Wildflower Redemption

by Leslie P. García

  “I can throw your clothes in the washer, and they’d be clean and dry in an hour or so.”

  “But until then?”

  Nothing? “Let me look around—if worse comes to worse, you could wrap yourself in a towel or a sheet for an hour, couldn’t you?”

  He considered that, and then nodded. “Sure. Sheets are functional. I’ll go after you.”

  “No. You go first, so your stuff will be ready. Let me go find you something.”

  A few seconds later, she returned, smiling.

  “You’re set. Just drop your clothes outside the door.”

  “This has been a weird day,” he noted.

  Luz heard the water running moments later, and a bare arm extended out the door, dropping a handful of clothing before disappearing. She’d dreamed of an arm once, wrapped around her, comforting her—just an arm in a yellow sweater. Nothing sexy about it.

  Luz snorted. You know you’ve been alone too long when a man’s bare arm turns you on. She went to get her own clothes off and everything into the washer.

  She wouldn’t mind Aaron wandering around buck-naked. Not a bit. But would he mind?

  Unbidden, the thought came to her that his marriage had not ended in divorce. And that Stella still owned his heart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Aaron wanted to help her feed the animals. In a towel and his underwear.

  At least, Luz assumed he had underwear under the bath sheet, because he hadn’t included anything to be washed. Leaving the question of briefs or boxers, and raising the specter of “going commando.”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated. “You can’t run around like that outside.”

  “It’s not that cold, it’s getting dark, and I shouldn’t leave everything to you.” He sniffed. “You already cooked.”

  “A boxed hamburger meal isn’t cooking, it’s just fast.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather wait until your clothes finish?” She looked at the clock above the counter. “Another fifteen or twenty minutes?”

  “You’ve been staring out the window toward Ann’s place every five minutes. If we go now, we can actually sit down and eat.” He grinned. “We’ll only be missing the Riverwalk and a romantic setting.”

  “You’re stubborn.”

  “One of my flaws—I don’t change my mind often.” His smile faded. “On the other hand, Luz—I want to see the mare. Poor thing.”

  His words touched her. Not so long ago, he’d been perfectly happy staying outside the barn while she and Chloe visited horses or tacked up Rumbles.

  “There’s hope for you yet,” she decided.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Hope? For me?”

  “Horse people are by and large good people. Mom said never to trust someone who claimed to be a people person—to always go for the one who walked up to the family pet first, or admired an old horse grazing out in the middle of nowhere.”

  He chuckled. “Bet your mom favored you.”

  She smiled, remembering the mother who had never met either human or animal she didn’t like. “Maybe. But I’ve heard it usually works the other way.”

  “One thing surprises me, though…”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t like Esmeralda. She’s a horse person.”

  “True—and guilty as charged. Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “I don’t love her. I don’t like that when she first came to town, she went after a married man. When Ann and Ram were having problems, she tried to drive them even farther apart. But I’m sure she has qualities.”

  “Like?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling and the dimples engraving his cheeks.

  Luz thought. “Ummm. Well, children. She helps troubled children.”

  She saw the grimness in Aaron’s face before he spoke, and kicked herself. “By lying to their fathers and snatching them away from the woman he chose to take care of them?”

  Bingo. She didn’t voice the small triumphant exclamation, though, just said gently, “Other children. Rose Creek is small—I know she has helped several families here.”

  He turned his head for a moment, and then nodded. “She probably has. I decided not to file a complaint with anyone over her doing that to Chloe because it was at least as much my fault as hers.”

  He sounded sincere, taking most of the blame for what was an unconscionable act, an atrocity professionally. This man who doted on his daughter, worried incessantly about her…

  Unbidden, she thought of Brian. How he’d been indifferent to the pain he inflicted when he told her he had a newborn daughter just two days after the wedding, indifferent to Lily’s suffering when her real mother took her away. Seeing him so unexpectedly had been such a shock. He must have left, or she would have heard, even with all the horror she’d faced in the last hours. And she didn’t know why he’d come, but she was glad in a way that he had. The coldness she’d felt when he turned up suddenly at school, calling her name, made her remember every little lie she’d pieced together when he’d let Lily’s mom attack her. And now she knew what she wanted in a man. Yes, she wanted Aaron. And he was worth fighting for. Even if she didn’t know how one fought a dead lover’s memory.

  Unable to speak, she went to the stove, ran the spoon through the pasta again, and double-checked that the stove was off.

  “So—can we go? Or do we stand and stare out the window, wondering?” To prove his point, he pressed the curtain aside and flattened his face against the glass.

  When he leaned over, the towel hiked up, exposing strong thighs. Too bad she had given him the bath sheet. A shorter towel…she sucked in a breath just as the buzzer blasted out the open laundry room door.

  Aaron turned around and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

  “Guess you’re going to make me get dressed, then?”

  She didn’t want to. But she nodded reluctantly. “What if the pastor and his wife drive by while we’re near Ann’s place? They’ll see you. Or—” She grinned. “What if the towel falls off altogether when we’re feeding Candy, and he bites? Or—”

  “Okay, just can it!” He glared at her in mock anger. “Bet your mom was much nicer than you!”

