Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Tightening my grip over hers, I sealed our hands in a promise—to myself and to her that, one way or another, the past was going to make its way to the surface and the truth along with it.

  “So, what’s next?”

  Her throat bobbed when she took a long swallow, glancing down at our linked hands before slipping hers free and caging it underneath crossed arms.

  “We have a tour of the Copper Queen Mine scheduled on Friday afternoon.”

  I nodded. “A good start.”

  The strand of hair I’d brushed back fell against her cheek as it rose with a half smile. “I thought so.” Sinking back on her heels, she turned down the sidewalk that led to the gallery.

  “You’re going to get me in trouble, Tally,” I mumbled after her.

  She tipped her head over her shoulder, the smile and light in her eyes hitting me like a fist to the gut, desire and the past clogging the air with a heaviness the heat lacked. Suddenly, it was a decade ago, and I was agreeing to most everything she asked of me because she was my best friend. And I was in love with her.

  “I can’t get you into trouble when you’re the one who agrees to it,” she retorted with a wink.

  Whether it was the truth or temptation, one thing was for sure; I wasn’t going to survive the next three weeks.

  “So, where’s tall, dark, and handsome Sam?” Nico sauntered up to me and asked.

  I kept my focus on wrangling the rest of the group from the cars we’d taken to get to the Copper Queen Mine and corral them toward the entrance to Bisbee’s famous copper mine.

  It wasn’t like Sam to run late. Or maybe it was.

  I hadn’t expected to see much of my pretend boyfriend after our pizza night—or at all this week until the tour today. It was what I’d told him, and all I’d expected. Instead, he showed up every morning offering me a ride into town, claiming it was on his way to work. And how could I refuse when Mee-Maw’s social schedule seemed to be bursting at the seams with things she was always needing her car for?

  It was just a ride to work—a ride that was even more justified by Carlos and the group’s peaked eyebrows. It wasn’t necessary for the story, but it helped give depth to appearances. And it definitely wasn’t necessary for the tiny balloon in my chest that inflated one word, one action at a time with hope.

  And it hadn’t stopped with the rides.

  It was the midafternoon coffee he dropped off. It was the early appearances every night when he’d wander through the exhibit floor that was slowly coming together in preparation for opening night on Sunday. It was the gleam of pride I caught in his eyes before he tried to hide it. And it was the way he’d wait for the evening to end, for Lorelei to show up with her key to lock up once everyone left, and take me home—but not before we stopped for dinner at one or another of our favorite restaurants from the past.

  “Maybe he decided to flee to Mexico,” Carlos interjected with a snicker, bringing me back to the deflation caving in my chest. “I think I can see him from here.”

  The Copper Queen Mine sat exactly eleven miles from the Mexican border and was considered one of the best mine tours in the country, especially because all the tours were led by men who used to work in the mines before they closed. With the gallery set and ready to go, the only thing left to add was the locally-inspired work-in-progress feature for each artist. After this afternoon, they would have all of tomorrow to create the first phase of the work to be displayed along with their first rotation of pieces.

  “Well after a week around you, who could blame him?” I shot back, ever more annoyed with Carlos by the minute, especially when Sam was around.

  As the days ticked by, it became more and more obvious that when Sam wasn’t around Carlos was more charismatic, his charming candor reminded me in a shadowed way of the qualities that attracted me to him what felt like forever ago. But every evening, as the day drew to an end and Sam appeared as consistently and as breathtakingly as the setting sun, Carlos’ mood turned sour and snide.

  “A week around me or a week around you?” he taunted.

  Even the rapid vacuum of air into my lungs wasn’t enough to resuscitate the hope that began deflating from my chest.

  There shouldn’t be any hope in the first place, I reminded myself. There was no hope for something that was only a hoax.

  His rides. His slow smiles and lingering glances. It was nothing more than what I’d asked for. But for some reason, it was hard to see Sam and everything he did as anything but real.

