Summer of Love by Marie Ferrarella (easy to read books for adults list .TXT) 📕

a lab jacket or rubber-soled shoes but a pair of slim, dark jeans, lime-green T-shirt and a pair of shoes that had a wedged heel. Not what he would consider doctor gear at all. In fact, she looked much more like the teenager he’d known in high school than a mom with a grown daughter.

He felt like an old fuddy-duddy in comparison, still in his shirt and tie. He could have sworn the kid at the drive-through window had eyed Jessi with interest. Clint had thrown the teen a glare in return, which had felt like something Jessi’s actual father might have done.

When had he turned into such a square?

Maybe when he’d seen the emotional wounds of those returning from battle. And how they reminded him of his own.

“I did have an earring. I took it out the night before I reported for boot camp.”

The night of their graduation. The night he’d made love to Jessi. It had marked the end of an era for him, a journey from childhood to becoming a man. Removing the earring that night had been something the old Clint wouldn’t have done. He’d have reported to boot camp and waited until someone ordered him to take it out. But he hadn’t. After watching Jessi’s house for a while that night, he’d gone home—avoiding the after parties and festivities that had gone along with graduation—and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. God, he’d wanted to stay in Richmond that night. For the first time he’d thought of doing something other than running away. And it had been all because of Jessi.

Instead, he’d unhooked the small gold hoop and pulled it from his ear. As if that one act would give him the courage to walk away when everything inside him had been yelling at him to stay and fight for her, shoving aside his fears about what might happen if he did. What kind of life he might drag her into, if he stayed.

But, even if he’d decided to risk it all for her, Jessi was already spoken for, at least according to Larry and all their friends.

The image in the mirror that night had told him which of them had had a better shot of giving Jess a good life. The choice had been obvious—at least to him. He had just been a screwup from a dysfunctional family, his finger a constant reminder of what that brought.

He hadn’t wanted that for her.

So he’d let her go. An act his teenage self had decided was the mature thing to do. He still had that old hoop in a box somewhere.

Jessi unexpectedly reached up, her fingers cool from holding her frozen drink as they touched his chin. Using gentle pressure, she turned his head to the right, leaning over to look. Her breath washed across his skin, the scent of vanilla catching hold of his senses and making him want to sneak a taste of her mouth.

“Is there still a hole where your earring used to be?”

What was with all the questions? And why had he ever thought sitting in a car—or anywhere else—with her was a good idea?

Just being an adult. Proving he could control his impulses.

He swallowed. “I haven’t really looked in a while.

Why?”

“We had a guy come into the ER tonight who’d hooked himself while fishing and I had to push the barb all the way through his ear. He was worried his family would think he’d pierced it.” She gave a soft laugh. “He wanted to know how long it would take to heal. I told him he should be more worried about the risk of tetanus than a tiny hole.”

Her nose wrinkled. “The worst thing was there was still a live worm attached to the end of that hook.”

“Well, that had to be an interesting scenario.”

“I almost couldn’t do it.” She let go of him and leaned back in her seat. “Did you ever have to do something and wonder if you’d be able to get through it?” She made a sound in her throat. “Never mind. Of course you have.”

He could think of two at the moment. One was leaving her behind twenty-two years ago. And the other was not touching her now, when everything inside him was straining to do just that. “I think everyone eventually gets a case like that. Or at least wonders if the patient would be better off with another doctor.”

Jessi suddenly bent to get her milk shake. In the process the lid came off, dumping the cup, and half of its contents, right onto her lap.

He moved to grab it just as her cry of dismay went up. “Oh, no. Clint, I’m so sorry. Your car.”

“I’m more worried about you turning into a block of ice.” He sent her a half grin as he tried to scoop some of the shake back into the cup. It only ended up sloshing more onto her shirt and jeans.

“Don’t move.” He got out of the car, cup in hand, and strode into the restaurant to throw it away, exiting a few seconds later with a fresh empty cup and a handful of napkins.

Together they corralled most of the spillage between the paper cup and a spare lid, and then sopped up the remainder with the pile of napkins.

“I always was the clumsiest girl in high school.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“You used to cut yourself down for things, even when they weren’t your fault.”

He could always remember some self-deprecating comment or other she would throw out there in school, making everyone laugh and passing it off as a big joke. But there had always been a ring of conviction to the jibes that had made him wonder if she didn’t actually believe all the “I’m such a klutzo” and “Wow, am I ever a nerd” statements.

She glanced up at him, her hand full of napkins. “Everyone did that. Even you.”

Yes, he had. And he knew for a fact that he’d believed most of what he’d said. Maybe that’s why