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His heart squeezed painfully. He’d missed Sash so much that even if he could, he didn’t want to go away again without talking to her. Could they bury the elephant between them? These weeks might be his only opportunity. He could put the time to good use and put the real Sasha up against the one in his memory. That might prove interesting. Maybe the biggest disappointment of his life. But then he might finally be able to move on.
‘You going or what?’ Mike asked.
Grady shook his head, concentrated on the here and now. ‘On my way.’
He hadn’t even got the car door shut before Sash turned the key in the ignition. She mightn’t intend driving fast but she wasn’t wasting time hanging around. Glancing his way, she kept her face inscrutable. ‘Ready?’
‘Yes.’ Shrugging back into the corner, he couldn’t stop his gaze wandering over her. His breathing stuttered. She’d grown even more beautiful than he remembered her to be. Her pearly whites were now straight and orderly. The braces she’d hated wearing had done a fantastic job, though he missed the gap between the two front teeth. That had been kind of cute. Sasha’s curls had grown into a long, burnished gold ponytail held firmly in place with a purple clip thing. She still stared directly at everything, everyone. Including him.
And there—in those eyes—he finally recognised something from way back. Those eyes held the same all-seeing, missing-nothing gleam, and they were focused entirely on him. Looking for what?
Then she blinked, turned her head and began backing the vehicle onto the road, before concentrating on taking them down the hill. Her hands were firm on the steering-wheel, her body tilted forward as she peered out the windscreen. She was in control. Nothing new there. But she wasn’t fighting the situation, instead using the gears to go with the conditions outside.
Grady relaxed further back into his seat, clicked his seat belt in place. The vehicle was in capable hands. Unless fate had some ugly plans for them he’d soon be back at his house, warm and comfortable again. And hopefully getting some sleep. Something he seriously doubted was likely to happen.
The only sound was the purr of the engine and the intermittent flick, flick of the wipers. Sasha had never liked silence. But she wasn’t doing anything about filling this one. Grady’s mouth twitched.
Ironic but he wanted to hear noise, her voice, words, anything but this quietness that smothered him.
Her gloved right hand lifted from the steering-wheel and did the gentlest of sweeps across her belly.
His gut squeezed tight. He wanted to place his hand on top of hers, to feel whatever she felt. To be a part of this scene, not an observer. Her gesture had been instinctive, a mother-to-baby touch. Sash was obviously comfortable with being an expectant mum. It suited her.
From what he could see in the dull light from the instrument panel her face had softened, the glint in her eyes quietened, and that chin didn’t point forward. Yes, she was at ease with her situation, if not with him.
The tightening in his gut increased. He wanted to ask about the father of her baby, why she was living back here, how long before she left again, if she was happy. Instead, he looked out the windscreen and went for, ‘How are your parents? Your dad still flying?’
At first it seemed she had no intention of answering. But just when he was about to try again she answered. ‘Dad’s set to retire at the end of the year. He’s getting tired of long-haul flights, finds each one a little harder to recover from than the last. But he doesn’t want to go back on the domestic route. Says that’s for the up-and-coming pilots to sharpen their teeth on.’
‘I’ve never understood how pilots manage all those hours in the air, their bodies not really coping with all the time-zone changes. It can’t be good in the long run.’ Yet he remembered Ian Wilson always having abundant energy. Working their avocado and citrus orchards when he was at home, going fishing, flying his plane, taking his family away for hiking weekends. He’d never stopped. His daughter had the same genes.
‘You haven’t seen Dad for a while. He’s looking older. And he doesn’t move as fast any more.’ Sadness laced her statement. ‘He’s only sixty-three, for goodness’ sake. He shouldn’t be slowing down.’
‘Are you worried about it? Enough to suggest he see a doctor?’
‘No, it’s life catching up, I think.’ She changed gear to reduce speed for a sharp bend. ‘Jackson’s working in Hong Kong so they catch up whenever Dad flies that way.’
So Dr Jackson Wilson, Sasha’s older brother, now lived halfway round the world. No surprise. The guy had been in a hurry to leave the bay the moment he’d finished high school. Guess he hadn’t stopped when he’d reached Auckland either. ‘What does your mother think about Ian retiring?’