  “Much!” Luz called as he headed off to reclaim his clothes.

  • • •

  “She must be starving,” Aaron said a few minutes later, watching as Luz crooned to the mare and used a flashlight to look her over.

  “Well, Ann said not to feed her tonight—that if she’s still groggy, she might choke.” She reached in through the narrow slats of the stall to stroke an uninjured bit of the horse’s neck. Aaron stood beside her, looking in, his face concerned.

  “She can’t be comfortable in this mousetrap.”

  “The stall helps her stay on her feet. Horses—”

  “Need to stay on their feet for their systems to work. I’ve heard that’s one reason horses with broken legs are usually put down. But—”

  “Ann had to give her a fairly large dose of sedative—she was in a lot of pain. See how sleepy she looks? She’s still dopey.”

  He reached through the opening in the stall too, his arm not fitting as easily as hers had. When he petted the mare, his arm brushed hers, and tiny shivers of fire darted over her bare skin. She hoped he didn’t notice that she licked lips that were suddenly dry and edged a little further away—a much better response than turning to him and locking her arms around his neck. The pastor and his wife actually did drive by on the way to their farm further outside Rose Creek almost every evening.

  Gossip would happen anyway. She wouldn’t mind if he knew about Lily. And, she reminded herself, if she knew how he would feel about her trying to take Stella’s place in his life.

  • • •

  The cheesy hamburger-macaroni skillet dinner might not have been gourmet, but they ate every last bit of it. Aaron insisted they use the paper plates he’d found, pointing out that they’d had a hard day, and wouldn’t have had to do dishes if they’d gone into San Antonio.

  Aaro
n called during the meal to check in on Chloe, and promised he’d bring her to ride. He passed her the phone when Chloe insisted on talking to Luz, as well.

  Luz threw the plates out and rinsed the silverware while Aaron walked over to the front door and turned the knob. From the kitchen, she could see him bend over to look at something.

  “The lock!” They said it together, but she laughed and he didn’t.

  “You know, I probably could fix it myself,” he said. “I don’t know why I’ve waited.”

  “Probably because you kept telling me I should do it,” Luz said. “I’m getting better, but I’m not a carpenter yet.”

  “Thing is, there have been those dogs thrown along your fence.” He caught her hands. “Luz, I know this is a friendly little town, but—”

  “Times change. Things happen. I know.”

  He squeezed her hands gently. “It bothers me, you being here alone, without even Princess. Thurmond—”

  “I haven’t told you!” Luz pulled her hands away. “Aaron, you know something? I think we misunderstood everything with him.”

  Aaron caught one of her hands again and led her to the sofa. “Why don’t we sit?” He gave her a mirthless grin. “We can sit here and look at his painting of horses’ butts.”

  “Patience. My mother called the painting Patience,” she reminded him. “Did you know he does jobs around Chloe’s school?”

  He turned on the couch, facing her instead of the painting. “No. Don’t much care, either. I don’t like him, Luz. Don’t trust him.” He paused. “You’re going to hate this, but something about him makes me feel as creeped-out as I felt with that Clark bastard. Maybe more, because everyone knew Clark was sick. I think Thurmond’s sick, but that he hides it.”

  She turned away from the picture, pulling her legs off the floor and tucking them under her. “He apologized to me after school,” she explained. “Told me he didn’t mean to keep interrupting us, that he was just used to the old Rose Creek—everyone just walks in when they visit, and that my mom and dad were used to it.”

  Aaron shook his head slowly. “Know what I think, Luz?” he asked, his tone gentle. “I think you’re one of these love-everyone softies who couldn’t think badly of the devil himself. Ross Thurmond walked in on us at odd times, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Even if he always did that, you’re not your mom. We’d told him we were together, even if it wasn’t true. There’s no reason for him just to show up like that.”

  “Ann sends him sometimes. She trusts him!”

  “Okay.”

  Aaron’s tone indicated he didn’t agree, but didn’t want to argue. Annoyed that he hadn’t changed his mind, she added, “Dr. Villa has one of his paintings. Said he gave it to her and her poodle—quit smirking.”

  Aaron pretended to wipe his smile away.

  She laughed, but added her final note. “Did you know he had my mom’s journal?”

  Aaron straightened and tensed noticeably. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “Well, it’s strange—although technically, I just figure he had it somehow and thought I should get it back. It turned up on the desk in the barn. I don’t know how that could have been anyone else.”

  Aaron stood up, stretching, his face unreadable. “Did you read it?”

  “No! I mean, it’s private. And I’ve been busy.”

  “True. But why would a man keep a woman’s journal when the woman was somebody else’s wife?”

  “My mom didn’t cheat on my dad,” Luz gritted.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that.” He shrugged and smothered a yawn. “Sorry—long day saving damsels in distress.”

  “Like I asked you to,” Luz muttered, but didn’t volunteer that she was tired, too. Or had wondered more than once about Ross Thurmond’s apparent fascination with her mom.

  She stood, too, unsure what to say.

  Aaron looked around the room. “San Antonio would have been easier,” he said. “They kick you out at closing time.”

