by Rimmy London
I tried not to glare, but I was sure my eyes had twitched. He laughed, but I cut in before he could continue. “Why? Why do you trust him?” I ranted. “He practically blackmailed your company and almost got you and a dozen other men killed.”
Givanni sighed, turning toward me and closing his hands around mine. Immediately I wished I could curl into his arms. “When my parents died,” he began.
I froze—he’d never spoken about his parents to me before.
“I was there. My father didn’t have much time left. He knew the truth, of course. He knew how tangled I would become with the mafia in Italy and what they were making me into. But instead of telling me what I was so oblivious to, or any other advice, he told me to trust Uncle Marco. In almost his last breath he pleaded with me.”
My eyebrows pulled together as I took this in, trying to agree at least a little.
“There was more to it than just a family connection. Marco will help me. That was what he needed me to know before he died, and I have to trust in that.” A smile pulled at his lips but he was otherwise still, looking back at me and waiting.
“Okay,” I sighed, defeated. “Then I will try and trust him too.” My voice came as little more than a whisper as I studied his face. “How did your parents die?” I meant to phrase it better—to find some gracious way of bringing it up, but my thoughts had bluntly escaped.
He sat back, and his hand rubbed across mine a little too quickly to be reassuring. As his eyes trailed the room around us I could feel a distance forming.
I backtracked as quickly as I could. “I’m sorry Givanni, that was rude of me. You don’t have to answer—like, ever, if you don’t want to.”
He shook his head and let out a quiet gust of laughter that didn’t touch his features. “No, Loriel, it’s okay. It was a car accident.” His eyes narrowed, the stress of years showing in his forehead.
My hand tightened around his. “How old were you?” I asked. The tension faded as he looked back at me, the pain of past memories keeping his smile hidden.
“I was nine,” he answered.
My stomach cramped at the thought of Givanni at nine years old watching his parents die. I was sure my face had flushed.
“Nine years old and my future was already in the making. Nine years old and everything that could have swayed those decisions was taken from me,” he said.
My eyebrows pressed together. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.
He brushed my hair aside, and color returned to his features. “My life has been so different. Things don’t just happen. There’s always a cause. A deliberate reason why they happen.” With that, he abandoned the conversation and wrapped his arms around me.
I tangled mine around him quickly. “I’m sorry, Givanni,” I mumbled into his shirt. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was hard,” he whispered. “But it made me who I am.” He Turned his attention back to the magazine. But there was a difference in his manner—his eyes weren't moving across the page like before. He was frozen, staring at an article I was sure he didn’t even see.
I wondered suddenly if he’d ever spoken about it before. The conversation had seemed more difficult than it should have been after so many years—like he’d been a child all over again. Part of me wanted to hold onto him until the pain was gone, but instead I settled with laying my hand on his arm. He glanced up and I only looked back, searching his eyes for clues. But the only thing I saw, deep within, was a shadow of fear.
Chapter 3
I stepped into the salty breeze and looked back to see Givanni with his face to the wind. He had one hand resting on the cab’s door. How could he ever be painted as a murderer? I waited for his head to turn, but it never did. Following his gaze, I took in Givanni’s grand stone house with its slender palms and short ferns crowding the exterior—and a shocking sight on the front steps.
“Dad?” I gawked, hardly believing he was in front of me. His old leather hat was held in one hand, but it didn’t seem to be out of politeness. Twisting the brim agitatedly, he was using it to calm himself. A tint of redness swelled in his features as he stepped forward, preparing to speak. “Wait,” I jumped, knowing everything he was about to say and sure I didn’t want to hear it. Or more accurately I didn’t want Givanni to hear it. “Dad, I know you’re upset. I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you, it’s just that things have been—”
I stopped, knowing I sounded like a broken record. How many times had I told him my life was crazy? It was starting to sound like an empty excuse.