‘She’s the reason he’s not stopping as soon as he’d like. I think she’s afraid he’ll take over her orchard and leave her with little to do.’
‘Hardly surprising. It’s been her baby for years.’
Again Sash went all quiet on him. This time the silence hung heavily between them as she concentrated on negotiating the final hairpin bend, her eyes focused straight ahead, her lips pressed hard together. He sensed the tension in her thighs, arms and the rest of her compact body. Because of the road conditions? Or the fact he’d used the baby word?
He broke the silence. ‘When I went for a walk yesterday I noticed the orchard’s been expanded. There’s a lot of work there for anyone to cope with.’ If Ian was sixty-three then his wife had to be a similar age. Time to relax a bit, surely?
It took a few minutes but finally she answered so quietly he had to strain to hear her. ‘Mum tries, and I help when I can.’
‘Is that wise in your condition? Orchard work’s quite heavy.’ Seemed his runaway tongue had no problem with talking. Then his head jerked forward as the car skated to an abrupt halt.
‘By the time you’ve walked home you might’ve learned to keep your unwanted opinions to yourself.’ Sasha stared out the windscreen, not even dignifying him with a glare.
‘I’m sorry. Again.’ He waited. He had no intention of getting out into the night and waiting for the unlikely event of another vehicle coming along.
Might try and learn to keep your trap shut while you’re waiting. Because up until now it’s done nothing but get you further than ever offside with Sasha. If that was possible.
Something akin to fear slithered under his skin. What if he never got to laugh with Sasha again? Never saw her eyes light up into that brilliant summer green that hit him right in the heart? Could he still go and knock on her door and say hi?
She wouldn’t need that from him. Those bases would be covered with the father of her baby. Nausea rolled up Grady’s throat. He hadn’t been able to do any of those things for years. Long, lonely years when he’d looked for her in every woman he dated.
Suddenly he really, truly, understood how coming back to Golden Bay had little to do with working on his house. He could’ve paid a carpenter to do that. No, this mad idea had been all about Sasha and their past.
But it had to be friendship he was looking for.
Nope. Not at all. But it was all he’d get.
But first he needed a ride home.
He did the one thing he was very good at, had been doing for years. He waited.
CHAPTER THREE
SASHA SNAPPED THE shower off after a quick soap and sluice job and snatched at her towel. She’d slept in. She’d be late for work. The one thing she’d do anything to avoid. And on a Monday morning it’d be bedlam at the medical centre. Hopefully, Mike and Roz would give her some slack because she’d been helping Sam and Lucy. There’d be no problem with Rory. He was more laid back than his medical partners.
Why hadn’t she heard her alarm? Hard to believe she’d fallen asleep the moment her head had touched the pillow, that there hadn’t been hours of tossing and turning while Grady ran amok in her skull.
But the moment her eyes had popped open this morning he’d been there. That wary, lopsided smile clawing at her heartstrings. His gravelly voice thrilling her deep, deep inside, stirring hormones into a dance. The lid had lifted off that memory box again.
‘Grady O’Neil, I’ve missed you so much.’ Nothing or nobody in the intervening years had filled the hole he’d torn out of her heart. Out of her soul. There’d been men, for sure, but none had touched her as deeply as Grady. Not even greaseball had hurt her as badly. Could be she was getting used to being tossed aside by the men she’d cared about. Thank goodness. She wouldn’t have survived a repeat of the kind of devastation Grady had caused, leaving her hollowed out.
Kick, kick.
Until the advent of her baby. Flipper would go a long way to making her feel complete again. Flipper would soak up all the love she had to give. ‘My baby girl.’
Swiping the condensation off the mirror, Sasha studied her belly. So round, smooth, life-giving. Her fingers splayed across the taut skin and she turned sideways for a different view. ‘Oh, wow.’ Tears misted her eyes, clogged her throat. ‘You’re beautiful already.’
