Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“You really believe that?” Alex ran his thumb along the edge of his sketchpad, flipping the corner with a little shuffling sound, mulling over this woman’s claim that where you come from makes you who you are.
If that were the case, where exactly did he come from—Montana or Texas? Because one meant he was a saint, the other a sinner. Meant he was either redeemable or totally fucked up.
What would she say if he told her his world views weren’t a damn thing like hers? He had nothing in common with a woman who’d grown up in this little Mayberry. She’d never seen the kind of shit that went down in the barrios.
On the streets.
Hell, in front yards.
The west San Antonio neighborhood he’d grown up in was so far from Prophecy, it could be a million miles away rather than a hundred.
His papá had tried to give his family a good life and things stayed pretty stable until he died.
But three boys had been more than his mamá could handle.
Her teacher’s salary had put food on the table, but as a single parent, she’d had a hard time keeping track of who her kids hung with, where they went.
“You don’t want to hear what I think about the world or where I come from.”
“That’s your choice,” she said, “but get ready for people to speculate. And possibly make things up. Because let’s be real, the way you look probably scares a lot of folks.
” She waved a hand near his face and then let it drop.
Unfortunately, it touched his arm on its descent.
Every muscle on the right side of his body went tense. Ready.
But this time, it wasn’t ready for a fight. His body was ready for another kind of challenge.
The sexual kind.
Which was even more shit-brained than driving a junker without an extra fan belt.
But maybe telling her a little about where he came from would give him an advantage in getting PBC’s tooling work. If she felt like she knew him, she would trust him. And people liked to do business with people they trusted.
“Second-generation American. My parents’ families were from Mexico originally, but my mamá and papá were both born here.”
“Here, as in?”
“Texas. Victoria and Harlingen.”
“And?” She rolled her hand again, not touching him this time, but his skin rippled as though she had.
“I grew up in San Antonio.”
“Which is why you live in Montana now.”
Nuh-uh. This friendly little chat wouldn’t include details about why he lived over fifteen hundred miles away. “Papá owned a small trucking company, mainly hauling fill dirt. My mamá taught ESL.”
“Both in the past tense?”
He should’ve known a woman who delivered fan belts to make sure a meeting happened wouldn’t be the kind to just let things go. “My papá died in a wreck when I was twelve. My mamá taught until she moved to a small town in Georgia a few years ago. Now she tutors.”
“I’m so sorry. I was just a kid too when my mom passed.” She reached out as if to touch him, but must’ve changed her mind, because her hand hovered over his forearm, making his skin ripple in reaction. “Do you have siblings?”
Yeah, this was where things got tricky. “My little brother’s name is Nicolás.”
“And he lives in Georgia with your mom?”
A couple of women pushing strollers full of pink-cheeked babies and shopping bags walked by, so Alex simply nodded at Greer. His life was no one else’s business.
“Anything else I should know about you?” Her blue gaze landed in the vicinity of Alex’s collar, and he hoped like hell she couldn’t see the way his pulse was thumping in his neck. “Like why you stay buttoned up on a nice, sunny day?”
Wasn’t it enough that he was already feeling more fucking exposed since driving into Prophecy than he had in years? “Is it a problem that I wear clothes, or do you ask all your potential toolers to strip down so you can check out everything about them?”
Her eyes widened slightly. Score Team Alex. Then her gaze turned sly and slid over him as though she had an X-ray vision superpower. “You offering?”
Jesus. Score Team Greer. “Look, I just want to finish these sketches and get them to Delaney so she can make a decision one way or another on that contract.”
“Why do you want PBC’s tooling work?”
“So I can set up shop near my mamá and brother.”
“Is there a reason you haven’t done that before now?”
About twenty thousand of them. “Let’s just say I haven’t been able to afford to, but work from PBC could help make that happen. If I’m your pick, then I’ll head…home—” he stumbled over the word, “—to get started on whatever Delaney needs me to do.”
“If you’re the right tooler, what she’ll need is for you to stay in town.
You see, the only place prophecy boots can be designed and made is in this town.
” Greer grabbed a handful of her hair and twined it in her palm then let it fall in front of her right shoulder.
“You still think the boots are a crock of crap, don’t you? ”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to. I can smell an eye roll from twenty paces.”
