by Lisa Carter
“Mom...” Gray’s brown eyes gleamed. “You said you’d teach me slow dancing, too.”
“Uh...” She moved toward the farthest corner. “You go with Canyon. Maybe—”
“Don’t mind me.” Unfolding from the wall, Canyon dropped into the recliner. “I can wait.”
She glared at him.
Cocking his head, he gave her another lopsided smile. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Her hand flitted to her hair. When was the last time she’d combed it? This morning? She wrapped her arms around the ratty old sweater she wore.
Gray retrieved her phone from the mantel. “I need to find slower dance songs.”
“Let me.” Canyon fished his phone out of his pocket. “How about we start with a waltz? Keep it simple.”
Gray broadened his skinny chest. “I need simple.”
Kristina fought the urge to run upstairs. She needed to at least brush her hair. But who was she kidding?
She needed a makeover—probably liposuction. And possibly, after Canyon had seen her in this bedraggled state, psychological counseling.
Canyon held up his cell. “How about this?”
Strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You” floated into the air. Canyon and his big band obsession.
Gray’s eyes bored into hers. “Mom?”
So she resigned herself to taking one for Team Gray.
Moving closer to her son, she placed her hand on his shoulder. And took his hand in hers. “Put your other hand around my waist...”
Standing next to him, she had to raise her gaze to meet his. Her heart tugged at the realization of how her little boy had matured. He was already as tall as his dad and still growing.
Gray’s eyes glinted with a suspicious mischief. “Now what?”
She straightened her posture. “We make a box.”
“A what?”
Canyon got out of the chair. “Trace a square with your steps. One corner to the next. All four sides.”
“Like this.” Taking a step backward, she dragged Gray’s body forward. “But you’re supposed to lead.” She towed Gray toward the next corner of the imaginary box.
Canyon had resumed his watchful, relaxed perch against the wall. “Your mom has to do this backward and in heels.”
She smiled, recognizing the quote from Ginger Rogers. Like an automaton, Gray completed the square. “Loosen up, hon,” she whispered.
“I’m not feeling it.” Gray scratched his head. “Maybe if you guys showed me how it’s supposed to be done...?”
She went rigid. “W-what?”
* * *
Canyon’s mouth fell open.
He looked at Gray. Then at Kristina, whose eyes had gone deer-in-the-headlights wide. His gaze shifted once more to Gray.
And noted a distinct gleam in the boy’s eyes. They’d been played. By a teenager.
“Make a box...” Gray’s voice took on the cajoling tone of a symphony conductor forced to deal with the musically challenged. “Four corners. Move your feet.”
Gray put his hand in Canyon’s back and shoved him a foot closer to his mother. Canyon almost stumbled into her.
Her son hefted her arm like a piece of driftwood. “Put your hand on his shoulder, Mom.” Kristina remained mute but unresisting.
When Gray let go, her hand plunked on top of Canyon’s shoulder. He flinched.
“Take her hand, Canyon.” Gray sighed. “Do I have to do everything? Put your hand on her waist, Coastie.”
Canyon’s tongue molded to the roof of his mouth.
Her son sighed again, the sound trickling through his lips like they tried all the patience to be had in the world. “Take Canyon’s hand, Mom.”
Gulping, she complied. Arm in arm, they stared at each other. So awkward. Gray did a quick search on Kristina’s phone. When he hit Play, Doris Day’s rendition of “When I Fall in Love” floated to the beams of the bungalow.
Canyon’s gut tightened. Bittersweet and apropos. Considering his hopeless, helpless love for Gray’s mother.
He took a deep breath to replenish his suddenly oxygen-starved lungs. He’d missed her so much... Staying away had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed.
Gray planted his hands on his hips. “Come on, you guys. Move it or lose it.”
Canyon believed he’d already lost any chance for Kristina’s love. But with her so close to him...maybe this was the only opportunity he’d ever have to hold her in his embrace.
“Ready?” he whispered.
Kristina’s breathing became more rapid. “As I’ll ever be.”
Her soft skin warm in his callused, work-roughened hand, his feet moved of their own volition. And she fell into step with him.
Those beautiful china-blue eyes of hers never left his. In their shimmering depths, he lost himself. Felt himself drowning. And didn’t care.
She felt so right in his arms. So good and lovely and true. As if she’d always belonged there. As if only now, he’d come home to the place he was always meant to be.
Again and again, they formed the box waltz with their steps. The words flowed around him. Would Kristina ever love him the way he loved her? The music swelled and crescendoed.
Their gazes locked. An awareness of him filled her eyes. She trembled. And with a sharp intake of breath, she halted. The love song played on without them.
“Why did you guys stop?”
“I—I think that’s enough.” Her pink-tinted lips trembled. “Don’t you, Canyon?”
He dropped his hand from her waist and stepped away. He didn’t think it was enough. It would never be enough until her love was truly his forever.
But he stood about the same chance of her loving him one day as a pig had of flying. Taking another step backward, he retreated toward the relative safety of the door frame.
