So, against his better judgment, he put his faith in the one man who didn’t deserve it—Alex del Toro.
“Yeah, call me tomorrow.”
“I will,” Alex promised.
“You damn well better.”
* * *
“That was Cara? Windsor?” Gabriella couldn’t get her head around it. The woman Chance was rumored to have kidnapped Alex for was the one in his arms? On his couch?
“Yes.” Alex looked terrible, but it wasn’t the same kind of terrible that he’d been faking for weeks. This time, Gabriella thought he looked...guilty.
“But they weren’t kissing. He was just comforting her? Because she was—what? Upset about you?”
“Yes,” Alex repeated, looking even more miserable.
“And this was all one giant misunderstanding, was it?” At least they were alone. Joaquin had not followed her into her room when she’d rushed into the house and thrown herself on her bed in a truly melodramatic fashion. For that she was grateful. She could only hope he had not returned to McDaniel’s Acres to finish Chance off.
“Yes.”
Gabriella’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t tell if that was out of relief or embarrassment. When she’d seen Chance with his arms around that blond woman, she’d experienced a shock so physical that it had been all she could do not to lose her stomach’s contents right then and there.
Chance had said he’d loved her. And he’d been holding another woman.
All she’d been able to think was that she’d been a fool. She’d saved herself, and for what? She was just as disposable as all the maids had complained about during her youth. Disposable and replaceable.
She’d been the same fool her brother had been; falling for the sweet words of a man who would always betray the del Toro family at the first available moment.
But here sat Alex, protesting that she had somehow not seen what she’d seen, that Chance had not been wooing another woman. She didn’t know if she should be happy that Chance was as trustworthy as she believed him to be or embarrassed that she hadn’t trusted him even more.
She didn’t want to see Chance just yet, not until she could sort through all the conflicting feelings that were making breathing a difficult chore. And Alex, despite his earnest intentions, had not seen what she’d seen.
Which meant there was only one other person she could ask.
“Where is your phone?”
“What?” Alex gave her an odd look, but he dug it out of his pocket. “Why?”
“I do not have Cara Windsor’s number. You do. Call her. I want to speak to this woman.”
He paled. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”
A flash of anger pushed back against her confused relief. “You do not think what is a good idea? Me, talking to another woman? Me, attempting to resolve a problem on my own? Me, being responsible for my own fate? I want to talk to Cara. If you do not give me her number, I will find another way to get it. And I will not hesitate to tell everyone in this three-horse town that your mind is as solid as it was the day you came north of the border!”
Alex gaped at her in shock, as if she had never spoken to him in such a way. Perhaps she hadn’t, but she was sick to death of her family smothering her. She wanted to breathe without having to account to someone for her need of oxygen.
Then his mouth quirked up into a smile as he began tapping his screen. “A two-horse town. Not three. Didn’t Chance teach you anything?”
“He taught me many things,” she retorted. She couldn’t even blush when he shot her a surprised look. She held out her hand for the phone.
“Should have let Joaquin shoot him,” he muttered as he handed the ringing phone over.
“Alex? Baby, is that you? Oh, thank God!” The woman’s voice on the other end of the phone spoke so fast that Gabriella had trouble understanding her. “Baby, I’ve been so worried about you—when can I see you?”
This Cara did not sound particularly guilty about being caught kissing Chance. If anything, she sounded as though she was crying.
“Ah, hello? This is Gabriella del Toro. Alex’s sister.” She looked at Alex, who had leaned in close to listen to the conversation. She couldn’t decipher the look on his face, though.
“Oh.” This momentary disappointment was quickly erased by concern. “Is he all right? Is everything okay?”
“Alex is fine.” Although Cara Windsor sounded somewhat hysterical, Gabriella couldn’t say that was a bad thing. Her concern for Alex—and her lack of concern for Chance—was a good sign.
But emotions were easy to fake over the phone. “I think there may have been a misunderstanding earlier today. I’d like to meet you in person so we can get it cleared up.”
“Chance would never cheat on you. I mean, he’d never cheat on anyone—he’s not like that. This is all my fault...” She sounded as if she were crying again.
“Is there somewhere we could go for coffee to talk?”
“Do you...? Can I see Alex? Will he come with you?”
At this, Alex shook his head. “Ah, no. Not yet. But soon, I believe.”
“All right.” Cara sniffed. “We can meet at the Royal Diner—in an hour? Does that work for you?”
Gabriella looked at the clock. It was seven now. By eight, the dinner crowd of a diner should have cleared. Besides, she probably needed to fix her makeup and change into more appropriate clothing. Something far less revealing. “That would be fine. I’ll see you then.”
She ended the call and handed the phone back to her brother. “Thank you.”
“Don’t tell her I remember.”
“Why not? She’s obviously worried about you.” Her frustration bubbled over. “I’m tired of living inside your deceptions, Alex. When will it all end?”
He took her hand then, patting it as if she was a small child again. Then he stood.
“Soon. I promise.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t be so disappointed by this small lie, not compared to all the rest. But she was.
