Sweet Joymaker (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #3) - Jean Oram Page 0,12
As he parked, she noticed the cove was popular with surfers, many of whom were riding the swells with an enviable ease. Clint placed his feet on the asphalt to support them as he removed his helmet.
He turned his head to look over his shoulder. They were close, way too close. Maria scrambled off the machine, removing her helmet, her buttocks aching from the worn seat.
“What do you think?” he asked, still sitting on the ancient scooter.
She slid the pack with their lunch off her back, then set it on the ground. “It got us here. Do you think it’ll get us back again, too?” The scooter didn’t look like much, but it had purred down the highway with the two of them on board. The trip had been slow, but pleasant, as Sonja had promised.
“Sure.” Clint was casual, his moves fluid, belying his age.
“You give me such confidence.” She’d said it tongue-in-cheek, but it was true. Clint had a way of settling her fears, anytime he was around.
“Glad to hear it. Want to climb that hill over there?” He slung the bag over his shoulder. “Looks like there’s a bench with our name on it.”
The breeze off the ocean was cool, like the air that had blown around them on the road, and with her body no longer pressed against Clint, Maria shivered. She tugged the zipper of her jacket a little higher and said, “Let’s go.”
The phone in her jacket pocket began to ring, and she answered it quickly, with an apology to Clint. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Myles? Is everything okay?”
“Levi can’t find the insurance papers for the truck, so I said I’d call.”
“What happened to the truck?”
“Nothing. He’s shopping around for a better deal.”
“You can’t leave the Ryder’s insurance company!” They were like family. Everyone in Sweetheart Creek went to them. What were those boys up to? Changes were fine, but they were forgetting to take important things into account.
“The Ryders are selling.”
“What? They are?”
“They just announced it today.”
She hadn’t heard a whisper about that. Maybe it was good the boys were so willing to take care of things these days. Levi was going to save her hours and headaches, pricing out a new insurance plan for the ranch and all of its vehicles and equipment.
“Okay. Tell him thanks. They’re in the filing cabinet in the office.”
“He already looked.”
“It’s under V for vehicles.”
“Thanks.”
She ended the call.
“Problems at home?”
She shook her head with a growing smile. “Levi’s trying to save us some money. The Ryders are retiring, so he’s shopping around for new insurance.”
“They are?”
“Apparently.”
“Makes sense. I’m pretty sure Joe Sr. was friends with Moses.”
Maria laughed as they set off across the sand-littered parking lot, past an old Volkswagen van and a small pickup truck with a surfboard on its roof rack. As they neared an older Mustang, she pointed it out. “You know I have one of those in the machine shed? I used to think I was so cool in that.” She smiled at the memories. The feelings were like those she’d just experienced on the scooter. The freedom and possibility. The ability to go anywhere. The right vehicle had always done that for her.
“What’s it doing back there?” Clint asked.
She shrugged. “It’s old, impractical.”
“Still run?”
“I doubt it. It needed some work when I parked it.”
“How long ago was that?”
“When the boys were small. You can’t fit many rowdy kids in a Mustang. At least not that model, without someone kicking your arm and sending you into the ditch.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
She grimaced. “There’s a story behind everything in life when you raise that many sons.”
Clint chuckled. “Do you miss the car?”
Her smile grew again. “That car and I had some good times.” She’d been driving it back when she and Roy would kiss at every stop sign and hold hands over the console. Her smile faded.
Some things were best left in the past.
They found a path that weaved between the dunes, leading up to the bench on the grassy hill. As they walked single file, the tall grasses whispered to them, spilling secrets she was unable to translate. She could see their destination, but the trail looked as though it was seldom used, while the one to the beach was much more heavily trafficked.
“Do you think there’s a better path on the other side?” she asked, gesturing to a second parking lot to the south.
“Probably.”
“Are we stuck?” She pointed to a sign requesting that visitors stay on the paths so as not to cause further