Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (41 page)

Yes, Lord, that's exactly right.
Did he dare hope? Could he have a future here in Paradise? Why not?

Matt smiled down at the woman in front of him.

Then he remembered her house.

* * *

“Let me get this straight. You can't ask him about the house, but you can dance with him?”

Anne slid into her seat next to Marta.

“Dr. Evans practically insisted on it. I only did it to be polite.” She adjusted her dress and reached for her iced tea goblet.

“Yes. I can see that.” Marta nodded toward the dance floor. “We have a very polite little town. Getting more polite by the minute.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The man has danced with every single woman in the room. Except me, of course.”

“Has he?” Anne turned her head back to the crowded dance floor. Sure enough, Matt was dancing with Sally-Ann from Paradise's only beauty salon. Suddenly her time with Matt lost its significance. Then she remembered his words from the café.

“I think it's all about networking.”

Marta laughed. “Networking? I don't think so. They all
asked
Matt to dance. He's doing a good job, too.”

Anne didn't answer. Determined to avoid looking back at him a second time, she sipped her tea. Matt's dance partners were none of her business. None. He was a handsome man, below the age of sixty-five, which made him a rare and precious commodity in Paradise.

After a few minutes Marta reluctantly turned around. “Did you ever get an appointment with the mayor?”

“No, but his secretary said he did want to speak with me. She suggested I show up early to the town meeting.”

“When is that?”

“In two weeks. Remember?”

“Oh, that's right. Well, it gives you plenty of time to talk to Matt.”

“Oh, look, Luke Nelson is dancing with your daughter. They look good together.”

“Do they?” Marta asked. “I sort of had my heart set on Megan falling in love with Sheriff Sam. The nurse and the sheriff. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Sam will never marry. You know that.”

“Those wounded types are so attractive. Don't you think?”

Anne laughed. “Maybe you should be writing books instead of being a professional matchmaker.”

“I just might do that. After I get my daughter taken care of, of course.” She frowned and screwed up her face in deep thought. “Do you think Nelson is marriage material?”

“He's got a steady job and doesn't live with his mother.” Anne assessed the doctor. “And as far as doctors go, he treats everyone well.”

“You're right. I've seen him at church, too.” Marta narrowed her eyes. “I wonder if he likes kids.”

Anne couldn't resist a laugh. “Does she know about your plot?”

“Of course not, but she's been a widow for five years now. Those kids need a daddy and she needs someone to share life's adventures with.”

“Seriously? ‘Share life's adventures'? That sounds like a logo for a dating site.” Anne chuckled. “Maybe your daughter likes being single. I like it.”

“So you say, though I can tell that you most certainly don't look all that happy to me.”

“We weren't talking about me.” Anne wiped the condensation from her goblet. “Have you considered letting things play out on their own?”

“Don't be silly, Megan is almost as oblivious as you.”

“What does that mean?” This time she turned to her friend, almost afraid of the bluntly honest response she would be certain to receive.

“It means that you probably have no clue that Matthew Clark is still half in love with you.”

“Marta, he hasn't seen me in years.”

“That has zero to do with anything. Men don't get over love easily. Especially their first love. They tend to talk about the first girl that stole their hearts for years.” She sighed and shook her head. “Trust me. Ad nauseam.”

Anne laughed. “But that doesn't mean Matt's that way. He's got a lot of resentment inside him and he has every right. I hurt him badly.”

“Honey, he's been watching you all night. He may be fighting his feelings, but trust me, the man is definitely not indifferent when it comes to you.”

Anne opened her mouth and closed it again as Marta's words reverberated through her.

Was it possible that she was right? Anne was stunned silent and confused at the possibility.

CHAPTER SEVEN

W
hat a lousy end to an otherwise enjoyable evening. Anne stood next to her truck, parked at the far end of the parking lot, staring at the rear passenger side where the deflated tire was pointedly illuminated by the streetlight.

“Yeah. It looks flat to me,” Matt said.

She turned, half relieved, half terrified to see him again so soon. The light glowed behind him, making him seem almost surreal. But he was real, all right. All six feet and wide shoulders' worth of him. He'd loosened his tie and his hair was mussed and all she could do was stare while asking herself the same question Marta had not long ago. Why had she left such a man?

“Give me your keys, I'll change the tire.”

Roused from her reverie, her hands moved to her hips. “I can change a flat tire. I'm not the kind of woman who needs to be rescued.”

“Never crossed my mind, princess, but you aren't exactly dressed for the occasion, and even you can use a little help sometimes.”

Her head reared back in surprise. “What did you call me?”

“Um, sorry. Claire says you're a princess and your house is a castle.”

“I wish I were.”

“That's sort of a princess dress.”

She released an embarrassed laugh, knowing his words pleased her. “Is it?”

“Yep.”

She glanced down and sighed. Fine. He was right. She couldn't change a flat tire in a “sort of a princess dress.”

Matt held out his hand. Anne fished in her purse, pulled out her keys and dropped them into his palm. “Okay, but I want to assist.”

