told me what’s wrong,” Rafe pointed out.
Yeah. Right. He hadn’t. Clint tossed the Life section of the paper on Rafe’s desk. “That’s what’s wrong. I’ve had two calls already this morning from agents who want to ‘represent my work’ and another newspaper has called for an interview. And this is Sunday. Imagine Monday.”
“I bet it’s not that bad,” Rafe said as he picked up the paper and started to read.
Not that bad? It was awful. When Daisy had shown him the paper, Clint had realized that everything he had worked so hard for all these years might be lost. Although he’d moved to Texas as an adult, someone from his past might recognize him. And if they did, they might call the newspaper themselves to give them the scoop. Having a criminal record, even as a juvenile, wouldn’t win him any friends in this town.
But that hadn’t been his first fear. What had worried him most was what Daisy would think if she learned that he’d been arrested for shoplifting, housebreaking, you name it, as a kid, just trying to support himself after his mother abandoned him.
Would she hate him for lying to her? For lying to everyone in town?
So he’d panicked when he read the article and had done what he’d assured her he wouldn’t do anymore—he ran. Now he was worried that she thought he was a jerk to desert her after spending the night with her.
He ran his hands through his hair. “See? It is bad.”
Rafe raised one hand and continued to read. “I haven’t finished the article yet.”
“Read faster.” Clint stood and paced the small office. Finally, Rafe lowered the paper and shrugged.
“It’s all good, Clint. Everything in the article is positive.”
“But what if somebody recognizes me from the pictures?”
“I doubt that anyone will. The pictures aren’t that great, especially the ones of you.”
Clint peered at the photos. The ones of his paintings were very clear, but Rafe was right. The few shots of him weren’t very good.
“But they still look like me,” he moaned.
Rafe shrugged. “If it happens, it happens. We were kids, Clint. We got some bad breaks, made some mistakes, ended up in juvie where we paid for them, and now it’s over. I thought my life would fall apart when Lilah learned the truth, but it didn’t. Jake thought Abbie would leave him once she learned about his background, but she didn’t. Both women understood. Just like Daisy will.”
Clint shook his head. “You’re wrong about Daisy. It’s not like that between us.”
Rafe chuckled. “Tell that to someone who might believe it. There’s obviously something between the two of you. Everyone in town can see it.”
“That’s not true.” But Clint wondered if it was. When would the townspeople have seen them together? He’d walked to Daisy’s apartment from the grocery store parking lot last night. His Sunday go-to-meetin’ clothes should have been an adequate disguise, especially with the sunglasses. Marjorie Latham had seen them the other day when she brought those blasted reporters, but other than that...of course, in Falling Star, that was enough. Marjorie wouldn’t need to gossip. Just the question, “Do you know if Daisy and Clint are seeing each other or just working together?” would get the gossip going.
“Where is Daisy now?” Rafe asked. “You should talk it over with her.”
“Why?” Clint shook his head. “I’m the one who has to figure out what to do.”
“No, what you need to do is talk to Daisy.”
At Rafe’s sharp tone, Clint looked at him. “I don’t—”
“Look at the way you’re dressed. You went to her apartment for dinner last night and you’re wearing the same clothes this morning. I can put two and two together, Clint. You need to find Daisy, tell her you’re sorry you ditched her, and explain that you were rattled by the article. But now you’re fine, and you want to spend the rest of the day with her. Daisy deserves better.”
Clint opened his mouth and then slammed it shut when he realized his friend was right. Daisy did deserve better.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Clint headed toward the door. “And for the record, this talk didn’t help me one bit.”
Rafe laughed. “I never said it would.”
Daisy had been as low-key as possible when she showed Clint the article, but he’d turned on his heel and fled. He’d overreacted, of course, but publicity was the sort of thing Clint would overreact to.
The way he’d stared at her, then simply stalked out showed that he blamed her for the article. Maybe she deserved the blame.
Feeling glum, she decided to bake an old-fashioned coconut cake and was in the middle of frosting it when there was a knock on the front door. She had no idea who it was, but she couldn’t help wishing Clint would come back and tell her he really wasn’t sorry he’d ever met her.
