The Truth About Love

by Nerys Leigh

  His throat bobbed as he looked down at her and she suddenly realised how close she was standing. She stepped back quickly.

  “We could get a start on my new modelling career, if you’d like to.” He indicated the tall windows that filled the south wall facing the street. “The light in this room is pretty good.”

  The light was good, but he’d look just as handsome in any light.

  She really needed to stop noticing that.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll get my pencils.”

  She hurried upstairs to fetch the pencils and paper Ana had given her when she found out Jo liked to draw. When she reached her room, she leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath.

  Zach was just so nice. Some women she’d known might have thought that boring. For reasons she never understood, there were some women who found danger and roguishness alluring. Jo never had. She’d met enough dangerous rogues to know they brought nothing but misery, and there was nothing enticing about that.

  But Zach didn’t have a bad bone in his body, and that alone had Jo beginning to doubt her determination to be done with men. And that was even before figuring in his charm and sense of humour and two-dimpled smile and...

  But she was done with men. She had to be. Once any man, even Zach, found out she was pregnant, they’d all be done with her. All the ones worth having anyway, and Zach was at the very top of that extremely short list.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t spend time with him. She liked being around him. What was the harm in having a friend in Zach Parsons, as long as friendship was all there was to it?

  Smiling, she pushed away from the wall and went to fetch the paper and pencils from the windowsill. He could be just another friend. An extremely attractive friend, but that was all right. It just gave her something nice to look at when they were together.

  Nothing wrong with that at all.

  ~ ~ ~

  When Jo returned to the dining room, she sat Zach in a chair close to the windows and took a bit of time to position him just as she wanted him, turning his face and shoulders to the correct angle for the image that was beginning to form in her mind. And only in passing noting the solid muscle of his shoulders beneath his shirt.

  “What do I do?” he said when she sat at a table and began to sketch, speaking with his lips almost closed as if he was a ventriloquist in need of a dummy.

  “Nothing. Just relax.”

  “Can I talk?”

  She smiled. “Yes, you can talk.”

  “Good.” Ten silent seconds sauntered by. “Well now I can, I don’t know what to say.”

  She laughed softly. “I’ll start then. I’m going to Auburn with Gabriel tomorrow to get the marriage annulled. I wonder if that’s a record for the shortest marriage ever.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She flicked her eyes to him and then back to the paper, unsure of what he meant. “You’d prefer I stayed married to him?”

  He paused before answering “Would you?”

  “No,” she replied, without any hesitation whatsoever. Her brief marriage to Gabriel may not have turned out as she expected, but she wouldn’t be sad to see it come to an end.

  “Me neither, but I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He paused. “I can’t truthfully say I’m sorry it brought you here though.”

  She remained carefully focused on her sketch. “I’m not so sorry about that either.”

  He pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a smile. It was ruining his expression for her drawing, but she wanted to smile back anyway.

  “You look nothing like your father,” she said, shading his lips on the paper.

  “Yeah. Everyone who knew her says I look very much like my ma, including this.” He pointed at his hair and smiled.

  “Amy said she died when you were born.”

  “A few days after. My pa said she got really sick after I was born and just didn’t get better.”

  He sounded more wistful than sad. Jo supposed he couldn’t truly miss someone he’d never known, but she still felt sorry for him. At least she’d had both a mother and father for the first years of her life.

  “I’m sorry you never got to know her.”

  He shrugged. “I will one day. And I guess once I get to heaven I’ll have no trouble finding her. I’ll just ask around for Clementine Parsons, the most beautiful woman in heaven, with the reddest hair and the bluest eyes. That’s what my pa always says.”

  Jo had no doubt she’d been beautiful, if her son was anything to go by. “He must have loved her very much.”

  “Listening to him talk about her taught me the depth of love a man can have for a woman. It made me want that for myself one day, when I find the right woman.”

  He held her gaze for a few moments before looking down, a small smile on his face that could have meant anything and certainly didn’t mean he thought she was that woman.

  Mrs. Sanchez chose that moment to walk in from the kitchen, carrying a stack of plates which she placed on a table. “What are you two doing in here?”

  Jo had to swallow before she could speak. “Zach is posing for me so I can practice drawing people.” She lifted her piece of paper, as if she needed to provide evidence.

  He waved a hand down himself. “She’s taking advantage of this specimen of physical perfection to hone her craft.”

  She snorted a giggle, even though it felt uncomfortably close to the truth.

  Mrs. Sanchez walked over to stand next to her, looking first at her sketch and then at Zach. “That’s very good, but I think you’ll need a larger piece of paper if you want to get his head in.”

  He pressed a hand to his heart in feigned dismay and Jo laughed.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she said, once Mrs. Sanchez had returned to the kitchen.

  “Sure. The truthfulness of my answer will depend on what it is though.”

  She doubted that. She was almost certain he hadn’t lied to her yet.

  “Would you normally be here for breakfast?”

  He chuckled softly. “So you noticed Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez’s ever so subtle hints. No, I usually have breakfast by myself at home.”