But he didn’t seem to need the rest of my explanation, shaking his head and clearing the distance between us. “Ella girl, I understand that things have been busy for you and that you’ve been pushed into some bad circumstances.” He stopped long enough to glare at the man beside me.
I glanced up at Givanni, my gaze lingering as I saw how much this affected him. His eyes were apologetic, the set in his jaw loose. He looked… guilty. My heart cramped painfully.
“And I know it’s not yer fault,” my dad continued, his boots crunching in the sandy gravel. “But I also don’t want to see you dragged down with it all.”
“Dad, you don’t even know the circumstances.” I stepped around Givanni so that I was between them. But when I tangled my hand with his, my father cut in.
“Now look Ella, I know you’re an adult, but I want you to come home with me. I know enough—I know that this man is into a mess, and I’m sure if he cares about you like he claims that he wouldn’t want you wrapped up in it either.” I glanced at Givanni again, waiting for him to defend himself. But when he lifted his eyes, I knew he wouldn’t.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Lane,” he said soothingly. “I’m sorry I haven’t protected her from this like I should have.” My dad looked taken aback as his hat dropped slightly. Clearly, he expected more of a fight. “Thing are going to be… well, miserable for a while. I think it would be best if Loriel went with you also.”
Surprised, my hand dropped from his. He turned to me in one movement, holding my arms with the line of his mouth twisted. His expression was hard to resist. “But I’m not going to speak for her,” he continued, keeping his focus on me.
Staring back, I tried not to see the truth in his words—tried to get myself to disagree. But as his hand smoothed along my arms to rest at my shoulders I knew he was right.
Seeing the decision clearly on my face, he pulled me to him and held his arms around me like we were alone. My dad’s boots ground in the sand, but Givanni curved in closer, bringing his mouth to my ear. “It’s selfish to keep you with me, Loriel. Please know how hard this is,” he breathed. “I love you.” His lips pressed my ear, and it felt like he was saying goodbye forever.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, emotion making my voice feel raspy and sore. Who knew if he would even be a free man the next time I saw him? A tear escaped as I stood on my toes. “I loved you the second we met.” His breath gusted with mine as we laughed. “The way you were honest and distracted and—”
“And completely crazy,” he finished.
“And a little crazy,” I countered, finally stepping back. His hand came to my face, wiping away the moisture before kissing me tenderly. The aching in my chest continued, but a smile stretched my lips as I tried to take in as much of his face as I could.
“Two weeks and this should all be behind us,” he said reassuringly, a hint of concealed emotions on his features. “Just don’t worry about it, go spend some time at home with your dad—we’ll get it worked out.”
I agreed reluctantly, wishing I could think of some brilliant reason why separating was a bad idea. But as much as I hated driving away, part of me felt relief. Relief that I was no longer plunged into the middle of it all—that I could finally trade my heels for worn leather boots and maybe take a break from the world.
It was an encouraging thought, but I could feel it fading more quickly than it came. How could I take a break when Givanni was facing a jury i
n two weeks?
…that was not enough time.
* * *
When we reached the old ranch house, my dad set my luggage on the table with a clunk. I watched his eyes flicker to the clock a second time, and following his movement I checked the time—5 o’clock. It wasn’t like my dad to act… nervous. I kicked my grey heels off and turned to the tweed couch. Curling up against my favorite pillow I continued to study his strange behavior, though he hardly noticed.
He took out two mugs, replaced them, and decided on tall glasses. But instead of filling them he just stood looking out across the room.
Finally, I cleared my throat and he got to work pouring lemonade. “So dad…” I started, confused at his ‘hand in the cookie jar’ look. “How have you been?” With a glass in each hand, he rubbed one wrist across his forehead, settling on the couch next to me and handing me my glass. “Thank you,” I mumbled, watching him drain his cup.
