Knight in Cowboy Boots: International Billionaires X: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  “She likes you.” Nick’s Aunt Estella beamed her approval. “But who wouldn’t?”

  She smiled back before tugging her pearl necklace out of the baby’s hands. “What’s her name?”

  “Michaela,” the older woman said. “She’s Claudio’s youngest.”

  If she remembered correctly, Claudio was the oldest son of Nick’s uncle, Saulo. She’d always been good with remembering names and matching them with faces. However, she had to admit, this family strained her abilities. There had to be at least two dozen children running around the expansive house and backyard. Another handful were jumping in and out of the elaborate pool. A large contingent of grown males was gathered around the huge TV in the living room, shouting at a football game. A similar number of women alternated between the kitchen, the pool, and the living room.

  Every one of them smiled at her when they went past.

  Nick had retreated into the nest of men and hadn’t said a word to her since they’d arrived here an hour ago.

  How could he think she’d hate this? Be disgusted? What was going on with him?

  “Soon the early game will be over, and we can go outside to eat,” his other aunt, Miguela, announced, busily shredding a head of lettuce. “Bernando!”

  “Sí,” a burly man bellowed from one of several leather couches in the living room.

  “Are the tables set up outside?” the woman yelled back.

  Jess glanced out through the full-length terrace doors and spotted the long cedar table sitting under a small forest of palm trees. Excitement, a silly excitement, but one nevertheless, stirred inside. She’d be eating outside once more. Other than the picnic with Nick, she’d never eaten outside. Now, she’d have a chance to do so in the middle of this boisterous family. A family she’d dreamed of having when she’d been a kid.

  “Molesta la mujer,” Bernando grumbled as he rose, except his cheerful expression belied his whiny complaint.

  “Ha! Nagging. I’ll give you nagging.” His wife shook the knife at him. “Go do your work, Señor.”

  “Come on, Nick. You can help me.” Grabbing his nephew, he smiled in the face of a stiff look. “You need to cheer up. Things aren’t so bad.”

  “I need to talk to Tía Estella.”

  A cool silence fell in both the kitchen and the living room at his announcement. Only the shouts of the children outside and the rumble of a TV announcer broke the stillness.

  Jess had seen the tension in him throughout this last hour. The limo had driven up to this fashionable home in a swank suburb of Las Vegas, and within two seconds, they’d been surrounded by the family. The men had patted Nick on the shoulders while teasing him in a mix of Spanish and English. The women had cooed in delight that their Nicky had brought them a woman and kissed both of Jess’s cheeks and welcomed her like a long-lost sister and daughter.

  He hadn’t laughed or teased back.

  He’d glared.

  Everyone had seemingly ignored him, as they’d been pulled into the elegantly decorated home. She’d assumed by the conversation in the limo, that there must be something awful about his family. But over this last hour, she couldn’t detect a thing. They all got along, the children appeared happy and healthy, the house was clean and homey.

  What was wrong with him?

  Yes, she knew there was that issue with his aunt. Yet, perhaps the woman had merely made a mistake. Why didn’t he ask her about the issue instead of bringing it up in front of everyone? And why had the family grown completely still and silent?

  There was more here than one big, happy family. She could sense it in the growing tension.

  “We can talk later,” his aunt finally stated, her expression defiant. “Alone.”

  “Now.” His stance didn’t change, though Jess detected an added bit of ruthlessness in the set of his jaw. “And the family is a part of this, so they stay.”

  Tía Estella’s face fell. “Nicky.”

  If she hadn’t kept her gaze pinned on him, Jess would have missed the sudden pain in his eyes.

  She’d told him she would help. But what could she do in this situation? She didn’t really know this family, and although she felt as if she knew Nick very well, she didn’t understand what was wrong.

  “Tell me what happened at Devil Skye, Tía,” he said. “Tell me and I’ll fix it.”

  Instinct told her he’d said this many, many times. The way the tension eased in the room, the expressions of his family going from anger and hurt to resignation and approval. Except there was something in those celestial-blue eyes that hinted of an unbearable burden he couldn’t handle alone anymore.

  She wanted to say something, yet still had no idea how to help.

  “I am in a new position in housekeeping.” His aunt bustled behind the counter to fiddle with the lettuce. “Everything is fine.”

  “Everything is not fine.” With a sharp jerk, he strode past the group of men and grabbed one of the young teenagers lolling against the terrace glass doors. “Let’s start with Angelino, shall we?”

  The boy tried to shake the hard hand off without success. He threw a sullen look at his mother before glaring at the man holding him. “Hands off, cuz.”

  Nick ignored him, keeping his eyes on his aunt. “Tell me.”

  “He is just a boy.” His aunt’s voice went high. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “He damn well knew what he was doing.” The snarl was rough, a harsh alpha male rejection of the useless defense. “This isn’t the first time he’s used drugs and didn’t pay the dealer. And you stole to cover the bill. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

  A dead silence echoed in the kitchen and living room.

  “Isn’t it?” This time, the question was a roar.

  Abrupt tears flooded Tía Estella’s eyes. “Por favor, Sobrino. Leave it.”

  At the look on his face, Jess put the quiet toddler onto the floor. “Nick,” she whispered.