  She held the paper out at arm’s length to get some extra perspective then resumed sketching. “So... I suppose you’re here to spend time with me?” She tried to make it sound like a casual enquiry, even though it was anything but.

  “And I’m the one Mrs. S called big-headed!” He heaved a longsuffering sigh. “The Sanchez family are my friends too. Did you consider I might be here to visit with them? Next you’ll be accusing me of agreeing to model for you just so I have an excuse to spend more time with you. It couldn’t possibly be anything to do with helping you out, oh no. Just because you’re pretty and funny and interesting and smart doesn’t mean it’s all about you, you know. I think you should take a good, long look at yourself. Conceit is not an attractive quality, that’s all I have to say.”

  By the time he’d finished his little speech, Jo was laughing so hard she had to put the pencil down to wrap her arms around herself. His mock seriousness turned to a grin and then a laugh. She loved his laugh. It was so filled with joy.

  They were interrupted by voices from the direction of the lobby. Jo’s laughter petered out when she heard Mr Sanchez speak.

  “Mr. Vernon, I wasn’t expecting you today. What can I do for you?”

  Zach’s eyes opened wide. She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on but stopped when he waved his hands urgently for her to keep quiet. Glancing back at the door, he leaped up and hurried to the table where her new art supplies were, grabbed them without stopping, and beckoned for her to follow him to the kitchen. Once they were through the door, he stopped to listen.

  She couldn’t hear anything, but she whispered anyway. “What’s going on?”

  His smile was completely unconvincing. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” He opened the door to the dining room a crack and peered through.

  She raised
her eyebrows. “Really?”

  He moved to the door leading into the corridor and gingerly opened it a little.

  “I’m just here to check things over, make sure everything’s as it should be,” Mr. Vernon said.

  Zach backed away, his eyes darting around the kitchen. Grabbing Jo’s arm, he pulled her to another door, opened it silently, and thrust her inside. She found herself in a tiny pantry with barely any room to move between the shelves of food lining the walls. Before she could say anything, Zach stepped in after her and pulled the door closed, plunging them into darkness.

  A few seconds later, muffled voices drifted through the closed door.

  “Any problems at all?” Mr. Vernon said. “Anything unusual happen since I was here last?”

  Mr. Sanchez replied. “No, everything’s just fine.”

  Jo had a suspicion about what was going on, but being in the pantry with Zach was effectively distracting her from any concern she might have felt. The tiny space forced them almost on top of each other and she was having trouble concentrating on anything other than the fact that their bodies were pressed together from her chest to her knees. They were so close she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could feel her thudding heart. It was cold in the pantry, but she felt as if someone had lit a fire in there with them.

  “Would you like a concha, Señor Vernon?” That was Mrs. Sanchez. “I made a fresh batch yesterday.”

  There was a chuckle. “You know I can never refuse one of your desserts, Mrs. Sanchez. Any guests check in the past few days?”

  “No,” Mr. Sanchez replied, “but the train will be through later today, so hopefully we’ll get some then.”

  What with the danger of discovery and Zach’s closeness, Jo almost jumped out of her skin when the pantry’s door opened.

  Mrs. Sanchez stared at them in shock.

  Zach gave her a strained smile.

  Fortunately, the door hid them from the view of the rest of the room.

  Silently reaching around Jo, Zach took a covered bowl from a shelf behind her and handed it to Mrs. Sanchez. Disapproval radiated from her in waves, but she closed the door without a word.

  They remained in the pantry for what must have been close to ten more minutes, listening to the conversation happening just feet away through the closed door. After a while, the words became no more than a faint drone as Jo’s mind wandered. And then she felt a touch on her hand.

  It was soft, hesitant, barely there, but her heart jolted as if she’d been struck by lightning. She raised her eyes.

  The only light in the tiny pantry came from the kitchen outside, a faint glowing line around the door that provided barely any illumination, but it was enough for her darkness-adjusted vision to make out vague shapes. Zach’s face was tilted down ever so slightly towards her, watching her.

  His fingers brushed hers again, just the slightest of touches that in the small space could have been accidental. But she knew it wasn’t.

  She was done with men. Men drew you in, promised love and security and happiness, and then abandoned you, alone and devastated, when something else caught their interest or things became too difficult for them. So she was done with all of them.

  Her hand didn’t seem to agree with her, however, as it moved a little, turning to meet his touch. Slowly, gradually, their fingers entwined, the warmth of the contact spreading throughout her entire body. His chest rose and fell against her in a deep breath and his head lowered towards her a fraction more. She raised her chin, her gaze going to the faint outline of his mouth. Her lips parted, he tilted his head to one side, and...

  The door opened.

  Zach snatched his hand away.

  In the sudden bright light, she squinted at Mrs. Sanchez standing in the doorway.

  “Is he gone?” Zach said, sounding far calmer than Jo felt at that moment.

  “Sí, Señor Vernon is gone.” Mrs. Sanchez’s eyes moved between the two of them pressed together in the small space, her brow drawing down into a frown. “So you can come out now.”