“Well Ella,” he huffed, a little out of breath. “I need to be straight with you.” I nodded, waiting… and waiting. “There’s a guy here—on the ranch. He works for a few of the ranches around, real good one. Hard worker. And when I’d decided to invite you home, I wanted you to meet him—he’s in town for a couple more weeks an—” I sat up rigidly. “Hold on there, hold on. I did arrange for him to meet you tonight, but that was before I saw you and Givanni and…” He stopped, looking a little uncomfortable about Givanni and me and our suddenly solid relationship.
“Dad!” I croaked, feeling strangled. “I’m not really in the mood for a date, and besides—don’t know if you noticed, but I’m taken.”
He shifted, shaking his head. “No, not a date. It’s just a casual sort of thing. There’s a rodeo tonight and he’s in charge of a ‘people’s choice’ award.”
I slumped back into the couch, suddenly exhausted, before catching his glance at the clock. “When will he be here?” I groaned, hoping there was time for a nap, and dinner, and maybe a shower.
The sound of boots across the solid wood deck outside had my eyes flying open. It was all in my dad’s eyes, and I jumped up from the couch, snatching my carry-on bag and hauling it up the stairs before he was even on his feet.
With my bedroom door open I listened to their conversation. My dad sounded appropriately lazy. “Well, no, she’s here… just up gettin’ ready.”
I rolled my eyes and unzipped my bag, hoping I had something rodeo appropriate.
“S’nice night,” the man said, his voice sounding country and strong. I shook out my jeans. “Rodeo’ll have a good crowd on a night like this.” Opening the closet door I searched through the hangers, selecting a sheer button up shirt and a bright flowered tank top. Pulling on bobby pins I let my hair fall, the thick wavy strands matching well enough. Grumbling as I pulled my boots on I took a deep breath, determined to not let this bother me. I liked rodeos after all, and hadn’t been to one in years—it wasn’t a date.
They stood as I came down the stairs, the man’s eyes complimenting me as I walked—perhaps complimenting me too much as his gaze lingered in all the wrong places.
Ignoring it I extended my hand. “Loriel,” I said frankly, avoiding my dad’s eyes. He squeezed my hand.
“You look incredible Loriel,” he said. “I’m Cal.” I smiled, nodding at my dad and heading to the door, impatient to get the evening over with.
* * *
The drive was quick, and I didn’t encourage conversation. Instead, I sent out a dozen texts to myself, trying to appear busy.
Only a few miles down the road, we pulled into a dirt lot. Cal took the keys from the ignition and turned to me, but I was already halfway out the door. Being locked in a truck with him was the last thing I wanted.
He caught up quickly, skipping to my side. “Dang girl, slow down,” he laughed.
For once I looked into his eyes. His light features and sharp cut nose were mixed with confusion. “I’m sorry,” I sighed, my feet finally slowing. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
He dipped his hat. “Well, now you’re at a rodeo—life is good again.” His grin was authentically cowboy and I found myself smiling with him. At least until a few girls in bright colored tops pranced by next to us, sending his eyes spiraling out of control.
“Yeah,” I droned. “Let’s go.”
As I shuffled my way into the stands Cal took my hand. “Wait, we sit with the judges,” he said. “This way.”
I followed, waiting for him to release my hand, but his rough palm clasped mine firmly. Irritated, I glanced across the surrounding faces, hoping not to see anyone familiar. News like this would travel fast. We settled in our seats and I tried pulling away, but he held tight, kissing the top of my hand before releasing it. Surprised, I decided he had the wrong impression.
“Look, Cal, this isn’t a date—I’m actually with someone—”
“Jess!” he hollered, jumping from his seat. “Jessica!” A girl with poofy hair held down by a glittering hat rode across the dusty corral, turning with an expression that showed she already knew his voice. Rolling her shoulders back she sat up a little taller, generous curves complimented her enviously. Cal shoved one hand in his mouth, whistling loudly before taking his seat again.
I could hardly wipe the incredulous look off my face. What exactly was going on in his head?
“I’m sorry Lori—what were you saying?”
