A shade crossed over his face and she felt him slipping away from her. As if he was pretending.
She recalled that morning, when Chance’s name had sparked some recognition in Alejandro’s eyes. She’d thought he didn’t trust her with whatever the truth was—but now?
What if it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but that he didn’t trust Chance? Was Alejandro still afraid of his former friend?
But then he said, “Did you go for a ride?”
“Yes.” The wash of confusion she felt right now did nothing to help her nerves. She disentangled herself from him and took a seat across the table.
“Oh, did you ride with Chance? He leads trail ride groups all the time,” Maria said as she set a cup of strong coffee down in front of Gabriella.
“Thank you so much,” Gabriella replied. Up until now, Maria had practically been her best friend here in Texas, the one woman she could talk to.
But right now, she had a great deal to discuss with her brother and she’d like that conversation to be as far from prying ears as possible.
“I was filling Alex in on some stuff,” Maria went on, wiping down the countertop as she spoke. Then, in the distance, the dryer buzzed. “Laundry!”
And they were alone. Well, Joaquin was still there, but it was essentially the same thing. Gabriella had so many things she wanted to ask Alejandro, but she didn’t want to overload him and she also didn’t want him to shut down on her again. So she sipped her coffee before asking, “Have you talked to Papa yet?”
“No,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “He is in a meeting, I think.”
She heard the disappointment in his voice. He’d finally decided to come down—and no matter what he said, she believed it was a conscious decision—and Papa hadn’t taken the time to greet him.
“He has been very worried about you,” she explained. It felt hollow. “We all have.”
“I...didn’t want you to worry.” Again, he sounded as though he was measuring his words, testing the waters on how much information he could reveal. “I’m glad you are here.”
Perhaps he was not comfortable with Joaquin? Of course Alejandro knew Joaquin was a trusted part of the security detail, but then, it had been years since the two men had spent a great deal of time in each other’s company. Joaquin had become her guard when Alejandro was preparing to go to university.
“Joaquin, please tell Papa that Alejandro is feeling better.”
No one moved for what felt like a very long time. If anything, Alejandro looked pleased with her directive, but he was careful not to actually smile. For his part, Joaquin seemed torn on what he should actually do. He was her guard, but his first duty had always been to Rodrigo del Toro. No doubt he was weighing fetching his boss versus listening to Gabriella and Alejandro’s conversation.
“Please,” Gabriella said with more insistence. “Papa will want to know that Alejandro is up.”
Finally, Joaquin acknowledged her with a nod of his head and left the room. Gabriella and Alejandro sat for a moment longer, but she wasn’t about to waste this precious time with him. “Tell me what you remember.”
“Not much,” he admitted, scrubbing a hand over his chin again.
“You know who I am?”
“My sister. Gabriella.”
“Do you know who Joaquin is? Do you remember Papa?”
“Yes.” He answered without hesitation, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Do you know our business?”
“Del Toro Energy.”
He had to have been faking it this morning. Heavens, he had to have been faking it for some time. But how long? Had he had his memory back the whole time?
“Do you remember Chance McDaniel?”
At this, Alejandro blinked. He clasped his hands in front of him and stared at his thumbs. “Not really,” he mumbled. But she could hear the untruth in his voice.
“What about Cara Windsor? Of Windsor Energy?”
Everything about him froze, answering the question in a way that words never could.
“Because I have heard rumors,” Gabriella went on, pressing her advantage, “that you stole this Cara Windsor from Chance and that is why he took you and dumped you back in Mexico—it was revenge. Is that what happened?”
But before he could answer, Papa burst into the kitchen, followed closely by Joaquin. “Alejandro!” Papa bellowed.
Then he swept his son into his arms and patted him on the back with such force that Alejandro turned red in the face. “We must call the doctors and the police,” Papa said. “We will find the people who did this to you and I will make them pay.”
Alejandro shot a worried look at Gabriella. Yes, he had answered her questions. But he clearly did not want to answer more questions—questions with a bigger audience.
“Papa,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “Alejandro has just started to feel like himself. Perhaps it would be best to let him rest up for a few more days before we allow the authorities to question him. We do not want to risk making things worse.”
Alejandro shot her a grateful look as Papa restrained himself. “Yes, yes, of course. Come, son, sit down. Have some coffee.”
Then Maria bustled back in and the kitchen was filled with the sounds of talking and cooking as Papa and Maria both tried to encourage Alejandro to share more of what he remembered. But, for the most part, he said little more than “No, not really” or “I’m not sure” while he stared at his hands.
It was only after Maria had left—with enough dinners in the refrigerator so that Gabriella would not have to attempt cooking for another week—and Papa had taken another call from his office that she had the chance to ask the question that had burned in her mind the entire afternoon.
“Alejandro,” she said, careful to keep her voice light. Joaquin was still in the room, after all. True, he was scrolling on his tablet, but they both knew he was listening. “I know you do not recall very much, but I had a nice ride today with Chance McDaniel. He showed me a place where you would picnic.”