She wished she could believe him.
* * *
Exactly an hour later Joaquin pulled up outside the Royal Diner. He was not happy about this excursion. Gabriella could tell by the way he would not meet her gaze, but she did not care.
Not when there was a chance that Chance had been honest with her. She had to know.
She recognized Cara immediately. The slim blonde was sitting in a booth at the back, dabbing at her eyes and staring at the coffee cup in front of her.
Gabriella did not want to do this. She was in no mood to offer up her heart just to have it ripped out of her chest for the second time today.
But she needed to know that Chance wouldn’t have betrayed her. She needed to believe it.
“Cara?” When the woman looked up and gave her a sad smile, Gabriella slid into the booth. Joaquin took a spot at the counter, but he wasn’t within earshot. Not if Gabriella kept her voice low.
A waitress immediately brought over a cup of coffee. “Anything else, hon?”
“We’re fine, Amanda,” Cara answered. “Thanks.”
“Let me know.” This Amanda gave Cara a quick squeeze on the shoulder before making her rounds to the other patrons of the diner.
“I suppose there’s no good way to start, is there?” Cara sat back, her chin a little higher but her eyes still quite red. “I’d heard you were in town, but I didn’t realize that you and Chance...”
She did not want to know what other people were “realizing” about her and Chance. So she hurried to cut Cara off.
“And I had only recently found out about you,” Gabriella admitted.
“How is Alex? Does he...does he remember me?” Her eyes began to water again.
Gabriella felt a deep level of sympathy w
ith this woman—a woman she would have been willing to throw to the wolves earlier today. She knew how painful it was when Alex wouldn’t remember her. What if Chance suddenly didn’t remember her? It would break her heart over and over again.
She chose her words carefully. “He is...improving.” She couldn’t say more, no matter how dishonest it was.
“Oh, that’s good. That’s better than...than—” Cara broke off, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m glad you called,” she went on when she had herself back under control. “I feel terrible about what happened this afternoon. I went to see Chance because, well, because I needed a friend and that’s what Chance is—a friend. He’s a wonderful man and it’s been awful that people have been spreading lies about him, about how he hurt Alex to get me back. Chance isn’t like that—he never has been. He cares for his friends—even when his friend dumped him for his best friend.” Her face twisted into a mask of pain and guilt.
“I see,” Gabriella said, wondering if she could trust this woman or if the weeping was all part of the act.
Cara must have heard the doubt in Gabriella’s voice because she looked up and said, “I went to see Chance today because I’m pregnant with Alex’s baby and he doesn’t remember me. I...I don’t know what to do.”
“¡Dios mío!” Gabriella whispered, trying to process all the information Cara Windsor had just shared. Her brain tried to filter the fact that Alex would be a father in three different languages but all that happened was a hum of noise in her head. “A baby? Alex’s baby?”
“When Alex’s number came up on my phone, I was so excited— If I could tell him what’s happened, maybe I could help him remember. I just want him to remember that he loved me.”
Gabriella knew those feelings—weeks of being trapped in a house with a man who wasn’t entirely her brother anymore and trying everything she could to help his memory. She felt for Cara Windsor. But she had to guard her own heart first. “There is nothing between you and Chance?”
Cara shook her head vigorously. “We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. I think we’ll always be friends—but nothing more. I love Alex Santiago.” Her eyes began to water again. “The man I thought Alex was.”
Gabriella could not help herself. She leaned forward and placed her hand on Cara’s. “He loved you, too. I am certain of it. I believe he still does, but it’s buried deep inside.” That was not a lie, either. The only difference was that Alex was willfully keeping those emotions buried—it had nothing to do with head trauma.
“Thank you. Thank you for meeting me and letting me explain about Chance. I want him to be happy. He’s a kind, sweet man and I tried so hard to love him. But then I met your brother...” She trailed off, looking lost in thought. “I asked Chance not to tell Alex I was expecting. I know we just met and you don’t owe me a thing, but can I ask the same of you? I want to tell him face-to-face. Maybe it’ll help.”
Another lie. Gabriella tried very hard to keep the weariness off her face. Everyone had secrets that must be kept at all costs. Was she any different? She was in Chance’s bed—something she did not want her father to find out under any circumstances.
And now this. A baby complicated things in ways that she had not dreamed were possible. What would Rodrigo del Toro do when he found out that his daughter was sleeping with a rancher and his son had fathered a child? She did not even want to contemplate the scene.
“No matter what, that baby is family, which makes you family.” Gabriella felt herself tearing up as she spoke the words. “I won’t tell Alex, but if there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask. The del Toro family has considerable resources at our disposal.”
“The only thing I want is my Alex back,” Cara said.
“We all do,” Gabriella agreed. “We all do.”
Fifteen
Chance slept fitfully with his phone in his hand, his boots by the side of the bed and an ice pack on his face. He knew that Gabriella wasn’t going to call him at five in the morning to kiss and make up, but he couldn’t help himself.
He had terrible dreams about Alex kicking him while he was down and Gabriella being pulled away from him.
