Falling For Nick by Joleen James Page A

Thoughts of Nick danced through her head, mixing with images of John. Unsettled, she continued to walk, finding no solutions to her problems. Confusion swirled around her, propelling her forward, causing her to lose track of time and distance. She spotted the herons close to Oyster Point. Taking her Hasselblad from the case, she focused the camera, taking several shots.
    The wind whipped up, and the sky darkened overhead. Not wanting to get caught in the rain with her camera, she turned around, but didn't get more than a quarter of a mile before the rain started. Cold, frozen rain, the kind of rain that could turn to snow. Clea held her camera bag under her coat, trying to keep it dry.
    Behind her she heard the sound of an approaching truck. She quickened her step. The truck slowed as it neared her. Clea checked to see if she knew the driver. Instantly she recognized the tow truck from Mullin's Garage, but the driver wasn't old man Mullin; it was Nick.
    He pulled alongside her. She kept walking. She didn't want to get in the truck with him. She didn't want to be alone with him. Her feelings for him were too sensitive. She glanced over at the truck. Nick leaned across the seat to roll down the window.
    "Need a lift?" he asked.
    "No, thanks." Freezing rain ran down her face to soak the collar of her coat.
    "Don't be stubborn, Clea," he said. "Get in. It's at least a mile back to town and you're already soaked. If you stay out in this weather you'll get sick. Is that what you want?"
    Clea glanced up at the sky. The rain wouldn't be letting up soon. She didn't want to expose her camera to the rain if she didn't have to. "All right." Against her better judgment, she climbed up into the truck. The heat inside the cab warmed her chilled skin. An old Aerosmith song played on the radio, reminding her of the year she'd spent with Nick. An instant longing for him shot through her, and she wondered if the song had the same effect on him.
    "What are you doing way out here?" Nick asked, as he put the truck into gear and they started forward.
    "I shot some photos of two blue herons." She pulled her camera bag out from under her coat.
    Nick glanced at the camera. "Ah. I see." He drove in silence. Clea stared straight ahead. She didn't want to look at him. His presence filled the truck, making her stomach do crazy flip-flops. She scooted closer to the door.
    "How's John?" he asked, breaking the silence that stretched between them like a frayed rope.
    "He found out about you at school before I had a chance to tell him. I've tried to explain. He's upset."
    "I'm sorry," he said. "How can I help?"
    She turned to look at him. "Would you have come home sooner if you had known John was waiting for you?" The past twenty-four hours caught up with her. All the pain she felt for John rose to the surface. She needed an outlet for her feelings of frustration.
    "You said he didn't know about my release. Did he know?"
    "I don’t think so," Clea said. "Just answer the question."
    "I'd like to say yes, but I don't know. Meeting him terrifies me." Nick sighed. "I'm afraid of my own son, of what he thinks of me, of how he'll react to me."
    Surprise shot through her. She'd never considered that Nick might be afraid of John. She'd never considered Nick's feelings at all. "John got into a fight."
    Nick pulled the truck over to the side of the road and shut the engine off. "Was he hurt?"
    "He got punched in the nose, but he threw the first punch."
    "Jesus." Nick frowned. "I'm sorry, Princess."
    "Don't call me that." She whipped her head around. "I'm not your princess. I'm the mother of a nine-year-old boy who aches inside. Do you know how he feels? Some kids at school called you a jailbird."
    Nick's hands curled around the steering wheel, his anger obvious. That anger crept across the seat of the truck, pressing Clea more tightly against the door.
    "Do you want me to leave town?" He glanced over at her, his eyes filled with pain, and that pain did something to