by Barbara Lohr
Didn’t she pride herself on taking a personal interest in her students? But not one like this. Not a man who was six foot three or taller. She climbed inside. Brody closed the door and walked around the back. She smoothed her hair, pinched her cheeks and licked her lips. How ridiculous. Why, he was old enough to be her… How old was Brody anyway? Math eluded her. Settling herself in the bucket seat that smelled intoxicatingly like his jacket, she needed air. Cool air. Frigid, even.
Brody jumped in and started the SUV. “All right now. Let’s get to it.”
Yeah, let’s. She slapped a hand over her mouth and hoped she hadn’t said that out loud.
The engine rumbled. “Man, it’s hot in here. Let’s get this air working.” He punched some buttons. She had a thing for men with long, tapered fingers. And this was a new revelation.
Along with a blast of air, music came on. Bone-melting blues. The kind of music that had you taking off your clothes before you knew what happened. Fingers moving with competence, he turned down the sound and turned up the air. “You can adjust your own vents.”
“Right. Okay. Thanks.” Knobs had never presented this much of a challenge. She fumbled until cold air performed dermabrasion on her face.
“So you’re visiting your grandmother?” he said as they headed for the highway. A broad New Mexico sky with a tin sun blinded her. Carolyn rooted around in her bag for sunglasses and jammed them on her face.
“Sure am. Oh, my gosh. Will you just look at this traffic?” Getting a lift from Brody was looking better with every honked horn along Hwy 25.
“You come here a lot, Miss Knight?” His eyes swept her bare left hand, now clutching her tote. She eased the bag to the floor and grabbed the door handle.
“Now I do. My grandmother had a bad fall last Christmas. Broke her hip. Luckily, it was just before winter break so I could come out. She’s been in rehab ever since. Now I’m just checking up on her.” Her words rattled out like melting ice cubes.
“That’s sweet. You still teaching at Gull Harbor?”
“Of course.” She hated the stilted tone of her voice.
“No ring on that left hand?” Brody always had an impudent streak.
“No, I’m-I’m not married.” Not that it’s any business of yours. His question made her bold. “I suppose by now you have a house full of kids and a two-car garage?”
The square chin shifted.
What has gotten into me? “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”
Full lips set in a thin line, Brody seemed to agree. “No, it’s not,” he finally said. Then his smile twisted. “You’ve gotten kind of sassy, Miss Knight. I don’t remember that about you.”
Her face flamed. But just when Carolyn thought her cheeks must look like ripe tomatoes, he laughed. Roared, actually. She had to laugh along, the way she had when he brought a bullfrog into class. The darn thing croaked throughout seventh period. Took about forty minutes before she realized the sound was coming from Brody’s pocket and not outside.
He settled back in his seat and moved into the left-hand lane. The SUV shot forward. Good lord, the boy had a heavy foot. They zipped past slower cars and at least three trucks. She’d watched the Indy 500 once in a sports bar with a man whose name she couldn’t remember. The race had felt just like this. Pressing both feet against the floorboards, Carolyn tightened her hold on the door handle.
“You probably don’t remember much about me. It was so long ago.” She tried to make conversation.
“You were a good teacher. I bought a ton of Cliff Notes that year. Wasn’t going to let you down.” To her surprise, a blush worked its way up his right cheek.
“Thank you, I guess. I’m surprised that you remember.”
“Trust me. You weren’t a teacher any guy would forget.”
Really? Pleasure and embarrassment twisted through her. How pathetic was this? “Who were the other kids in your class? Do you keep up with them?”
“You’re trying to place me.” Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw his mock look of surprise. “You really don’t remember?”
“I’ve taught for ten years, Brody.” The pert tone was there, as if she were defending her career. Details came floating back like a sheaf of pink tardy slips. “But sure I remember you. I think you set the school record for detentions.”
“Yeah, I had trouble getting to class on time.” His grin widened. “Could never remember which books to bring.”