He made a face that reminded her of the one time Alejandro had caught her kissing one of the grooms. She had been fourteen.
Was that what this was now? Obviously, Alejandro had his secrets and would go so far to protect them as to lock himself in his room for weeks on end. As of yet, she did not have any secrets to speak of—except for the fact that she was sure her trip to McDaniel Acres had been less about proving Chance’s guilt and more about Chance.
Yes, it was quite clear that Alejandro remembered the picnic spot—and did not necessarily approve of Chance taking her there. Just as he had not approved of her lowering herself to the level of kissing the hired help. “Chance has asked to escort me on other rides and to dinner. With Joaquin accompanying us, of course.”
“Is that so,” he said in that thoughtful voice, the one he’d used that morning. At least this time he hadn’t said, “Who?”
He hadn’t forbidden her to do those things—not a hint of worry at her being in the company of Chance McDaniel. Just...thoughtfulness. “Yes. So until you can remember anything about Chance McDaniel in connection with your abduction, I shall continue to do so. This is a good opportunity to investigate if he had any true motivations for wanting to harm you, after all.”
Alejandro was shaking his head again—a small gesture, but one that made it clear that he didn’t agree with this particular part of the plan.
She could hear Papa shouting in the distance. It sounded as if his business call had not gone according to plan and Gabriella doubted if she would get another quiet moment to speak with her brother for the rest of the day.
She stood and, under the pretense of gathering up Alejandro’s cup to refill it, whispered, “Your secrets are safe with me.”
He gave a curt nod with his head and then Papa was back
in the room, shouting about a deal that was on the verge of collapse.
Gabriella would keep her promise. If she kept the secret that Alejandro had been feeling better for some time... Well, then he would be in her debt. And that was not a bad place to have one’s older brother.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find out a little bit more.
Including whether or not Chance McDaniel would resort to violence to win Cara Windsor back.
Eight
Chance watched as the big black SUV pulled up along the paddock. The wedding was over and, being a Monday afternoon, his hotel was remarkably empty. This was as close to free time as he got.
And he was spending it with Gabriella del Toro.
He was not excited about her coming back out to the ranch. As far as he knew, she was being sent out here by that overbearing father of hers to look for “evidence” of his guilt or something ridiculous.
That didn’t explain why he was looking forward to another ride. Maybe today, they’d get to race a little. Then they’d have dinner. He hadn’t wanted to push his luck, so they’d still be eating Franny’s home cooking. She’d saved him a couple of nice steaks with nothing more than, “Sure seems like a sweetheart,” as an editorial comment.
Then Joaquin opened the back door and Gabriella’s long legs slid out of the car. He saw today that instead of her riding jodhpurs and British-style boots, she had on a pair of sleek gray cowboy boots, a pair of dark jeans that fit her better than any pair of gloves ever could with a black belt at the waist and a light-colored denim shirt. God help him, she pulled a straw hat out of the backseat and settled it onto her black hair, once again pulled into a low braid. She was wearing her three crosses again, but that was it.
She’d been more of a princess the last time he’d seen her—both times, actually. But today? She was a cowgirl. She stepped around her guard and spotted him inside the barn door. Even at fifty feet, give or take, the sunlight shone off of her wide smile.
Oh, man—he was in trouble. What had been beautiful and refined before was now a little rougher looking, a little more ready to race.
A lot more ready to ride.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” He couldn’t help himself.
“I know Gale missed me—and my carrots,” she replied as she headed toward him, her long legs closing the distance between them faster than he would have liked. The woman moved with a grace that he wanted to be sure to appreciate properly and he figured he was less likely to get blindsided by Joaquin if he was staring from a safe distance.
“I don’t have her saddled yet.” This had been on purpose. Part of her story hinged on being this great horsewoman. He wanted to see exactly how well she did with old Gale. “Beast is ready to go,” he added to Joaquin. No need to push his luck with the big man.
She arched a manicured eyebrow at him, accepting his challenge. “Come on,” he said, nodding his head in Gale’s direction.
Gabriella walked beside him, her hand close enough to touch. Maybe he was imagining things, but he swore he could feel the warmth of her fingers as they swung past his hand. But Joaquin was about five feet behind them, so Chance kept his hands to himself.
He led her into the barn to where Gale was tethered in the middle of the aisle, her saddle waiting on the stall door. A bucket with a curry comb inside it was on the floor.
Maybe this wasn’t a fair test—maybe she only rode in English saddles back home. But before he could tell her he’d do it, she had the comb in hand and was brushing down Gale’s back, murmuring in Spanish the whole time.
Her English accent may be British, but damned if her Spanish wasn’t pure poetry. Grooming a horse had never sounded so...sultry.
She settled the saddle blanket onto Gale’s back. Then, exactly like a woman who knew what she was doing, she looped the stirrup over the horn of the saddle and set—not plopped—the saddle onto Gale’s back.
A novice would have thrown the saddle up there, which made even the mellowest animal skitter around. But Gabriella had done everything perfectly.