  Her breath caught somewhere in her throat. Did he want to stay? Or was he telling her goodbye?

  The clock ticked loudly in the kitchen, reminding her how quiet the house was at night. How lonely.

  “I’m not kicking you out, Aaron,” she murmured. “Stay?”

  He crossed over to her, again catching her hands. She wasn’t sure if he looked surprised or apprehensive.

  “Luz, I—” He dropped her hands and caught her face instead, cradling her, his thumbs moving gently against her cheeks. “I can’t promise anything.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but—I don’t even know if I can stay in Rose Creek. Chloe—”

  She bit back a sigh of relief when the name he whispered was his daughter’s, not his dead wife’s. She could love Chloe. And she could hold on to Aaron.

  “Don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t talk. I don’t want talk, or promises. I just want you to stay, Aaron.” She stopped short of pleading, vaguely remembering she had a rule against begging a man for anything ever again.

  Aaron’s lips turned up at the corners slightly. “Getting kicked out’s grossly overrated. Come here.” He eased her across the slight distance between them, his eyes dark and soft, fingers still burning her cheeks.

  She trailed her hands up his arms, feeling the muscle and warmth, his presence. Need flared hotter, and she locked her hands beside his head and reached up to press her lips against his.

  He accepted the invitation, his lips warm and hungry, one hand slipping from her cheek to cradle her head, the other sliding down her back in a teasing caress.

  She leaned in to him, reveling in the feel of his body, the slight tremor along his hard length. Being wanted back—that had been even longer ago than wanting someone.

  He trailed kisses up her neck to whisper against her ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

  She drew back a little, startled, her fingers digging into his arms. “As in where?”

  His laughter rumbled against her neck and he scooped her up. “As to the only room in this house with a door that locks!”

  “Oh.” She let a tiny escape of relief escape, and then turned a little to nestle against his chest, rubbing her lips across the thin fabric of his shirt. “That’s okay then!”

  A step inside the room, he slid her down the length of his body, a caress in itself. She murmured incoherently and would have slipped his hands behind his neck, but he caught them, placed a kiss in each palm, and turned around, making a show of locking the door.

  Then he turned back to her, flashing his dimples and waggling his eyebrows. “Think we might get the front door fixed tomorrow?”

  She drew a shaky breath. “With the right motivation.”

  He laughed and swept her up again.

  “Well, then, let’s see what it takes.”

  • • •

  She couldn’t believe getting a lock fixed would need so much motivation. She stirred, too lazy and satisfied to actually move yet, the feel of Aaron beside her—inside her—still almost impossible to believe. She couldn’t remember being so free, feeling so wanted—not even in the earliest hours of her marriage. Not ever.

  She smiled and turned to face Aaron—but his side of the bed was empty. For a moment she waited, listening, hoping he’d merely gone to the bathroom, but the sheets were cold.

  Stella. The thought slammed her in the chest as she slipped out of bed, the coolness of the night air raising goose bumps all over her body. She wrapped her robe loosely around her, for comfort more than coverage. Or maybe he just regretted their wildness, that he’d tasted her, enticed her, given her everything she needed, and now he was beating himself up for betraying his dead wife.

  She found him in the kitchen, in his briefs, elbows propped on the sink, staring out a window into darkness. She fought back one brief moment of self-pity. She’d gloried in the way he made her feel, responded with all the cooped up passion and need of so much time alone. Yet app
arently her joy would be sacrificed to his guilt.

  How petty can I be? The woman he loved died saving others. She employed the same mental trick she always did, forcing herself to see from the other side. Had Brian not been cheating, manipulative scum—if he’d been a first responder, and hadn’t come home—would she be able to let go so easily?

  Silently she padded across the floor and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his back, trying to be comforting, not seductive, understanding, not borderline angry.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  She felt him tense, and then he pushed off the sink and straightened. She let her arms slip from his waist, and he turned.

  “Why are you sorry?” He tilted her face up, peering at her. “Did I get too carried away or…?”

  She reached a hand up and caressed his cheek. “You can’t let her go, can you?” she prodded gently. “Stella.”

  “Damn Stella!” Aaron’s fist exploded against the sink, rattling the handful of dishes in the rack. He opened the faucet and splashed water on his face, letting it run down onto his chest.

  Then he gulped air and reached out, drawing her close, but not holding her.

  “No, you know what? I did come here because of Stella—but it’s not what you think. Not why. Can we sit?”

  She nodded, and he led her to the couch, settling her in the corner she usually sat in, but not sitting himself.

  “So?”

  “Have you read anything recent about Alabaster?”

  She lifted her eyebrows, surprised, before remembering he’d thought she would snoop. “No.”

  “But you heard about the little boy who died. A teacher and another student were hurt. I think I told you Chloe was the student Stella saved.”

  “Yes.” Aaron’s face twisted in pain. She shook her head and held out her hand. “Aaron, I didn’t mean to drag anything out. Come sit. Don’t talk.”

  “You should know. If we’re going to be together…” He came to the couch then, dropping to his knees and clasping her hands. “I’m an ass sometimes,” he said. “I know that. I don’t mean to be, I’m just not—who I was.” He squeezed her hands.