Perfect Summer (29 page)

Her mother stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

***

Two hours later, Clint was rethinking the whole makeover idea. Not that Summer didn’t look fantastic, but every man in the room was doing his best to undress her with his eyes, and since she wasn’t wearing much, it didn’t take long. Clint’s eyes went to her ass. The only thing standing between her and the world was that veneer of a dress. She’d wardrobe malfunction flashed him a couple of times, always followed by a wicked smile and a wink. It was a miracle steam didn’t come out of his ears. Christ, he’d actually scouted the perimeter of the crushed-granite reception area of the Lady Bird Johnson Wildlife Center where the benefit was being held for a dark spot where they could have some privacy. All he needed was five minutes to introduce Summer to the concept of the quickie. And outside sex—he doubted that she’d ever done it outdoors. Clint smiled to himself. Since she was eager to make up for lost time, he wanted her to have a well-rounded education. All it would take was backing her into that corner, sliding up her dress, and pressing her against the trunk of that tree. Clint stepped behind a blooming sage to hide a different kind of blooming in the front of his pants.

Thank God no one else knew her little wardrobe secret or Clint would be forced to growl and beat his chest to keep the other men away. Weighing the merits of using his car keys to scoop out the eyeballs of the motherfucker she was dancing with, Clint felt a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s been hurt,” Lillian said as she stepped beside him. She hadn’t had much to say to anyone since he’d put her in her place. “It’s my fault.”

“I know.” Clint was finding it hard to be polite...hell, civil to her.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” Her voice was a sad whisper. “Lately, it has come to my attention that I might not have been the best parent.”

Slowly, Clint rolled his gaze to her. “Really?”

Was it possible that Mommy Dearest had a conscience?

“I know you think I’m a monster, but I only want her to be happy. I might have gone about it the wrong way, but I’m sorry.” Lillian’s eyes followed her daughter.

“With the exception of you and Jack, Summer is happy. I bet you’ve never seen her teach. Her students—she’s changed their lives. Every day, she sees the worst humanity has to offer, and she turns it into something beautiful.” Clint shook his head. He wasn’t buying the I-only-did-what-I-thought-was-best-for-my-child bit.

Lillian—it was hard to think of her as a Lilly—swallowed. “I don’t get why she does it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Clint said. Neither had he, in the beginning.

“I want to make things right, but I barely know her.” Lillian’s face went from cool confidence to lost little girl. There was a Lilly in there.

“Summer is strong even though she doesn’t know it. She fights for everyone but herself. Why is that?” Clint glared down at Lillian.

Eyes the same color and shape as Summer’s glittered with tears.

He really didn’t care. “If you want to know her, watch her teach.”

In the passenger’s seat of Clint’s car, Summer huddled into herself. Thank God her mother had taken her own car and Summer didn’t have to ride with her. Lillian was acting strange…stranger than usual and going out of her way to be nice. Summer shivered. It gave her the creeps.

She stared straight ahead at the inky black night. At intervals, clouds of yellow streetlights bloomed, lighting their way. Just when a tiny part of her had accepted that Clint liked her, he’d sucker punched her right in the ego. This evening, she’d danced, laughed, and played the part he wanted her to play, but it hurt that he’d felt the need to turn her into someone less repulsive...someone he could show off...someone who wasn’t her.

The practical side of her argued that the world wasn’t ready for the perfect quarterback to dump the head cheerleader and start dating the fat girl. If Jack had been the one supervising her transformation, she could understand, but Clint had gone out of his way to compliment her appearance. Had he been lying?

Summer took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Can I ask you a question?” Not since her wedding day had she felt this low.

“Does it have to do with my buddy Devon? You and he danced four times. If you’re asking for his number, you can’t have it.” Clint hit the accelerator as he merged onto MOPAC. A muscle worked in his jaw. “He already asked for yours…three times.”

“Why?” Summer shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t care about Devon.”

“You look really beautiful.” Clint twisted the compliment into an accusation.

Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath. “Was I so terrible before?”

“I don’t understand.”