He shook his head. “Of course, you do. Why don't you get the owner's manual?”

She nodded.

Matt grabbed tools from under the front seat and pulled the tire from under the truck bed.

“Here.” Anne handed him a blanket. “No need for you to get that nice suit dirty.”

“You're right.” He slipped off his jacket. “I'll take it, thanks.” She carefully folded the material and placed it on the driver's seat.

Matt wedged off the hubcap and got to work loosening the lug nuts, grunting as he turned the wrench. “Who tightened these? The Incredible Hulk?”

Anne cleared her throat. “I did.”

“You don't know your own strength, do you?”

“As I recall I was pretty cranky the last time I got a flat tire. I didn't have anyone offering to change it for me.”

“Remind me not to make you cranky.” He stood on the wrench arm with his full weight, finally loosening the first one.

Though guilt plagued Anne, she found herself staring as he rolled up his sleeves a little more, which made his biceps peek out.

Matt Clark had very nice biceps.

He moved to the other lug nuts, each one as difficult as the first. Fifteen minutes later and he was ready for the jack.

She flipped through the pages of the book and began to read. “‘Use the jack to lift the vehicle off the ground. Once the jack is secure, jack up the truck until the tire is about six inches off the ground.'”

“What are you doing?” he asked with a groan of disbelief.

“Reading the manual.” She glanced down at him before continuing. “‘Remove the lug nuts and pull the tire off the truck.'”

“Anne.”

“Hmm?”

“I got this.”

“You don't want me to read the instructions?”

He pulled the tire off. “No.”

“So, what can I do?”

He wriggled the spare onto the truck and lined up the lug nut holes and then lowered the vehicle back to the ground.

“Here. Put the jack in the backseat while I tighten the lug nuts.”

When she returned he was standing and there was a large streak of black dirt across his right cheek. Anne reached into the truck and handed him disinfectant wipes.

“Your, um, face has stuff on it.”

“You keep hand wipes in your car?”

“I do. You never know when you might need to sanitize your hands.”

“Spoken like a true nurse.” Matt wiped his face and then his hands.

She held out a plastic bag for him to dispose of the wipes. “Always prepared,” he continued.

“Occupational hazard,” she said quietly.

But when Matt leaned closer, she wasn't prepared. Not the least bit. This was premature no matter how you looked at it. Yet she found her knees weak as she inhaled the scent of his aftershave along with traces of tire and grease.

He came closer.

Surely not? He wasn't going to kiss her, was he?

She swallowed. Her breath caught.

How would she resist? Like a foolish teenager, she'd dreamed of Matt's kisses long after he'd disappeared from her life.

“Excuse me,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“I need to grab my jacket from your truck.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” She quickly moved away from the door.

“No problem.”

Anne cleared her throat and glanced away, suddenly preoccupied with the scattered pebbles in the road.

He wanted his jacket. Not her. What had she expected?

Nothing like totally humiliating herself with the glow of the streetlight to illuminate her face. Her cheeks were warm, which meant that without a doubt her face was bright red.

“Why don't you go ahead?” he said.

“Hmm?”

“You go ahead,” he repeated. “I can follow your truck down the street to make sure everything is okay.”

Anne gave a tight nod. “Thank you for changing my flat.”

She dared peek up at him.

He smiled.

It would be helpful if he could be a little less handsome and a little more aware of his impact on her. No. Barring complete disfigurement, he'd still be Matt, and the man happened to be humble inside and out.

“Terrific,” she mumbled.

“Are you talking to yourself?” he asked.

She was jerked out of her thoughts. “Was I talking aloud?”

Matt nodded.

“I do that sometimes.”

“You do?” His expression clearly said that most people did not.

“Another job hazard.”

“Okay, then. I guess I'll see you.”

“Maybe we could go for coffee again?” she suggested, suddenly reluctant for him to leave.

“I wish I could, but I've got a sitter to relieve. I'm sure you do, too.”

“Yes. Right.” She opened the truck door further. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

But it was a problem, because the more time she spent around him the more she questioned why she'd left him in the first place.

* * *

Matt paid the babysitter; a pleasant teen who worked at the bakery. He moved down the hallway, his steps light. The evening had been exceptional and the perpetual smile on his face since he'd left Anne in the parking lot was proof that his heart was equally light.

He gently knocked on Claire's door.

“Come in.”

The door squeaked as he edged it open. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in her pajamas, going through a photo album, her back to him.

“How'd it go with the sitter?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Is that fine good or fine you only tolerated her?”

“She let me make that chicken recipe that Anne gave me and we watched a movie.”

He inched into the room. Something in her voice still said things weren't really fine at all. In fact, his gut told him there was a real problem brewing.

“Are you okay, Claire?”

She sniffed and nodded, but her long, tawny hair shielded her face from him. As he got closer, and she met his curious gaze, Matt could see the drying trail of tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

“Claire, what's wrong?” Alarmed, Matt crouched beside her, before he realized he had absolutely no clue how to handle a young girl's tears.

“It's almost my birthday.” She fought and failed at keeping her voice steady.

