It had to be the smallest town she’d ever seen. The main road had a few stores, an old adobe church, a miniature post office, a gas station and a couple of mom-and-pop stores. There were zero stoplights. Three roads with Spanish names jutted off toward the residential section of town. She strolled down one of the side roads in search of beach access and passed quaint old houses that looked to be at least a hundred years old.
A man washing a motorcycle in a small driveway looked up when she passed. “Miss Cox! Are you lost?”
It was Matt, Jeffrey’s older brother. He lived here? “I’m looking for the beach.”
He pointed. “Go back a quarter of a mile and you’ll find the access road. Follow the signs and stay out of the snowy plover hatchery.”
“Will do. How about lunch? Any place you recommend?”
“Not to your caliber of fine dining, but the best Mexican food is at my mother-in-law’s place. Juanita’s. You can’t miss it.”
Mother-in-law? Interesting that a rich boy would leave Casa Larga to marry someone from this small town and then live here. “Thanks.”
“Oh, and, Miss Cox? I’m rooting for you.”
Her chest warmed. It felt good to have someone believe in her again. Maybe she could do this. “Thanks.”
Walking back down the main street, she found Juanita’s Mexican Market and Café. The smell of barbecued meat made her stomach growl. She hadn’t eaten breakfast and it was already close to noon. There were a handful of tables outside on the patio, full with people laughing and eating. Each table had baskets of tortilla chips and bowls filled with what seemed to be homemade salsa. Michele’s mouth watered. Since there were no available tables, she thought she’d have to order a meal to go.
“Hey, lady. Wanna join us?” An older woman called from a table.
“Yeah, come on, we don’t mind sharing. Well, Nona does,” a second woman said.
The third woman had just dipped her chip into a small bowl of guacamole. “I told you to order your own. I don’t like double-dipping.” She pointed to the one available chair and said in a demanding voice, “Por supuesto, siéntate.”
Michele didn’t think she had a choice. She sat down. “Thank you. I’m Michele.”
“You’re one of Jeffrey’s fancy cooks. I’m Alana, she’s Flora and the guac-hoarder over there is Nona. We’re sisters.”
“I like to keep my germs to myself,” Nona complained.
“My sister and I used to fight over food, too,” Michele sighed. “I miss that.”
Flora’s hand went to her mouth and Alana made a little squeak.
“We lost our sister once. Thank God she’s back for now,” Nona said. “May your sister rest in peace.” All three women made the sign of the cross over themselves.
“Oh, no. She’s in New York. She’s fine.” Sort of. “It’s just that I am used to seeing her every day. This separation is difficult.”
Alana nodded. “Don’t know what I’d do without these two picking on me every day.” She pushed the basket of chips toward Michele. “Eat up. We’ll get the waitress to take your order.”
“How’s the competition coming? I hear it’s down to three chefs,” Nona said.
Michele chewed a chip and marveled at how fast word spread in a small town. “The competition is amazing. Though I don’t have much of a chance.”
“Why would you think that?” Nona said.
Without going into the long story, Michele said simply, “I seem to have misplaced my confidence and my talent.”
“You should learn from Jeffrey. He’s talented and self-assured. Amazing, no? After how his mother treated him, it’s a wonder he didn’t end up crazy like his father,” Alana said. “Those two were the worst.”
“Cállate,” Nona admonished hissed Alana. “That is private business.”
“Jeffrey told me his parents fought,” Michele said.
“It surprises me that he shared any of it. He must trust you, but I don’t think we should add fuel to the fire.” Nona gave both of her sisters a strong look to keep their mouths shut.
“Claro.” Alana lifted her chin defiantly. “We wouldn’t want anyone to know the evil mother ignored that sweet boy for days and screamed at him for no reason.”
“That’s awful,” Michele said.
“A friend in the Harpers’ kitchen said she had to make sure Jeffrey had enough food to eat,” Flora pitched in.
“That woman is the worst mother ever,” Flora said. “She didn’t deserve those three beautiful babies. And that Jeffrey was so adorable with his copper hair and freckles. Who wouldn’t love him?”
Michele’s heart broke. She’d always known her mother loved her. She’d even said so with her last breath.
Alana nodded. “Holy Madre, she is terrible. I hope she never comes back here.”
Nona’s thin shoulders rounded and she seemed to cave in. “She told everyone that I beat little Matthew. If I hadn’t taken the brush from her hand, I don’t know what would have happened...” Nona squeezed her eyes shut on the memory.
“Now I understand why that beautiful house seems so dark and cold. I’m glad his mother is no longer in the picture,” Michele said softly.