“All you needed was a folder with all your Cliff Notes.”
They laughed together. He eased up on the accelerator. “Have I changed much? You didn’t seem to recognize me at first.”
“You’re well, taller. Broader.” Stronger, hotter. “I remember when you broke your leg senior year. All the girls signed the cast.”
“You signed it,” he reminded her. “The other guys were jealous.”
“I felt sorry for you.” She turned so she could see him better. “You played so many sports.”
“Coach Teegarden was so mad.” He shook his head. “That stupid accident.”
“You were important to the team, as I recall.” Like a major player.
“And I didn’t even break it in a game.” His carefree laugh felt unsettling. “I jumped from the jetty up in St. Joe and landed on the rocks. What an idiot. Could have killed myself.”
“I never knew that part.” Teenage boys. Those details were chilling.
“I was crazy stupid back then.”
“But that’s all changed, right?” She was enjoying the teasing. Liked watching that ruddy pink stain his cheeks.
“God, I sure hope so.” That gravelly chuckle massaged her tight neck. He glanced down at her wrinkled khaki slacks. “You’ve changed too. Kind of miss the miniskirt, though.”
Well, that nailed it. Brought her past into focus. Miniskirts. When she’d graduated from college and taken her first teaching job, her college wardrobe came with her. “Miniskirts and boots. Turtlenecks with beaded necklaces.”
“That’s right,” he said with approval. “Short skirts and earrings that swayed when you moved. The guys loved it. When you walked down the aisle, we’d drop our pens to check out the landscape.”
“Brody Wolf!” she yelped, squeezing her knees together.
“Hey, don’t worry, Miss Knight. We couldn’t see much.”
“That’s so reassuring.”
His lazy side-look sent shivers into areas she always thought were private.
“Your hair was long back then. You’d get so frustrated, always pushing it behind your shoulders. It was cute.” In the rear view mirror, he was eyeing her braid, or what was left of it.
“I should have dressed more sensibly.”
“Now, that would’ve been a real shame.” The last two words came out low and slow.
Carolyn swallowed hard. This ride was turning into an education.
The traffic flowed heavy and fast. She was glad to be a passenger until Brody passed a double Federal Express truck. Instinctively, she leaned in from the door. “Don’t these trucks make you nervous? Passing them seems so dangerous. But I don’t, of course. I always stay in the right-hand lane.”
Brody erupted into laughter. “No way. Must take you forever to get someplace. You’ve got to pass those trucks.”
Her stomach swirled. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t eaten. They left the white and blue truck behind. “Sure is a lot of traffic for a Saturday. Gets busier every time I come. Were there always homes out here?”
By now, they were in between the two cities. He glanced out, bruising the landscape with a frown. “This area keeps growing.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I liked Santa Fe better before everyone discovered the Land of Enchantment.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.
For a while, they traveled in silence. Crossing her khaki-clad legs, she smoothed the wrinkled fabric. When had she stopped wearing those short skirts? Her legs had always been one of her best features, or so people said. How e
mbarrassing that the boys had talked about her. Her slacks with elastic waistbands probably weren’t the subject of any teen-age conversations these days.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
She jumped. “Just trying to remember how it was back then.” When I was young and naive. “So you went on to college?”
“I did. Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, suddenly solemn. “Even graduated. So you’re divorced?”
“No. I’m not divorced. You get one more question, Brody Wolf.” Lack of sleep was making her testy.
“Whoa.” He chuckled. “Now you do sound like a teacher.”
Really? Oh, when would they get there? She folded her arms over her elasticized waistband. His laugh died. “Sorry. I can’t understand why you’re single.”
“Neither can I.” Now, why would she admit that?
“But I bet a lot of guys were interested.” His forehead puckered the way it had when she explained the difference between a literary hero and an anti-hero.
Gazing out the window, she studied the dry, reddish brown earth. “My mother says my standards are too high.”