“Look, you have to admit it’s kind of farfetched,” he said. “But it’s smart business.”
“It’s not business,” she snapped, her curvy little body tense to the point of vibrating. “It’s—”
An older gentleman in a beat-up pickup with the backend full of scruffy goats stopped to idle mid-street and called to her, “Greer, you doin’ okay?”
Translation: Is the scary-looking guy bothering you?
She gave him a casual wave. “Everything’s great. Thanks, Mr. McCormick.”
The man gave Alex a look that said he’d haul ass out of that truck and let his attack goats free on Alex’s ass if given the slightest reason. Finally, he nodded and touched a hand to his dirty baseball cap, then he drove on.
As soon as he was gone, Greer jumped to her feet, bracing one foot against the bench and wrestling the hem of her jeans up her calf. “Take a good look at what I got today. If prophecy boots are such a scam, what would you call these?”
A freaking masterpiece. Alex couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer to inspect the detailed stitching and inlay, and the scent of quality leather drifted toward him. Better than the most expensive perfume in the world, the smell of leather was earthy and real.
And on Greer, real sexy.
Today, he felt its impact in his gut and in his groin.
Leather didn’t normally turn him on quite like this, but the scent of rich calfskin combined with Greer’s own warm beeswax fragrance went straight from his nose to his dick.
And the curve of her tanned calf peeking from above the boot’s collar didn’t help the situation. He wanted to reach out and trace the muscle with his fingers. Hell, with his tongue.
Instead, he tried to concentrate on the boots themselves. The dice were tiny works of art. He didn’t do inlay himself, but he knew how damn hard they must’ve been to pull off. “Delaney made these?”
“Yes.” Interesting. Her voice was more than a little husky. Was she feeling the same pull he was or had he asked an uncomfortable question?
“She’s incredibly talented.”
“It’s more than talent. It’s a God-given gift that allowed her to make me this kickass pair of boots.”
He snorted. “Kickass magic boots?”
“Do you believe that we all have a life we’re supposed to live? A person we’re supposed to live it with?”
“You mean like predetermined fate?” His mamá always said God had a plan for every man and woman, but Alex had a hard time swallowing that God had planned for him to destroy his family.
“Like your best possible future. Your true love. That’s what these boots are all about.”
One thing Alex knew for certain was that God didn’t give a shit about bestowing him with some rosy future or an amazing woman to share it with. Why would he when Alex couldn’t take care of the lives that had already been entrusted to him? “Not much for all that touchy-feely crap.”
“Then I guess you don’t want to hear that when Delaney draws a baby’s boots, she also sketches another pair.”
“Buy one, get one? Oh, yeah, you don’t charge for them.”
“There’s no price on love, on finding your soul mate.”
He did a chin lift toward her feet. “Those don’t exactly show a cute little house, three kids, and a dog.”
“They’re a metaphorical representation of the future. If they told the literal story, it would be too easy. There would be no mystery.”
Sounded like an opportunity for people to say their boots meant anything they wanted them to. Great job. Pretty wife. Bright future.
Or maybe just an opportunity to twist those images to justify their crappy decisions and selfish actions.
Yeah, Alex had done enough of that in his life to know what a sticky pile of shit it was. No matter what you told yourself, it still stunk.
But that didn’t stop him from tracing the curve of the heart camouflaged inside the boot’s overarching design, the leather smooth and warm under his touch. Would Greer’s skin feel just as sensuous?
He would never know, because with her unspoiled beauty and her unflagging belief in people, she was the classic girl next door.
He had no business making a move that way.
At best, he was a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am guy.
At worst, he was a heartless prick. Not exactly catnip for a woman like this.
She deserved the house, the kids, the dog, all of it with a guy who didn’t lug around his baggage like an oversized carryon.
“The work itself is amazing, but that’s all. ”
Greer shook down the leg of her jeans and stomped twice to force the hem over her boot heel. “Anyone ever point out that you’re a cynic?”
“So what are those prophecy boots telling you? That you should take up balloon art or maybe go to rodeo clown school?”
Her expression turned inward, that way a woman’s did when she was about to bust out with an idea that was a beauty. Or scary as all hell. “You know what I think they’re saying? I think they’re saying if I want to meet my future head-on, I need to take a chance. Play the cards. Throw the dice.”