by Erin Wright
Which was when Louisa’s mother blushed. Louisa stared at her mother, open-mouthed. All her life, she’d never seen her mother blush. And now she seemed to be falling for the charms of Zane.
She wasn’t sure if she should glare at Zane for flirting with her mother, or glare at her mother for appreciating it. Really. After he’d practically run away from her in the meadow, he certainly hadn’t looked at her that way.
Am I jealous of my own mother?
She decided not to spend too much time dwelling on that thought.
“Feliz cumpleaños, Tia Carmelita,” Skyler said, slaughtering the words even more than he had when he’d been practicing them earlier with Louisa. He’d begged her that morning to learn how to say Happy Birthday in Spanish so he could say it to Carmelita, and she’d done her best to teach him, but his light southern twang combined with Spanish words…Louisa wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or to cringe in pain.
Carmelita did neither. Instead, her eyes filled with tears and she leaned over to hug him in his chair, snuffling as she did so. “Thank you, cariño,” she said softly into his hair, and then turned her back on them to dab at her eyes with her apron, clearly embarrassed to be seen crying.
His birthday surprise having been delivered, Skyler tugged on Louisa’s hand. “Where’s Juan?” Skyler asked in a loud whisper, his one-track mind on full display.
And to think they fought like cats and dogs when they first met.
“Probably out back in the sandbox. Here, I’ll take the platter,” she said, grabbing it out of Skyler’s lap before he could take off for the backyard and dump dirt on it or something. And then he was gone, zipping through the house, thrilled to go hang out with his new best friend.
The women began talking then, moving towards the kitchen as Mom told her all about planning this surprise and Carmelita talking about how good Skyler was looking. Louisa felt a piece of her soul slide into place, as if something had been missing and now it was there, a joy that came from seeing her favorite people in the world all under one roof.
What would it have been like to have Matt here?
The idea set her back on her heels a little. Matt was supposed to come home and “meet the family” a couple of times, but something had always come up at the hospital and he hadn’t been able to make it. Louisa had been fine with it, of course – she understood better than anyone the pressures of working in a premiere spinal-cord unit – except, now she realized that she hadn’t been fine with it.
Had he actually needed to stay at the hospital? Or had he just been looking for an excuse to get out of meeting her family?
Or, even worse, had he just been looking for an excuse to bang the CNA while Louisa was out of town?
All of the truths she’d never let herself really think about. No wonder Matt had stuck with her for so long. She’d proven to be a damn easy mark.
She knew she shouldn’t allow herself the luxury of the thought, but still, her eyes sought out Zane in the crowd, watching how he chatted so easily with everyone, continuing to charm her mother with the worst Spanish accent she’d ever heard – well, other than the one his son just used – clearly trotting out his high-school Spanish in an attempt to win Mom over.
Why is he trying so hard with her? It isn’t like he and I have a future together. Why does he care?
He shouldn’t, and the fact that she couldn’t think of a good reason for what he was doing scared the bejeezus out of her. People always had an agenda. Always. Not knowing what his was made small slivers of panic run down her spine.
As the flow of people and laughter and chatter continued, Flint doing some charming of his own by producing enough drool for three kids, Louisa realized that another important question she needed an answer for was why Zane wasn’t on stage anymore. Why wasn’t he touring?
He was the very definition of an extrovert. Right then, among the kids and adults, he was telling an apparently hilarious story about how one time, a stage manager forgot to turn off his mic and so his barked orders to the stage hands were loudly broadcast throughout the stadium, right along with Zane’s opening song for the concert. Abby and Jennifer were gasping with delight; Stetson and Declan were laughing uproariously.
Zane was where he wanted to be – where he deserved to be. Why was he stopping himself from doing something that he so clearly loved?
He looked up from the group just then and caught Louisa’s eye. They both froze, unable to blink or look away or even breathe and it was then that Louisa asked herself the most important question of all:
Why was he stopping himself from touching her again? He liked her. She couldn’t believe otherwise. Not after she saw that look blazed on his face.
So why was he staying away?
Chapter 25
Zane
Zane felt like he’d been gut-punched. The world was narrowing to just Louisa, everything else falling away. She was nibbling on her bottom lip and he felt his groin tighten with need. His fingers were itching to reach out to her, his palms sweating with lust and desire, and if he could just pull her into his arms and kiss her again, he could make the world right. He wanted—
“Louisa,” Carmelita said, tugging on her niece’s arm, severing the connection between them. With a bright smile, Louisa turned toward her aunt. “Come. Your mother misses you. I know she will want you in the kitchen with us.”
Louisa moved away, not looking back over her shoulder as she went, and Zane let a sigh of disappointment escape his lips. God almighty, just looking at Louisa made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years.
Hands off, asshole. You. Can’t. Have. Louisa. Get over her already.
Maybe he should drive over to Boise some weekend and hit a few clubs. He could pick up a girl – or three – and take ‘em back to a hotel room in Boise. Work Louisa out of his system. She wasn’t the only woman in the world, for hell’s sakes. There were plenty more fish in the sea. He just had to go looking for them.
