“I have a whole bunch of cousins I’ve never gotten to know. It feels kind of strange, knowing there’s a number of people who are my family, yet I wouldn’t recognize them even if I tripped over them on the street,” Matteo told her. There was genuine regret in his voice.
Rachel said nothing, offering neither a comment nor any sort of condolences. He knew that was his cue to leave the subject alone.
So he did.
For now, he was focused on making her feel safe with him. Feeling safe involved knowing that she could relax around him and not worry about being unexpectedly interrogated about something she had no desire to talk about.
Matteo changed the subject. “That was a great dinner,” he told her.
The fact that he was saying it to her like a compliment made her laugh. After all, she hadn’t had a hand in preparing it. She’d just put it into her car and carried it into her apartment.
“I unpacked it all with my own little hands,” she quipped.
“Hey, unpacking is important. It has to be done just right,” he deadpanned.
She broke down, laughing. It felt wonderful as the tension slipped away from her. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”
Matteo surprised her by stealing one small kiss, then saying, “Sure I’m crazy. Crazy about you.” He nodded at the squadron of empty plates all over the kitchen table. “Let me help you with the dishes.”
The last thing she had on her mind right now was dishes that needed washing. He’d just brushed his lips against hers, behaving exactly as if they were a couple, comfortable with one another and having done things like that—casually stealing kisses—for years now.
If only that could be a reality...
Would you still want to steal kisses from me if you knew who I was? Whose daughter I was? And that I’m keeping all that from you because I don’t want to drive you away?
She didn’t want to think about the answer.
Matteo ran the tips of his fingers along her forehead, lightly—but firmly—smoothing it out. She looked at him quizzically.
“You’re doing too much thinking,” he told her. “Your forehead is furrowing again. You’re forcing me to take action.”
“What sort of action?”
“To keep you smiling, of course,” he told her as if it was the only logical course of action.
“And just how do you intend to do that?” Rachel asked.
In order to keep her hands busy—and off him—she had turned her attention to arranging the dishes behind one another in the dishwasher.
Matteo took the rest of the dishes out of her hands before she had a chance to line them up. He put them back on the counter, his attention completely focused on her.
“Oh, I think I can come up with something,” he told her just before he took her into his arms. And then he kissed her again.
She had every intention of resisting, of blocking out the sensations that she knew would jump to the fore the second she let her guard down.
But it was already too late.
The very moment his lips touched hers, they also touched off a series of explosions within her, explosions that broke apart all the walls she had fooled herself into believing she could resurrect and retain against the onslaught of passions and sensations that Matteo seemed to draw out of her just with his very presence.
She was melting in the very spot where she was standing.
Her arms went around his neck, holding him closer, melding her body against his so that she could feel every delicious eruption at its conception as well as following it to its ultimate release.
Suddenly, the hours between last night and now, with all their insecurities and recriminations, completely disappeared as if they had never even existed, burned away in the fire that was being created by the two of them as they came together.
All there was, was now and the glorious endeavor of lovemaking.
Rachel abandoned herself to it, living in the moment and loving it.
As well as loving him.
For once, just for now, all her excuses vanished, and all that remained was the truth.
Whether it was going to set her free or imprison her remained to be seen.
Chapter Fifteen
“So, have you given any more thought to returning to Miami, Matteo?” Orlando asked his son.
They were flying in another shipment to the Fortune Foundation’s new office. This would be the last one before this branch’s official grand opening.
The surrounding sky was a perfect blue, the kind that could make a man forget his mundane, day-to-day annoyances and problems and lose himself in the majesty of the heavens as he soared, unencumbered.
Flying in this sort of a setting also made a man look at the bigger picture. It always had for him, Orlando thought.
Orlando glanced now at his son in the copilot seat. Who would have ever thought that small, sensitive young boy would have grown into the man he now saw sitting next to him?
The years were going by much too quickly, Orlando thought. He needed to make the most of them while he was still able.
“You trying to get rid of me, Dad?” Matteo asked, obviously amused at his father’s phrasing.
“You know better than that,” Orlando told him. “I would like nothing better than to have you all stay right here in Horseback Hollow. Yes, I know it doesn’t have the kind of nightlife Miami has, but as you get older, you realize that there are far more important things in life than partying until dawn.”
“I know,” Matteo replied quietly.
Considering how imperative Matteo had made nightlife sound only a few weeks ago, his simple affirmation now surprised Orlando.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do,” Matteo said. “I’ve been thinking that it’s time I decided what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”
This was beginning to sound very hopeful, Orlando thought. “And what did you decide?”
Matteo turned in his seat, looking at his father. “Dad, how would you like a partner?”
By nature, Orlando had always been a cautious man who didn’t count his chickens until he’d watched all of them hatch. He needed more input before he declared this to be a victory.