  “You’re right. It’s me,” I conceded with annoyed nonchalance, willing to say anything to get out of this conversation with him.

  But it was always me. Always hoping for more when there was no reason to.

  I wouldn’t let myself fall for my own façade. Carlos was one thing. Falling for something that was supposed to be real was a pity, falling for something that I’d declared as fake… that was pathetic.

  One minute, I was walking across the parking lot, the sun beating off the pavement, each step between the van and entrance to the mine growing impossibly heavier as I shed each little hope from my chest, and the next minute, Carlos had his arm around my shoulder, his head tipped closer to my ear.

  “Tally, what’s really going on?” he demanded.

  “Carlos, seriously.” I sighed and tried to wriggle free.

  “There’s something off about you two. I see it. No touching. No kissing.”

  “Stop meddling, Carlos. It doesn’t look good on you,” I told him, finally shrugging his arm off. “Especially when your girlfriend is right behind us.”

  Nico’s intrusion was welcome.

  “Off?” The other man gasped, adjusting his bright yellow scarf he’d worn specifically to match the hard hats we’d have to put on for the tour. “If you ask me, the two of them look like a rubber band.”

  We both turned to him, waiting for him to elaborate.

  “You know, a rubber band that’s being stretched farther and farther each time you’re together.” He mimicked the idea, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and pulling his hands wider and wider.

  “Exactly,” Carlos snapped and pointed to Nico. “At some point, whatever it is, is going to snap apart.”

  Nico gently smacked Carlos’ hand. “No, no,” he chided. “It’s going to snap back together.”

  I stumbled to a halt, the suggestion hitting me suddenly and without warning.

  “Tally!”

  I spun, all the hopes I’d left trailing behind me, collected into the gorgeous length of Sam’s form as he jogged over.

  And with a single kiss to the top of my head—a greeting I’d accepted over the last several days along with the tingling warmth it brought to my body—those little hopes I’d discarded dumped right back into their hollow home in my chest.

  “Hey.” I breathed out, flashing him a quick smile.

  “Sorry. Got caught up with a job,” he explained, wiping his hands on his pants as though he hadn’t been able to clean them enough before coming.

  Like every other day this week, he wore jeans that had seen better days though I doubted there was a pair, new or old, that could fit him better, and a dark blue tee that was on inside out, obscuring whatever logo was on the other side. He claimed the shirts were stained with dust and dirt from work and that was why he flipped them before coming to meet me, but I wondered if there was something more—something to do with our past.

  Maybe he didn’t want me to see the garage he worked for. Maybe this was one more attempt to shield me from the past I’d asked we not talk about—a reminder of the future he’d chosen that hadn’t included me.

  Those thoughts tugged on the scars on my heart, reminding me it still hurt underneath.

  “It’s okay.” My chin dipped in a quick nod. “We should get inside though so we’re not late.”

  I tried to get us to the door and the distractions inside, but I wasn’t quick enough before Carlos could get a remark in.

  “Thought you’d giv
en up on her,” my ex teased, pulling Kendall to his side and squeezing her ass.

  Sam’s eyes flashed with rage—a barely-restrained thunderstorm caught by the very tip of a mountain from crashing down onto the other side.

  “I would never be that stupid,” Sam replied, holding the door open for me and following close behind, leaving Carlos to fume as Kendall tried to unsuccessfully snap a selfie with the entrance sign.

  I didn’t remember there was a trolley.

  I should’ve. I’d been to the mines before. But it had been so long I’d forgotten about the trolley that took us down into the depths of the earth, the cushioned planks in each open-sided section meant to be straddled.

  Straddled.

  So, while Carlos and Kendall made sure to claim seats in the first car of the trolley, Sam steered me toward the second, and I had hardly a moment to process the position we’d be in before I swung my leg over the old wood and settled into my seat between Sam’s legs.