“Really? Is that even possible?”
The open honesty of the question caught her unaware. “You got me.”
Next to them, another truck decided to give them a run for their money. For a few terrifying moments, they seemed stalled next to the great lumbering beast. God, how she hated this. Squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned away from the door again. This time she pressed her head right into his shoulder.
He cupped her head with his hand. “Hey, you okay?”
“Eyes on the road, Brody,” she barked. “Hands on the wheel.” If he kept this up, they’d wind up in a dusty ditch, some huge truck on top of them. She just knew it.
“Geez, your hair is soft.” With one final pat, he pulled his hand away. Stepping on the gas, Brody left the truck behind. She peeled away from his shoulder.
“You’re safe with me, Miss Knight,” he said softly.
“Am I?” Carolyn felt as if she were tottering, like one of the amazing rock formations in the distance.
“Of course you are.” And he pulled into the right-hand lane.
Their speed slowed. So did her racing mind. “How about you? Is your family still in Gull Harbor?”
“My younger brother Braydon works the family winery in Paw Paw now that my grandparents are gone.” The teasing was gone. “My mother and stepfather retired to Florida.”
“A winery?” The Michigan wineries were favorite tourist destinations. “Why didn’t you go to school in Paw Paw?”
“My grandparents kept a place on Lake Michigan. That established residency for Braydon and me. They had my mom convinced Gull Harbor schools were better. Turned out there were some advantages.” He flashed a smile her way.
Was Brody flirting with her?
Get a grip, Carolyn.
“So did your wife live out here? Santa Fe is a long haul from Michigan.” Now who was fishing for information?
“I’m not married,” he said crisply. “Not married. Not divorced. No children that I know of, to my mother’s disgust.”
A sudden sense of kinship caught her by surprise. “I know that feeling. Every time my mother calls, she asks me if I’m seeing someone.” Then she stopped. Usually she was so private.
“And the answer would be?”
She must be imagining the seductive tone in his voice. “No, of course not.” Carolyn shifted uncomfortably. Hot sunlight beat down through her window.
“Of course? Why in the world not?”
They were driving under an overpass bearing turquoise and earth brown designs. “Oh, look! Don’t you love it?”
“You’re changing the subject.” Peering over the rim of his aviator glasses, he caught her eyes in the mirror.
Her mouth felt too dry for words. They passed a sign that said Santa Fe 19. Thank God. This catching up stuff with His Hotness was getting to her.
“Overpasses like that are why I’m here,” Brody said. “No way did I want work in a big, crowded city.”
“I understand.” She had first-hand knowledge of gritty winds tunneling through tall city buildings.
“Where are you from, Miss Knight?”
“Chicago.”
He did a slow whistle. “That’s a big city all right.”
“A little too big. Traffic gets worse every year.” Her parents had escaped all that with their high-rise condo along Lake Shore Drive. The luxurious building loomed high above the city, smugly secure. How she grew to hate that long, silent elevator ride.
“I understand.” His head swiveled from one side of the highway to the other. “I need plenty of room. Open spaces.”
“Eyes front and center please.” His head jerked and she dropped her head into one hand. “I am so sorry. After all, you’re not my student anymore.”
“No, I’m not.” Looking ticked off, he pinned her with an accusing glance then returned to driving.
“It’s just that I haven’t seen you in years. Do you ever come back to the class reunions?”
“No, but I would have if I thought you were going to be there.”
A funny prickling started in her chest. “You’re teasing again. So what do you do in Santa Fe?”
“I’m an architect. I design and build houses.”
“Whoa. Impressive. I love the adobe houses out here. They make me feel like I’m in another country.”
His smile widened. “Me too.”
Brody had broken out of the mold. Guys like Cole Campbell and Finn Wheeler stayed in Gull Harbor for a number of reasons, mostly family. Not Brody, apparently. “I’m proud of you, Brody.”
His smile slipped. What had she said?