A pang of regret slammed into him. He'd totally forgotten her birthday was coming up.
Think, Matt, think.
What did the paperwork the attorney gave him say?

“August twenty-first,” he burst out. “Next weekend.”

“You remembered.”

Barely.

“You'll be ten.”

She offered him a watery smile of pleasure and wiped at her face with her knuckles.

“What did you and your mother do for your birthday?” he asked as he eased to the floor, stretching out his legs on the oak planks.

“We went to dinner at whatever restaurant I wanted. I got to pick because it was my special day.”

“You want to go to a restaurant? Don't you want to have a party with cake and balloons and stuff, and maybe invite some friends from church?”

“That's for babies. I'm not a baby. I want to go to a restaurant and wear a pretty new dress.”

“Sure. Sure. We can do that.”

“I can have a new dress for my birthday?”

“That, too.” Anything. This was his daughter. Claire Griffin Clark could have whatever she wanted.

“Maybe Anne could take me shopping.”

Matt froze. He could promise his daughter the world, but he couldn't promise her Anne.

And Anne wasn't going to be there forever. She had her own life. The day would come when she wouldn't have time for Claire. She'd disappear from his daughter's life just as she had from his.

Somehow he had to get his Claire less dependent on Anne and more dependent on her own father.

“Uh, I don't know if she'll have the time.”

“Yes, she does. We're friends.”

“I suppose we can ask her.”

“Can we invite her to dinner, too?”

“I thought maybe you and I could do something together.”

“It's my birthday. I want Anne to come, too.”

“S-s-sure,” he stuttered. “That's fair. It is your birthday. We'll ask her that, too, but don't be upset if she can't. Anne has an important job and she takes care of her aunt.”

“She'll come for me. I know she will.”

“So, where do you want to go?”

“Aunt Lily says there's a place in Four Forks that has lava cake. I've never had a lava cake in my whole life.”

“Aunt Lily, huh?”

“She said to call her that.”

“I see. Well, a lava cake seems like it might not be healthy.”

“Anne says I can eat anything I want as long as I monitor my glucose. Lava cake is for special occasions. My birthday is a special occasion. So it's okay.”

Matt gave a slow shake of his head. “Well, she's the expert. That's for sure. So if Anne says it's okay, then it's okay.”

He turned his attention to the photo album in his daughter's lap. Pictures of Claire and her mother filled the pages.

“May I look at your album?”

Claire nodded.

“Why didn't you and my mom get married?”

“That's one of those grown-up questions that I promise to answer someday.”

It had to be someday, because right now he was still sorting out how he was going to explain that he wasn't perfect and more often than he liked, he made mistakes and he, too, had to ask God for forgiveness.

He looked at Claire and then down at the album. She looked so much like her mother.

Emotions he'd ignored for too long rose up and he swallowed hard. All he wanted was to give her back everything she'd lost. His daughter wouldn't live like he did, constantly wondering if he was loved. Claire would always know. He'd make sure of that.

“Are you okay, living here with me and Stanley?”

Claire nodded. “Yes.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you meet any friends in vacation Bible school last week?”

“A few. Maybe I'll see them in church.”

“Good idea. We need to start going to church regularly.” He shook his head in agreement with his own decision. “What else can I do to make things better for you, Claire?”

“I don't know. Things are okay.”

“Are they?” Was okay a good place to be for an almost-ten-year-old? He didn't know. His childhood wasn't any sort of benchmark for comparison.

“You don't have to try so hard,” she murmured. “I like you.”

Matt jerked back slightly at the words. “You do?”

“Yes.”

His heart soared. His daughter liked him and he and Anne were friends. Not a bad end to an evening. He didn't resist the silly grin that escaped.

“Do you think you could call me Dad sometime?”

“Maybe.” She sniffed the air. “Why do you smell like grease?”

“I changed Anne's flat tire.”

“She was at the thing you went to?”

“Uh-huh, and you were right, Claire.”

“I was?” Her head moved and she peeked at him with quiet curiosity. “What was I right about?”

“She looked like a princess.”

Claire beamed.

* * *

“You're going with us?” Anne asked Matt the following Saturday.

“Don't look so surprised.”

“I am. You didn't mention you were planning on joining us when you asked me.”

“Is that a problem?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I've never gone dress shopping with a man.”

“I'm not a man. I'm her father.”

Anne did a double-take before a belly laugh bubbled up from inside her. Her hand went to her mouth immediately, but it was far too late for that. The laugh had burst into the room.

All she could do was clear her throat and attempt to put on a serious face. So far it wasn't working. “Sorry, but, um, that somehow struck me as funny.”

He pursed his lips. “Funny ha-ha or I'm funny.”

“I don't know. Just funny.”

“Maybe it would help if you thought of me as your chauffeur. My idea was that I might learn a little bit more about how to be a parent to Claire if I came along.”

“You know you're a good dad, right?”

“I'm trying. The fact is Claire is very dependent on you, Anne, and I want her to turn to me. I'm her father.”