by Toni Blake
Slowing the car a bit, he lowered his chin and met her gaze. “Are you officially saying you trust me, Farris?”
“In some ways,” she confessed, surprised it was the truth. “In that way.”
Just then, Mike flipped on the turn signal and, without warning, took a right down a little dirt lane that cut between two fenced fields.
As the vintage car bounced along through the dust, Rachel just gaped at him. “You’re not searching for another barn, are you? Because that was fun, but I’m not a machine, you know.”
Mike turned to her with a big, sexy grin, clearly entertained by her protests. “No, Farris, I’m not looking for a barn.”
“What, then?”
That’s when he brought the Cadillac to a halt and Rachel lifted her gaze to see…the last thing she could have anticipated. Donkeys.
“What the hell?” she asked, confused. A whole herd of brown donkeys stood in the pasture to the right of the car, some grazing on short green grass, others looking up in response to the Caddy’s approach.
“You wanted to see donkeys after the donkey ball game,” he reminded her. “Well, here they are. The actual ones from the game, in fact. I happen to know they belong to Hank Speers and live in this field.”
“Oh,” she said. Then she smiled, realizing Mike Romo had just done something she’d once thought impossible—he’d done something kind of…sweet. For her.
The truth was, she hadn’t given a thought to donkeys since that night. But she really had been curious to see one up close right before she’d accidentally locked the two of them in that concession stand. So it felt kind of fun—in a silly, indulgent sort of way—to get a good look at them now.
Together, she and Mike got out of the car and approached the barbed-wire fence where a dark brown donkey stood with his head sticking over the top strand. “Is it…safe to pet it?” Rachel asked.
Mike shrugged. “I’m not a donkey expert, but I think so.”
So she ran her fingers down over the donkey’s long face, petting and scratching the same as she might a dog—just a really big one in this particular case. The donkey closed his eyes for a moment, making her think he liked it. “If I’d known, I could have brought some apples for them.”
Mike stooped down and plucked up a handful of grass, much longer on the outside of the fence than on the inside, where the animals had already eaten it down to the ground. “Here,” he said, pressing the soft green blades into Rachel’s palm.
“He won’t take my hand off?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Just hold it open, flat,” Mike instructed, “so he can’t nip your fingers.”
“I thought you weren’t a donkey expert.”
“Grandma and Grandpa Romo had horses when I was a kid. Same general principle.”
So Rachel took Mike’s word for it and held her palm to the donkey’s mouth, unduly pleased when he ate the grass, snuffling and snorting a bit. “I never thought I’d say this about a donkey, but…he’s kind of cute.”
Mike looked at the donkey and said, “Don’t listen to her. She thinks you stink. She told me so at the ball game.”
After a smirking grin at her date, Rachel redirected her attention to the donkey, as well, peering directly into his big, black eyes as she reached out to pet him a little more. “Oh, you’re not so bad,” she told him.
Then she looked up at Mike, and admitted, “You’re not so bad, either. Sometimes.”
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet
Ten
Upon returning to the orchard, Rachel could smell something good cooking in the kitchen, the aroma wafting through the open windows. As Mike walked her to the door, she made a spontaneous decision. “It’s almost dinnertime…if you want to stay. Edna’s the best cook I’ve ever known and I think I smell her trademark chicken and dumplings.”
“Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve got a late shift tonight, so I need to get home and grab a few hours sleep first.”
She nodded, smiled, and acted like it was nothing—even as it stunned her how disappointed she was that the date was ending. How had things changed so quickly here?
As they stepped up onto the porch, Rachel turned to face him and Mike took both her hands in his. Leaning her back against the house, he bent near her ear and said in a completely sexy, raspy voice, “Thanks for today.”
She looked up at him, feeling the same way she had for a while now. Weakened in his presence. Softened inside. And like she couldn’t quite get enough of him. “Did you mean for…the sex? Or the stuff with your family?”
