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He’d be wise to keep his distance from anything approaching intimacy. Yet his job as a reporter was to get at the real Nicole. It was a quandary he didn’t know how to resolve.
* * *
BARTON DROVE TOWARD his house, whistling happily. He was tired—short nights could do that to a guy—but some things were worth a few after-the-fact yawns. Monday’s game had gone into extra innings and he was still catching up on sleep. He’d offered to leave at ten and, to his delight, Chelsea had made a face at him.
“Leave?” she’d asked. “With the score tied and the home team needing support? What kind of fan are you?”
The Mariners had won the game at midnight. Chelsea had cheered and clapped along with the faithful diehards in the stadium, and then they’d made their way to the parking garage. With the late hour, the traffic wasn’t bad and getting home hadn’t taken long.
Part of him had wanted to kiss Chelsea good-night, but she’d stopped him from even going up the stairs to her apartment door. Instead he’d watched until she was safely inside, then strode home to slide into bed and think about what a great evening it had been.
Now as Barton came down the street, he saw Chelsea walking up the sidewalk in shorts and a light sweatshirt. The air felt hot to him, but it wasn’t unusual for newcomers to find Seattle weather cooler than people who’d lived there for a while. He braked and rolled down his window.
“Hi, Chelsea. There’s a great walking trail at the park. If you’re interested, we could go together.”
He liked the quick, shy smile she gave him.
“Okay.”
“Do you want to ride back to the house with me?”
“No, I’ll meet you there.”
Once home, he hurriedly changed into casual clothing and was ready when she came up the driveway. He knew he might be rushing things with Chelsea, but he wasn’t thinking completely straight around her, despite the voice of caution in his head.
“How was your day?” she asked as they headed for the park.
“Mostly right now it’s riding herd on kids who can’t wait for summer break to get here. The unseasonable weather is making them stir-crazy.”
“I remember how it felt to be anxious for summer, though I could also be sad if I really liked my teacher.”
“Did you enjoy school?”
“Um…sometimes. When I didn’t, it wasn’t because of school. My home life was messed up.”
Barton saw a fleeting sadness on her face. “That’s too bad.”
“It’s just the way it was. My folks had problems. I think we were all relieved when they finally got a divorce.”
He winced.
“Did I say something wrong?” Chelsea asked.
“No, I was thinking. I got divorced two years ago and I was grateful that we didn’t have kids to be hurt by our failure. Odd, because I’d really love to have children.”
“I’ve heard that teachers sometimes change their minds about having a family.”
He shook his head. “Not me. There are days when I pray I won’t make the blunders that produced a few of the students in my class, but I’ve never stopped wanting kids of my own.”
“I know what you mean. I swear that I won’t make my parents’ mistakes, then humility forces me to admit that I’ll probably screw up my own way.”
Barton glanced at Chelsea. Essentially she’d told him she hoped to have family someday, which was nice. Looking back he couldn’t honestly say that his ex-wife had ever expected them to have children. Maybe if he’d listened closely enough when he and Ellyn were dating, he would have realized they were in completely different places about what they wanted.
“Reality knocks us all down to size,” he murmured. “But we have to hope that love will make up for some of the inevitable errors.”
“Yeah, and that they’ll forgive us for the rest.”
He grinned. “You bet.”
They reached the park and Barton veered toward the hiking trail. “Runners are discouraged from using this one,” he explained, “and bicycles aren’t allowed.”
“That’s good. I’m uncomfortable sharing a trail with bikes. One knocked me down a while back and just kept going.”
