CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ghost from the Past
Shelby—
“Your options are you could sell the place or lease it out, and with the market like it is right now, I think leasing it may be the better option,” Claire explains, but I shake my head.
I know that as my realtor, she’s only giving me what she thinks is the best advice, but she doesn’t know my past. “I have no interest in leasing either property out. Not the house, and not this place.”
We stand in the middle of my father’s tire store. Well, it’s actually more of a repair garage where he changed tires and sold them.
“Are you sure, Shelby? If you wait a few months, the market may improve. Perhaps you haven’t considered all the benefits to—”
I cut her off, maybe a bit too harshly. “I’ve considered all I need to, Claire. To lease either property would mean I’d still have to worry about upkeep, taxes, and all the rest. I want to be done with it. I want no ties to this town. I want a quick sale.”
“Then you won’t get top dollar.”
“I understand that, but right now, selling it fast is more important to me.”
“Okay. I’ll get a market evaluation and get back to you.”
“Thank you. It’s for the best.”
“If you want a quick sale, I’ll find you one.” She clicks her briefcase closed and shakes my hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
I’ve got the roll up doors closed, but I left the access door open when I brought Claire in for a tour.
Jenny passes her at the door and rushes in.
I turn to put my father’s old ledger away on the wooden desk against the wall. On the opposite wall is a rack full of tires he stored in this garage portion of the building. The sales counter and small tire displays are through the door in the other part of the building.
“Shelby, oh, my God. This is big. So big. He’s back.”
I turn. “Who?” I barely get the word out before my eyes lift to the two men walking in the door behind Jenny.
Rio. Oh. My. God.
My stomach drops like a rock.
Jenny steps between us, the ever-protective friend, and I love her for it.
Rio glances at Jenny. “I get you wanting to protect your friend. I admire the loyalty, but I’m not here to hurt her. Think you could give us a minute?”
Jenny turns to me, shaking her head, but I nod.
“It’s okay,” I murmur.
She swivels back to Rio, lifting her chin and clutching the strap of her handbag tightly. “I’ve got a gun in my purse. Just so you know.”
Rio gives her a half-grin. “Noted.”
The man with him takes Jenny’s elbow. “Come on, doll. Let’s walk outside and compare weapons.”
Jenny gives me a wide-eyed look.
“She’ll be fine,” Rio insists.
My pulse is beating a mile a minute. He looks good. So. Good. There are a few more lines around his eyes, and a little gray in his hair, but he looks even leaner and more muscular. “So, you’re out of prison.”
“Yep. Been looking for you. You’ve been hard to find.” He glances around. “What is this place? It doesn’t look open.”
“It isn’t. It was my father’s place.”
“Ah, yes. The asshole. I remember him. I went by there, but it looked like no one lived there.” He tilts his head. “Wait. You said this was your father’s?”
“He’s dead.” At the questioning expression he gives me, I elaborate. “A robbery gone bad.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Really? I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m not.”
He quirks a brow. “I see.”
My eyes shift to the window. Deputy Carson cruises slowly past, his window down, his gaze on my father’s tire shop. Can he see us through the glass doors?
I stiffen, my pulse racing. Wetting my lips, I gather up my purse and the keys.
“You okay?” Rio twists, his gaze following mine to lock onto the squad car. “He bothering you?”
“I have to go.” I push past him, heading to the door. I need to get out of here before Deputy Carson turns around.
Rio’s hand clamps around my elbow. “Shelby. Wait.”
It’s our first touch in six years, and a rush of something I thought I’d long ago buried shoots through me, followed immediately by my knee-jerk reaction—the one I seem to have to all men these days. I jerk free. I don’t let men touch me. Ever. Not if I can help it. Not anymore. I back away and watch the astonishment climb his face.
“Shelby, I’d never hurt you.”
My eyes flood, and I step back. “I have to go.” Everything inside me tells me to run, but there’s a small sliver that wants to fling myself against him and remember the feel of him holding me in his arms like he did during the three times I visited him in prison. I tamp it down and turn away.
“Shelby, wait,” his deep sexy voice rumbles behind me, and I obey, stopping in my tracks. He has that control over me. What we once felt has that much control over me. I can’t help it. The sound of his voice after all these years affects me to my core. I stand stark still and feel him come up behind me, the heat of his body radiating to mine.
God, how I want to lean back against him.
His voice is at my ear, but he doesn’t try to touch me again.
