Like he’d chosen her out of all the women in the world to be with.
Like she was special.
That was why this didn’t make sense. Rome hadn’t told her that he loved her, but it was in every touch, every gesture, every caress. The way he’d tenderly touched her scars when she felt self-conscious about them. The way he held her tight while they lay in bed in talked. The way he was so protective of her.
There had been real emotion there, she decided. She was naive in a lot of things, but she knew love when she saw it. It was in how Brenna did small things to irritate her brother out of constant, obsessive work mode. It was in how Grant picked up after Brenna’s mess with an exasperated but loving smile on his face. How he touched her when he thought no one was looking. The way her parents shared a glance from time to time, each letting the other know just what they were thinking.
That was love. Even though she hadn’t experienced it, she knew what it looked like.
And that was why Rome had never needed to say it to her.
She studied the text again. I can’t stay in Bluebonnet. Not I won’t but I can’t.
Something was wrong here, and she was going to fix it, damn it. She was not about to let Rome give up on everything now that she’d finally found him.
Dashing the tears of self-pity out of her eyes, Elise got up from bed.
She was going to get to the bottom of this, and then she was going to get her man back.
FIFTEEN
Elise drove over to the Daughtry Ranch first thing. Screw burgers—she wanted answers. To her surprise, though, the parking lot was crammed full of cars and she’d had to circle twice before backing out and parking on the side of the service road that led to the ranch. If she got a ticket, damn it, she’d just deal with it.
Marching up to the main ranch, she passed Pop, the elderly handyman who did work at the ranch. He was rushing out the front door with a paintball jumper on, his chest splattered with yellow, and he held a paintball gun in his hands. He looked rather frazzled, too.
Normally, she would have just smiled in greeting as she passed by, too shy to start a conversation. But forget that. Today, she was getting answers from everyone, come hell or high water. “What’s going on, Pop?”
He rubbed his sweating forehead and adjusted his trucker cap on his brow. “First day of the paintball course, Miss Elise. Your brother’s running around like a chicken with his fool head cut off.”
She forced a smile to her face at the thought, since he was smiling at her and it’d be expected. “Where’s Rome?”
“Well, now,” Pop said, adjusting his cap again. “I don’t know. He didn’t show up today.”
She nodded, swallowing the ache in her throat. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
He turned and dashed up one of the paths to the woods, making a beeline for the course.
She turned and considered the lodge for a moment. Instead of heading in to confront her brother, though, she went around one of the side paths and up the hill to where the row of cabins was nestled nearby. She headed to Rome’s first. His bike wasn’t parked on the side of his cabin. She was expecting that, she supposed, given her cryptic message.
But she knocked at his door anyhow, and when he didn’t answer, she opened it and went inside.
The tiny cabin had been cleaned out. The sheets and blankets were neatly folded on the bed, but all personal traces of Rome were gone. She looked at the empty coat hooks by the door, ran her hand over his pillow, and then peeked into his bathroom and even the mini fridge.
Nothing at all. It was like the place had never been inhabited.
Her heart felt heavy.
Sometime between when she’d seen him last night and this morning, her Rome had packed up and left. Not because he wanted to, but because he felt he had to. What was going on?
With determination in her step, she headed toward the main lodge of the Daughtry Ranch.
Inside it was chaos. Paintball guns and ammo were littered on every flat surface, and folding chairs were scattered throughout the lodge, along with a tray of sandwich remnants and a picked-over selection of drinks on a folding table. It looked as if she’d missed a party. In one corner of the room, at his desk, her brother was typing away, looking frazzled. Across from him, Brenna’s desk was empty but strewn with stacks of messy paper.
Grant looked up as she entered. “Hey. Did you get my message? We have to cancel the shoot this week. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his forehead and then ran a hand through his messy hair again. “The whole launch of this paintball course has been more of a mess than I hoped it would be.”
She sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, keeping her face calm. She didn’t care about his problems, not really. Not right now. “Grant, I need to talk to you about something.”
He gave a hard, unamused chuckle. “Can it wait? I’m serious when I say this week’s gone to shit already and it’s only Monday.”
“Where’s Rome?”
Her brother snorted and picked up the phone, punching buttons. “Wouldn’t I like to know? He was supposed to be taking the lead on the paintball course and he’s nowhere to be found. That’s one reason why things have gone to hell.”
She shook her head. “He’s gone. His cabin is cleaned out. And this morning, he texted me and told me he couldn’t stay in Bluebonnet. I’m trying to understand why.”
Grant put down the phone and looked at her. He paused, thinking, then reached out and touched her hand. “Elise, I’m going to tell you this as your brother who is looking out for you, but maybe it’s best that Rome left. He’s not a good guy.”
She pulled her hand out from under his. “That’s where you’re wrong. I think Rome is a great guy.”
He gave her a look she’d come to realize was his “big brother” look. “No, he’s not. I’m not going to argue about this right now, but all I want to say is that you need to stay away from him.”
“Are you not listening to me? He’s gone. He’s left. He’s not coming back.”
“And like I said, maybe it’s for the best.”
Elise twitched in her chair. Normally she loved her brother, but he was being obstinate and a bit too stubborn at the moment. Her eyes narrowed at him. “You’re an employee short and you’re saying it’s for the best?”
Grant shrugged.
“What did you do?”
He blustered, shaking his head and picking up a schedule off the corner of his desk. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why do you say he’s not a good guy?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Grant, if you chased him away, I’ll . . .”
