My Stubborn Heart Read Free Page A

eyes.”
    Gran stopped, her wet hands dripping water into the sink, and studied Kate shrewdly. “You were unusually quiet around him.”
    â€œI was dumbfounded by him! I couldn’t think of a thing to say.”
    â€œWell, as previously noted, he is a very nice-looking young man.”
    To say the least. Matt Jarreau was in-your-face, big-screen, major-league handsome. But there was something more about him than his mere handsomeness . . . something intangible, that had her by the throat. Her stomach still felt fluttery. Which was not good for her. Not. Good. She’d sworn off the really good-looking ones. Absolutely couldn’t go there again.
    They resumed their cleaning.
    â€œI’m an excellent matchmaker,” Gran stated. “Very subtle.”
    â€œOh yes. You were very subtle when you threw me together with Barry Markman at the Fourth of July picnic.”
    â€œIt’s just that his grandmother and I are such close friends. We’d hoped . . . Well, how was I to know he had bad breath?”
    â€œListen, no one is going to make any romantic overtures toward Matt Jarreau.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œHe’s way out of my league.”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œYes.” She was ordinary. A thirty-one-year-old redheaded virgin with asthma and genetics that didn’t include either hips or boobs. “Even if by some chance he did want to ask me out, I no longer date guys that look like that. I decided a couple of years ago to save myself the anguish.” Everyone knew—and her own experience had confirmed—that good-looking men were usually taken, emotionally unavailable, or narcissists. “Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” Gran sighed.
    With a pang of dread, Kate imagined Gran cornering Matt at every turn, begging him to take her poor, forlorn granddaughter on a date.
    â€œGran, I’m serious.”
    â€œI am, too,” she answered. “You know I’d never do anything to embarrass you.”
    Kate could think of dozens of times when Gran had, nevertheless, done exactly that.
    Gran dropped two dirty knives into the dishwasher. “However, I do think you and I need to invite him to dinner. Single men don’t eat well. He probably hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in weeks. His mother and father live in Florida now, you know.”
    â€œInviting him to dinner is fine.”
    â€œGood. Then that’s settled.” Gran rinsed out the sink and dried her hands. “What’s on the agenda today?”
    â€œToday we’ve got to start sorting through everything. We need to decide what to sell at the garage sale, what to sell on eBay, what to toss, and what to keep.”
    â€œAnd tomorrow?”
    â€œHmm.” She wasn’t going to nurture a single romantic feeling toward Matt and yet . . . she was painfully curious about him. She wanted—it surprised her how much she wanted—to get to know him, to find out what had made him so sad, and hopefully to establish a friendship so that she’d have some company her own age over the coming weeks.
    Everyone who knew her knew she had a wide streak of stubbornness running through her. When something got into her head and took root, she couldn’t get it out. And Matt Jarreau had gotten into her head and taken root. He didn’t know it yet, but she was going to find out his secrets and they were going to be friends. “Tomorrow I’m going to help Matt paint.”

chapter two
    The next afternoon Matt Jarreau wiped his hands on his jeans and surveyed the paint job he’d just finished in Mrs. Donovan’s bedroom. The light purple color was a long shot from anything he’d have chosen. Sleeping in here would be like sleeping inside a purple carnation. Still, the room looked a heck of a lot better without the water stains, cracks, and faded paper that had covered the walls and ceiling before he’d started.
    He set about