by Marin Thomas
“How do they determine who gets in?” she asked.
“A judge decides. When I was seventeen I got caught tagging a business, but instead of sending me to juvenile detention, the judge let me work off my community service hours at a local ranch. That’s where I learned about rodeo.”
“Will you take the job at the boys’ ranch?” The couple who ran the ranch must believe, like her, that Cruz was a good man at heart.
“I don’t know.”
Sara wished he’d accept the job. They might not have a future together, but she’d like to know where Cruz ended up and that he was okay.
“I don’t get it,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Doesn’t it bother you that I’m an ex-con? Don’t I make you nervous?”
She laughed and he fought a smile. “You being an ex-con doesn’t make me nervous.” You being a sexy, virile man does.
“I make José nervous. He doesn’t like having me around.”
Sara waved a hand in front of her face, then checked over the seat, making sure Dani still slept. “You don’t make him nervous. You remind him that Tony is dead.” And he sees that I’m attracted to you and doesn’t think you’re good enough for me. “And all the work you’re doing is making the move to Albuquerque more real for him.”
“He must get lonely living by himself.”
“He won’t admit to it, but he is lonely and I feel guilty for putting pressure on him to move in with us.”
“Why do you feel guilty? Seems like you’re the one who will be sacrificing if he lives with you.”
“Not really. I need José to help watch Dani when I’m at work. I could put Dani in an extended day-care program, but it’s expensive and I don’t want to use Tony’s life insurance policy to pay the bills. I’d hoped to save the money for Dani’s college tuition.”
Cruz took the freeway exit to Papago Springs. He admired Sara’s strength and doubted there were many women who would choose working longer hours over cashing an insurance policy to make ends meet. And the saddest part was that Tony’s death was senseless. Then again he’d learned the hard way that a lot of things in life made no sense.
Cruz thought back to the days he’d run wild with his homies and the pranks they’d pulled. If he hadn’t gotten caught tagging a building he would surely have joined the Los Locos gang, and the night Sara’s husband died he might have been there. Hell, it might have been a bullet from his gun that had killed him.
“Cruz?” Her eyes darted everywhere in the cab but at him. “Will you tell me what happened?”
She wanted to know how he’d landed in jail. He hated talking about that day—would just as soon forget it had ever happened. He’d let too many good people down. He should have said no when Vic had asked him to go with him to confront Salvador Castro. But Cruz and Vic had been friends since they’d walked to kindergarten together—there was no question whether he’d go. He hadn’t been a fool to accompany Vic; he’d been a fool to believe nothing would happen. Something bad always happened when you were dealing with gang members.
“It was an accident,” he said. “My friend’s sister got knocked up by a gang leader and the guy refused to take responsibility for his kid. Vic thought he could convince the guy to marry his sister. I didn’t know he was carrying a gun.” Cruz slowed the truck, the memory sucking him back in time.
“Castro laughed in Vic’s face and insulted his sister, insisting he could have her anytime he wanted and there was nothing Vic could do to stop him. That set Vic off and he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans. I didn’t think. I just grabbed the gun, shouting at Vic not to shoot. He struggled with me but I got the gun away from him. Then someone kicked my feet out from under me and I fell backward. When I fell to the floor, the gun went off and the bullet hit Castro in the shoulder.”
“What happened next?”
“I figured one of Castro’s homies would shoot me dead on the spot, but everyone ran except Castro, Vic and me. We were there when the police arrived a minute later. The next thing I knew I was sitting in the back of a patrol car, handcuffed, and Castro was on his way to the hospital.”
“Didn’t Vic set things straight?”
“He tried. He talked to the police for hours, insisting the gun was his and he’d been the one who shot Castro. There were too many witnesses. The police booked me on manslaughter charges.”
“A good lawyer would have straightened that out,” she said.
“Riley Fitzgerald, my high school teacher’s husband, offered to pay for a lawyer, but I refused his help.”
“Why?”
To this day, Cruz wasn’t sure why—at least that’s what he wanted to believe. But deep down inside him—so deep he’d gone there only once, because he almost hadn’t made it back out—he’d believed it was his destiny. Like father, like son—he was headed for jail. He’d tried to do right. He’d earned his GED. But in the end even the help of well-meaning people couldn’t exorcise the barrio out of him and he was exactly where he’d been meant to be since the day he was born.
“Why did the judge sentence you to twelve years? That seems excessive for an accidental shooting.”
“I got four years.”
Sara gasped. “What happened to extend your sentence?”
It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t something he wanted to share with Sara. But he needed to set her straight—make her understand why she shouldn’t be attracted to him.
“Before my parole hearing, I’d competed in four prison rodeos and each year they grew more popular. The warden made big money off ticket sales.”
“He didn’t want you to leave, did he?”
Sara was a smart lady. “The warden was worried ticket sales would drop and jeopardize his reputation.”
“What did he do?”
“He sent a thug known for raping prisoners to change my mind about leaving.”
