Page 53 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

“I didn’t realize she had a son.”

Aria nodded. “He’s four. Smartest kid I’ve ever met in my life. He loves his Aunt Aria almost as much as he loves his mom.”

“And his dad?”

She shook her head. “Not in the picture. Clara cut him loose when Gus was a baby. She knew he was never going to be a good father, so rather than try unsuccessfully to turn him into one, she had him sign over his rights and moved away from Vegas so he wouldn’t be close.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Every couple of months. In the summer, they come to see me because I’m so busy and Arizona is hot. In the winter, I fly down a few times. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Mostly, I try to plan my trips around Clara’s boss’s schedule. I hate him with the fire of a thousand suns, so I make sure he’s gone when I visit.”

“What’s the deal with her boss?” I asked.

“He’s this rich, smug guy.” Her lip curled. “Clara worked for him in Vegas as his assistant. When he decided to move to Arizona, he offered to take her along. The timing worked out because it was after Gus was born and she wanted to get out of Vegas anyway. So he bought her a car and built a guest house on his property so she wouldn’t have to find an apartment

.”

“Okay,” I drawled. “That sounds . . . nice? What am I missing?”

“Ugh. Not you too. Clara defends him mercilessly. She’s always telling me that he’s a good man. That he’s kind to August and pays her more than she’ll ever make at another job. But he grates on my every nerve. He throws money around like it’s meaningless. He’s spoiled. He likes to remind me that I’m the lesser fraternal twin.” Aria’s hands balled into fists. “We’ve learned to avoid one another so that Clara isn’t in the middle.”

We changed directions, starting up a side street and making our way farther and farther from The Gallaway. Aria set a fast pace, one that made it hard for me to study the neighborhood, but that didn’t stop me from trying. My eyes darted everywhere, taking in the green lawns and blooming trees. The homes were painted in light colors from baby blue to sage green.

For a woman who hadn’t traveled much in her life, it was invigorating to experience something new. Heron Beach screamed casual. Welcoming. Friendly.

I loved Montana.

But I could love Oregon too.

“I like it here,” I confessed as Aria made another turn on our way to her home.

“Me too. I drew the lucky straw when I found my job at The Gallaway.”

“I feel the same about finding the Greers.”

Regardless of the mess I’d made in my relationship with Cash, I loved the resort. But maybe my job there was done. Maybe it was time to take on a new challenge. Leaving Montana would be excruciating, especially now that Gemma was there, but soon, she’d have a baby.

Soon, her last name would be Greer.

I would always be a Gates.

Aria pointed to a row of two-story condos ahead on the street. “That’s my place.”

I didn’t have to ask which of the four front doors was hers. The hotel had stunning flower displays and her home was no different.

A purple and pink fuchsia hung from the porch beam. I counted ten planters, all of varying sizes and colors and shapes, staged beside the front door. The sweet floral scents filled the air and I took a long inhale as Aria unlocked her door.

I should have suspected more of the same inside.

“This is beautiful.” My wide eyes scanned the interior as Aria led me through the short entryway and into her living room.

She’d created a beach cottage with white sheer curtains, cozy cream furniture and lush greenery. This was a cookie cutter condominium complex but she’d turned her condo into something unique.

After the way her and Clara’s parents had died, I was glad that she’d found some serenity. In a way, this reminded me of their delivery truck in the junkyard. While I’d painted the inside of my tent with bright colors, a meadow and flowers, Aria and Clara’s home had always been bright. Even in what was essentially a steel truck, they’d found the light.

The delivery truck had been in an accident, hence the reason it was at a junkyard. They’d turned the jagged holes in the walls and ceiling into windows. Aria had filled the place with plants and Clara had added her own gentle touch with tidy bedrolls and shelves made out of tattered books.

Aria walked to the coffee table, something made from a piece of driftwood, and plucked up a paperback. “This is my book club’s favorite reread.”