“Thank you, Miss Knight. Then I finally get an A?”
“No, that’s not it.” Geesh, when did he get so sensitive? “I mean, so many students come back to Gull Harbor, which isn’t a bad thing. Did you know Cole Campbell?”
His forehead furrowed. “Name’s not familiar.”
“He may have graduated before you. Cole’s involved in construction in Gull Harbor. Married to a woman I know.”
“Gull Harbor was so small. Can’t be much construction going on there.”
“Things are changing.”
For a few miles, they traveled without talking. He turned up the music and she tried to relax. The long day had drained her but she couldn’t nod off. Brody was about as relaxing as a double-shot espresso.
In between Albuquerque and Santa Fe, the land stretched flat on either side of the highway. Small pines and gigantic cacti patterned the reddish brown earth. From time to time, a cluster of squat adobe homes would crop up. “So do you build houses out here?”
He shook his head. “Not like these. Nothing wrong with them, but I specialize in custom homes up in the hills.”
“You mean hills like Canyon Road in Santa Fe?”
“More remote than that,” Brody said. The tension had eased. “Do you like Canyon Road?”
“My grandmother has an art gallery there. She lives in a casita out back.”
“Lucky you.” The saucy grin was back. “Cool area.”
“I wish I could visit her more often.” Her hair had escaped the braid and Carolyn twisted a length of it around her finger.
“Why don’t you?”
“Too busy, I guess.” Was she a slave to her schedule? But the cost was a factor. Although her parents always offered money, she hadn’t gone to college to remain dependent on her folks.
Cars passed them. Were they creeping along? Brody was staying in the right hand lane. “You don’t have to slow down for me.”
The only sound was the whirring of tires and Billy Holiday crooning seductively. “I’m enjoying the ride,” he finally offered in a low, husky voice that could have melted the North Pole. She opened her window.
“Are you warm? I can turn the air higher.” One hand went to the console.
Carolyn breathed in. “Just need a little fresh air.”
>
How pathetic was it that being with Brody revved her up? Her life was so drab that a ride with him served as high entertainment. A sign for Cerrillos Road came up but he wasn’t slowing down. “You don’t take Cerrillos Road?”
“It’s faster staying on the highway. Do you want to drive up Cerrillos?” He was already taking the turnoff.
“Thanks. I just like to see everything again.” She didn’t feel tired anymore. “Is Jackalope’s still there?”
“That junk pile? Yeah.” But he smiled, as if he loved the rambling collection of buildings too.
The past hour had been fun. She liked Brody.
“Oh look! There it is!” She clapped her hands. Brody slowed down as they passed Jackalope’s. “You can buy anything there.”
He chuckled. “Right. And you might actually use some of it.”
“Maybe this time I’ll get a chance to visit. Christmas was so rushed, getting my grandmother set up and everything.” She watched Jackalope’s recede as they passed it.
“How long are you staying?”
“Only a week.”
Santa Fe looked just like it had when she left in January. Adobe buildings stretched out along the road, merchandise displayed out front. But now trees were beginning to green up. The wisteria in her grandmother’s yard might be in bloom. “Have you built any homes in the Canyon Road area?”
“One or two.” Brody looked preoccupied as he shifted gears. “Mostly I work outside of town.”
The poor guy must be tired of her chatter.
Probably can’t wait to unload me.
When they came to Canyon Road, Brody turned up the narrow street. She’d never tire of the galleries and shops. Many of them were former homes with blue shutters and doors, another Santa Fe trait. Saturday tourists wandered up the sidewalks, gawking and stopping. “Right up ahead.” She pointed to the low adobe wall that held a turquoise sign with the word Vera’s scrolled in white.
“Pretty place.” Ducking his head, Brody peered over the steering wheel. “I’ve probably driven past here a hundred times.”
As they drew closer, she noticed her grandmother’s purple sun hat bobbing beyond the wall. She often sang or hummed while she painted.