When she opened the front door, there he was, looking tired, contrite, and oh so sexy.
“I’m sorry. I kind of freaked out when I saw that article,” he said. “I’m not used to this sort of attention.”
Daisy’s heart broke for him. She waved him inside and then wrapped her arms around him. “It’s okay. I feel responsible for the article, and I know it wasn’t what we’d agreed on. I’m so sorry they did that to you. But it’s not a bad thing, Clint. Your paintings are wonderful. It’s good that you’re getting the recognition you deserve.”
Clint hugged her for a moment, then stepped back. “That’s the thing, Daisy. I don’t want to be recognized. I like my simple, quiet life. I don’t want people talking about me and looking at my paintings. I want to be left alone.”
For a people person like Daisy who had spent her life surrounded by politicians, wanting to be alone was a foreign concept. But she could see how upset Clint was, so she said, “Then that’s what we’ll try to do. I’ll run interference and see if we can get the whole situation to calm down.”
“How, Daisy? Agents are calling me. Other papers are calling.”
“And tomorrow morning this article will line the bottoms of bird cages,” Daisy pointed out. “It will blow over. People will forget. Sure, it may help attract some visitors to the festival, but once that’s over, everyone will go back to leaving you alone.”
Clint blew out a breath and stared at his shoes. She knew he was trying to decide what to do. She was also half afraid he was considering telling her he wouldn’t be part of the festival. That would be a tragedy. It certainly wouldn’t be good for the town because she knew Clint’s paintings were going to be a big draw.
But it also wouldn’t be good for Clint. As much as he talked about wanting to be alone, he didn’t really mean it. He wanted his friends and their families in his life. He also wanted Joe, Martha, and Tim surrounding him. She couldn’t help hoping he might also want her in his life.
“Give it time,” she said. “Let’s see what happens. I bet you’ll be surprised at how quickly people forget all about you. Before you know it, they’ll be scratching their heads and saying, ‘Clint who?’”
“I hope so.” He gave her a long, considering look. Then he smiled a little, just a small smile that made her heartbeat do a tiny skip. “Well, maybe I don’t want everybody to forget about me.”
Relief seeped through Daisy. She moved into a position directly in front of him. “My, my, Mr. Bolton, are you flirting with me?”
“Why yes, Ms. Banks, I believe I am. Is it working?”
Daisy stood on her tiptoes and brushed his lips lightly with her own. “Hmm. Oh, yeah. Beautifully.”
Clint was pleased to discover that Daisy had been right. For the most part, his life settled down over the next week. He and Daisy spent their days finalizing the documentation for the audit. He had a few phone calls from pesky agents and other newspapers, but he turned them all down.
What didn’t change was the way he felt about Daisy. The more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her. But he had responsibilities and so did she, so after their glorious weekend, they had to be content with kisses and caresses in his office. As soon as the weekend rolled around again, making love with her was all he could think about.
“Do you think Martha and Joe suspect anything?” Daisy asked the next Sunday morning as they were curled up on her sofa reading the paper.
Last night he’d arrived intending to cook dinner for her, but it hadn’t happened. He’d barely made it through the door when he took a good look at her, dropped his grocery bags on the floor, and raced her to the bedroom. Dinner was a frozen pizza they baked and took back to bed. He’d never had a better meal.
“Probably. They aren’t blind. They know when I don’t come home. Martha keeps giving me sappy smiles, so I think she’s figured out what’s going on.”
She glanced at him over the top of the Local News section. “Does that bother you?”
A few weeks ago, it would have. He’d have been enraged at the thought of anybody nosing around in his business, even Martha. But these days, he didn’t seem to get upset as often. He wondered what had mellowed him out.
But he really didn’t have to wonder. The reason was sitting right in front of him, irresistible in a pair of silky, leopard-print pajamas, which she wore with fuzzy slippers shaped like floppy-eared rabbits, making the foot part of her silly, in dramatic contrast to the rest of her.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me much.”
“Good. Because I like our Saturday night routine,” she said.
He gazed at her. Did two Saturday nights spent together make a routine? He hoped so.
“I like our routine, too,” he said.