“It’s Loriel,” I corrected, disgusted at the way he winked back at me. Turning in my seat I figured he would kiss any girl who got close enough. It wouldn’t matter what I told him.
The first hour passed slowly, with our spot being irritatingly centered to the flow of dust. Wishing I had grabbed a hat, I could have at least tipped it down in front for a shield. Luckily Cal was completely absorbed, as the girls' events were first. I glanced to my side, wondering how old he was. My first thought had been early 20’s, but as the night wore on I was thinking he had to be closer to 15.
I laughed suddenly and his arm came around my shoulders, with his eyes still ogling each rider that passed. Annoyed, I leaned forward and propped my arms on my knees. But my hint was overlooked, and his hand slid down my back to rest on my jeans, his thumb hooking through the back pocket.
“Hey!” I brought my elbow up and knocked his arm away, maybe using too much force as he looked like he was ready for a fight. But his face calmed quickly.
“Sorry,” he spouted sarcastically. “I thought we were gonna have a good time tonight—didn’t know you were so stiff.”
“I’m not stiff, I just happen to have a little self-respect. And I don’t know what you were expecting tonight but I’m here to judge riders—that’s it.”
With a jerk of his head, he kicked back in his seat, ending that or any further conversation. I rolled my eyes. At least my dad was at home, or Cal would be shot and buried by now. As the male riders filed in the arena Cal seemed to regret the silence now that there was nothing to hold his attention. He glanced over every few seconds, his expression more gentle than I had seen.
I didn’t care—he could apologize all night. I’d witnessed his character clear enough. The first wild horse for the men was a challenge, as rider after rider hardly lasted more than a second. Recognizing the next man up I studied his sleek black hat and dark shirt, remembering the friend I had known years ago—Luke. He glanced in my direction and looked away, and I doubted he had recognized me. It had been six years at least, and we had never been more than friends.
A tall dark girl passed in front of us, blocking the view for a moment, and Cal jumped to life. “Hi!” he bellowed, so loudly that the group next to us turned curiously. The girl stopped, looking pleased to have an admirer. “This seat’s empty,” He gestured next to him, studying the girls every outline as she considered.
But after a moment she shook her head. “My friends are waitin’ for me,” she answered. “Sorry.”
“Aw girl, don’t hurt me like that,” Cal pursued, making me feel a little sick. But she seemed to
catch on to his intentions quickly enough and left without another word. I rolled my eyes, wondering when he would learn a few crucial points. “Could’ve spent some time with that one,” he grumbled, turning to me. “C’mon Loriel, sure you don’t want to lose a few hours of sleep tonight?”
My head swung around and he leaned closer, his arm coming around me again. I’d seen enough. Jumping from my seat I stepped back, finally feeling like there was enough space between us. “Goodnight Cal.” I shot, turning on my heels.
“Wait!” he called. “I’m your ride home.”
“I know the way,” I yelled, not really caring if he heard me or not. There weren’t enough bucking horses on the planet to keep me in that seat a minute longer.
* * *
Walking home I kicked at the dusty road, knowing it wasn’t really my dad’s fault. The last time he’d seen Givanni and I together we were hardly speaking to each other. And Cal seemed pretty good at putting on the responsible, good boy show. Funny how quickly it crumbled. Hearing a grinding in the distance I hoped it wasn’t Cal, but the sound took on a drumbeat and I turned to watch a rider approach. Even though the sun had sunk halfway behind the horizon I could make out his face and smiled as his horse bounced to a stop. “Hi, Luke,“ I called, “thought you didn’t recognize me.” He slid off his horse, looping the reins in his hand.
“Course I recognized you, Ella, just didn’t want it to ruin my ride. Can’t be hard and cowboy when I’m practically giddy to see an old friend.”
I laughed, stepping into his quick hug and feeling completely comfortable. Such a difference from the man I had spent the first half of my night with. “So I never saw. How’d it go?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Lasted longer than the other guys by a few seconds, but still threw me off.”