He walked up alongside her in the garage, the scent of motor oil arousing as hell when mixed with a hint of Nikki's soap. "That must have been tough."
"Totally sucked." She passed him a rake. "I was so proud of myself for being independent, and yet, here I am."
She emptied the wheelbarrow, tossing two bags of mulch on the cement floor and grabbing the handles to roll it outside. Empty oak branches swayed overhead along with evergreens. She'd run a couple of miles and now planned to cool down with yard work? This woman really did need a friend's support more than maybe even she knew.
"Independence doesn't mean stupidity." He scraped the rake over the yard, gathering a growing tidal wave of dead pine needles. "It's good, normal and damned lucky to have family you can count on who know they can count on you."
"What about your family?" She knelt to scoop up the growing pile of pine straw with her hands. "You mentioned a sister."
"My sister's married, lives with her husband in Ireland."
"Ireland? Wow, you don't hear that one all that often."
He rubbed his thumb against two fingers in the universal "money" symbol.
"Ah, lucky for them."
He shrugged, raking faster. The Prices seemed a helluva lot richer to him with their overflowing home and working class values.
She stared up as she rose to take the handles again. "The whole 'money doesn't buy happiness' notion? Hmmm... maybe not, but it sure pays the bills." She dumped the full wheelbarrow by the curb and rolled back to his next pile of straw. "What about the rest of your family?"
"Well, they don't have any problems meeting their bills."
"You have that look to you."
"That look?" He peered over his aviator glasses, liking the look of her so much it was tough to process her words.
"Prep school education. A far cry from my parents' garage jam-packed full of yard gear, greasy tools and workout weights."
Her implied censure gave him pause. He'd always known she had a crush on him. He knew he had his faults—big ass faults—but since she didn't know about his alcoholism, he'd never stopped to consider there might be other things she disapproved of about his way of life. That tweaked more than it should have. "I think you're insulting me."
"No. Only commenting on our obvious differences. Just because I feel you did a really scumbag thing a few months ago doesn't mean I believe you're an actual scumbag.">Pain—and yes, anger—whispered through her veins. All of which strengthened her resolve to break things off with Gary. How unfair to date him when she still had this mess of feelings for Carson tangled tighter than those sailboat lines twisting in the wind.
He cleared the walkway and stopped. Waving?
She should look away. Leave. Quit staring after him like a lovesick dork. And she would in just a second.
Carson called to someone behind a beat-up truck but his words drifted away on the wind and out to sea. He waited to be joined by two men—an older, shorter man in a backward ball cap and another guy about Carson's age, taller in a plaid shirt. She couldn't make them out well from a distance and didn't study them overlong since she was too busy being more relieved than she should that Carson wasn't with a woman.
He walked with the two men toward his extended-cab truck where they all three climbed in. All? Apparently there wasn't a work meeting after all. It stung more than a little that he'd felt the need to make excuses.
Definitely time to leave and move forward...
Panting from her run, Nikki slowed on the sidewalk in front of her parents' next-door neighbor's, sifting through the mishmash of emotions from that night to simply analyze the event.
She'd already remembered that time prior to stepping inside, but relaxing did offer her a few more details—like the two men Carson met up with. Problem was that seemed so insignificant. She could only hope the relaxation techniques suggested by the hypnotist would help her recall more.
As if she'd conjured Carson from her thoughts, there he was, in the driveway with her mother, little Jamie barreling by the trailer hitch on his toddler scooter.
Her mom sagged back against the fender of Carson's truck, her hand pressed to her forehead. Nikki's stomach lurched up to her throat. Had something happened to her father? God, she'd been so selfishly focused on her own mess she'd all but forgotten that her dad was in the Middle East, not a safe place for military members on the ground or in the air.
Nikki ripped the headset from her ears and sprinted across the dormant lawn, over a low hedge toward her mother. "Mom?" She took her mother's elbow, determined to keep it together, be supportive. "I'm here. Breathe—"
"It's all right," Rena interrupted, straightening with a shaky smile. "Everything's fine. I only got a smidge spooked when Scorch drove up. I had a little flashback to the other time my husband's commander showed up on my doorstep. Of course I know you wouldn't come alone for a bad call. You would bring along a doctor and chaplain," she rambled, gasping. "But still..."
Carson jammed his fists into his leather coat pockets. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to check on everyone. And you're right. I wouldn't be here alone and I wouldn't be wearing a flight suit."
He would wear his dress blues, all those ribbons across his chest. He could be a poster model for a recruiting office he filled out any uniform so well. What a silly superficial thought that made her wonder if her feelings were still the result of physical attraction and the old crush.