As he watched, her fingers nimbly tightened the cinch strap and then she unhooked Gale from the tethers. When she turned to face Chance, the smile on her face was nothing short of victorious. She’d known exactly what he was about and more than exceeded his expectations.
What could he expect from her in bed? Her fingers moving with ease over his skin, her body responding to his every challenge?
Behind him, Joaquin cleared his throat.
Man, this was getting to be a problem.
Gabriella didn’t seem concerned by the big man with the gun. Instead she only had eyes for him. “What would you like to show me today, Chance?”
Yes! a primitive part of his brain crowed in victory. His name on her lips had an immediate—and slightly awkward—effect on him. He went hard. Fast.
Luckily, between the jeans, the chaps and his buckle, there was little chance that anyone would notice his discomfort. Because that’s what it was about to be, as she led Gale past him and he followed, eyeing his horse. Discomfort was mounting up with an erection. It bordered on hazardous to his health.
“I have a surprise for you,” he replied, watching her hips sway as she walked out into the sunshine.
She paused and he felt Joaquin bristle. Oh, hell. Yeah, she probably didn’t consider surprises a good thing. So he added, “A different part of the ranch—the part that tourists don’t see. I want you to meet Slim.”
Her cautious smile came back. “Slim? Is that a man or an animal?”
“He’s a man,” Chance replied, taking hold of her reins so she could mount up. “He’s what we here in Texas call ‘a crusty ol’ fart.’”
She swung up into the saddle without a problem and he was forced to watch her bottom—full and round and barely contained by the jeans she wore—settle into the saddle. All he wanted to do was to run his fingers over that bottom and feel the fullness fill his hands.
This line of thinking did nothing to relieve his current condition.
Gabriella laughed again, her soft voice filling his ears. Man, he was in so much trouble. “I’m not entirely sure I understood that. Perhaps you should show me?”
Oh, he had things he wanted to show her, all right. But there were a few problems with that—problems that were bigger than Joaquin, who’d managed to heave his mass up onto Beast.
Problems such as Alex’s missing memory. And half the town still thinking Chance had tried to do Alex in over a woman. And their father hating his ever-loving guts.
Beyond that, he had bigger problems. Maybe Alex would miraculously recover and Chance’s name would be cleared and he could go back to being Chance McDaniel instead of the fictional character that looked just like him.
He had a terrible feeling that Alex might not be too thrilled to know that Chance was having less-than-pure thoughts about his little sister.
Gabriella spun Gale in a neat circle so that she could look at him. Her eyes glowed with a warmth he hadn’t seen in a woman’s gaze in a long time. “Shall we?”
Was there any way to win here?
Nope.
“By all means, we shall.”
He knew one thing. This whole mess might blow up in his face at any second.
But he wasn’t going to quit trying.
* * *
Gabriella rode next to Chance. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, and she knew it. The breeze today held a hint of spring that made everything look greener.
Including his eyes. She couldn’t help but meet Chance’s gaze as he pointed things out. They took a different path this time, one that lead far away from the well-worn trail they’d taken to the picnic spot last time. But instead of growing more narrow or showing other signs of disuse, the path widened, tire treads clearly visible in the hardened d
irt.
So wherever he was taking her wasn’t some secret hidden away from the rest of the world. That was good.
Because when he’d said their destination was a surprise today, she’d been more than a little shocked that Joaquin hadn’t hustled her back into the car at once. Taking her someplace where no one would think to look for them—or hear a struggle, much less gunshots—would be unacceptable.
But unless they changed course soon, it was clear that they were going someplace that was easily accessible and widely traveled.
“How is Alex today?”
The question seemed innocent—and sincere—but Gabriella hesitated. Papa had insisted that no one outside of the family know about Alejandro’s recovery. He was afraid that if people knew Alejandro was starting to remember, his attackers would make another attempt. “Not much has changed,” she lied, feeling horrid about doing so.
Chance seemed to take her at her word. Instead of pressing her further, he continued to point out features of his ranch.
“And over there,” he said, pointing at a neat two-story house with a wide porch, “is my place.”
“Lovely,” she said. It was a bright yellow with green shutters. Empty flower planters hung under the windows. What did it look like on the inside? Back at Las Cruces, they had public rooms in the front where Papa took visitors. Those parlors were kept in a state of high shine in anticipation of impressing visitors.
But the rest of the house was far more comfortable. These had been the rooms that Gabriella had grown up in—the kitchen where she’d eaten her meals, the library where she’d taken her lessons with the other children on the estate—and her room. Those were the rooms she missed now.
Was Chance the same? Was the bunkhouse, as he called his motel, his public parlor? What did his private rooms look like? “Do I get a tour?”
Chance shot her a look she couldn’t quite read. Was he pleased she’d showed an interest? Or was there something more to it? “Not today. I usually have one of the hotel maids come down every other week. It’s kind of a mess right now.” Then he leaned toward her. “Besides, not sure your man there would think that was a good idea.”
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