“I worked.”
So much for the idyllic lifestyle he’d imagined. She pulled her map from the door pocket and opened it. “There’s a visitor center down there.”
“And you want to stop.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Okay.” He accessed the computer and asked about Lee Vining hotels. Switching to the phone system, he made the call and booked two rooms. Grace put the folded map back in the door pocket. He couldn’t tell if she was upset or had run out of things to say. “I thought we should book something so we’d have time to look around and not feel rushed.”
She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “You don’t need a personal assistant on this trip. Your car can do everything for you. I’ll bet it can even take notes and carry on a conversation.”
“Probably, with prompts.” He grinned at her. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have half its brain.”
They spent over an hour in the visitor center, reading through the information, before going out to the Mono Lake Tufa reserve. Everything fascinated Grace. “This is the strangest place I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, you haven’t seen much.”
She pointed. “That looks like an ancient city over there. It could be Sodom and Gomorrah after God rained down fire and brimstone.” She wondered aloud if Mono Lake looked anything like the Dead Sea in Israel. Another place she’d love to visit, even with terrorism on the rise. The sky looked more blue against the white formations. She pointed out shapes; he saw shadows. She asked how he would paint this place. He’d use bright colors, sharp, jagged lines, white and black. She listened intently, as though trying to hear more than what he was saying.
He bought sandwiches at a deli, and they sat at a picnic table. Grace enjoyed the view of Mono Lake. She was attentive to everything around her, drinking it in, savoring it. A breeze came up, and she closed her eyes. He could see the relaxed pleasure in her face. She was beginning to loosen up with him. Or was it the other way around?
What exactly was he looking for on this journey? The not knowing made him nervous. He’d never thought Grace beautiful, but she stirred him deeply. He’d always gotten his adrenaline rush painting graffiti and outrunning cops. She looked at him, and he felt his pulse kick up.
He’d been attracted to women before, but not the same way he was with Grace. She scared him. He could put a stop right now to whatever was starting to happen between them. Jasper said that was his pattern. The old voice spoke in his head. Don’t get too close, Bobby Ray. You know how much love hurts. Walk away before you feel anything more than you already do. She’s going to rip your heart out.
Jasper said it had to do with his mother. Bobby Ray couldn’t trust women because the one he needed most had abandoned him. Was that why he kept his relationships with women shallow and physical? Was anything ever that simple?
Why go over old stories, unlock doors, or find what was under the lid of a garbage can? His mother hadn’t kept her word. She hadn’t come back. How could she? She was dead. Jasper tried to get him to deal with it, find closure. Bobby Ray had survived. Why go back? Roman wanted to keep moving on.
If he did have abandonment issues, so what? His mother had been less to blame than the man who’d fathered him. Maybe he never knew. Maybe he did and turned his back on Sheila Dean. Roman had always been careful, even the first time. He didn’t want a child of his growing up fatherless with a mother who had to turn tricks for a living.
Grace crumpled the paper that had held her deli sandwich and stuffed it into her empty soda cup. She smiled at him. “Thank you for dinner.” She gathered his debris and headed for the trash can.
Roman watched her walk away. He loved the way she moved. His body warmed. He’d better not think about going down that road with this girl.
Not this soon, anyway.
She came back and sat so she could watch the sunset. He came around the table and sat beside her. She smiled at him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
He’d rather look at her than the sunset, but he knew better. “For a little while, and then it’s gone.”
“Pessimist. It’ll happen again tomorrow. Every sunset is different.”
“The colors have to do with pollutants in the air.”
She gave him a pitying look. “Colors come from a phenomenon called scattering. The wavelengths of light and the sizes of the particles determine the colors. I learned that in a college science class.”