His slow grin moved all through her. “I meant for everything, honey,” he replied, then bent to lower his mouth over hers.
Rachel’s stomach contracted as his kiss consumed her; she looped her arms around his neck, pressing her body into his. Mmm, God, his kisses turned her inside out—she thought she could enjoy just standing here kissing him like this all night long. When he began to harden against her thigh, the small of her back ached and she wanted him again—and decided she probably should have been asking, begging for him to look for another barn on the way home.
When finally the kissing stopped, it left her breathless, and still wishing he’d stay for dinner. She bit her lip and peered up into those bedroom eyes, thinking he was about to ask her out again.
His sexy gaze drifted over her lips and then back upward, the mere look getting her hotter and hotter inside—until finally he said, “See ya, Farris.” Then turned around and walked away.
Whoa. Rachel sagged back against the house—to keep from collapsing onto the porch.
See ya? That was it?
After all they’d shared today?
And—oh God, please don’t let this have anything to do with what he’d said about her thinking she was too good. Because she really, really didn’t and was mortified by the very notion.
But…wait a minute. Since when did she care about dating Mike Romo anyway?
She didn’t.
And still, she felt a bit numb, deflated, as she stepped through the front door.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Edna called. “So scoot your butt in here and tell me all about the Romos.”
Rachel could have used a minute to recover from the barrage of emotions, but since Edna beckoned, she went. She slipped into a chair at Edna’s old Formica kitchen table.
“Well?” Edna turned from the stove to ask.
Still dazed, Rachel lifted her eyes to her grandmother for the first time since coming into the room. “They’re nice,” she said simply, glumly.
Edna snapped her fingers and stomped one foot, clearly annoyed. “Damn it, I was hopin’ they’d be mean as a bunch of cats in a bag. But reckon it don’t surprise me none.” Then Edna pursed her lips, emphasizing the wrinkles around her mouth. “And what about Carlotta?”
Grandma Romo. Who had been Giovanni’s wife. “She wasn’t friendly at first, especially when I introduced myself as your granddaughter—but even she eventually got nicer. I wouldn’t say she’s the warm-and-fuzzy type or anything, but…”
“But neither am I,” Edna finished, still sounding a little let down.
“Maybe I should have lied,” Rachel suggested, “and told you they were all a bunch of jerks.”
Yet Edna shook her head. “No, I can take the truth, and it’s better that way. Suppose maybe it just shores up my feelin’s about Mike—that he’s a good sort and all.”
But at this, Rachel could only grumble under her breath, the words bastard and ass sneaking out.
She looked up in time to see Edna’s gaze narrow on her. “Does this mean the two of you didn’t hit it off?”
Rachel shook her head emphatically. “No, just the opposite. Before it was done, we got along better than ever.”
With a dish towel in one hand, Edna planted her fists on her hips. “Then what’s the problem, darlin’?”
Rachel blinked, hesitating. She couldn’t tell Edna the real tru
th—how mystified she was by her emotions surrounding him, how much it scared her, how foreign it seemed compared to the rest of her life. So she kept it simple—since this part was upsetting, too. “I thought he’d ask me on another date—and he didn’t. In fact, when he left, he just said, ‘See ya.’ Can you believe that? ‘See ya.’”
In response, Edna drew in her breath, looking put out on Rachel’s behalf. “Damn Romo men,” she muttered. “I like Mike, but I reckon some things run in the family.”
Rachel widened her eyes on her grandma. “Does this mean Giovanni didn’t come back for you?” Of course, she knew he had come back to Destiny, so she added, “Or something?”
Edna raked a hand down through the air. “That’s for another day. Right now, we’ll have us some chicken and dumplin’s and see if it don’t make ya feel better.”
To Rachel’s surprise, it sounded possible. She’d loved Edna’s chicken and dumplings as a girl, and the very thought of them made her feel…somehow a little safer, or loved, or something. Like the world was normal, as it should be. She guessed this was the definition of comfort food.
