slid into the booth across from her, and she didn’t miss his wince.
“You’re in pain,” she said bluntly.
“Yeah. Injury.”
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t answer beyond, “It happens. So you teach?”
“Kindergarten.”
“Lots of smiley faces there.” Which brought a faint smile to his face. “You make them color inside the lines?”
She hated that question. “It teaches fine motor coordination. These children are all learning to print the alphabet and their numbers. It’s a good exercise, staying in the lines. But no, I don’t make them do that all the time.” She eyed him. “You play inside the lines?”
“Depends,” he answered.
Why didn’t that surprise her? Julie thought wryly. Ryker clearly hadn’t expected to see him, and since they knew each other... Well, she’d already discovered Ryker didn’t always play inside the lines. “Will you be visiting for long?”
“That remains to be seen. I may leave in the morning.”
“A rolling stone, huh?”
“At the moment.”
Julie studied him frankly. It was clear to her that this man had been through some kind of wringer, and he seemed tense, as if holding still wasn’t comfortable for him. The pain? Or something else? “I gather you know Ryker, but did you ever meet his wife, Marisa?”
Trace shook his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure. She must be something to have settled him down.”
“She’s something, all right. She’s also my lifelong best friend.”
He got the warning, she saw with satisfaction. She had no idea what Ryker had done before he arrived in this town, just as she had no idea what Marisa’s late husband, Johnny, had done. All she knew what that it had caused Johnny’s death, and she didn’t want this guy and whatever secrets he bore to put Marisa in danger.
“So who do you work for?” she asked, pulling her papers together. She could finish the word-match problem later.
“State Department.”
Ah, she’d heard that before, from Johnny and Ryker. She wasn’t half buying it, but she knew better than to say so. “A lot of traveling?”
“Quite a bit.”
“Traveling for vacation is one thing. Traveling all the time for work is another. I don’t think I’d like it.”
“Depends,” he said. “When you stay in one place long enough, you get immersed in a different culture. Lots of new perspectives.”
In that instant, she decided she liked this man. That was an intelligent outlook. “You know, I went to Jamaica a few years back, and I was on a tour bus.”
He arched a questioning brow and waited.
“There was a couple from this state, sad to say, who started badgering the tour guide about Jamaica’s drug problems and whether they were worse because of the race of most Jamaicans.”
She watched, waiting. For an instant Trace seemed to freeze, then he just shook his head.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “For the first time in my life, I wished I were from somewhere else. I stopped to apologize to the guide when we disembarked. My point is, as ugly people, they probably didn’t get any new perspectives.”
“Not everyone does,” he agreed. “Some people never leave their comfort zones.”
“I imagine you do.”
His brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Often. Why?”
“Just a casual response to your comment about different perspectives.” She summoned a smile and decided to back off. This guy was what Marisa had once called a box of secrets. Just like Johnny and then Ryker. Since he wouldn’t be around long, it didn’t matter, and it sure wasn’t courteous to try to discuss things that might make him uneasy.
Secrets. She almost sighed. She’d grown up in a town where almost nothing was a secret for long, but she’d seen the toll Johnny’s secrets had taken on Marisa. Now there was Ryker, and she sometimes wondered but never asked how he and Marisa had crossed that bridge. All she knew for certain was that they had somehow.
Still, the idea of a guy with secrets was out of the ordinary, something new and shiny in a town she loved but sometimes felt was apt to bore her to extinction.
Except for her students. She looked down at the papers in front of her and reminded herself that they were all the newness and shininess she needed. With them, nearly every day brought wonderful surprises.
“I love teaching kindergarten,” she remarked, swimming out of the shoals into safer water. “Kids that age are so fresh, and everything is new and wonderful to them. They often astonish me and remind me that life can be magical.”
“No bad stuff?”
She looked at him again. Was this guy jaded, or was something else going on? She couldn’t imagine. “Well, occasionally I have a child who knows things far beyond his or her years. Things no child should have to deal with.”
“But you can help?”
“Sometimes.”
Then he smiled, a genuine smile, the first he had given her. It made her feel a sexual tug all the way to her core. “That must be a great feeling.” He edged out of the booth. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Ardlow. Can you point me in the direction of the motel?”
She hesitated, then thought, Why the heck not? “I can lead you there if you want to follow. It’s on my way. Just let me gather up my papers.”
“You want another coffee?”
She glanced up and found him still smiling. “Sure, latte with two sweeteners. Thanks.”
“I’m getting some to take with me. No problem.”
She watched him walk back toward the counter where Maude, the diner’s owner, glowered as usual. The man had an easy stride, as if he were in great shape except for that arm of his. Curious.
Then she gathered her papers into her folders and slid them into her backpack and wondered if she’d ever learn any more about Trace. Ryker probably wouldn’t tell her a thing. That man was a serious clam. Not that it mattered. Trace would probably be gone with the morning sun.
She collected her coffee from Maude, who gave her an extra frown, probably because she was associating with a stranger. Julie replied with a broad smile. Annoying Maude was the easiest thing in the world. Sometimes Julie even enjoyed doing it.
Trace pushed the door open with his back, his good left hand holding a tray with three coffees of his own. She guessed he wasn’t planning to sleep tonight. She bit back an offer to help, sensing it wouldn’t be welcome,