  Embarrassed, Jo slid from the narrow space between the shelves and Zach and walked out into the kitchen. Zach followed. Mr. Sanchez was standing by the table with his arms folded, looking no happier than his wife.

  “I was going to tell him, I swear,” Zach said. “I’m just... working some things out.”

  “Work them out quickly,” Mr. Sanchez said, and walked from the room.

  “Muy rápido,” Mrs. Sanchez added, placing the half empty bowl of conchas back into the cupboard and following her husband out.

  Zach placed the sheaf of paper and the paint box onto the table and sighed, looking down at his feet. “I don’t suppose we could forget that ever happened?”

  Jo guessed he didn’t mean their almost-kiss, which she wouldn’t be forgetting for a good long time. “I take it you haven’t told the owner of the hotel that I’m staying here.”

  “No, not yet. Thing is, I can’t really afford to pay for you being here. I figured he wouldn’t mind about the first night or two, with you recovering and all.”

  “But I’ve been here three nights.”

  He nodded, moving his gaze from the floor to the window to the table. Everywhere but at her.

  “When were you going to tell him?”

  “Tomorrow, I swear. I just need to work it all out. But I will, I promise.”

  She wanted more than anything to remain at the hotel. It was comfortable and Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez were being so kind to her and, of course, Zach was here a lot of the time, which was probably her biggest reason for wanting to stay. But she didn’t want any of them to suffer for her.

  “I’ll find somewhere else to go,” she said reluctantly. “I’m sure Pastor and Mrs. Jones wouldn’t mind me staying with them for a while, now Louisa’s moved out. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

  His eyes snapped to her at that. “No!” He took two strides to stand in front of her, his hands rising as if to touch her then falling again. “Please, just give me twenty-four hours. I’ll work it out, you’ll see. Just one more day.”

  She shouldn’t, and not just because it could put his job at risk. He was too much of a temptation. She should walk away, right now. In the long run it would be better for both of them.

  “All right,” she said, “just one more day.”

  Self-control never had been one of her strengths.

  Chapter 15

  “You don’t have to be here,” Jo said, fidgeting with the wide-brimmed straw hat she held on her lap. “I can wait by myself.”

  “I know.” Zach didn’t move from his seat beside her on one of the chairs in the hotel lobby. He rolled a coin absently across the knuckles of his right hand, passing it back and forth between his fingers without looking at it. “I wish I could go with you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. He would have insisted, if he hadn’t had to work later.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” he said again. Once Gabriel arrived to fetch her, Zach would make sure the lout knew exactly what would happen to him if he allowed, or caused, one hair on her head to be harmed.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, debating whether to say anything about what had happened while they were hiding from Mr. Vernon in the pantry the day before. Neither of them had mentioned it and, truth was, he wasn’t even sure exactly what had happened. He’d touched her hand, she responded, their fingers linked, she looked up at him, and he had been far too slow in stealing the kiss he’d so badly wanted. Of course, it was completely inappropriate, given the circumstances, but they’d been so close and it had felt natural to simply reach out to her.

  But maybe she’d just taken his hand because she was worried. Maybe he’d imagined the longing in her eyes when she’d looked up at him. That was highly likely, given how dark it was in the windowless pantry. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected he was reading meaning into the whole thing that wasn’t there. It would all be so much easier i
f he could just ask her, but that could trigger dizzying levels of embarrassment he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

  But since they were here, with no other topics of conversation currently in play, and he was feeling a little riled up anyway in anticipation of her soon-to-be-former husband’s arrival, maybe he should take advantage of his heightened bravery and get it all out in the open.

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  “Here he is.” Jo stood as Silversmith’s buckboard appeared at the foot of the steps outside the hotel.

  Zach’s coin missed its mark and bounced on the floor, rolling on its edge to the wall where it flopped onto its side. He closed his mouth. Too slow, once again. But this time it was probably a good thing. They’d only really known each other for four days. He should at least let the poor woman get her first marriage annulled before he discussed his hopes for her second.

  He retrieved the coin, slipped it into his pocket, and followed Jo outside.

  Silversmith was pulling an old, battered trunk to the back of the buckboard.

  Jo rushed over to him. “My trunk! You brought my trunk.”

  “Figured you’d want it,” he said. “I put all the things you left inside. Figured you’d want them too.”

  The smile she gave him was far more than he deserved, in Zach’s opinion. So he’d brought her belongings that she wouldn’t have had to leave in the first place if he hadn’t thrown her out in the middle of the night. It was the very least he could do. Zach had spent two hours searching for her valise and would have stayed out for longer if he’d needed to.

  And he’d cleaned it.

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” she said, touching Silversmith’s arm. “I appreciate you bringing it.”

  Zach’s teeth ground together so hard it hurt his jaw. He stalked up behind her. “Morning, Silversmith.”

  Silversmith narrowed his eyes. “Morning, Parsons.”

  Jo turned from her trunk. “Zach, would you mind helping me take it to my room?”