Free Summer Shadows by Gayle Roper Page B

town to retrieve her car, taking care to drive down Bay instead of Central, not that she even noticed. Still, he felt wise and insightful that he’d thought to protect her from the accident scene for the second time today. Too bad you couldn’t brag about a thoughtful action without its luster being thoroughly dimmed. Besides, he reminded himself like the seminary prof he was, it was the Lord Christ he served.
    Abby had given him back his sweatshirt all toasty from the dryer in her apartment, and he had it on against the cool wind off the ocean. She had on black jeans, a red knit shirt, and a black blazer. She looked sleek, stylish, intriguing. Too bad she was pushy and independent to a fault. Slightly quirky, too, with all those historical ladies she kept referring to.
    “How come you drive a Taurus?” She rubbed her hand over the gray fabric of the passenger seat.
    He frowned. Now there was a question from left field. “What’s wrong with a Taurus? It’s sturdy, dependable, and reasonably priced.”
    She nodded. “But you own a house on the beach. Doesn’t money like that mean owning a BMW or a Mercedes or something?”
    “Why waste the money when a Taurus does fine?”
    She looked at him, surprised. “A strange if practical statement for a man who just paid a fortune for a house you’ll only live in part-time.”
    He shrugged. “The house is worth every penny.”
    “Why?”
    “Why? Are you nuts?” The answer should be obvious, even to someone as trouble prone and flighty as she. “Peace. Quiet. Recreation and regeneration. Ambiance, beauty, the rhythms of nature at your very doorstep. Privacy.” He said the last in tones of reverence.
    She nodded her understanding until his last word. Then she shook her head. “Privacy? With neighbors mere feet away on both sides?”
    “I don’t know them, and they don’t know me.” He set his jaw. “That’s the way I plan to keep it.”
    She looked aghast.
    “Besides,” he added, “they’re vacationers. They’re only here for a week or two tops.”
    “Walker and Jordan are here for the whole summer, like you and me.”
    He made a face. “Great.” All he needed were two little boys peering over his shoulder trying to read as he wrote, assuming, of course, that they could read.
    “Don’t you like kids?” Abby looked at him with suspicion.
    “Sure, as long as they’re someone else’s.”
    She studied him, her dark eyes trying to penetrate his skull to see how he ticked. At least that’s what it felt like. He resisted the urge to squirm.
    “No wonder you’re not married. Who’d have you?”
    He sniffed, stung in spite of her gentle, sorrowful tone of voice. “I could get married anytime I wanted.” As long as she wasn’t like Lane, but how could he ever know that? “I’m too busy to be bothered. And I happen to value my privacy.”
    “So you said. Just you and Fargo against the world.”
    “What’s wrong with that? We like the arrangement.”
    “Uh-huh.” She nodded, obviously finding him deficient. “I bet you two have very stimulating conversations.” She turned to stare out her window.
    He was more than a little miffed at her attitude. “I’ve got stuff to do, important stuff.” He frowned as he heard himself. He sounded pompous and defensive even to his own ears. Defensive he could live with. But pompous? Pompous was his father’s meat and potatoes, not his.
Oh, Lord, please don’t let me become him
.
    He flicked a glance across the car. What did he sound like to her?
    And why did he care?
    She turned briefly to him, then back to the window. “Yeah, important stuff.”
    He imagined he heard a slight tinge of disdain dripping from her soft voice like melted butter from a hot roll. Her tone reminded him too much of his father’s manner, and in one instant miffed gave way to irate. All his worst qualities rushing to the fore, he became even more defensive and obnoxious.
    “I’ll have you know that I have a Ph.D. in