And how odd that Edna’s food in Edna’s house comforted her while so much else in Destiny made her want to go running away. There were good things here—she couldn’t deny she’d found them. She just…didn’t want to keep finding them. Understanding who she was and what she valued in life had been a lot easier when she’d held the whole town in disdain.
Rachel got to her feet and dished up servings onto two plates, straight from the pot, while Edna poured sweet tea and carved into a loaf of fresh bread from the bread machine. “Not that I really care about seeing him again,” Rachel claimed as they moved about the kitchen.
“Sounds like ya care.”
“Well, I don’t,” she insisted. Because she had to start thinking straight here. This morning she’d been ready to call it quits with him. And she wasn’t the sort of woman who got all hung up on a guy—any guy. So what difference did it make if she never saw him again? What difference did it make what he thought of her, or what they’d done or talked about today?
A moment later, she and Edna settled at the dining room table, across from each other, and Rachel dug in—anxious to let the food soothe her irritation.
“So if ya don’t care, then why do you still look so upset?” Edna asked matter-of-factly before shoveling a small dumpling into her mouth.
“Ego, I suppose,” Rachel replied. It sounded like a good enough answer. “Because I can’t imagine what else it would be.”
“Maybe you’re afraid you’ll miss the sex,” Edna said—and Rachel dropped her fork. Fortunately, it landed on her plate without making a mess or splashing anything on her dress.
“For God’s sake, Edna. Just who on earth do you think you’re talking to here?”
But Edna just rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t know sex is involved in this, darlin’? You think I don’t know that a full-grown woman who never has a boyfriend as far as I can tell isn’t hookin’ up with the fellas she meets?”
Hooking up? Good God, where was Edna getting this stuff? Had she been watching MTV or something? “Look,” Rachel said, having retrieved her fork to point it at Edna as she spoke, “it’s bad enough that you now tell me all about your sex life—I’m not telling you about mine. You’re my grandma—it’s not natural.”
Edna’s expression said she thought Rachel was being ridiculous. “Fine—make a big to-do over it, act like it don’t make the world go ’round if ya want.” She took a bite of buttered bread, then added, “But for what it’s worth, I don’t really think that’s why you’re all in a dither. I think you’re all in a dither ’cause you like him.”
Rachel gasped. “Of course I don’t! At least not in the way you mean.”
And Edna just gave her a look—almost like she felt sorry for her. “Darlin’, why would that be so awful? Surely not ’cause he’s a Romo—I been tryin’ to make it clear that the more time passes, the less important that old feud is.”
Rachel nibbled on her lower lip, taken aback by what appeared to be pity on Edna’s face, and still trying to figure it all out. And in that moment, she realized what a stupid reaction she’d had to the simple suggestion that she might care for a man. Yet she heard herself continue to insist, “No, it’s not the Romo thing, but…I’m really not that into him. I don’t know him well enough to be that into him, for heaven’s sake. And we have nothing in common.” Sex notwithstanding.
Edna just cast her another disparaging glance and said, “Ya know what they say. Youth is wasted on the young.”
“Trust me, Edna,” she assured her grandma, feeling a bit stronger again, “my youth has not been wasted.”
“Whatever you say,” Edna told her, then let the subject drop, for which Rachel was grateful. “Now eat up—we got a long week of apple pickin’ ahead.” And then Edna started in on how much they needed to get done, by when, to be ready for the apple festival in a few short weeks. After that, she moved onto how much pick-your-own traffic they’d had today, promising that she and Brian had handled it fine.
And Rachel found it all…comforting, just as comforting as the chicken and dumplings.
Because it was a nice distraction from the questions weighing on her heart.
What if she couldn’t admit she felt something for Mike because…to admit that would be to admit her plan wasn’t perfect? That she could possibly want something more than she’d always told the whole world she wanted? More than a high-powered career, more than life in the big city? More than being able to take care of herself and her family? The life she’d built made her feel…strong, independent, successful. She was proud to never have depended on anyone but herself—financially, or even emotionally—since the day she’d left Destiny in her dust.