  The guide’s introduction to Arizona’s most productive copper mine faded into a dull hum right after the cars began to move and we descended into darkness, our headlamps and intermittent lighting through the channel only exacerbating the way my other senses spiraled out of control.

  Though temperature dropped rapidly, each breath felt hotter than the last as oxygen burned into my blood.

  Sam was close. So close.

  Aside from the few head kisses or an arm around my shoulder or waist, I was never in this kind of proximity with him. Which was probably why Carlos had his doubts.

  But now that we were, I knew why touch was a topic we avoided. We were hardly in contact where we sat. The most I felt was his knees bumping against the outside of my thighs when the track grew uneven. But the pulsing heat between us filled the air with something flammable—one touch, one spark, setting it to explode.

  I’d let out a loud gasp on the first bump, the rough rock locking together the final inches of my back and Sam’s torso. But when he reached forward and placed one hand securely on my waist to comfort and reassure me, I could only bite my tongue rather than admit he’d made it worse.

  Breathe, Tally. It’s just a few minutes on the trolley.

  My shoulders sagged with unwanted relief when the trolley came to a stop.

  “So, we’ll start here, about seven hundred feet from the front of the mine. If you want to step out of the cars…”

  Whatever else the guide suggested was lost in my haste to escape the hot male so close to my back and the ache building between my legs.

  “You okay?” Sam asked and I shivered, feeling the gentle touch of his fingers against the small of my back.

  I’d chosen lightweight yoga pants for today paired with a tee I’d borrowed from Mee-Maw that I tied in the front, and a thin jacket since I knew it would get cold quickly down here. But the slight pressure of his touch burned easily through the layers of fabric meant to insulate.

  “Yeah,” I squeaked and picked up my pace to follow the guide as he funneled us up a wood-paneled flight of thirty-six steps.

  Once again, Sam’s imposing presence closed in behind me.

  “Now, there are over two-thousand miles of tunnels down here in this mine—”

  “Any chance we could lose Carlos in them?” Sam’s breath caressed my ear as we came to the top of the stairs.

  I let out a weak laugh, clinging to the small distraction of his joke. “Unfortunately, I think the only time he wanders is with women.”

  I meant the return to be wry, even at my own expense, but instead my body was too on edge with desire to accomplish anything except making it sound strained with sadness.

  Sam’s growl echoed behind me into the chamber we stood in. I turned to say something—anything to make it clear I wasn’t at all interested in Carlos anymore, but the rumble of the older guide’s voice commanded the space.

  “Unstable.” The word echoed like an accusation directed squarely at me and was magnified by the spotlight-esque lightening in the mine. “That was the only word to describe what was goin’ on down here,” the older man continued, his gaze trailing over us and around the room, clearly recollecting a different era when he entered this place, not knowing what dangers awaited.

  But I agreed.

  Unstable was the only word to describe what was going on inside me.

  I hadn’t realized how many small steps I’d taken toward Sam—toward trusting him, toward feeling for him—until we’d gotten here and the fear that he wasn’t going to show up became real. I hadn’t realized how high I’d climbed until I began to fall. Again. And then he appeared. And the relief—the rush of wanting him, needing him, overwhelmed my senses.

  “I knew for every slip, for every minor mistake, I wouldn’t make it,” the guide continued like he could read my thoughts and my turmoil.

  I was slipping. Into the past.

  Sliding. Back into old habits.

  Searching. For him.

  Meanwhile, Sam sensed my unease and kept a hand on my back the whole time, his fingers rubbing absentminded small circles that teased the sensitive skin underneath. It was a different world down here. No sun. No heat. Harsh lighting. Close quarters. It seemed like the mine shafts had been crafted to separate, in the most explosive way possible, what was of real value from what wasn’t.

  The copper from the earth.

  How I still felt about Sam from how I pretended I didn’t feel at all.

  The mine wasn’t the maze. The layers of emotional facades I wore were.