  As if he heard her, which was impossible, his gaze met hers. The blue was so dark it looked black across the distance of the room. His lips were tight, a white line of tension encircling his mouth.

  “You see, Jessie?” His voice went low and somnolent, like this family crisis was nothing more than a drive through the desert on his motorcycle.

  “What do I see?” Her heart ached for him. In these few short seconds, she’d seen so much. Seen his connection to this family, his painful duty to all of them, his wretched anger at being cast as the bad guy.

  “Ugly,” he murmured, before shaking his teenage captive. “Disgusting.”

  Chapter 23

  “Did you have a good time, Jessica?” Her father’s question was uncharacteristically soft, and not focused on what was important.

  The McDowell hotel in San Francisco was important. Not having a good time.

  Coming closer to the couch where he lay, Jess sucked in a deep breath.

  Although she knew in her brain and even in parts of her heart that her father was dying, the reality hit her broadside at the sight of him. “Dad?”

  He wore his favorite old lounging jacket, the one he only brought out when he didn’t care. The dark smudges beneath his eyes were nearly black. More than anything, though, the look in his eyes made her want to weep.

  “Did you?” His hand drifted listlessly on the heavy wool blanket lying across his legs.

  Trying to disguise her worry because she knew it would only irritate him, she returned to her suitcase and pulled it into the room before closing the suite’s door behind her. “The hotel is fully functional again, other than the kitchen. That should be up and running by the holidays.”

  “Great.” For a moment, his eyes cleared, and he gave her the sharp nod of the head she’d seen a thousand times. “That’s great.”

  But then, the gnarled hand slid to his side. His mouth drooped open, as if he found it too much of an effort to close it and firm his chin.

  Every muscle in her body tightened, including her aching heart. Walk
ing to the couch, she sat on the edge and peered into his face. To hell with his irritation. She couldn’t stand to see him like this. “I think I should call your doctor.”

  “No, no.” He managed a huff of impatience. “There’s no need.”

  “You don’t look well.” The admission ate into her, yet it was true. “Not at all.”

  “That would be because I’m dying.” The gruff tone didn’t bely the quiet edge of acceptance ringing the words.

  “Why don’t—”

  “And Jessica.” His hand covered hers. “I’m okay with that.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. Perhaps it was the combination of this unexpected moment as well as those last awful moments with Nick’s family. She’d been determined to help, but instead, she’d only contributed to his distress and the family’s embarrassment. After he’d confronted his aunt and ferreted out the reality of the situation, he’d laid down the law.

  No more money for Angelo.

  The boy was off to a highly-regulated military school Nick had investigated.

  His aunt was going to be allowed to return to her old job. However, that one olive branch hadn’t been enough to smooth over the tension and raw pain swimming between him and his family.

  And she’d seen it all.

  The ugly confrontation. The hatred in Angelo’s eyes for his cousin. The defeat and disgrace in the humiliated parents’ expression.

  But unlike Nick’s prediction, Jess hadn’t been disgusted. The predominant feeling she’d had was one of grief for him. She wanted to take him in her arms and tell him he’d done what was necessary to save the boy. Something, apparently, the parents couldn’t do.

  He’d done the right thing.

  When they’d climbed into the limo after an extremely awkward string of goodbyes, she’d attempted to start a conversation where she could explain her thoughts and emotions to him.

  Nick hadn’t said a word the entire drive back into the city.

  “Did you have a good time?” her father said again, a slight smile on his face.

  Wrenching herself away from the memory of her miserable attempt at soothing her lover, she focused on her dad. “The trip wasn’t about having fun.”

  It hadn’t been, still, fun is what she’d had. Joy at walking the streets of San Francisco with Nick. Happiness welling inside as they jumped off the cable car and took a new trail toward adventure. Peace and fulfillment when they lay together in the attic bed.

  Connection. With both her head and her body.

  But mostly, her heart.

  “You had it nevertheless, didn’t you?” Her dad let out a dry chuckle. “I knew Townsend would be good for you.”

  He was good for her. In so many ways it astonished her. When she’d met him, she’d pegged him as a charmer, a playboy, a scamp. He was all that. Except he was more. Nick Townsend was also intelligent and gentle. An amazing lover and an attentive friend. Quick to anger, and yet, impossible not to forgive. The situation with his family only added another layer of love…

  Love.

  A clutch of fearful joy bloomed inside at the realization.

  She loved Nick Townsend.

  “Has the man proposed?” her dad butted into her hectic thoughts.

  “What?” Jerking her head away from looking blankly through the sun-drenched windows, she gawked at her father. “What did you say?”

  He pursed his lips and his eyes turned wily. “Never mind.”

  The old worry and suspicions leapt back into her conscience. She’s banished them in the frolic and euphoria of San Fran, but not now. “Dad.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Tell me, please. What is going on with you and Nick?”

  “The man still hasn’t confided in you, eh?” Rubbing his eyes with trembling fingers, he sighed. “Interesting.”

  “Confided what?” Unable to sit, she jerked to a stand and crossed her arms in a tight grip.

  “I’m tired.” Groaning, he sat up. “I’m going to take a nap.”

