The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks

also left a card on my porch. I found it this morning."
    Mabel raised her eyebrows.
    "You think it's too much?" Julie asked. "Considering I just met him?"
    "Not necessarily."
    "But it might be?"
    "Oh, I don't know. He might be the kind of guy who knows what he wants, and when he finds it, he goes after it with gusto. I've met lots of men like that. They have their appeal. And you are quite the catch, you know."
    Julie smiled.
    "Or then again," Mabel said with an elaborate shrug, "he might be bonkers."
    "Thanks a lot."
    "No problem. But either way, all I can say is welcome back to the wonderful world of dating. Like I tell everyone, it's never boring, is it?"
    It had been a long time since Richard laughed aloud, and in the confines of his car, the sound seemed louder than it was.He gets jealous, Julie had said about her dog. As if she honestly believed he was human. Cute.
    Their evening together had been wonderful. He'd enjoyed her company, of course, but what he'd come to admire most was her resilience. Her life had been hard, and most people would have been marked by bitterness or anger, but he'd seen no traces of that on their date.
    She was also lovely. The way she'd smiled at him with almost childlike excitement and the look of struggle as she'd debated whether to break her plans with her friends . . . he felt as if he could watch her for hours and never grow tired of it.
    I had a good time on Saturday night, she had said.
    He was almost certain that she had, but he'd had to see her today to make sure. The mind can do funny things on the day after a date, he knew. The questions, the worries, the concerns . . . Should he have done this, should he have said that? Yesterday, he'd recalled the date in detail, remembering Julie's expressions and trying to discern any hidden subtexts in her statements suggesting that he'd done something wrong. He'd stayed awake, unable to sleep, until he'd finally had to write a note and drop it off for her to find in the morning.
    But he need not have worried. They'd both had a good time-no, a great time. Ridiculous to have even considered that he might have been wrong about it.

    His cell phone rang, and he checked the caller ID.
    Blansen from work. The foreman, no doubt offering more bad news about the schedule, about falling behind, about cost overruns. Delays. Blansen always had bad news. The bearer of bad tidings. Depressing, that one. Said he cared about his men, but what he really meant was that he didn't want them to work hard.
    Instead of answering, he summoned Julie's image again. It had to have been fate, he thought, meeting her the way he had. There were a thousand other places he could have been that morning. He wasn't due for another haircut for a couple of weeks, but he'd pushed through the door of the salon as if guided by an unknown force. Fate.
    The cell phone rang again.
    Yes, the date had gone well, but there was one thing. Today, toward the end. . . .
    Maybe he shouldn't have kissed her. It wasn't as if he'd planned to kiss her, but he'd been so elated when she broke her plans in order to see him again . . . it just happened. A surprise for both of them. But was it too much, too soon?
    Yes, he decided, it probably was, and he regretted it. There wasn't any rush here. It would be better to take it easy the next time he saw her. Give her a little space, let her come to her own conclusions about him, without pressure. Naturally.
    The cell phone rang a third time, but he continued to ignore it. In the back of his mind, he replayed the scene again.
    Very cute.

Chapter Five.
    On Saturday night over dinner, Richard stared across the table at Julie, a faint smile playing over his lips."What are you smiling at?" Julie asked.
    Richard seemed to come back to her, a sheepish look on his face. "I'm sorry. I was just daydreaming there for a second."
    "Am I that boring?"
    "Not at all. I'm just glad you were able to come out with me tonight." Bringing up his napkin to dab at the corner of