  Time passed in a fog as the tour continued. The guide spoke of the different setups used in the mines, but all I heard was the battle of heavy breaths launched between Sam and me when we were forced closer.

  The tour showed us how the miners would pack walls with sticks of dynamite until they decided that the nitroglycerin in dynamite was too gassy to use. But all I could think about was the desire packed into each of my cells, ready and waiting for Sam’s touch to light them up and make me explode. I only caught bits and pieces—fragments of the tour that was fascinating to everyone else except me.

  “Seriously, Sam, what’s the deal with you two?” I heard Carlos whisper behind me, jarring me to the present.

  A quick glance and I saw the awkward way he held Kendall close to him, the hard hats preventing their heads from getting close enough to kiss. “Is it not working out?”

  “Shut up, Carlos,” I hissed, jolting when Sam reached for my waist again.

  Firm but gentle, his grip crafted the illusion while maintaining a lining of respect that my body wished wasn’t there.

  “Our deal is none of your business,” Sam clipped out.

  “So, you two dated before, and now reconnected?”

  “Yes—”

  “No—” I answered at the same time.

  I looked back to Sam and winced. I hadn’t gone over the details of whatever backstory we were going to give.

  “It’s a long—”

  “Lie,” Carlos cut in, a smirk of self-satisfaction etching into his face, the expression appearing almost maniacal under the harsh lighting.

  “No,” I ground out and Sam’s hands on my waist was the only thing holding me back from putting Carlos in his place. “It’s none of your business, Carlos. I don’t ask about you and Kendall. You sure seem to care a lot about my relationship, are you sure you two are okay?”

  His look turned sour. “Not the same. You’ve been well-aware of the extent of my and Kendall’s relationship.”

  I winced, recalling the moment they were both hardly clothed and decided to inform me, via a painting, that I was being cheated on.

  Carlos folded his arms. “From what I can tell, you two are nothing more than friends—”

  His voice dropped to nothing, cut off when Sam stepped in front of him.

  “What we are is none of your business,” Sam said with a deadly low tenor, his jet-black hair creating a dark halo around his face that mirrored his barely-restrained expression.

 
I was sure the whole mine heard Carlos’ panicked gulp as he stared up at all the hard planes of muscle crafting the man towering over him and the even sharper eyes that pierced like the fine tip of an arrow.

  With that final word, Sam reached for me once more and steered me back toward the train, cutting in front of some of the other artists in the group to put some bodies between us and Carlos.

  I didn’t know what was worse: lingering in that conversation for longer, or returning to the seats of torture.

  My heart hammered as we climbed back on the trolley, and I steeled myself for Sam’s closeness. I could handle this. I could handle a silly trolley ride back to the surface.

  That was all I needed to do to survive—to gain some space.

  But this time, the cars jolted forward with more force and my yoga pants made me slide easily along the seat and right into the cocoon of Sam’s body.

  He grunted low as I crashed back into him.

  The bright green hard hat and neon orange vests were protection for many of the possible hazards that could happen in the mine, but they did nothing to save me from the danger of being wedged so snugly against the hot wall of his chest.

  “Sorry,” I choked out, hoping the rumble of the cars over the tracks and the low hum of other conversations obscured how affected I was by our sudden, intimate contact.

  I grappled for the bench between my legs and tried to scoot forward, but the slight downward slope of the track meant he slid with me, and wedged my ass against his groin.

  And the long, hard ridge trapped there.

  “Fuck.” I heard him curse under his breath, and my pulse hammered up into my throat.

  It wasn’t just me.

  The little pockets of hope inside my chest expanded until I struggled to breathe.

  No, Tally. You can’t. Not again.

  Desperate to create some space, I reached for the edge of the seat again and tried to wiggle forward, but with the bumps and turns of the track, all I did was manage to massage my ass against his erection.

  “Christ, Tally,” he groaned and locked his fingers like hot steel clamps on my hips. “Stop. Moving.”