Even as he thought that, he re-adjusted his position on his chair to better see what Louisa was doing. She was in the kitchen, talking a mile a minute in Spanish with Carmelita and her mom as they all chopped and prepped food. He scooted the chair a bit and found that by sitting just right, he could see the back of her as she worked. He was forced to put his foot out to brace himself, though, and he could already tell his leg was going to tire of this position pretty quickly. He sipped his beer nonchalantly, his thoughts swirling as he listened to Louisa’s laugh spill out of her over something she and her mom were chatting about.
What if he’d met Louisa when he was 19, instead of Tamara? What if he’d had her steadiness and kind outlook and love for others from the get-go?
He closed his eyes and groaned to himself. Who was he kidding? The 19-year-old Zane would’ve overlooked Louisa. She wasn’t flashy. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, and he wasn’t even sure she knew what hairspray was, and as for her taste in clothing…he thought back to the kayaking trip to the lake, and Louisa’s one-piece bathing suit. She’d looked spectacular, of course, because she had a body most women would give their right arms for, but Tamara never would’ve worn a one-piece bathing suit to the lake. She would’ve been in a string bikini and jewel-encrusted flip-flops, reapplying her lipstick every 30 minutes.
No, 19-year-old Zane wouldn’t have noticed Louisa; wouldn’t have given her the time of day. He wouldn’t have hated her; that would’ve required him even paying attention to her existence. He just would’ve been so involved, so wrapped up in the stylized, primped, fashion model Tamara that nothing else would’ve penetrated the bubble of lust he’d operated in back then.
He used to equate lust with love, and had thought that the wild sex between him and Tamara had meant their love would last forever. No one could possibly feel like he had and not be happy for forever.
Except now, he knew none of that was true. Lust always fades. Without the basis of a friendship, without the basis of love for each other, it all falls apart.
His relationship with Tamara was a poster child for that reality.
“You’re going to hurt yourself, craning your neck like that,” a deep voice said, scaring Zane, his chair falling back down to the floor with a thud. He jerked his head up to see that it was one of Louisa’s siblings, although Zane didn’t know which one. She had two brothers but dammit all, he couldn’t remember either of their names at the moment.
He quickly stood. “Zane Risley,” he said, putting his hand out to shake. This brother was almost as tall as Zane’s 6’2" frame, which took Zane a little off-guard. He thought of most Hispanic guys as being pretty short.
Is that a racist thought? God, please don’t let me be a racist.
“Tómas Vargas,” he said, his handshake firm. “Louisa’s younger brother.”
Zane thought he detected a note of warning in Tómas’ voice, and couldn’t say he blamed the guy. If his younger sister had lived, he could only imagine how he would’ve felt if he’d caught some guy drooling over her.
I wasn’t drooling. I was just…appreciating. Totally different.
“You’re the older of the two brothers, right?” he asked, mostly for something to say. Tómas was a serious person – it was clear to Zane that even when he wasn’t trying to intimidate the men in Louisa’s life, he didn’t smile much.
“Yeah. Alex is the younger one, and the baby of the family.”
“I take it he’s spoiled?” Zane asked, his lips quirking at the corner. Tómas may be serious but he wasn’t good at hiding his feelings.
“Rotten,” Tómas confirmed, and for the first time, a ghost of a smile passed his lips before fading away immediately. “How long are you planning on staying in Long Valley, you think?”
“Just a few more weeks, and then we head back to Tennessee. School starts up after Labor Day, so I need to get Skyler back in time for that.” Why did he feel defensive?
“And Louisa?”
And there it was. Tómas wasn’t even pretending to dance around the subject. Zane had to appreciate the guy’s ballsiness, even if he didn’t appreciate it being directed towards him.
“Louisa signed a contract that ends on August 31st,” Zane said smoothly.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Zane stared at him evenly, one eyebrow cocked, not blinking, not answering. If Tómas thought he could intimidate Zane, he was sorely mistaken. He’d picked the wrong guy to try to push around.
Of course, he had picked the guy who he’d caught drooling over his sister.
That didn’t mean Zane was about to open up and spill his guts to the guy, though.
“I love my sister,” Tómas finally said in a low voice. “I would do anything to keep her from being hurt.”
With one last meaningful look, Tómas turned and headed for the cooler, snagging a Tecate beer and popping the top off before joining the group around Flint, Jennifer’s toddler, who was entertaining the group by blowing raspberries and giggling. He was a damn adorable kid. Zane tried to remember back to when Skyler was his age, but dug up precious few memories. He’d been on the road so much at that point, always trying to hit that new sales record, that new concert level, that Skyler’s childhood was only a few scattered snapshots in time.
His mind drifted back to Tómas’ warning without him even realizing it, settling back into his chair as he thought. Did he deserve that heavy-handed warning? There was nothing to warn him about. He wasn’t falling in love with his nanny. He was…
He heard Louisa’s shout of laughter in the kitchen and he found himself balancing on his chair again, craning his neck to see what she was laughing about. The flow of Spanish washed over him as she worked side by side with her mom and aunt, the three of them clearly reliving a hilarious story. Dammit, why hadn’t he paid more attention in high school Spanish class? He wanted to know what made Louisa that light and happy. He wanted to know what made her laugh like that, so he could make her laugh, too.