  Frustration mixed with anxiety created a horrible brew in the pit of her stomach. “We need to talk.”

  “We’ve talked for years.” Groaning once more, he stood. “I believe we’ve said all there is to say.”

  Before she could object again, he shuffled past the couch and down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Jess slumped on the cushions. Her father didn’t want to talk and Nick refused to. How was a woman supposed to figure out if the love she felt for a man was going to lead her into disaster or into pure happiness?

  Nick had never felt so wretched in his life.

  And he aimed to change that right now.

  “McDowell.” Easing out of his chair, he swung around his office desk to grab the old man’s arm. By the look of him, he wouldn’t have made it to one of the leather chairs standing in wait for clients and visitors. “Sit.”

  With a harrumph, the man did as he demanded. “You could have come to my suite.”

  “We’d both have had to deal with your inquisitive daughter there.”

  “True.” Clyde McDowell chuckled with relish. “She is a determined woman, isn’t she?”

  Determined and demanding. And what she wanted, he’d realized he couldn’t give. He loved the Jessie who got in his face and cut through his bullshit. That woman he could take. But the Jessie who looked at him with soft wonder as he entered her and laughed with him and gave him her quiet smile? That Jessie?

  That Jessie expected, and deserved, more than he was.

  He’d thought about it yesterday after they’d arrived back at Devil Skye and she'd left him in a fit of exasperation. He’d sat on his barren terrace for most of the night, watching the lights of the city gleam on the marble of his suite’s walls. This morning, he’d finally accepted reality.

  He couldn’t fulfill this contract. Jessie deserved better than him.

  At this point, he didn’t care about his ranch.

  Well, that wasn’t true. He did care. He still wanted the ranch.

  Yet, she was more important. If she ever found out the rotten deal her father traded her for, it would destroy her. Layered onto that realization was something far more devastating. He couldn’t subject her to his essential ugliness. The ugly temper and past. The ugly family situation on both sides of his history. The wretched ugliness sitting inside him, night and day.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  Marching around his desk, he put his palms on the top of the polished steel and pinned his opponent with a fixed stare. Because Clyde McDowell held one thing he wanted. One thing he was going to demand.

  The hotels.

  Not for himself. But for her.

  Before he ushered this man out of his office, he was going to have a new agreement. “I’m canceling our contract.”

  The old man’s eyes widened, and then he scowled. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I’m not doing the deal we made.” Nick didn’t flinch and didn’t budge. This was for her. He couldn’t afford to give an inch.

  “Why not?” Clyde’s face flushed with temper. “You like my girl. You can’t deny it.”

  He loved her. The last thing he wanted to do, though, was admit that weakness to this cunning foe. “She’s okay, but not my type.”

  The flush on the old man’s neck turned ruddy. “The hell she isn’t. Don’t tell me nothing went on in San Francisco.”

  Lurching up at the accusation, he paced to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked down at his creation. For a moment, grief clutched in his gut. Sí, something had happened in San Francisco. Something profound and pure. Not the sex, as Clyde had insinuated. That was part of it, but not the essential part. What had happened was he’d come to realize what loving was all about.

  It was all about Jessie.

  And that was why he had to do this.

  The main circled floor, holding a string of slot machines and several craps tables, bustled with the afternoon crowd of tourists and gamblers. The sight centered him. “I want to make anoth
er deal.”

  “Do you?” A wily, wary note entered McDowell’s voice. “What is it?”

  Turning, he plastered on a smile. “You get the ranch. My Jessie gets the hotels.”

  “Your Jessie, eh?” Gnarled hands came together on a soft belly as the old man smiled in satisfaction. “Interesting turn of phrase.”

  That had been a slip. One he didn’t intend to happen again. “I would think the deal would be perfect for you. The McDowells walk away with everything.”

  “Except you,” the man said simply.

  A tense pause silenced the room.

  Nick had realized Clyde liked him, right from the start. He’d even understood the man thought of him as some sort of heir. But there was something in the way he’d said those two words that stopped him cold. “What do you mean?”

  “I want you for my girl.”

  They stared at each other.

  “I’m not good enough for her,” he blurted.

  “Good enough?” McDowell’s gaze sharpened. “Another interesting phrase.”

  “If you’re smart, and I know you are, Clyde, you’ll keep her far away from me.”

  “That’s shutting the barn door after the horses have fled, eh?” The man’s expression became serene. “I know what I’m doing with my Jessica. You’re the man for her.”

  “Jesús.” Pacing back to his desk, he glared at the man. “Take the new deal.”

  “No.” Those old, wily eyes never wavered. “I have a signed contract with you. It stands.”

  “Listen to me.” Temper and fear raced in his blood. He needed to do this for her. He needed to win this deal. “The hotels stay in the family, and you can keep the damn ranch.”

  “The ranch you sold your soul for.” McDowell hummed low in his throat. “The only reason you agreed in the first place.”

  “Things have changed.” Desperate, he clenched his fists.

  “I can see that.” Rising slowly, the old man straightened his spine, looking like the McDowell Nick had met a year ago. “But I still demand you marry my daughter, and neither of you are going to get my hotels without that marriage.”