Daisy rewarded him with a smile. “I’m glad.” Her smile shone on him. “Thank goodness I had that pizza in the freezer. What would you like me to have in the freezer next Saturday night?”
“Anything, as long as it isn’t you.”
She snickered, then for a few minutes they read in silence, which was broken by the ringing of her cell phone.
“Mom! Hi!” Daisy straightened up on the sofa, slid away from Clint, and buttoned one more button of her pajamas.
Amused, Clint meandered into the kitchen to give her some privacy, but he could still hear her, so he went to the bedroom where he had to face the fact that the apartment was too small for privacy. Back in the living room, in a chair across from the sofa, he inferred without much difficulty that Daisy was trying to talk her way out of going to lunch with her parents.
“It’ll be so crowded,” she was saying. “Everybody goes there after church. Well, yes, we could call Jake...it’s not fair, really, when he makes a point of not taking reservations...you’re right, for a state senator he might make an exception...”
“All right,” she finally conceded, rolling her eyes at Clint. “N-no,” she said. “I’ll call him. No, really, Mom, it would be better if I did. Okay. Twelve-thirty. Okay. Okay. Okay.” And at last she hung up. “I have to go to lunch with my parents,” she said to Clint. “They’re the only people I can’t out-persuade.”
He nodded. “Sure. I should get back to the ranch, anyway. There’s a lot I need to do.”
Daisy shook her head. “You don’t understand. They want you to come, too.”
Clint froze. “Your parents know I stayed here last night?”
“Oh, no,” Daisy said. “At least, I hope not. They asked because they’ve heard we’ve been seeing each other. They’d like to meet you. I was just telling her I’d call you. I could just see her phoning your house, getting Martha, hearing Martha say, ‘No, he’s not here, he spent the night out.’”
Clint paled. Rafe had told him everybody in town was talking about the two of them, and apparently, he’d been right. That blasted Marjorie Latham. She looked Puritan proper, but did she actually have the sensitivity to sense the electricity shooting between them?
Clint looked at Daisy. She seemed nervous. “Are you uncomfortable because you’re afraid I’ll say no or that I’ll say yes?”
Daisy blinked. “Why would I be upset if you said yes? That would be great.”
Clint appreciated her vote of confidence, but it was misplaced. Even the thought of going to lunch with her parents made him nervous. “I’m not exactly good with people, Daisy. Your parents may not like me.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, you give me too much credit. I’m terrible with small talk, and I don’t want to discuss my life or my paintings.”
Rather than brush off his concerns, Daisy studied him for a moment. Finally, she said, “They want to meet us at Jake’s Place. There’ll be lots of other people around to distract them—”
“Lots of other people to wonder why you’ve taken me to meet your parents,” Clint moaned.
“No, no, my father is notorious for pinpointing people in town who’d contribute to his election campaign committee if they saw the light. If worse comes to worst, you can claim a sick sheep, and Jake will hide you in the kitchen. And besides,” she admitted, “neutral territory will give you an advantage.”
Clint didn’t want to have lunch with the Banks family like he didn’t want below-zero temperatures at the ranch. But he could tell it meant a lot to Daisy, and since making her happy meant a lot to him, he said, “I couldn’t think of anything I’d like to do more than have lunch with your parents.”
Daisy rolled her eyes again, obviously appreciating his blatant insincerity. He loved it when she did that. Her eyes were so big, so green. He stopped himself from analyzing the various shades of green and choosing the right one to describe Daisy’s eyes.
“But let me be the one to call Jake,” Clint said. “I don’t want to see any surprise on his face. Or worse.”
Daisy’s smile was so bright that it made Clint glad he’d agreed. “Deal. And thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Clint said. “We’re looking at a potential disaster here. So remind me again—your father is what? A Democrat? A Republican? Libertarian? Uncommitted?”
Daisy fidgeted the entire way to Jake’s Place. As much as she hated to admit it, Clint could have a point. This lunch could very well be a disaster. Although she loved her parents dearly, they could be pushy. They loved to know everything about everyone. They also loved to make suggestions about how one should live.