“Christ, how I’ve missed you. You have no idea.”
I breathe in and out, still as a statue, letting those words melt over me like warm honey.
“Have lunch with me. Please.”
I’m drawn around to look at him like I have no control over my body. Like I’m his to command.
His eyes shift to the street. “Doesn’t have to be here. We could go anywhere. Name the place.”
“I can’t.”
“Just one lunch, Shelby. That’s all I’m asking.” He raises his palms. “After that, I’ll never bother you again, if that’s how you want it.”
I lick my lips. Lunch with him. I’d like that more than anything, but do I dare? Is anyplace safe? Not in this town.
“Please,” he asks again.
I give in. “All right.”
“Where?”
I bite my lip, thinking. “There’s a place in Mesilla, fifteen minutes southwest of here. I’m in a silver Mazda. Follow me.”
“Absolutely.”
“What about your friend?” I ask, lifting a finger to the man outside talking to Jenny.
“Right. Zig. It’s his truck we’re riding in. What about your friend?” he counters and studies my eyes. “You’d feel better if she came along, wouldn’t you?”
I nod.
“Then they’ll come.” He steps to the door and whistles.
I lock the place up, then turn to Jenny. “Come on. We’re going to lunch.”
Her eyes track to Rio and back to me. “Who is going to lunch?”
“All of us,” Rio says, and he and Zig head to a pickup truck.
I grab Jenny’s arm and hustle her to the car. “Let’s go before that asshole rides past the store again.”
The pickup truck falls in behind me, and I lead them to my favorite Mexican place. Cuatro Caballos or Four Horses. The place is old with thick adobe walls.
I park, and Rio’s friend parks next to my driver’s door. Rio climbs out, then opens my door, extending his hand to help me from the vehicle.
I’ve never had a man do that for me. But I ignore it and climb out myself.
When I come to my feet, I’m only a breath away from him, and we stare into each other’s eyes. For a moment, it’s as if we’re the only two people on the planet. This fire flaring between us is dangerous. I feel it to my bones.
The spell is broken when Jenny slams her door.
“Lead the way,” Rio says with a sweep of his hand.
He stays close enough behind me he’s there to hold the door open for me.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
A smiling gentleman greets us. “How many today? Would you like to sit in our courtyard? It’s a lovely day.”
“That sounds great. Four,” Rio says, but his friend immediately counters, grabbing Jenny’s hand.
“Make that two. I think my girl and I would like to sit inside.”
“Of course. Right this way.” He leads us from the entryway through an arched doorway, past an intricate tile fountain and through a dining room. The floor is Mexican tile with colorful tables and ladder-back wooden chairs. Gas lanterns flicker on the golden adobe walls and mariachi music plays quietly in the background. There’s a bar at the far end, and on the right is a large doorway leading out to the enclosed courtyard. Our host pauses at a small table inside. “Will this suit you, sir?”
“It’ll be fine,” Rio’s friend says, dragging out a chair for Jenny.
She doesn’t look too pleased with this new development, but from their table they’ve got a straight-line view of the courtyard.
“Perfect.” The host passes them each a menu and snaps his fingers to an employee who hurries over. “I’m Juan. Mario will be your server.”
Then he leads Rio and me into the courtyard.
I feel Rio’s hand resting lightly on the small of my back, guiding me. I fight the natural alarm bells a man’s touch brings and breathe slowly. It’s just Rio.
We’re led to a small table near another fountain in the center of the courtyard.
Rio pulls out my chair, and I sit.
Colorful lights are strung across above us.
Rio points to the brightly colored paper designs also strung above our heads. “What are those called? I’ve always liked them.”
“ Papel Picado , sir, a Mexican folk art made by cutting detailed patterns on tissue paper,” our host answers, passing us each a menu.
“Thank you,” Rio replies.
“Consuela will be your server.” The man bows and withdraws.
“This place is pretty cool,” Rio says, looking around.
I follow his gaze. “It’s been here since the 1800s and rumored to have once harbored the likes of Billy the Kid and Pancho Villa.”
“Outlaws, huh? I guess I fit right in.” He gives me a half smile.
Clearing my throat, I look at my menu. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
His finger nudges my chin up. “I know you didn’t. You know exactly who I am.”
“Do I?” I feel there’s an entire life he’s led I know nothing about.
My words must hit home, because he withdraws and studies his own menu, then sets it aside and glances around again. “I see why you love this place.”
