“Mmm... maybe I just think that everything should get a shot at being beautiful. Or... maybe I think something that’s a little battered and scarred can still be beautiful?”
They locked eyes.
Something in his expression, some light in his eyes, made her feel shy and restless. She found herself turning to walk to the edge of the canyon.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“You were right about this spot. The viewispretty spectacular,” he said.
Given that he was currently watching the back of her, she was pretty sure this was a double entendre.
She aimed a quick little smile over her shoulder at him then turned back around.
“It’s different at every time of day. In different lights,” she told him. “With different clouds. In different seasons.”
“I got good at guessing the quality of views and vistas back in Sorry, Tennessee. We didn’t have a TV, so that’s what we watched instead. ‘What color is the sunset tonight, Jeb? It’s purple and orange over at the ridge.’ ‘Yeah, but did you see that big cloud from McCarthy Peak? Looked like an angel.’”
She laughed. “I can’t tell if you’re joking. I kind of want it to be true. And I kind of hate that it might be.”
“Well,” he said easily enough, “we did have a TV once, then my dad sold it to get more money for booze, and then we got another one, and then he sold it to get more money for booze, and then we got another one, and we sold it to bail him out of jail...”
“Jesus, J. T.”
“The circle of life, right?” He flashed an ironic grin. “Yeah, Dad was worse after Mama left when I was eight. She died when I was ten.”
She was speechless.
“God, J. T., I’m sorry,” she finally said. Softly.Sorrysure didn’t cover it. He’d been about her nephew Will’s age then. He’d had his life kicked out from under him, and look what he’d become.
She knew everyone was shaped by their past. Still, she wished she could go back and fix his for him. Take away the fear from that little boy and tell him he was going to be magnificent one day.
“We’ve all got a story,” he said. “So what’s yours, sweetheart?”
Damn.
She knew that wasn’t an innocent question, and he’d walked her on up to it, too, without her even noticing. He was really pretty damn clever, J. T. McCord was.
There was a tense, almost waiting quality to him now.
She looked out over the canyon, thick with trees, going shadowy in places and gilded in others.
“I came to Hellcat Canyon from Southern California,” she said finally.
She didn’t turn around as she said it because she knew exactly how he would hear it.
Ironically, given the slant of the light and the shape of the clouds, she was pretty certain tonight’s sunset was gong to be purple and orange. There might even be a cloud shaped like an angel.
She heard him take a sip of beer. Mulling this bit of non-information.
“California’s a big state. I know, because I drove ten hours from down in Los Angeles all the way up here and there’s still a lot of state left over.”
“Mmm.”
“Looooot of people live in Southern California.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Which is your way of saying I’ve told you nothing at all.”
“Your words,” he said shortly.