She never tired of this view. Pregnancy had turned out to be amazing. Hard to believe that a wee baby girl was growing in there, getting ready for the big, wide world. What colour were her eyes? Her hair? ‘My baby. My love.’ Sniff. ‘I promise you, Flipper, I’m going to be the best darned mother you’d ever wish for.’ Sniff. ‘I love you so much already.’ Would love cover all her failings? Help her make wise decisions regarding just about everything? Would her love make up for the lack of a father?
Tossing the towel in the general direction of the drying rail, Sasha fumbled for a tissue and blew hard.
No, Grady, the job’s not up for grabs. As much as my baby needs a dad, I’m not letting you in. It’s bad enough you shoved my love back in my face, and on a bad day I might even take another chance on you, admit extenuating circumstances, but what if you left again? That could hurt Flipper, which is non-negotiable. So, byebye, Grady.
But, for the record, her real father’s out of the picture, too. He made it clearer than a fine winter’s day that he wants absolutely nothing to do with this child. As far as I’m concerned, he’s had his chance.
Kick.
‘Hey, baby girl. You should be sleeping in after your late night.’ Dropping the soggy tissue in the waste basket, Sasha picked up her knickers and stepped into them. Reached for her bra, which got tighter by the day. ‘You know we’re running late, Flipper? The centre will be buzzing with people who’ve knocked themselves about over the weekend, playing rugby or netball, plus the usual line-up of colds and flu.’ The zip on her pregnancy trousers caught. ‘Flipper, you’re putting on weight.’
As she shoved her arms into her blouse there was a loud pounding on her front door. ‘Who the heck?’ Just what she needed, a visitor when she should already be on the road. Then she relaxed. It’d be Jessica. There’d been a message on the answering-machine when she’d got in to call her friend urgently, no matter what the time of day or night. Fairly certain Jessica would be phoning to warn her about Grady’s reappearance, she’d opted to wait until she saw her at work rather than talk for what had been left of the night about how to deal with him.
Heading for the front of her cottage, she left buttoning her blouse and tugged on a woollen cardigan. She swung the door wide, shivering in the cold blast that immediately whacked her. ‘Hey, you can save your breath. I already...’ Her voice petered out as her eyes encountered the one person she’d never expected to see at this moment.
‘You already what?’ Grady asked in such a normal tone, like he always dropped by her place, that the temperature of her blood went from normal to boiling in a flash.
Remain calm. Breathe deep. ‘What are you doing here?’
Grady’s eyes widened but otherwise he remained unperturbed. ‘I need a ride to the medical centre. My car’s at Mike’s.’ His hand slid through that wonderful, nearly shoulder-length black hair that she refused to remember running her fingers through. ‘I presume you’re heading that way shortly.’
The heat in her veins evaporated immediately. A ride to the centre? In her car? He was doing something so mundane as asking a neighbour for a lift and yet she wanted to yell no at him. Yearned to close her door in his beautiful face and lean back on it, while pretending that the guy on the other side meant no more to her than yesterday’s lunch. So much for not letting Grady get to her.
Be calm, act rationally. Do the right, the sensible thing. ‘No problem. Give me a minute. I’ll grab my jacket and bag.’ She didn’t try to sound chirpy. Too tired for that. And wired. Grady mightn’t have kept her awake last night but she hadn’t forgotten for an instant that she’d seen him, that he was back, that she’d missed him more than she’d ever guessed. That her body went a little crazy whenever he was near. Shouldn’t pregnancy dull the sex buzz?
A buzz he didn’t seem to be feeling as he said, ‘Thanks. I’m covering for Mike this morning while he catches up on much-needed sleep. They didn’t get back from Nelson until about five.’
The vague hope that she could drive fast, dump Grady at Mike’s and get on with her day vanished. They’d be in the same building most of the morning until she headed off on her rounds. She’d be unable to avoid him. Even if she didn’t see him she’d hear his deep voice when he talked with patients as he led them to his consulting room or when he took a coffee break in the kitchen. So? What happened to doing friendly? Grady seemed to be managing that. Surely she could? Or didn’t he feel anything about the past? Had he got over it so well that he really thought friendship was possible?
Get real. Grady told you he didn’t love you any more. What was there to get over?
Spinning on her heel, she left him on the doorstep and headed for the kitchen to collect her gear and something to have for breakfast once she got to work.
