“I thought so,” Clint agreed.
“It would be a tremendous amount of work.”
“What if it was just for the sponsors?” Kit’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “They’d love that! A hand-painted scene on their bags to show them how special they are to us.”
“How many sponsors are there?” Clint asked.
“Not that many.”
“Five? Fifty?” Maria asked.
“Would you do ten? That would cover our gold level sponsors.”
Maria eyed the bags. Ten would be okay. If she could find a shred of creativity within her. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s a no.” Kit pouted.
“Maybe not,” Clint said, going to stand behind Maria. He started to massage her shoulders, like he’d promised to do if she painted the scooter for him. Instinctively she tightened her muscles, nervous about what accepting the back rub might mean.
Men left when they got bored, and she wasn’t much more than who she was in this moment.
“Relax,” he coaxed.
“I’m trying.”
“It’s just a massage,” he said.
“I know.”
“I’m going to zip over to the neighbor’s,” Kit said, watching them with a smile. “She has something for the silent auction. Back in a flash. Be good!”
“Take your time,” Clint called back.
Kit giggled as the door closed.
Clint leaned forward, his breath tickling Maria’s ear as he whispered, “It’s not a marriage proposal.” He bent farther to catch her eye, then gave her a devilish wink. “Yet.”
She laughed, waving him away. After yesterday’s joke to Miss Lucille, saying they weren’t married yet, and now this, she was having shivers of anticipation over when he might ask her on an official date.
A date.
How had he got her to a place where she was longing for that?
“There really is something about the ocean air that makes you misbehave like a young boy.”
“Maybe it’s the company.” His hands returned to her shoulders.
“I don’t seem to turn you into a brat back in Sweetheart Creek.”
“Back home you’re always racing off somewhere, saving lives and putting out fires.”
She pursed her lips. “I am not.”
His powerful hands found the exact knot she couldn’t seem to work out on her own. She relented, relaxing into his fingers. “And yet here you are again.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re taking care of others instead of yourself. Even with this—” he gestured to the canvas bags “—you’re taking care of others.”
She failed to see a problem with that.
“This is your vacation, is it not?”
“And?”
“And you’re helping people.”
He was still working the knot in her shoulder, and she moaned as the muscle loosened. It was as if years of tension were melting from her back.
Clint went to work on the left shoulder, and she rolled her neck to the other side, giving him more room for his large hands to manipulate the tightness.
“That’s from carrying everyone,” he said, his voice deep and rich in Maria’s ear.
“But who would I be if I wasn’t helping?” she asked, not expecting an answer. “That’s who I was raised to be. That’s who I am. People leave holes and I fill them.”
“You do.” His voice was tender, with no hint of judgment, and his acknowledgment brought a wash of emotion.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. But why not combine the two?”
“The two what?”
“You doing things for you, and this volunteer work. Do them together.”
“You lost me.”
“Paint, Maria.” He sat in the chair beside her.
“I’m not—”
He shushed her. “It doesn’t have to be a new career or for a bigger purpose. It can be for fun. I saw you with that ornament in Coastal Creations. The total concentration, the small smile playing at your lips. You enjoyed it. Time flew, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. We’ll pick up what you need so you can release your inner artist. It’ll be a two-for-one deal.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll paint them.”
She laughed, thinking what joyful fun creations he might make. “I think I’d like that.”
“Maria, that was a threat.”
She laughed even harder.
Clint slid his hands across her shoulders, turning her so her back was to him again. His arms went across her collarbone as he pulled her against his chest. He was hugging her, she realized, relishing his warmth against her right shoulder and part of her spine, his arms holding her close as his cheek nestled in the crook of her neck.
It was an odd feeling, and it reminded her of when the boys were adolescents. They’d ambush her with a quick hug from behind, needing the contact, but not the full-on mother hug that would embarrass them.
And yet this was different. She could lean on Clint, let it all go.
“Who would I be if I didn’t do these things?” she asked, curious to hear his answer.
“You would be you.”
“But who is that?”
His arms tightened around her. “You didn’t believe me when I told you who I see?” Clint’s embrace loosened like a knot under water, flowing away as he shifted to see her better. “Or were you just not listening?” His tone was teasing, but he reached across her face, stroking a thumb over her right cheek, and she shivered. The gesture was a test. A move that could be brushed off or taken as something more intimate.
She waited to see if he would do it again, what his next move would be.
“You weren’t listening, were you?” he scolded. “Or maybe you just love hearing good things said about yourself.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Maria, and I’d be honored to be your date.”
“You would?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice. When was the last time a man had been honored to go somewhere with her? “Wait, are you avoiding my question?”
“Yes, because I hate to repeat myself. You need to relax and enjoy yourself.” His tone was serious but playful, and she wasn’t sure how to take him. “Unfortunately, though, I can’t be your date for the gala.”
“We’ll both be home before then.”
Silence stretched between them. No doubt he was thinking the same thing—what would happen when they returned home? Would they ignore each other? Try to sort out how to pursue this friendship?
Friendship. It already felt like more than that.
“Instead we’ll have to have our own date tomorrow night before my flight. I’ll borrow Jeff’s truck and pick you up at five.”
“Wait.” Maria shut her eyes, backtracking through the conversation. “A date?” She leaned forward and turned as he released her, studying his expression. She couldn’t read his tone, but knew his eyes would give him away. Or at least hoped they would.