Sara’s eyes grew wide and her mouth opened but no words came out.
“I fought back and hurt the guy pretty bad. They added eight years to my sentence. I refused to rodeo, but after getting jumped too many times to count I decided I’d rather ride broncs than get beat up anymore.”
“And eight years later, when you came up for your parole hearing, what happened?”
“I threatened to go to the press with my story if the warden tried to keep me there. It worked.” Cruz pulled into Papago Springs and parked in front of the cantina.
“It seems so unfair,” she whispered.
“Your husband’s death wasn’t fair, either.”
She nodded, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
Don’t cry for me, Sara.
“Are we home?” Dani sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Go tell Papa you’re hungry.” Sara helped Dani from the backseat.
“I’m not hungry,” Dani said.
“Go see Papa. He missed you.”
Dani raced inside, leaving Cruz alone with Sara. They stared at each other over the hood of the truck. She was the first person he’d told about the attempted rape and he felt as if he stood naked before her eyes.
“I’ll finish covering the hole on the side of the barn, then I’ll pack my bags and leave.”
“Stay.”
He wanted to. More than anything. “I’ve stayed too long as it is.”
She moved around the hood and stopped in front of him. “Stay until all the repairs are done.”
Sara was asking too much of him. After today he felt raw inside. Maybe even a little desperate. He didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off her. “No.”
“Please.” She inched closer and her feminine scent hypnotized him. “I don’t want you to go.”
“If I stay...” He couldn’t make himself say the words.
“I know.” H
er eyes softened. “Let’s take it one day at a time.”
He’d been forced to take it one day at a time in prison and that’s the last thing he wanted to do with Sara. She wasn’t a one-day-at-a-time woman and the thought of using her—because that’s what it would be when there was no future for them—bothered him more than it should for a man who was just freed from the slammer. But strip away the prison uniform, the gang tattoo, and he was just a man. A man who yearned to be with a woman who would make him feel good inside. And worthy.
“I’m not asking for anything more from you. I just...” She dropped her gaze for a moment, then looked him in the eye. “I just need you here.” Her voice cracked and he nearly lost the battle to stand firm.
“I can’t stay.” He stepped by her and headed for the barn. He didn’t know whether he was a fool or a coward. The one thing he knew for sure was that he was no saint.
* * *
“HOW WAS YOUR visit with Leroy and Betty?” Sara joined her father-in-law at the kitchen table.
“Leroy’s becoming forgetful. Betty had to finish half his stories for him.”
“How old is Leroy?”
“Seventy-nine.”
“You live to be seventy-nine and you’re entitled to forget a few details.” She’d noticed José’s memory wasn’t as sharp as it had been a few years ago. She’d heard that a traumatic event in a person’s life could affect their memory and losing his wife and son had been a tough blow.
“Is Betty still volunteering for Meals on Wheels?”
“Two days a week. She’s trying to talk Leroy into taking a cruise.”
“That sounds nice. How are their grandchildren?”
José scowled. “If you want to know everything about them, you should have stayed here and ate supper with us.”
Obviously José didn’t care to talk about his friends, but Sara wasn’t up to an interrogation about today’s trip to the rodeo, either.
“Dani said no one clapped for Cruz after his ride.” José sipped his coffee. As was their nightly routine, she helped Dani with her bath and José read her a story before turning out the light, then they sat at the kitchen table and talked about their plans for the next day.
“The crowd wasn’t very accepting of him,” she said.
“Did he step out of line with anyone?”
“No. Cruz isn’t like that, José. He minded his own business and kept to himself.” She sighed. “But then a reporter hounded him and his competitors taunted him and—”
“Did he expect others to welcome an ex-con with open arms?”
Her father-in-law had a difficult time accepting Cruz because of his past, but José didn’t know him the way she did—he hadn’t seen the wounded look in Cruz’s eyes this afternoon when he hadn’t known she was watching him. “Cruz wasn’t looking for attention.”
“He should have thought of that before he shot a man.”
“He told me about that night,” she said. José’s eyebrows rose into his hairline but he remained silent.
“It was his friend who had pointed the gun at another man and Cruz tried to intervene. When he wrestled the gun away it went off by accident and he shot the man in the shoulder.”
“If it was an accident, then why was Cruz arrested?”
She shrugged, not wanting to give her father-in-law too many details. This was Cruz’s story to tell, not hers, and she doubted he’d want her talking on his behalf.
They sat in silence, Sara’s gaze flickering to the kitchen door, where the sound of hammering echoed in the air. “He’s leaving soon.”
“Is he finished with the barn?”
“No.” Sara’s eyes stung and she blinked rapidly. Good grief, she hadn’t cried or gotten emotional over anything in a good long while. She couldn’t afford to break down. Someone had had to be the strong one after Tony died and José had sunk into depression.
“You don’t want him to go.”