This was insane. No good could ever come from loving a woman who’d never stop loving her dead husband. He had only to recall Hap’s lifelong silent anguish.
And if he didn’t get out of this room—away from Kristina—this very moment, he was going to lose all pride. Embarrass them both. Lose any chance of remaining her friend.
Because friendship was all he’d ever have with Kristina. It was best he accepted the terms of any continued relationship with her.
He backpedaled toward the kitchen. “Gotta go.”
She didn’t move.
“Wait.” Frowning, Gray started after him. “Can I go, too?”
Canyon bolted for the back door. “Another time,” he called over his shoulder.
The door banged against the siding in his haste to get away from his grandmother’s house. The only home he’d ever known.
Flinging himself into the truck cab, he cranked the key in the ignition. He threw the truck in Reverse. The tires spun gravel as he jolted onto the paved road.
He shouldn’t have come over this afternoon. He’d come against his better judgment. Against his common sense.
Breaking his vow. Using Gray as an excuse. Because he hadn’t been able to stomach another minute without seeing Gray’s mother.
Getting involved with the Montgomerys had been an error in judgment. Somehow they’d penetrated his carefully erected barricade of self-protection.
A mistake from which—his stomach twisted—he feared he might never recover.
Chapter Thirteen
The following Wednesday, while upstairs folding laundry, Kristina heard the screen door in the kitchen slam. She frowned but went back to folding the bath towel, warm from the dryer. But at the sound of glass breaking, she ran out of the bedroom.
“Gray?” She dashed downstairs. “Is that you?”
Water dribbled off the kitchen island. Against the floorboard, one of her glass vases l
ay splintered into shards. Fortunately, a cheap vase from a discount store. Not one of her mother’s.
Gray leaned over the sink. His hands gripped the edge of the counter. The muscles in his shoulder blades knotted.
“Honey, are you hurt? What happened? I thought you were over at Canyon’s—”
“I was over at Canyon’s, all right.”
Stepping over the broken glass, she touched his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
He whipped around, throwing off her hand. “You’ve helped enough.”
Stung, she drew back. Glass crunched beneath her heels. “I don’t know what you mean. What do you think I’ve done?”
His eyes blazed. “Why didn’t you stop me from behaving like an idiot?”
“Gray—”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth? That a guy like me stood zero chance with a girl like her.”
“Gray—”
“She’s going to the dance with a stupid football jock!”
Kristina remembered the boy from the pancake supper. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no—”
“You went shopping with her for a dress, and what? It didn’t come up? That she already had a date for the dance?”
“Gray, sweetheart—”
“I thought she was better than that.”
“When we went shopping, Jade didn’t have a date.”
The defiance drained from Gray in a whoosh. He slumped against the counter. “She said she wasn’t the kind of girl to sit around waiting for life to happen.”
“Jade told me she wanted to go to the dance with you.”
His mouth turned down. “Everybody at school knows what it means to go to a dance with one of those lunkheads. And he’s a senior.”
“That doesn’t sound like our Jade.”
“News flash, Mom. She’s made it clear she’s not our Jade.” He pushed out his lower lip. “Or at least, most definitely not my Jade.”
“I hoped she’d wait for you to ask her.”
He frowned. “Like mother, like son, she said. What did she mean by that, Mom?”
Kristina’s chest tightened.
“I wasn’t playing games, Mom, I promise. I was working up the courage to ask her.”
Kristina braved one more attempt to place her arm around her son’s shoulders. This time, he let her. “I know, honey.”
His chocolate eyes melted her heart. “I’m not that sort of guy. Real men don’t play games with people’s hearts. Dad wouldn’t. Uncle Weston wouldn’t. Canyon wouldn’t, either.”
No, Canyon wouldn’t. If anyone was playing games with someone’s heart, it was Kristina.
“I really like her.” Gray’s eyes moistened. “Just the way she is. And I thought she liked me, too.” He averted his gaze. “Stupid, huh?”
She hugged him. “You are a great catch, Grayson Montgomery.”
He grimaced. “Is this one of those ‘any girl would be lucky to have you as her date’ speeches?”
Kristina’s lips quirked. “As a matter of fact, it is.”
He let out an exaggerated sigh. But the moisture had disappeared from his eyes. “I’m sorry about the vase. I came busting in, and my elbow accidentally caught it. I’ll clean up the mess.”
She suppressed a sigh of relief. Gray had never been prone to temper tantrums as a child, and she was glad that, when life didn’t go his way, he still wasn’t.
“I love you, son.”
He wrested a broom out of the pantry. “You might be the only one.”
She sighed. “But now I’m not sure what to do. I told the dance committee I’d help chaperone after the Good Friday service at church.”
He swept the glass fragments into the bin.
“You would’ve looked so handsome in your suit, too...”
His head shot up. “Oh, you’ll see me. The more the merrier. I’m going to keep watch over Jade and that overprivileged bag of testosterone, whether she likes it or not.”
She reached for the broom. “Careful. Don’t cut yourself.”
“You’re such a mom, Mom.”