He shouldn’t have trusted the man, he decided as he made coffee at five-fifteen, his phone within easy reach on the counter. He should have risked being gut-shot by that damn guard so that he could be the one to talk to Gabriella. None of this second-hand horseshit. He didn’t exactly know how the del Toro family operated—although he had a damn good idea—but the buck always stopped with the McDaniel men. He’d been comforting Cara. It should have been his job to make things right with Gabriella.
Six o’clock passed at slower than molasses in January. Seven did the same. By the time eight crawled by, Chance had drunk way too much coffee and was officially jittery.
Maybe he should go on over to the house. Hadn’t that been a romantic movie back in the 80s? Say...Something? No, Say Anything—that’d been the movie where the guy stood on his car and blasted music from a boom box to wake up his girlfriend after a fight.
Chance went so far as to dig out his iPod before he realized he probably couldn’t crank the volume loud enough for her to hear it in Alex’s big house. Besides, the neighbors would probably call the cops on him. Nathan Battle, the sheriff, probably wouldn’t arrest him, but it’d make a hell of a scene—and not the kind that would sway Gabriella to take him back.
Damn it all. He was going to drive himself insane in record time. If patience was a virtue, Chance was up to his eyeballs in sin right about now. How on God’s green earth was he supposed to hold out until dinner tonight?
So when his phone rang at eight-thirty, he physically pounced on the damn thing in his eagerness to answer it. Please be Gabriella, he thought as he touched the screen, even though it was Alex’s number. Please be Gabriella. “Hello?”
“Chance?”
At any point in the past few months, Chance would have been thrilled to hear his friend call him by name. Except for right now. “Yeah?”
“Tell me Gabriella is with you,” Alex said, and Chance heard the panic in the man’s voice.
“What do you mean? Of course she’s not with me. I’m sitting here waiting for you to call and tell me everyone’s calmed down. Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She’s not in her room and Joaquin says he hasn’t seen her this morning.”
“Have you searched the house?”
“I even checked the pool and the clubhouse—she’s gone.”
Jesus, Alex was supposed to be calming her down—she wouldn’t have done anything drastic, would she?
No. He didn’t believe she’d do something like that. But that didn’t mean something drastic hadn’t happened.
“Check the damn house again. I’m coming over. Call Nathan.”
“Papa doesn’t want me to. We don’t even know if she’s missing. Chance—”
Hell, no. Alex wasn’t going to pull the same line of bull about how he should handle this. This was exactly what Chance got for letting another man fight his battles. “I’m coming over.” He hung up and dialed again. Carlotta answered at the front desk of the Bunk House. “Good morning, señor.”
“Carlotta, Gabriella has disappeared. We may have another kidnapping on our hands. Have the maids check every single room in the hotel, no exceptions. Wake up the whole damn place if you have to.” He hung up and dialed a second time. “Marty? Gabriella’s gone missing. Round up as many men as you can and start combing the range. Check Slim’s shop first, the swimming hole second. Call me the moment you find her.”
It was possible that she’d gone to those places— someplace quiet and familiar, where she could think.
But something told him that wasn’t the case. What if the people who’d taken Alex had come for Gabriella? The thought made his stomach turn and turn hard. As much
as she’d tried to keep a stiff upper lip when she’d told him about her mother’s kidnapping and the attempts—both real and staged—on her life, he’d been able to tell that being taken was the scariest thing in her life.
God, he prayed as he drove at top speed, keep her safe. Even if she’s not mine to hold, keep her safe. Don’t let her be scared. Gabriella was a religious woman. Hopefully someone was answering prayers up there today.
She never went anywhere without Joaquin. Sometimes, after they’d made love and were lying in bed, she’d told him more about her life on her father’s estate. She’d told him about a stable boy she’d kissed more out of defiance than love, about cutting off her hair when she was forbidden to go to “university,” as she put it. She even told him about Raoul, the man her father allowed to escort her to events, and how he would put his hands on her as if he owned her. Which was why she’d never slept with him.
Never once had she mentioned actually sneaking out and giving old Joaquin a run for his money.
Something about this whole thing smelled worse than a cow patty in the summer sun.
He made it to Alex’s house in record time. The place was quiet, like it was another regular Saturday morning. Obviously, Alex had not called the damn cops. Yet. What was wrong with that man?
He didn’t bother with such crap as ringing a doorbell or knocking. He opened that door and walked right in to find Alex on the phone and Joaquin slumped down on the couch. Something was even more wrong than he thought.
“I got the maids checking the hotel and Marty checking the ranch,” he said with no other introduction. “Where the hell is your father?”
Alex shot him a frantic look. “He’s ‘in a meeting’ if you can believe that,” Alex snapped before turning back to the phone. “Yes, I know—but I’d appreciate it if you could check. Thanks.” He ended the call. “I’ve checked the pool and clubhouse again, gone through the house top to bottom. Nathan’s going to start looking.” Then, looking contrite, he added, “Sorry about your face.”
What a Rancher Wants Page 16