Summer chewed on her bottom lip. “I really appreciate the makeover but…um, why did you do it?”

She’d never felt more hurt and vulnerable. Usually, she took it on the chin and didn’t ask questions because she wasn’t brave enough to hear the answers, but the tiniest bit of self-worth he’d inspired in her made her need the truth.

“I wanted...” His voice cracked. “I wanted to help you with your self-image issues. Jesus, I’d give anything to take it all back.”

Humiliation taunted her like a schoolyard bully.

“I’m sorry.” She inched closer to the door and wished she could disappear. She would never be what he wanted.

Deep down, she known he’d been wasting his money. All her life, her mother had hired the very best to turn Summer from a caterpillar into a butterfly, but they’d barely achieved moth status. It would take a miracle to turn her into the supermodel Clint usually dated, and it seemed a tad selfish to pray for that, considering all the time the Almighty spent healing the sick and keeping Amanda Bynes out of jail.

“I’ll pay you back.” Christ, she’d have to borrow money from her mother, but at least she wouldn’t owe Clint anything.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” There was an edge to his voice.

Now she’d offended him. The evening was getting better and better.

“This was a bad idea.” Summer knew what she needed to do. Swans didn’t date the ugly duckling, and she was tired of pretending she could. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Clint turned onto her street and then into her driveway. “What?”

“Us.” Had she really just said “us”? Now he’d think that she thought they were an item. She chewed on her lower lip. “I hope you’ll still be our class mentor.”

The car came to a stop, and Summer grabbed the door handle and jumped out. Without looking back at Clint, she palmed her keys, shoved her house key into the lock, and turned it. The door wouldn’t budge. The old door stuck and needed to be rehung, but she hadn’t had the time or the money to take it on. Damn it.

Clint’s car door slammed, and there was definite stomping going on behind her. Summer wedged her shoulder into the door and threw her weight into it.

Nothing. The damn thing wouldn’t open.

“Devon’s
not
a nice guy.” Clint shot the words out like nails from a nail gun as he stepped in front of her, twisted the knob, and the door squeaked open. “Using me to get to him? I thought I had you figured out, but I didn’t see that one coming.”

Summer stalked past Clint into her front hall.

What the hell was he mad about? He wasn’t the one wearing the tight dress, tottering on five-inch heels, and covered with so much makeup that she’d need a paint stripper to get it off. “What is your problem? I’ve done everything you asked. You wanted me to look a certain way, and I went along with it. You needed a wingman so you wouldn’t have to talk to people you didn’t know, and I went with you. I did the best I could. I’m
sorry
that I didn’t turn out the way you planned. And I have
no
idea why you keep bringing up Devon. He had only nice things to say about you.”

She was tired of trying to live up to everyone else’s ideal. From now on, she was Summer, and they could like it or not.

A growl came from between Clint’s gritted teeth as he stepped inside and slammed the front door. “I'm pissed because Devon, my former best friend, had his hands all over my girlfriend, and now she's breaking up with me."

Summer still had the urge to turn around to see if the girlfriend he was referring to was standing behind her. “What are you talking about?”

"Devon wants you. He asked for your number.” His hands shook as he combed them through his hair. Clint took a deep breath and let it out. “Sometimes we…you know, compete over women. He’s not a nice guy…neither am I.”

All the pieces fell into place—the situation became very clear. Summer slumped against the wall next to the mirror. Her worst nightmare was coming true. Clint and his buddies were making fun of her. Pretend to date the fat girl, cut her up behind her back, and turn her into a game. Was this how they kept the competition fresh—take some time off from the perfect-bodied women they were used to so they could sport date hippopotami, or was it hippopotamuses?

Not this time, buddy. This fat girl wasn’t taking it anymore. Clint might be on the way out of her life, but he was getting a piece of her mind first. She slammed her keys down on the front entry table and tossed her purse right next to them.

“You’re an asshole.” She kicked off one shoe and then the other. “Girlfriends by the pound. Is that it? Do you score points based on tonnage?”