And being with Mike at times made her feel…too open, too emotional, not nearly as self-reliant as she was used to.
So…whether Edna was right or Edna was wrong about her “liking” Mike didn’t really matter. What mattered was that—once and for all—she take back control of this situation. If she did feel something for the guy, now was the time to tamp it out, before it got any worse. And besides, she and Mike did have a hard time getting along. They truly didn’t have anything in common besides raging chemistry. They had entirely different lifestyles, values.
So what they shared was heat, desire. And some really phenomenal sex.
That was all.
And if their paths crossed again, well—that would be all she wanted from him. Period.
Early the next morning, Mike sat at his desk at the police station, holding the framed picture of Anna in his hand. Seeing his mom and dad had brought up memories. Of course, the memories never left him—but maybe being with his parents made them stronger.
Whenever he spent time with his parents these days…well, no one mentioned Anna because they were all busy trying to be happy—but her missing presence always lingered, hovering in the shadows, hanging over them like a dark cloud. All that loss. It never dissipated. And not just the loss of Anna, but Lucky, too. Despite feeling his mom and dad’s love, when Mike saw them, he feared he was a sad reminder that they only had one kid where they were supposed to have three.
He’d sort of lied to Rachel. Well, not lied—but just…made things sound better than they were. The truth was, no matter how much Grandma Romo bugged him or his cousins included him in get-togethers, he did miss his parents…Lucky…Anna. Sometimes he felt like…the sole survivor of the shipwreck that was his family. But wait—his parents had survived, too; yet they’d…deserted. Jumped ship.
And like he’d told Rachel yesterday, he understood why—he didn’t blame them. Yet…damn, life had sure turned out different than he’d ever imagined as a kid.
As for Rachel, yesterday had been good—even despite a few bumps along the way. He’d never dreamed he’d see the day Grandma Romo stood around chitchatting with a Farris about things like potato salad and falling leaves. Rachel was…a
force of nature. A powerhouse in certain ways. Personality. Sexuality.
He’d almost asked to see her again. But then he’d stopped. Because she’d made it so clear she had no interest in romance. And he wasn’t exactly real good at that anyway. They’d had a nice day, some moments when…hell, when he’d thought he wouldn’t mind things going on like that, seeing more of her—yet logic told him if they saw too much of each other, they’d just screw it up and end up back where they’d started. And besides, she’d be leaving before long. And was probably counting the days. He’d believed her when she’d denied thinking she was too good for him, but that didn’t change how she felt about the place he called home.
So it had seemed best not to…risk getting invested in her. Emotionally. He’d see her when he saw her—they had friends in common, so it would probably happen.
Just then, a tap came on his shoulder and he looked up to see Chief Tolliver. He’d thought he was alone—but it must be time for the busier day shift to start. “Morning, Walter,” he said—then set the picture of Anna casually back on his desk, a little embarrassed to be caught holding it in his hand.
“Ain’t none of my business, Mike,” Walter said, voice low, then he pointed at the frame. “But have ya ever thought about just…puttin’ that away? For your own peace of mind.”
Hell. Until now, he didn’t even know Walter had ever noticed the photo. During Mike’s interview years ago, they’d talked about what had happened and Mike had been honest about the impact it had had on his life, but they’d never discussed it since. Still, he knew Walter well enough to be honest—so he didn’t mince words. “No,” he said, not quite able to meet the chief’s gaze as he spoke. “Because then I might start to forget about her, and I don’t want to do that.”
“Believe you me, I can understand that,” Walter assured him. “Thinkin’ about her sorta…keeps her alive. I did the same thing with Judy.” The chief’s late wife, who’d died a long time ago, back when Mike was a teenager. “I kept pictures of her all through the house, in my wallet, everywhere—until I met Anita. Right around then, Jenny helped me see that it wasn’t about forgettin’—it was about sayin’ goodbye and lettin’ yourself move on.”