She gave him a quick hug. “Just wait till it’s your turn. Parenting is the toughest job you’ll ever love.”
* * *
Canyon wasn’t proud of running away from Gray and Kristina. He’d done so only out of sheer self-preservation.
Sitting in a café booth overlooking the square with a potential client, he watched Kristina emerge from the church next door.
His pulse went into overdrive. And he spilled his coffee on the bill. The dark liquid streaked across the Formica table.
The tourism director—who needed aerial photos for a “Welcome to the Shore” video—hopped out of the booth. Grabbing a load of napkins from the dispenser, Canyon apologized profusely and frantically mopped up the mess he’d created.
Not unlike the mess in which he found himself with Kristina. His eyes cut to the window again, but Kristina was nowhere in sight. Just as well.
Canyon retrieved the sopping bill off the table, leaving the wad of wet napkins. “I’ve got this. Maybe we could talk more next week?”
The client moved toward the exit. “Maybe.” The door jingled in his wake. And there went next month’s groceries.
“Sorry,” he murmured to Dixie behind the cash register. “I’m not usually such a klutz.”
Dixie refused to take the soggy paper from him. “I won’t be able to make head or tails of this thing, sugar. Tell me what it was you ordered again?”
“Two coffees. Two plates of Long Johns.”
He extracted the bills from his wallet. She deposited the money and closed the tray with a bang.
Canyon jerked his thumb toward the booth. “It’s wrecked, I’m afraid.”
Dixie propped her elbows on the counter. “Like your heart these days?”
He blinked. “Uh...”
Dixie nudged her chin toward the window. “If you hurry, you can catch her. She spends a lot of time window gazing at the empty storefront down the block.”
Canyon stared blankly at the fiftysomething peroxide blonde.
Dixie shooed him. “Don’t stand there like an openmouthed bass on a hook. Get out there and get your girl.”
“Kristina’s not—Wait...” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “How do you—”
“Sugar.” Dixie folded her arms across her bubblegum-pink waitress uniform. “Is this or is this not Kiptohanock? Stop stalling, Collier. I thought crop dusters were made of sterner stuff.”
Pivoting, he made a hasty retreat.
Outside, he paused for a moment to get a bearing on Kristina. His gaze swept past the public dock and adjacent Coast Guard station to the soon-to-open turtle rehab center. He made it a point not to look at the gazebo.
His gaze traveled—almost against his will—to the slight rise of land at the western end of town. To the cemetery where his grandmother’s remains rested. Hap Wallace’s, too.
Near the fire station, he spotted Kristina lingering in front of what had been a hardware store in the village’s heyday. Boarded over the entirety of his living memory, though.
He strode through the parking lot and across the church lawn. Crossing at the corner, he tossed a quick glance toward the gazebo as a songbird trilled.
So intent was her gaze through the taped-over display window, Kristina didn’t hear his approach. Not wishing to startle her, he scuffled a few loose pebbles on the cracked sidewalk to warn her.
Kristina whirled. “Oh, it’s you.”
She placed her hand over her heart. Over the dog tags Canyon had learned to hate.
Not her husband. Or his memory. What Canyon hated was the hold the past had on her present. He swallowed against a rush of feeling.
&n
bsp; All those flying lessons. The exhilaration of soaring in the Cessna with Kristina. They’d once talked so freely. He hated the awkwardness between them. Awkward because of his feelings for her. Feelings she didn’t return.
He shouldn’t have followed her here. He turned to go.
“Wait—”
He stopped.
She cleared her throat. “How are Jade’s grades?”
“I think she’s turned the corner, academically. Socially?” He shrugged. “Still trying to find her place in high school. Still circling for a safe place to land.”
“Aren’t we all?” Kristina tilted her head. “Sometimes I think we spend our lives trying to find a safe place to land.”
“Amen,” he muttered.
She laughed, the sound like tinkling bells. And the tension between them dissolved.
“Are you doing okay, Canyon?”
His heart sped up a notch. “As well as could be expected.” He fought past his own fears. “Since I don’t get to see you every day.”
She blushed. But her hand didn’t stray to that hateful chain around her neck. A small victory, but he’d take what he could get.
“You come here often, I hear.”
Her eyes darted to his. “Someone’s been spreading tales.”
“There are no secrets in Kiptohanock, remember?” He pressed his nose to the glass. “Make a nice florist shop, wouldn’t it?”
She exhaled. “How is it you know me so well?”
“Not as well as I’d like.”
A blush crept up the collar of her wraparound dress. But she didn’t move away.
“You’re mighty dressed up for a Thursday.”
The blue dress tied at her narrow waist. His mouth went dry at the ache to feel her in his arms again.
“I went to see a Realtor.”
He smiled. “The first step is always the hardest. But I’m proud of you.”
She rocked on her heels. “I didn’t say I was going to put in a bid.”
“The owner would probably give you a deal to take the place off his hands.”
Her eyes dropped to the pavement. “The price was very fair.”
Canyon crossed his arms across his chest. “I’d be glad to loan you the start-up money.”