Clint took a step back and looked around like a caged animal searching for an escape route. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.” Summer fisted hands on her hips. “I thought Jack was a jerk, but you take the cake. Unbelievable.”

“Wait a minute.” He took another step back and bumped into the door.

Summer advanced, head down, anger oozing out of every pore. “How many times have you done this? Was sleeping with me part of the fun, or was that just a pity fuck?”

“What are you talking about?”

Summer shook her head. “I knew there was no way that someone like you could be interested in me, but I ignored it. I wanted you to like me so much that I stopped listening to that little voice in my head that told me you were too good to be true. Stupid…stupid…stupid.”

“You’re starting to scare me.”

“Good.” She jammed an index finger into his chest. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before using people. I may not be a size two, but I have feelings. I’m tired of pretending that it doesn’t hurt, and I’m tired of people telling me that I’m not good enough because I don’t fit into society’s version of beautiful. And I’m tired of not eating carbs, because I like pasta and bread and cake.”

She glared at him. “I hate salad. I hope you’re happy.”

“I don’t like salad either, unless it’s drenched with ranch dressing.” Clint scratched the back of his neck and squinted. “Just so we’re on the same page, I’m angry because I’m jealous of you dancing with Devon. For the record, I love pasta and would pay money to watch you eat it.”

It took a second for his words to sink in.

“You’re jealous?” The knot of hurt in her stomach loosened. Clint was jealous. He wasn’t happy with this version of her because he didn’t like other men looking at her? “But you hated the way I looked before.”

Didn't he?

“Oh yeah? I’d give anything for you to be wearing baggy jeans and a tee shirt right now. That dress leaves little to the imagination. Don’t get me wrong, it has merit but only when worn in the privacy of our home for my viewing pleasure. No other man is allowed to see you in it. Swear it right now.” His face was turning red, and a vein popped out in his jaw.

Summer thought the “our home” was awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice that he’d said it. “You’re jealous?”

“Hell, yes. Call me old-fashioned, but it pisses me off to have other men fondle my date.” Clint shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When did dancing become a license to grope?”

“You like the way I look?” She analyzed his face for any sign of doubt.

His eyes flashed. “Is that what this is about? You think I want you to dress like that?” He waved a hand at her dress.

“You made a big deal of making me over. I just want to know the rules. If you don’t want to be seen with me unless I look like this, I need to know.” She needed to plan lots of preparation time. This look took work and multiple styling tools.

Clint’s hand clamped around her forearm, and he pulled her to the large, oval mirror hanging over her front hall table. He stood her in front of the mirror and stared at her in it. “When I look at you, I see perfection. Get used to it.”

Summer turned her gaze from his reflection and stared at her own. Except for the now-straight hair, she saw the usual—chubby cheeks, eyes too large, nose too skinny, and the makings of a double chin. She’d been cut out of a Rubens painting and pasted in modern times. If only she’d been born four hundred years ago, she’d be high fashion. She shook her head, always late to the party.

With his fingers, he combed her hair back from her face. “The straight look is okay, but I prefer the soft curls. Your hair makes me want to run my hands through it and bury my face in it. One of my favorite spots is right here.”

He brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck at her hairline.

“Last night, while you were sleeping, I spent close to an hour counting the curls on your head. There’s this one here”—his lips moved a fraction of an inch to the left and sucked lightly on her neck—“that rolls and unrolls like a corkscrew.”

His eyes stayed on hers as he kissed his way across her neck. He nipped her at the base where it met the collarbone. “This is another favorite of mine.”

He nipped her again. Chills went down her spine, and her eyes closed as the hair rose on her forearms.

“I love making you do that.” He sucked lightly and then blew, making the area tingle. “Open your eyes. I want you to see what I see.”

Summer’s eyes fluttered open. The girl staring back had a long, lovely neck and bright blue eyes.

He kissed his way up the side of her neck. “Your eyes are the blue of my favorite denim jacket—safe and warm—the reward after a long, hard day.”

His breath was hot against her cheek. “You have the cutest button nose.”