‘Sash,’ he called after her.
Spinning back, she glared at him, holding in the pain that using the diminutive form of her name caused. Today she would not lower herself to plead that he refrain from using it. Instead, she slapped a hand on her hip and, barely resisting tapping her foot, waited.
‘Sorry. Sasha.’ His chest lifted, fell back into place under that navy jersey that fitted him like a second skin, accentuating all the details of his chest she’d prefer to forget. The tip of his tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth. ‘You might want to take a few more minutes and finish getting dressed.’
What? She glanced downwards. Great. Her blouse was only half-buttoned, exposing her new, getting-bigger-by-the-day cleavage. Her feet were bare. Heck, she hadn’t put any make-up on yet or done her hair. ‘Make that ten minutes.’
* * *
Grady watched as Sash did that spin-on-her-heel thing again. Her back was straighter than straight, her long, mussed hair bouncing as she charged away. And his belly squeezed hard on the boiled egg he’d eaten half an hour ago. Did those golden locks still feel like silk? Did she still enjoy having them hand-combed by someone else?
The wind roared across the lawn, pelted his back with cold and knocked the door against the wall. He stepped inside and closed winter out. Now what? Did he wander through the house like he was welcome? Or wait here just inside the door like a nervous kid outside the headmaster’s office? Like he’d ever done that.
He strode towards the door opposite where Sash had disappeared, hopeful of finding the kitchen. What if her partner was there? Then he’d front up, introduce himself and explain why he was here. He would not say he’d deliberately come by to meet him, to find out who he was and see if they already knew each other.
That baby bump was still there, hadn’t disappeared overnight. Hadn’t been a figment of his overactive imagination. Breakfast rolled over. Regurgitated egg tasted disgusting. Hadn’t tasted that flash first time round, come to think of it. He’d eaten on autopilot, knowing he’d regret it later if he didn’t have breakfast but not overly interested in what he ate. His head space had been filled with images from last night of Sash. Angry, cautious, smiling—not at him—shocked, and very, very protective of her unborn child.
The cupboard that was obviously the kitchen was empty. No partner here. Grady didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. The moment of reckoning had only been delayed.
‘Right, let’s go.’ Sasha’s hand appeared in the periphery of his vision as she snatched up keys lying on the bench.
‘Sasha.’ Grady knew he should stop right there but the words kept on coming. ‘Do you live here alone?’
‘Yes,’ she called over her shoulder, as she strode away to the front door. Her hand on the door handle tightened then she whipped around to face him, her annoyed-looking eyes locking with his. ‘Yes,’ she repeated more emphatically. And then she waited, apparently understanding what he wanted to know and not making it easy for him.
‘The baby’s father doesn’t live with you?’ What part of living alone didn’t you get?
‘Definitely not,’ she snapped, then blinked and turned away, tugging the door open, but not before he saw anger flicker across her face, widening her eyes.
Not sure how he should be feeling right now, he followed her outside. If there wasn’t a father in the picture then maybe he could spend some time getting alongside her and see where that led. Probably fooling himself, setting himself up for heartbreak.
What about that baby? Do you want to be a part of its life? Because if you’re wanting Sash back then she comes with extras.
Something to think about. Though his need to get alongside Sash might override any concerns about the child. At the moment, anyway.
Watching her closely as those keys she’d snatched up flew from one ring-laden hand to the other and back while she waited for him to come outside, he had to resist the urge to wrap her up in a big hug. Nothing sexual. A completely caring and friendly embrace. A hug to take away some of that despair she was valiantly trying to hide behind anger.
The front door closed with a bang. Then the locks on that canary-yellow car popped. Sash’s feet slapped hard on the pavement as she closed the gap to her vehicle then swung back to face him. She’d applied make-up in those few minutes she’d left him standing around, yet her face appeared ghostly pale. But her spine had clicked dead straight again.
‘I am going to be a solo mother.’ Fierce words spoken in her don’t-screw-with-me attitude. So Sash. Watch out anyone who gave her a hard time over that. And there’d be plenty. Small communities might turn out to support anyone who needed them but there was always the gossip doing the rounds, too. Which was why her brother had left so long ago.
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