With chagrin, Canyon accepted her invite. And Kristina drove home alone to get a head start on lunch. Gray stayed behind to give Jade a tour of the aircraft.
As in plural. According to Gray, Canyon owned an AT 802—aka the yellow plane—a Cessna 172 and a helicopter.
Great, just great. As she drove the half mile via the road toward her bungalow, she suspected Gray had more on his mind than aircraft. Which was cute, in a first-crush sort of way.
But the very mature Jade was far too sophisticated in the ways of the world to give her late-bloomer son the time of day. Or at least that’s what she hoped.
Exiting her car, Kristina sent a quick prayer heavenward that Jade would let Gray down easy. She actually prayed. For the first time in a while.
She hurried to prepare the guest room and to set out fresh towels. Grabbing a blank piece of paper from the printer tray, she scrounged Gray’s desk for markers.
“Welcome to Kiptohanock, Jade,” she wrote with a flourish of curling vines and flowers onto the border. She taped the sign to the bedroom door.
In the kitchen, she slathered pimiento cheese on slices of white bread. Slicing the crusts from the sandwiches, she cut the bread into triangles. And smirked.
At how predictable she’d become. Although, on second thought, maybe not such a good thing. Was she as boring as Gray believed?
Plating the sandwiches, she heard the sound of a car in the driveway. Then Gray’s voice.
“The Cessna 172 is a workhorse...” The screen door squeaked as her son bounded into the kitchen. “The carburetor needs tweaking, but I think I can...” Jade followed.
Canyon’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. Jade’s gaze flitted from the vintage mint-tiled border above the countertop to the small bunch of purple crocuses on the farm table.
Gray pulled out a chair at the table. “Please take a seat, Jade.”
Kristina’s heart warmed as her son went all Southern gentleman. Jade gave Gray a suspicious look. As if she expected he’d yank the chair out from under her.
But scowling, she sat down. Mouth curved upward, Gray plopped into a chair opposite Jade. “Thanks, Mom. Looks great. As soon as Canyon and I have time, we’re going to take apart the...” He returned to his aircraft monologue.
She’d never known her son to be so talkative. Her eyes met Canyon’s.
He smiled. Which revealed two deep dimples bracketing his mouth. Her heart did a strange flip flop.
Part of Kristina resented her son’s hero worship of Canyon Collier. An adoration with which he’d only gifted his father.
After lunch, Gray volunteered to wash the dishes, the sheer novelty of his offer nearly sending Kristina into cardiac arrest. And leaving Gray to his sudden burst of helpfulness, she took Jade to her room.
Canyon hauled the duffel bag upstairs. At the sign on the door, Jade’s stance softened before she caught herself.
Kristina leaned against the door frame. “Will this work for you, Jade?”
Jade let her shoulders rise and fall in a studied show of indifference. “Yeah. Whatever.”
Canyon sighed. “Jade...”
Kristina bit back a smile. “It’s fine.”
“Teenagers. God’s little way of keeping us humble.”
She laughed. “True.”
He deposited the duffel bag on the braided rug by the bed. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took a long, slow look at the room.
Kristina turned to go. “I’ll leave you to unpack, Jade.”
Canyon joined her on the landing. “Thank you, Kristina. This goes way beyond neighborly. I’ll tackle our living situation at the airfield immediately. We won’t impose on your hospitality for more than tonight.”
“No rush. It’ll be nice having another female around.” She tilted her head. “I was always outnumbered with Gray and his father.”
Canyon’s face shadowed. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. I shouldn’t have said what I did about your relationship with Gray being in jeopardy.” His gaze shot toward the guest room. “Like you said earlier, what does a guy like me know about parenting?”
She sensed his discouragement. “Parenting teenagers is tough. I’m in no position to judge.” She had an inexplicable urge to comfort him. “You obviously care deeply about your daughter.”
“Wait. You think Jade is my—” Confusion flickered across his features. “I thought Gray explained.”
Her cheeks burned. Why was it always open mouth, insert a prop plane when it came to Canyon Collier?
She fluttered her hand. “You don’t have to explain anything.” And hastened downstairs.
He caught her in the living room. “Jade isn’t my daughter. She’s my niece.”
Kristina did an about-face. “Oh.”
Canyon’s brow creased. “Jade is my brother’s child. Beech is in prison.”
The brother with the criminal record.
Canyon gazed out the picture window overlooking the garden. “Jade’s mother is one narcotic violation away from joining him.” He inhaled. “I guess I’m all Jade has left, poor kid.”
Kristina realized despite the arrogant pilot bravado, Canyon Collier had a lot of insecurities. “How did you get involved in flying? The Guard?”
“Before the Guard, actually. Hap Wallace was an old friend of my grandmother’s. He taught me everything I know about flying.”
Kristina remembered the sign at the airfield. “The Wallace part of the business.”
“Hap started the business a long time ago. He became a father figure.” Canyon dropped his eyes. “The only father figure I ever knew. I had no idea he’d leave the place to me in his will. After my grandmother died, I finished my Coast Guard enlistment and came back.”
Kristina understood about loss. Canyon had lost his grandmother and his mentor in a short space of time.
“I returned to face the misdeeds of the past. To disprove the Collier family reputation.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I admire the kind of courage it takes to confront your fears. I wish I were more like that.”
* * *
Canyon was at a loss to understand the draw he felt toward the widow. “It takes a great deal of courage to pull up stakes after your husband’s death. To move across the country and start a new life.”
Kristina’s shoulders slumped. “We needed a new place to begin again. Without reminders of everything we’d lost. Without seeing Pax at every turn.”
Her hand groped for the chain hanging underneath her blouse. An unconscious gesture. Was her husband’s wedding ring on the end of the chain?
A habitual gesture, he suspected, for a woman who’d been unable to move beyond her grief.
Canyon’s heart felt heavy in his chest. “The airfield spoiled that for you. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. Tendrils of silky blond hair framed her face. “It’s my issue, not yours. I’m learning to live with it.” Her hand clenched around the hidden chain.
Perhaps she’d moved on physically. But emotionally? He knew better than most that you couldn’t run far enough to outdistance your problems. Though he’d certainly tried when he joined the Coast Guard.
“You’ve