“What sort of a partner?” he wanted to know.
“At the Redmond Flight School and Charter Service—specifically at the Charter Service branch of it.” Matteo supposed he was taking a lot for granted. Just because he’d been hovering around his father, elbowing his way onto every supply run his father had made back and forth between Red Rock and Horseback Hollow, didn’t mean his father would be willing to accept his presence on a permanent basis.
“I’d like that fine, Matteo,” Orlando told him, a smile covering his distinguished, handsome face. “Just let me run it by Sawyer and Laurel,” he said, referring to the owners of the business. “Though I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you.”
“Good, because working with you will help me pay the mortgage on that ranch house I just put a deposit down on,” Matteo deadpanned.
Orlando’s mouth dropped open. “A ranch hou—When were you planning on telling me this?” he cried, stunned as well as delighted.
Matteo grinned broadly. “I just did.”
“But I had to ask,” Orlando pointed out.
“I just did it yesterday, Dad. I’m still getting used to the idea myself,” Matteo told him. He nodded toward the controls. “If you’re tired, I can take over, you know.”
Orlando laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, I know, and I am not tired. You should know by now that flying makes me feel alive. It’s good to have a passion,” he pronounced with feeling. He slanted another glance toward his son. “Speaking of that, have you and that pretty girl with the two jobs resolved your problems yet?”
Rachel was the underlying reason why Matteo had decided to risk everything and change his entire life around. Considering that they hadn’t even remotely discussed the future beyond one-week periods, he knew he was taking a huge chance.
No risk, no gain, right? he told himself.
Even though he’s just shared some of his plans with his father, he wasn’t altogether sure he wanted to discuss the romance aspect of his life just yet—beyond getting the older man to use her name rather than to refer to her as “girl.”
“Rachel, Dad. Her name is Rachel.”
Orlando nodded. “That’s right, I forget. All right,” he tried again, “have you and Rachel resolved your problems?”
Matteo still didn’t feel he was up to discussing anything of such a personal nature just yet, at least not until he had some positive feedback from Rachel to work with.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad.”
On a roll, his father apparently couldn’t be put off. “Of course you do. I did not raise any stupid children. Anyone can see that you care about this Rachel, and she certainly seems to light up whenever you are around. You want my opinion,” he went on as if Matteo had just said yes.
“I think it’s time for you to stop dragging your feet and do something about the way you feel.” Orlando paused, then went a layer deeper. Who knew when another opportunity for a heart-to-heart with his youngest son would present itself? “This thing between you and your brother, it has to stop, you know.”
Matteo definitely didn’t want to talk about this. “Tell him, not me.”
His father caught him off guard by saying, “I have. Cisco claims that he was only doing it for your own good.”
“Jumping the gun and asking Rachel out before I got the chance was for my own good?” That was a load of horse manure, and both his father and brother knew it, Matteo thought.
“According to Cisco, he feels that it was his behaving that way that finally got you to make a move. Otherwise,” Orlando continued, “Cisco believes you would still be standing at the starting gate, hesitating to take even a single step forward.”
Matteo resented being second-guessed, even by family—and especially by someone he thought of as being far too smug. “Oh, he did, did he?”
“Yes, he did. And to be perfectly honest, son, I believed him when he said he did that for you,” Orlando confided. “I know that Cisco is perhaps a little unorthodox—”
“A little?” Matteo echoed in disbelief. “He’s the poster boy for unorthodox, Dad,” he insisted.
Orlando frowned. His son had just given him good news, but it was all for nothing if members of the family were feuding or not talking to one another at all. He needed to have this feud nipped in the bud, before it became too big to handle.
“Matteo, I want you to settle things with Cisco,” he said seriously.
Matteo was honest with his father. “I don’t know if I want to be bothered, Dad.”
For a moment there was silence, and Matteo thought that his father had dropped the subject, at least for now. He should have known better.
“If you don’t,” Orlando said quietly, “if you allow this, this thing between you to grow and fester, you will wind up regretting it for the rest of your life.” He gave his younger son a penetrating look. “Trust me, I know.”
The level of emotion in his father’s voice surprised him. Matteo looked at his father, wanting to ask questions, to find out just what was behind those words, but he instinctively knew that this was a subject that couldn’t be touched upon, at least not yet.
Not until his father was ready.
His father, he could tell, was also waiting for an affirmative response from him. For the sake of family peace, Matteo surrendered.
“I’ll talk to him,” Matteo promised, even though it cost him to do so.
“Good boy,” Orlando responded with a broad smile.
* * *
Matteo had promised his father to make amends, and he had never intentionally broken his word to anyone, but this time, he was sorely tempted to do just that.
No matter how confident he felt, whatever strides he’d taken, the moment he was in Cisco’s presence, all that progress seemed to vanish. He suddenly became the awkward kid brother standing in his older, more sophisticated brother’s shadow.