Neither of those traits would endear them to Clint. Truthfully, this was much too soon for a “meet the parents” meal. She couldn’t believe that her parents had asked, especially her mother. The one thing she’d always been able to count on from her mother was common sense.
But her mother had been adamant. And then her father had gotten on the phone and been even more adamant. They were delighted Daisy was seeing someone—although they were piqued by having apparently been the last in town to know it. They simply had to meet this exceptional man.
She glanced at Clint. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly she expected it to snap off the column at any second. He’d agreed to this lunch, but she knew he’d rather walk the plank than get to know her parents. She worried this meeting would scare him off. What they had together was too new, too precious to let it be spoiled by interfering parents.
The parking spaces near the diner were full, indicating a big crowd. When Clint had parked around the corner, he turned to her. “Ready?”
Daisy unbuckled her seatbelt, then looked at him. “Yes. What about you?”
“Ready for it to be over.” His tone was grim.
She sighed. “Promise this won’t change what we have,” she whispered.
“Why should it?”
“It won’t, not if we don’t let it. I know you hate this, but they mean well. They’re my parents. We only have to be nice for an hour tops, and then we can go back to my apartment.”
Clint leaned over and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss. “I promise it won’t ruin anything. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Daisy realized it wasn’t his behavior she was worried about. “You’re a wonderful man, Clint Bolton,” she said.
“Make sure you tell your parents that,” he countered.
They climbed out of the truck and raced to the diner to escape the cold. As she’d predicted, Jake’s was overflowing with the customers who ate out after church.
“Hi, Daisy. Clint,” Jake said, weaving around the tables to join them by the front door. “Good thing you called ahead. I set aside one of the tables in the back so you can talk.”
Clint frowned at his friend. “I don’t want to be in the back. It’s too quiet. We want to be out front.”
Daisy nodded. “Yes, please, Jake. We’re both a little nervous about this lunch with my parents. Limiting the conversation would be a good thing.” Plus the fact that her father might get involved in conversation with constituents who dropped by the table to say hello.
Jake opened his mouth, looked from her to Clint, and finally shrugged. “A noisy table near the front it is,” he said, waving at one of the waitresses. “At Jake’s Place, we aim to please.”
Within a couple of minutes, the place settings had been removed from the table in a cozy alcove against the rear wall of the restaurant and moved to a central table near the window. Clint held Daisy’s chair for her as she sat. She glanced around, noting the boisterous families and chatting friends surrounding them. And staring at them. Where the heck were her parents?
The volume was at a pleasant white noise sort of level when at last her parents stepped inside. Since Roger Banks was the state senator for Falling Star and the surrounding area, he was instantly swarmed by people who wanted to shake his hand, just as Daisy had hoped. Priscilla was also a valley favorite. She stopped and chatted with several people after first waving at Daisy.
Daisy saw Clint take a deep breath and realized she was holding hers. She forced herself to exhale.
“It’ll be fine,” she told Clint, then scooted her chair closer to his.
Clint stood and held out his hand as her parents reached the table. “Hello, Mrs. Banks. Senator.”
Daisy’s father shook Clint’s hand. “It’s Roger and Priscilla,” he said. He dropped a kiss on Daisy’s cheek and would have held the chair for Priscilla, but Clint beat him to it.
Her father winked at Daisy and took his seat. “So nice of you both to join us. Your mother and I love getting out on a Sunday afternoon.”
“Jake’s Place is my favorite restaurant. Absolute favorite,” Priscilla said, smiling at her daughter and Clint. “I don’t just mean in town—I mean anywhere in the world. The food is lovely, and the people are wonderful.”
“Jake tries to do it right,” Clint said.
“I sure do.” This came from Jake, who had walked up while they were talking. He grinned at the group and handed out menus. “Sorry I couldn’t get you a quieter table in the back. I wanted to, but it’s the funniest thing, they were all taken.” His eyes twinkled at Daisy.
Roger shrugged. “Nothing wrong with this table. Right in the middle of things. That’s where I like to be.”
“How are the wedding plans coming along?” Daisy asked Jake.
