With a sense of betraying that now dead young man, remorse blanketed her. Her hand automatically drifted to the chain underneath her shirt collar. And she stuffed the unwelcome feelings into a dark corner of her heart. For good measure, she glowered at the Eastern Shore pilot.
At the motion of her hand, he narrowed his eyes. Lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. Lines that probably feathered when he smiled. Which he wasn’t doing now.
Handsome by anyone’s definition. And from his body language, as arrogant and cocky as they came. She ought to know.
Once upon a time, she’d married one.
* * *
Canyon didn’t miss the scorn on her face. Welcome to Kiptohanock to you, too, neighbor.
Not seeing a car in the office parking space, he figured she’d walked over through the woods from next door. Gray must take after his father. The boy’s dark features didn’t resemble the woman. She could’ve been a cover model for a Scandinavian travel brochure.
Or considering her frosty demeanor, Icelandic. Although, if he remembered rightly, Greenland was the one with most of the glaciers.
“Which one are you?” She flicked her hand toward the sign. “Wallace or Collier?”
“Collier.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of her house. “And which one are you?”
Her chin came up. “I’m the woman who would’ve never bought this property if I knew we were in the flight path of your crop duster.”
One of those genteel, upper-crust Southern voices. Not the nowhere accent of Northern Virginia. Nor the twang of the Blue Ridge. Probably from central Virginia or the Carolinas.
He tightened his jaw. “I’m an aerial application specialist. And I’ve been careful to not fly over your house.”
“Mom...” Gray tugged at her sleeve. “Stop embarrassing me. Canyon is my boss.”
She planted one hand on her jeans-clad hip. “As if I’d ever allow you to work for a sky jockey like him.”
Canyon’s eyebrows rose. Interesting turn of phrase. He hadn’t heard that one since his Coast Guard days.
“Especially after what happened to your father.”
Without meaning to, Canyon’s eyes cut to the bare space on her left hand. A widow? A silver chain half-hidden in the folds of her collar glinted. Had Gray’s father been an airline fatality?
As for his first impression of Gray’s mother? Tall, a willowy five foot eight, Canyon estimated, to his six-foot height. Long, wavy blond hair spilled over her thin shoulders. Classic oval features. Fair skinned. And her eyes?
Her eyes gave Canyon pause. His grandmother would’ve called her eyes china blue. Like the blue in a field of cornflowers.
Those eyes sent an inexplicable pang through his heart. A yearning for something to which he’d believed himself immune.
According to the real estate papers he’d signed at closing, this must be K. Montgomery. Since the attorney had handled everything, he’d assumed the new owner was a man and that Gray, who’d started hanging out at the airfield a few weeks ago, the man’s son. But the disturbing, angry woman was definitely not a man.
Canyon folded his arms across his chest. He’d sold his grandmother’s house to buy the Air Tractor 802 he just landed. Landed safely, no thanks to K. Montgomery. His misfortune to sell what little remained of his family heritage to an aircraft hater.
He shrugged. “I invited Gray to help me out on the repair of an engine. The boy likes to tinker.”
K. Montgomery’s china-blue eyes became chips of sapphire. “The boy is my fifteen-year-old son. He doesn’t have my permission to work here. An airfield is dangerous. I ought to report you for child endangerment.”
“My mistake, lady.” When would he learn? In his experience, no good deed ever went unpunished. “The boy looks sixteen. Won’t happen again.”
Gray inserted himself between them. “Canyon was doing me a favor. Teaching me how to repair engines. I like being here.”
The woman squared her shoulders. “I absolutely will not allow you to put your life at risk.”
Gray went rigid. “Moving here was supposed to be about making a new start for both of us. But since Dad died, all you care about is making me miserable. As miserable as you.”
“I’m not—” She pursed her lips. “Being around airplanes will only make you feel worse, Gray.”
Gray held his ground. “Just because you’re afraid of airplanes doesn’t mean I have to hate them, too. It makes me happy to remember Dad here. You’re the one who makes me feel sad.”
Canyon angled toward Gray’s mother. “Your son’s a really good kid. Your husband would be proud. And I’d never put Gray in harm’s way. He’s good company.”
The woman blinked at him for a moment.
Canyon scrubbed his hand over his face. Bothered—strangely—that he’d forgotten to shave this morning. Bothered, too, that he was fighting so hard to keep the boy working at the airfield.
She faced Gray. “Go back to the house. I won’t risk losing you the way we lost your father.” She glared at Canyon. “And I’m not afraid of airplanes.”
Gray snorted. “You’re afraid of everything since Dad died. Afraid to laugh. Afraid to live. And I’m sick of living in the grave with you.”
Hurt flitted across her features.
An unusual—and unwelcome—sensation of protectiveness rose in Canyon’s chest. “Just a minute, Gray...”
Gray’s brown eyes darkened. “You don’t know what it’s like. She won’t let me do anything because she’s afraid I’ll get hurt.” His shoulders hunched. “Stop treating me like a baby, Mom.”
“Then stop acting like one, Gray,” Canyon growled.
Gray flushed.
Canyon sighed. How had he gotten entangled in this quicksand? Since leaving the Coast Guard, he’d spent the last three years making sure he stayed out of other people’s business and that people stayed out of his.
He took a breath. “What does the K stand for?”
“Kristina.” Gray kicked a loose stone on the concrete. “I like working with motors, Mom. And Canyon needs my help.” Gray leaned forward. “Tell her, Canyon. Tell her how much you need my help.”
Kristina Montgomery’s lovely face hardened. “Your only job is school, Gray.”
Gray clenched his hands. “Since you don’t have a job, I figure maybe I better.”
Canyon’s brow puckered. “I didn’t realize you were looking for work. What do you do?”
She opened her mouth, but once again Gray beat her to the punch.
“Mom cuts great triangle sandwiches.” Gray’s mouth twisted. “She has a green thumb. And can clean a toilet like nobody’s business.”
She quivered at his sarcasm.
Canyon had had enough of the attitude. “Let’s you and me get one thing straight right now, Grayson Montgomery. I will not tolerate disrespect to any woman, much less your mother.”
Gray’s and his mother’s gazes swung to Canyon’s.
“She cares about you or she wouldn’t have come looking for you. Good mothers don’t grow on trees. I should know.”
Canyon