Make her laugh? Why would you want to make her laugh? She’s just…
She’s just…
The air was sucked from the room and black spots swirled on the edges of his vision as his brain finally grasped what his heart had known from the get-go.
You dumbass. You went and fell in love with the one woman you can’t have.
How had he done it? How had he made such a stupid mistake? Even as he berated himself, he found the air was easing back into his lungs and he was feeling a lightness, a buoyancy he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
He loved Louisa. Dear God, he loved Louisa. The strife, the confusion, the push and pull that he’d been battling with for what, weeks? Months? The very beginning? It was all gone, washed away.
He loved Louisa. Now, all he had to do was make her love him back.
Well, go throw up in the bathroom from nerves. Then get her to love him back.
Chapter 26
Louisa
“You need to flirt with your Mr. Risley,” Mom said bluntly as Louisa chopped up carrots for the vegetable tray. Her knife slipped and she only narrowly avoided slicing off her finger in the process.
“Mom!” Louisa exclaimed, horrified, and then switched over to rapid-fire Spanish. “If you’re going to say things like that to me,” she hissed, “you could at least say it in Spanish.”
“What?” her mom said innocently. “You think your Mr. Risley does not recognize his name, even in another language?” Thank God she at least said it in Spanish this time.
Louisa glared at her mother. “It would help if you would stop saying his name every other sentence,” she said dryly.
“He’s in love with you, you know,” her mom said airily, as if announcing nothing more important than a quick trip to the store. “Poor man. He’s fallen hard.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “This is why I came, you know. Carmelita is an old woman and getting older all of the time—”
“I am always going to be older and wiser than you,” Carmelita called out from across the kitchen as she slid a casserole dish into the oven.
“—but more important than a birthday is to meet my future son-in-law,” her mom continued, as if her older sister hadn’t said a thing.
“I cannot believe this is happening,” Louisa groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“That was my reaction, too,” her mom said cheerfully. “Really? My daughter and a famous country music singer?!”
“You didn’t even know who he was before this summer. Don’t pretend to be impressed by his stardom.” Louisa planted her hands on her hips and threw in a good glare for emphasis.
“No, but I do know how to operate Google,” her mom said with a smile of self-satisfaction, “and know all about him now. His former wife…” She shook her head and let out a low whistle. “She was beautiful. Her boobs were out to here,” she said, holding her hands about two feet in front of her petite frame.
“I cannot believe this is happening,” Louisa groaned again, dropping her knife this time and burying her face in her hands. Could a person die of mortification? She was surely about to find out.
“But my daughter is prettier,” her mother went on. Louisa peeked out from between her fingers, trying to gauge if her mother was being serious.
She was.
Oh, Mamá, you are so sweet. Delusional, but sweet. I’m nowhere near as beautiful as Tamara Risley had been. Tamara had the kind of flashy beauty that could stop men in their tracks. Louisa was not ugly, but she was not Tamara-Risley beautiful, either.
“Zane agrees with me, too.”
Louisa let out a squeak of horror. “Don’t tell me you asked him. Please don’t tell me you asked him.”
It was official – a body could die from mortification. The world was already fading away, the black swirling in on the sides of her vision as she tried to keep upright. This had to be the worst thing she’d ever lived through, and that included the time that her father started showing her prom date baby pictures, including the requisite naked-in-the-kitchen-sink pic.
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“No, no, I did not ask him,” her mother said, waving the suggestion away, crumbs from the bread she was cutting flying everywhere. “I did not need to ask him. I just needed to look in his eyes. He loves you. So, you should flirt with him. He needs a little encouragement, is all.”
It was one of those moments in Louisa’s life when she was overwhelmed with gratitude that she spoke a second language. If she knew that Zane could walk into the kitchen at any moment and understand what her mother was saying, she might be tempted to bind and gag her until dinner was over. As it was, she just had to keep focused on not turning fire-engine red from embarrassment.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she finally got out, picking up the knife and carrot again, trying to hold onto at least a shred of dignity. “Hold on, what is that?” Music from the living room caught her attention, and she headed into it, carrot and knife still in hand, as she tried to find the source of the sound.
It was Zane. From somewhere, he’d pulled out a guitar – has there been a guitar in the Audi all of this time? How did I miss that? – and had begun singing a soulful country song. She’d never heard it before, but it was about love and loss and a lifetime of knowing someone and as he sang, he looked straight into her eyes. He was singing this song to her. She felt herself sagging against the wide doorway leading into the kitchen, using the pillar to keep herself upright. Zane was singing a love song. To her.
The sound faded away, the last strum of the guitar blending into silence, and then the room erupted into applause and cheers. “Again, again!” Flint demanded, waving his chubby fist in the air, and everyone laughed. The corners of Zane’s mouth curled into a smile at the toddler’s antics, but still, he didn’t look away. Didn’t break their gaze.
“I want to hear A Honky Tonk Life,” Abby said. “Oh my God, no one at the jail is gonna believe that I got an in-person concert like this in Stetson’s living room.”