Joan Kilby - Homecoming Wife

“I like them,” she said at last. “They’re kind of sexy.”

Sexy.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, and at that moment his voice decided to go all husky on him. He hoped he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself but with Angela there was no guarantee things would proceed according to plan.

Her gaze connected with his. “I’ve been okay. You?”

She dumped you, remember? Hardening his tone, he replied, “Great. Just great.”

Abruptly, her hand dropped from his jaw, as if she’d just realized what she was doing. “We need to talk. About us. Get things sorted out.”

“I agree.” He pushed his cart forward, remembering at the last minute to pick up some frozen juice. Angela could make him forget his own name if she looked at him the right way.

“You never wanted to marry again?” she asked conversationally as they moved into the next aisle.

He shook his head. “Some might say you scarred me for life.”

“Or spoiled you for anyone else.” She glanced sideways as if to see how he’d react to this and there was actually a twinkle in her eye.

Well, he wasn’t going to bite. He grunted and reached for a jar of pasta sauce to place in his cart.

“What about girlfriends?” Her words were delivered coolly, as if in only passing interest.

“Presently, no.” Something about her carefully averted profile made him ask, “Why? Do you want me back? Is that why you came to Whistler?”

“Oh! You are so arrogant.” She pushed her cart purposefully down the aisle. “I wonder where Ricky is.”

Nate thought about heading in the opposite direction but he refused to go out of his way to avoid further contact. It would look as though he couldn’t handle being with her. Following at a slower pace he caught up with Angela and Ricky in the confectionery aisle. Ricky was pulling bags of candy off the shelves and dumping them into Angela’s shopping cart.

“Not too many, Ricky,” Angela was saying. “Candy causes tooth decay.”

Unfazed by her remonstrations, Ricky tossed another bag into the cart.

“Sugar can also lead to diabetes and obesity,” Angela continued to reason unsuccessfully with the boy. “It stops you from eating more nutritious food.”

“Like pizza?” Nate couldn’t help interject.

Angela glared at him.

Ricky shrugged and pulled away from her. “I don’t care. It tastes good.”

Nate grasped the boy gently but firmly by the shoulder and turned Ricky around to face him. “While your aunt is looking after you, you do what she says. Now put all but one bag of candy back on the shelves.”

“You’re not in charge of me,” Ricky argued.

“Put it back.” Nate gazed steadily into the boy’s eyes. “Understand?”

“Yessir,” Ricky mumbled and squirmed out of Nate’s grip. Reluctantly he began to return the candy to the shelf.

Angela grabbed Nate by the arm and dragged him a few feet away. “How dare you interfere?” she demanded in a furious undertone. “I told you I would handle my nephew.”

Nate snorted. “Kids have to be taught limits. I’ll bet Janice doesn’t let him get away with stuff.”

“I suppose you’re an expert on children?”

“I have a young niece, and I work with kids, many of them from troubled homes.”

“Since when?”

“Since after you left. You know, an organized activity would help keep Ricky out of trouble.” Nate turned to Ricky who was kicking the wheels of the cart, bored with waiting for the adults. “Hey, dude. Do you like mountain bikes? I teach a course for ten to twelve-year-olds.”

“Mountain biking!” Ricky stopped kicking the wheels and perked up. “That would be so cool. I think my friend, Tim, is taking your course.”

“Tim Martin? Yes, he is.” Nate used to date Tim’s mother, Kerry, although for some months now they’d just been friends. “The course begins next week with classes on Tuesday and Friday. Do you have a mountain bike?” Ricky nodded. “Bring it down to Cycle Sports in the Village and my mechanic will check it over for you.”

“Wait just a minute!” Angela protested. “If you think I’m handing this unsuspecting child over to you, the king of daredevils himself, you’re nuts.”

“With appropriate precautions and proper training, mountain biking is perfectly safe,” Nate said, irritated.

“Oh, yeah? Remember the time you hit a boulder coming down Blackcomb Mountain and snapped your collarbone? Or the time you broke your arm when your bike hit a big root?”

Ricky listened eagerly, eyes round, mouth parted.

“I was riding tech trails, training for competitions.” Nate explained what Angela should have known perfectly well. “If Ricky doesn’t have protective gear I’ve got extra pads he can borrow.”

“And what about that close encounter with a spruce tree which ended with fifteen stitches?” She stood on tiptoe to peer at his right cheekbone. “I can still see the scar.”

“I don’t do stunts anymore and I haven’t had a serious injury in years.” He paused. “I stopped racing.”

That took her aback. “You gave up racing?”

Her skepticism wasn’t unfounded; for years racing had consumed him. He shrugged. “My priorities changed.”

“Too little, too late,” she muttered. “Come on, Ricky.” She walked away again, dragging Ricky by the hand while the boy looked longingly over his shoulder at Nate.

Fine, let her go. This time he wouldn’t follow. Nate lifted a hand in farewell. “Catch you later, dude.”

Nate finished his shopping and went through the checkout. By the time he’d packed his groceries into his empty backpack and unchained the Balfa, Angela was coming out of the store. Realizing that if they were going to talk they had to arrange a time and place, he followed her to her car.

While Ricky goggled at the Balfa, Angela opened the trunk of her car and began to lift bags inside. Her gaze flicked to the clouds massing above the mountains. “It looks like rain.”

Nate helped her load groceries and cast an educated eye over the sky. “The cumulus are building but higher up in the stratosphere winds are brisk. I don’t think we’ll see any rain until later tonight.”

Ricky took his awestruck gaze off the bike to peer up at Nate. “You sound like the weatherman on TV.”

“I study meteorology in my spare time.” Nate caught Angela’s surprised glance and added, “When you’re on a bike, facing a sheer drop off a mountain ridge, you want to know which way the wind blows.”

“Cool,” Ricky breathed. “Aunt Angela, I gotta go mountain biking.”

“Meteorology?” Angela repeated, ignoring her nephew. “Does this mean you finally decided on a direction in life?”

“It’s a hobby. Doesn’t Janice tell you anything?”

“She didn’t mention that.” She pushed her cart into the trolley bay and moved toward the driver’s side of the Dodge.

“You wanted to talk,” Nate said. He’d waited a long time for the chance to thrash things through; the sooner they got it over, the better. He glanced at Ricky who was watching them with avid curiosity. How much did the boy know about their situation?

Angela casually turned to her nephew. “Hop in the car, Ricky.”

Ricky glanced at Nate, Nate nodded imperceptibly, and the boy got in the passenger seat. Angela frowned at Ricky’s deference to Nate then seemed to shake off her irritation with an effort. “Where do we start?”

“How about with you running away?” He spoke forcefully, forgetting all good intentions about keeping his anger under control. “What the hell was that about?”

“We had a fight if you recall. You were pressuring me to start a family but you and your bike always came first. Face it, we weren’t even ready to marry. I was nineteen and you were twenty—way too young.”