But a promise was a promise. He knew he at least had to try.
So once he and his father had landed the small aircraft and unloaded it, putting the supplies onto Orlando’s waiting truck, Matteo forced himself to make a side trip to Cisco’s real-estate investment office. His brother had surprised all of them by making arrangements to set up the storefront office temporarily. He’d told his father that he wanted to test the waters in Horseback Hollow before deciding to make the move permanent. Matteo had a feeling that Cisco had other reasons for setting up the office, but that was his brother’s business, and he wasn’t going to pry.
Right now, Matteo wanted to get this so-called peace talk over with as soon as possible. This was something he definitely did not want looming over his head. He was well aware that the disagreement would only grow into unmanageable proportions if he allowed any amount of time to pass.
Even so, Matteo stood outside his brother’s door for a moment, looking in and wondering if it was too late to turn on his heel and go.
And then Cisco looked up from his desk and saw Matteo through the bay window. The door on his opportunity to escape slammed shut.
Resigned, Matteo walked in. “I guess you’ve decided to settle in Horseback Hollow,” he said, gesturing around at the office.
“Never miss out on what could be an opportunity,” Cisco responded, then asked, “So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Having Matteo appear on his doorstep had caught him totally off guard, but he was accustomed to recovering quickly. In less than half a minute, he had gotten himself together and acted as if this was a regular occurrence between them.
Because of the way Matteo viewed their relationship, every word out of Cisco’s mouth always sounded as if it was dripping with sarcasm to him.
But he was here, so he might as well give this a decent shot. “Dad thinks we should call a truce.”
“A truce?” Cisco repeated. “Is there a war going on between us?” he asked innocently. He gestured toward the chair next to his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Matteo would have preferred to stand, but for the sake of appearing genial and moving this along, he sat down in the only other chair in the room besides Cisco’s. He sat on the edge as if ready to take flight at less than a moment’s notice.
“You know there’s a war,” Matteo said pointedly.
Still maintaining an innocent expression, Cisco looked at him and asked in the same tone, “Are you at war with me, Matteo?”
Did he really think he could use this act to his advantage? “Actually, it’s more like the other way around,” he told Cisco. “You’re the one who’s at war with me.”
“No, I’m not,” Cisco told him. “I think I’d know it if I were.”
Why was Cisco denying it? They both knew what Matteo said was true. “What do you call undermining me at every turn?”
“I call it lighting a fire under you—and it’s not at every turn, just the ones I think are important,” Cisco corrected his brother.
Did Cisco expect Matteo to be grateful for this? His brother had just admitted to manipulating him like some mindless marionette.
“So now you’re a master puppeteer who’s pulling the strings? And I’m what, your puppet?” Matteo demanded. The very thought of that was an insult to him.
The next moment, he told himself that meeting Cisco like this to hash it out had been a bad idea. Better to let sleeping dogs lie indefinitely than to poke them with a stick.
/> For his part, Cisco appeared to take offense at what was being said, as well.
“No, you’re my thick-headed little—excuse me—younger brother,” he corrected himself, “who moves around like he’s got glue in his veins and uses me as an excuse not to act on his feelings. All I did was goad you a little. Hell, Mattie, you and Rachel belong together. If I could see it, so could you. I figured if I acted as if I were interested in her, you’d wake up and snap to it instead of letting that girl slip through your fingers.”
Matteo’s head was spinning. Right about now, black was white and down was up. “So you’re not interested in her?”
Cisco leaned back in his chair. “I’m interested in every woman, but not in a permanent way. If this one has caught your fancy, then you have my blessings. Enjoy.” Cisco grinned knowingly. “If my instincts serve me correctly, you already have enjoyed her, haven’t you?”
He held up his hand before Matteo could say something sarcastic in response.
“That was a rhetorical question. That wasn’t poking around for an answer or any details,” he assured Matteo. Pausing, he grew serious and asked, “It is serious between you two, isn’t it?”
Matteo shrugged his broad shoulders. He still had to work a few kinks out. “I’m not sure.”
Cisco shook his head. His brother was making this way more complicated than it actually was. “You either care about the lady, or you don’t,” Cisco told him.
That was the only part Matteo was sure of. “Oh, I care about her, all right. I care about Rachel a great deal.”
Cisco spread his hands, confounded. “So what’s the problem?”
Matteo sighed, looking off into space. “It’s complicated.”
Cisco was not buying that. His brother was just using another excuse. “Only as complicated as you make it,” Cisco told him.
Because this actually was beginning to have the makings of a truce, Matteo leveled with his brother. “I’ve got some misgivings.”
“About her?” Cisco asked.
“In a way—yes, about her,” Matteo said, changing his mind midsentence about just how far he wanted to take this.
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