“When did you get out?” I blurt.
“Just the other day.” He searches my eyes. “Zig brought me into town, and we stopped for lunch. Ran into Jenny. What are the odds, huh?”
“Indeed.”
The waiter comes and takes our order, then returns with the margaritas Rio ordered, along with a basket of chips and salsa.
I take a sip of mine and study him over the rim. “You look good.”
His face lights at my words, and his eyes trail over me. “Not as good as you look, sweetheart.”
My heart flutters, and I toy with the stem of my glass. “I adopted Hurley, the puppy you trained. Do you remember him?”
“I do. How is he?”
“Big.” I grin. “And adorable, and sweet.”
“I’m glad you have him. I always imagined him being with you. I’d hoped it was true, what you said that day about adopting him.”
I take another sip of my drink. “How’s your leg?”
“Fine. The limp is mostly gone. It aches when it rains, though.” He chuckles, and I smile at the rich rumble. It’s like a tonic to my soul.
“It’s good to hear you laugh.”
He grins. “I’m a bit rusty at it, I guess. Haven’t had much to laugh about these past few years.”
I nod, knowing how awful that prison was.
“Can I ask you something, Shelby?”
“All right,” I whisper, but inside I’m terrified of what he’ll ask.
“Why did you stop writing?”
And there it is—the one question I’ve feared most. How do I explain it to him? The last thing I want to do is tell him the truth. “Life got in the way, I guess.”
He doesn’t look satisfied with my answer, but doesn’t press me. He looks hurt by the fact that anything would stop me from writing to him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He makes a show of waving it off. “I get it. It’s what I tried to tell you all along; You shouldn’t waste your life waiting on me.”
“It wasn’t that,” I blurt, then snap my mouth shut. I can’t explain the real reason to him.
He nods. “One more question. Did you put money in my prison account?”
I wipe my hands on my skirt and nod.
“Why?”
I shrug and stare at the table.
“I knew it had to be you. There was no one else.”
I frown. “Really? No family? No friends?”
He shakes his head. “Thanks for doing that. It helped more than you know. I’d like to pay you back.” When he reaches for his wallet, my hand flings up.
“Don’t. Please.”
His eyes burn into mine. “I’m having a real hard time reading you, Shelby. One minute I think we really had something, and the next it feels as if it was nothing to you.”
“It wasn’t nothing.”
“Glad to hear that, because it was everything to me. Your letters. Those visits. They’re what kept me going all those years. Even after they stopped, I still had the memory of them to hang onto.”
Every word from his mouth tears my heart out, and my eyes sting. I scoot my chair back.
“I need to use the ladies' room.”
He rises from his chair, but I wave him off and hurry along a corridor toward the restrooms.
I pause at the sink, my hand on my stomach. The pain of what could have been, and what can no longer ever be, washes over me.
Jenny enters right behind me.
“Are you okay?”
I put my hand to my mouth and shake my head, my eyes filling.
She immediately embraces me. “Aw, honey. What is it?”
“It’s so sad,” I whisper. “I really liked him. He wants to know why I stopped writing to him.”
“Maybe you should tell him.”
“I can’t. No one can know. Not even him.”
“But why? Maybe he could—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it, Jenny. Don’t even think it.”
“But—”
“He’d react. You know he would. A man like him? He wouldn’t just let it go. And then what? He’d be sent back to prison. I couldn’t bear to be the cause of that. No way.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down. Do you want to sneak out the side door to the car and leave?”
I wipe the tears from my cheek. “No. He doesn’t deserve that. I’m going to go back and eat lunch with him. I’m sure it’ll be the last time I see him.”
She studies my eyes. “Oh, honey. I hate this for you. You care about him. I know you do. But really, you know nothing about him, except that he told your father off, then robbed your bank and almost got you killed in the process.”
“But he didn’t. He saved me.”
“And that sounds romantic, but he’s an ex-con, Shelby. And you said yourself he gave you no information about himself when you went to prison to visit him.”
“He said he couldn’t talk freely. Not in there.”
She folds her arms and cocks her head. “Okay, then. So, now’s your chance. Go back to the table and ask him. Like you said, it’s probably the last time you’re going to see him. See how much he’ll share.”
“What about you? I’m sorry I stuck you with his friend.”
“His name’s Zig. Who has a name like that? But he’s actually pretty funny.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s eat. I ordered quesadillas. How about you?”