Sara couldn’t look her father-in-law in the eyes. “I was hoping he’d finish fixing up this place so we could find a buyer or renter.” She shoved her chair back. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed.” Halfway down the hall she heard the screen door creak as José left the house.
* * *
CRUZ SENSED HE was being watched as he pounded the hell out of two-by-fours. The hammering had been a therapeutic end to a stressful day and he wasn’t ready to stop bashing wood. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose but didn’t catch the faint scent of Sara’s perfume. Dani had gone to bed a while ago. That meant either a stranger had wandered onto the property or José had something on his mind.
He set the hammer aside and waited for his visitor to speak.
“Sara said you rode well today.”
Cruz wasn’t fooled. José didn’t care about his ride. He cared about what his daughter-in-law and granddaughter had been subjected to at the rodeo. “I competed in the prison rodeo and made a name for myself.” Unfortunately that reputation had followed him outside of prison.
He faced José. “I should have won today.” He wasn’t bragging. He was stating a fact. Then he dropped his gaze and studied the toe of his boot. “Rodeo fans are loyal and supportive. They don’t want to see an outsider with a prison record come into their arenas and beat the local sons.”
“Are you going to continue to compete?” José asked.
“I have to.” For Shorty. And because he didn’t know what the hell else to do.
“I don’t want Sara or Dani going along you with again.”
If Cruz were in José’s shoes, he wouldn’t want his loved ones trailing after an ex-con and being subjected to humiliating ridicule. “That won’t be a problem. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“You haven’t finished all the repairs.”
Cruz narrowed his eyes. “I’d think you’d be happy that I was walking off the job, because you don’t want to sell or rent this place.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to leave. But leaving will make Sara and Dani happy.”
“And me leaving should make you happy.” He forced a halfhearted smile. “Looks like everyone’s happy now.”
The old man’s scowl grew dark. “I want better for my daughter-in-law than you.”
Cruz raised his hands in the air. “Hold on, now. There’s nothing going on between me and Sara.”
“I know, but she sees something worthy in you that I don’t.” José wasn’t giving his permission for Cruz and Sara to explore a relationship, but he sure wasn’t putting up any roadblocks. He turned away and left.
What the heck? Alone again, Cruz tossed the hammer aside. He stretched out on the hay bale and stared at the ceiling, noticing places that needed to be patched.
José had given Cruz permission to stay. Sara wanted him to stay. Dani liked him. Despite his history, this family was willing to give him a chance. Would it hurt to spend a few more days here? Make good on his word and finish the barn so Sara, Dani and José could move on with their lives? He didn’t want to leave Sara in a jam but if he remained on the property, it would be tough not to let his guard down with her.
“Cruz? Are you in here?”
Sara. He held his breath, hoping she’d leave.
“There you are.” She moved closer to the bales, stopping in the shadows, where he couldn’t read her expression. “I came out to see if you were hungry. I could make eggs and toast.”
“No, thanks.”
“Thirsty?”
He sat up and rested his arms on his thighs. “José was just out here.”
“Oh, really?” Sara pretended to be surprised but Cruz could tell she knew darn well her father-in-law had paid him a visit.
“He doesn’t care if I stay on a little longer.”
“I’m glad.” She wrung her hands in front of her. “W
e need you.”
“I’m the last person you need hanging around this place, Sara.” He stood and, because he couldn’t resist, he touched her—tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He let his finger caress the soft patch of skin on the back of her neck and he swore he felt her shiver before he pulled his hand away.
When was the last time he’d touched something so soft and feminine and had actually taken the time to appreciate it? Never.
He stared into her blue eyes. How could a nurse, a widow and the mother of a five-year-old appear so innocent and trusting? Or maybe any woman would have appeared innocent in his eyes after all the evil he’d seen and lived through in prison.
He sensed something special about Sara. He knew he’d never come across another woman like her after he left Papago Springs. With that thought in mind he lowered his head slowly, giving her the opportunity to rebuff him. She didn’t.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he pressed his lips to hers, was the thought that this was almost like a first kiss. He couldn’t remember the last girl he’d kissed or had wanted to kiss. Sara would be his new memory—one he feared wouldn’t fade with time no matter who he met down the road.
Her breath feathered across his face as he swept his mouth over hers. He wanted to be gentle, but years of dreaming of women tested his patience and he deepened the kiss.
She didn’t resist. She pressed herself against him and the feel of her soft breasts sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He set his hands on her waist—whether to pull her closer or push her away, he didn’t know. His fingers clamped down hard on her hip bones when she wound her arms around his neck and thrust her tongue inside his mouth.
The kiss grew hotter, wilder and sweeter. And Cruz soaked it all in—the sweet taste of her, the soft feel of her and the sexy smell of her. When she pulled back, he wasn’t ready for the kiss to end. He used all his strength to release his hold on her.
“Please stay.”
As if he had a choice anymore? “I’ll stay under one condition.”
“Which is?”
As much as it killed him to say it, he knew he had to. “No more kisses.”