“Great.” Jake beamed. “I just want it to be over. I mean the wedding. I can’t wait to get married. Did I mention yet how much I love my fiancée? I’m the luckiest man on earth. Love really changes your life.”
“True, true,” Roger said. “Nothing like it.”
‘That’s right. There’s nothing like finding that one special woman.”
With that, Jake slapped Clint on the back and headed back to the kitchen. Daisy shot a worried look at Clint, but he seemed calm, despite what his friend had just done.
“So, Clint, I understand you paint,” Priscilla said, smoothly covering, as usual, any potential awkwardness.
“I do,” Clint said.
“I saw the photos in the paper. You’re quite talented. Have you considered having a show?” Priscilla tapped Roger on the arm. “Bunny Piedmont owns a gallery in Dallas, doesn’t she? We could talk to her on your behalf.”
“Don’t let the name fool you,” Roger said. “Bunny’s a sharp businesswoman. She’d treat you right and give you a great start. I’ll give her a call in the morning and ask if she has any open time in the next few months.”
Daisy jumped in. “Enough, Mom, Dad. Leave Clint alone. He appreciates your help, but he doesn’t want to go any further than manning a booth at the festival just yet.”
Clint thanked her with his eyes. “Yes. I appreciate it, but I’d rather not.”
“But why not? You could—” Her mother fell silent when she caught the look Daisy sent her.
“How’ve you been, Dad?” Daisy asked, deliberately changing the subject. “I haven’t had a good talk with you in ages.”
“Fine, fine. Busy as always. Did you read that article in this week’s paper about Telman Industries wanting to develop property near Falling Star? Not going to happen. It would ruin the ecosystem. They’ll have to come up with a new plan.”
Happy to have latched on to a neutral topic, Daisy engaged her father in a debate about zoning ordinances and proposed changes to the state park system. She made certain to pull Clint and her mother into the conversation as well. While they ate, she continued to direct the verbal traffic, which enabled her to stop her parents from cross-examining Clint.
When things got repetitive, she brought up the festival. Avoiding any reference to Clint’s paintings, Daisy outlined the schedule of events. “Clint has agreed to organize a ‘sheep to sweater’ booth, which will be fun.”
“I heard about that,” Priscilla said, “and think it will be a fascinating display. Not just for the kids,” she added. “I’ll learn a lot myself.”
“It was Daisy’s idea,” Clint volunteered.
“And a great idea,” her father said, patting her hand. “A politician has to come up with innovative ideas to help the citizens of her town—or her state. Daisy’s a natural at it. That’s why she has a great political career ahead of her.”
“I don’t know yet, Dad. I’m happy being mayor and running my accounting practice.”
“You’re happy at the moment. But there’s so much more you could do, and so much more you have to offer the world.” Her father frowned at her. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I haven’t had a change of heart. I never said I aspired to be more than a really good mayor,” she said. Knowing this conversation had the potential to veer off in an uncomfortable direction, she ended with, “I’m still mulling over my future.”
“Futures don’t just happen,” Roger said. “You create them. You have to set goals and fix your sights on them. Falling Star is a nice place, but you don’t want to hide here your whole life.”
He was so careful not to look at Clint, when ordinary good manners would have driven him to include the whole table in his gaze, that Daisy knew what he was thinking. He thought Clint was hiding from the world, not taking advantage of the opportunities his artistic talent offered him. Moreover, he was making it painfully clear that he didn’t want his daughter doing the same thing.
It was amazing what her father could say with only a look and a few words.
Daisy drew in a deep breath and was about to tell him that being happy was what life was truly about, but she was spared when the waitress appeared to tell them there was no bill since the lunch was on Jake. With a lot of handshaking and forced smiles, they all stood and gathered their coats. Her mother promised to call her the next day, and her father gave her a big bear hug.
On the way to the car, Daisy nervously looked at Clint. “I’m sorry Dad said what he did. I don’t agree with him.”
His expression was thoughtful, which upset Daisy more. “They only want what’s best for you.”
“So do I. And what’s best for me is you.” Daisy took his hand, threaded her fingers through his, and smiled at him. “Now let’s go back to my apartment so you can show me just how good you can be for me.”