Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(49)

“The third date? When was this book published?”

“1952. I picked it up at a secondhand bookstore—after reading Dating for Dummies. I happen to love old books and I found the advice in the older one more to my liking.”

They had so many of the same likes and dislikes, and she kept discovering new similarities between them. “I love old books, too. I’ve collected them for years.”

He shook his head, as if nothing she said would surprise him.

“Me, too. I like old sci-f i novels.”

“Old biographies for me,” she said.

They continued walking, and Hutch escorted Phoebe to her door. “I had a great time,” she told him, turning to smile up at him.

“I did, too.”

He hesitated, so Phoebe took matters into her own hands. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. Hutch placed his own arms around her waist, then tightened his embrace.

The kiss was magical. Romantic. Sexy. Clark always had to be in charge; Hutch simply let their kiss happen. It felt like something shared, as though it belonged to her as much as him. When he lifted his head, he kept his eyes closed for several seconds. Then he cleared his throat. “That was very…nice.”

“Yes.” Phoebe pressed her hand to his heart, feeling the heavy thudding against her palm. “Yes, it was.”

He kissed her again. She wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but the second kiss was even better than the f irst.

“Good night, Phoebe.”

“Good night, Hutch.” She felt weak with longing as she fumbled with the key and opened the door.

Smiling, she set her purse down and immediately noticed the light on her phone. She checked caller ID. No surprise there— the call had come from Clark.

Chapter 17

Anne Marie Roche

“Where are we going again?” Ellen asked, skipping at Anne Marie’s side as she held Baxter’s leash.

“To the park.” Anne Marie hadn’t told her much about their meeting with Tim Carlsen. She still wasn’t sure what to say or how much to explain. She’d mentioned only that they’d be seeing a “friend.”

“Can I have some ice cream?” Ellen asked.

Anne Marie smiled at her. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Goody.”

Ellen was so easily pleased, her trust complete. Anne Marie prayed she was doing the right thing by introducing her daughter to Tim. Ever since her late-night phone call, she’d been racked with indecision. More times than she could count, she’d picked up the phone, determined to cancel. And then, overcome with doubt, she’d replace the phone, deciding to let this play out.

As recently as an hour ago, she’d been convinced it was a terrible mistake. But now she’d f inally made up her mind—she’d grant Tim the privilege of getting to know Ellen. Tim had suggested meeting at the fountain in the center of the park. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on the circular stone edge. Children raced around the park, their glee and excitement infectious in the afternoon sun.

He stood as they approached, and Anne Marie’s heart felt lodged in her throat.

“Hello,” Tim greeted them, his gaze focused on Ellen. Not understanding, the girl looked up at Anne Marie.

“Hello, Tim,” she managed to croak out.

When she didn’t say anything further or make any effort to introduce him, Tim bent down and thrust out his hand. “You must be Ellen. My name is Tim.”

Ellen edged closer to Anne Marie. “This is Baxter,” she said, motioning toward the Yorkie, who stared curiously at Tim. To Anne Marie’s frequent annoyance, Baxter barked up a mighty storm with just about everyone he encountered for the f irst time. Not with Tim, though. The small dog quietly and without reservation accepted him as a friend.

“Mom said she’d buy me an ice cream,” Ellen announced. Tim’s smile was gentle. “What a great idea. I’ll get ice cream for all of us. Why don’t you two sit here and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He started walking toward the nearby ice-cream vendor’s cart, glancing back to send them another reassuring smile. Anne Marie lowered herself to the stone bench, half listening to the melodic splashing of water behind her. Her mouth had gone dry and it felt as if her tongue was glued to her teeth. Normal conversation seemed impossible. She didn’t know how she was going to get through this ordeal without Ellen sensing that something was very wrong.

“Who’s Tim?” Ellen asked, sitting next to her. She brought Baxter onto her lap and waited for Anne Marie’s explanation. If only there was an easy explanation!

“A friend,” Anne Marie said again, surprised she was able to answer at all.

Ellen didn’t speak for a moment. “Is he your…boyfriend?”

Because she hadn’t come up with anything better, Anne Marie nodded. “Sort of.”

That appeared to satisfy Ellen. “I like him.”

“You’d like anyone who bought you ice cream,” Anne Marie teased, hoping to make light of the girl’s immediate acceptance of Tim.

Ellen giggled. “No, I wouldn’t.” She petted the Yorkie, who’d curled up in her lap. “Baxter likes him, too.”

The little traitor, Anne Marie mused. “I saw that.”