“We are all glad of that. Things are getting better.” Nona brightened. “Angel is there to help RW heal. She’s convinced him to seek forgiveness from everyone he’s harmed in the past. Believe me, it is a long list. But because he wants to change, he has asked the three kids to come home. We’ll see if they forgive him or not, but it is great to have them all here.”
Michele didn’t know who Angel was or why RW needed healing, but she kept those questions to herself. What she really wanted was to know more about Jeffrey. Maybe she could help him before he sent her home. It was the least she could do after he’d paid her sister’s expenses.
Michele ate the last chip and said, “It’s amazing to me that his childhood was bad because he is so—”
“Handsome,” Flora interrupted.
“Strong,” Alana added.
“Smart,” Nona said.
“Yes. All those things, but I was going to say ‘sure of himself.’ I wish I had an ounce of his confidence.”
“Sure, sure he is confident but he is alone. He needs someone to take care of him, like his family never did. If we could only find him a wife—”
Three heads swung toward her.
Michele lifted her hands. “I’m just trying to be his chef.”
She needed the job Jeffrey was offering, not a husband. Her sister depended on her to provide a stable income and life for the two of them. Getting romantically involved with a playboy who’d publicly declared he’d never get married? That would be the opposite of stability. Besides, she was not ready to trust any man with her heart after Alfieri had betrayed her.
The three women meant well, but marrying sexy Jeffrey Harper was not in the cards.
Besides, with all the women Jeffrey dated, how could he ever be alone?
RW stood on his balcony and looked out over his estate. It was beautiful, no denying it. His thousands of acres of gardens, pastures and grassy knolls all stretched out gracefully to the private beach that dipped into the sea. In the distance, he could see his nine oil derricks formed into a horseshoe in the sea. They were lit up like Christmas trees. Some would say he was successful and had created quite a legacy for his kids.
RW knew better. None of the toys, land or business meant a damn. The only things that truly mattered were setting things straight with his kids and winning the heart of the woman he couldn’t seem to live without. And protecting them all.
Angel knocked on his open door and came on in. “Is everything okay?”
“Hell, yes. Now that you’re here.”
“Your text said come right away.” She studied his face in her subtle way, looking for signs of distress. He knew all her tricks.
He grinned. “I figured you needed a break from that screaming kid.”
“Cristina’s boy is a bit of a handful. But I don’t blame him. He misses his little friends and...” she swallowed hard “...the others.”
He knew her dark spots, too. It killed him every time her sweet expressions twisted in momentary panic, which happened only when she thought about her ex-boyfriend, Cuchillo, and his gang. She had barely escaped those killers when she was a pregnant teenager. She’d been on the run, hiding in Plunder Cove for years with a secret identity and job as the local Mexican restaurant owner. Since she’d helped Cristina and Sebastian to escape to Plunder Cove, Angel was thinking about her ex more often. RW would fix that. He picked up the remote and pressed the button. Mexican music started playing.
Stretching his hand toward her he said, “Baila conmigo.”
“Randall Wesley Harper! You’re speaking Spanish.”
Now that look of surprise was good. He loved impressing her. “People who call me by my full name are usually pissed off. I love the way you say it.”
She turned her head, listening. “My favorite song since I was a little girl. How did you know?”
“A little birdie told me.”
She smiled. “Henry.”
“Yep, don’t tell grandkids any secrets unless you want them broadcasted.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Come on, bella. Baila conmigo.” She took his hand and he spun her into his embrace. “That’s more like it.”
She felt so good in his arms. Heart to heart. Body to body.
This meant something, though he didn’t dare name it.
Angel was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. It was going to hurt in the end. He might not survive it.
Pressing her cheek to his, she played with the hair at the base of his neck. They swayed together in perfect rhythm. He sang softly in her ear.
“You know all the words?” She pulled back and he could see the shock of delight. “Do you understand them?”
He lifted his eyebrow and gave her one of his cocky grins. Jeffrey might have been famous for a grin just like it, but he’d learned the smug look from his old man. “I’m not just another pretty face, Angel.”
She chuckled. “Go ahead, then. Translate.”
He looked into her eyes and spoke the words he’d learned from heart. “Little mourning dove, my love, my heart. Do not fly away from me. I could not endure without your love. Cannot breathe without you with me. My heart beats only for you. You are my world. My everything.”
Her eyes welled.
He kissed her with all the passion in his damaged heart. It beat strong when it was close to hers.
She held on to his neck and matched him kiss for kiss while he ran his hands down her lovely shoulders to her back. He pressed her against him and silently begged her to stay.
“RW.” Her voice was breathy. “Close the door.”