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.
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