He gave her an exasperated look. “You’ll what, Elise? Be mad at me for looking out for you? For warning a guy away from my little sister?”
She stiffened in her chair. “You what?”
Sighing, Grant rubbed his forehead again. “I told him to stay away from you or he was going to find himself unemployed.”
Why on earth? She sputtered, an inkling of what had happened starting to creep through her mind. “Why would you tell Rome to stay away from me? He’s done nothing wrong!”
“Oh please, Elise. Don’t tell me you’re that naive.”
“Naive about what?” She was close to losing her temper, and she never lost her temper. But the fact that Rome had left a job and his life behind meant he knew he wasn’t welcome, and it seemed like her well-meaning brother was a big part of the problem.
“It’s clear he was just using you to get to your money.”
She sucked in a breath. Her hands locked together in her lap. Her voice was low and deadly. “Why is that clear, Grant? Because I’m ugly?”
He blanched. “No, of course not. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s just . . . Ah, hell, Elise. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Look at you like what?” Brenna came in the side door, an empty jug of paintball ammo balanced on her hip. She was splattered with pink and
yellow, her face was flushed, and a wide grin was on her face. “Grant, baby, you should have seen the look on Pop’s face when I nailed him right in the nut sack—” She broke off, giving them both puzzled looks. “Who died?”
“No one died,” Grant said tightly. “My sister was just having a conversation with me.”
“Yes,” Elise said, letting sarcasm slide into her voice. It was either that or reach across the desk and strangle her brother. She looked over at Brenna. “My brother was just telling me that he ran off Rome because it was clear he was using me to get to my money.”
“What?” Brenna gave Grant an incredulous look. “Are you the reason why he’s gone? Seriously, babe? Why?”
“Elise has a trust fund,” Grant said in a tight voice. His arms crossed over his chest and he glanced back between his fiancée and his sister. “It’s obvious that he found out about it and was seducing her to get his hands on that money.”
Brenna snorted. “Why? Because he has tattoos?”
“And because I’m so ugly?” Elise pointed out again.
“No! Jesus Christ.” Grant got to his feet, clearly agitated. “You’re ganging up on me and I can’t think.”
“You’re kind of being a dick, baby.” Brenna said, her hand on her hip. “Admit it. You never liked Rome because he’s scary-looking.”
“He’s not scary looking,” Elise protested. “He’s beautiful.”
Now both of them turned to stare at her.
“And I seduced him,” Elise pointed out. “He didn’t come after me. I approached him and asked him out. If there was any interest there, I instigated it.”
“But Elise, you’re so shy and trusting—”
“And clearly she must be stuuuuupid,” Brenna added, fluttering her eyelashes at Grant. “Clearly that’s why you’re making all the decisions for her.”
He gave Brenna a cross look. “You’re not helping.”
“I love you, honey, but I call a spade a spade, or a tool a tool. And if you ran Rome off, you’re being a tool. That man needed this job. He didn’t have two pennies to rub together and was desperate. I never saw a guy so happy to have a roof over his head.”
Elise’s stomach clenched at Brenna’s words. Rome had been so pleased with that small cabin. She’d simply assumed that it was because he liked working there, but maybe it was because it was his first place to call his own. She needed answers and they weren’t forthcoming.
Grant shook his head and pulled a piece of paper out of his desk drawer. “Look, I didn’t want to talk about this, but I had a chat with Rome. He’s a felon. Actually, he’s an ex-con.” He handed the sheet of paper to Elise. “I ran a background check on him after we hired him and pulled up a rap sheet a mile long. So if I seem a little overprotective, that’s why.”
Elise took the paper with trembling fingers. John Lozada III, the paper read.
Education—unavailable.
Criminal activity—Possession of narcotics with intent to distribute. Plea deal. Served time—Huntsville State Prison, six-year sentence, four years served. Charges of fraud—dismissed. Sealed juvenile record.
Credit—Extremely poor. This individual has outstanding bad debt in multiple states. Filed bankruptcy in 1997. Three vehicles repossessed in the last ten years.
She swallowed. On paper, it sounded horrible. She read the prison sentence over and over again. It didn’t make sense. Rome had never even so much as smoked near her. Any time she drank to excess, he made sure she was safe. He didn’t strike her as a drug dealer.
She was silent for a long moment, thinking of Rome. His ready smile and quick offers to pay for everything when he took his “girl” out. The protective way he looked after her when she was uncomfortable. The sad look he’d gotten in his eyes when they were feeding the seagulls. He’d commented that they were just hungry and trying to eat, and she’d gone on and on about how seagulls were scavengers and disgusting. And that had hurt Rome’s feelings, and she hadn’t understood why.
Oh god, she was such a privileged jerk, wasn’t she?
Looking at the sheet, she wondered about his story. When had he gone hungry? When had he done without? There was more here that she wasn’t getting.
After a moment, she handed the paper back to Grant. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand? The man’s a criminal. It’s all on paper.” He thumped it.
“Oh, come on,” Brenna butted in. “Who doesn’t have a police record in this day and age?”
Both Markhams turned and looked at her.
Brenna gave them a sunny smile. “Jaywalking. Lots and lots of jaywalking.” And she sauntered over to her desk.
Grant looked as if he wanted to go over to her and quiz her, but he forced himself to look back at Elise. “You’re asking me why I was concerned about you with that man? This is why.” He shook the paper at her. “This is why I wanted my vulnerable baby sister staying away from a guy like him.”
Elise considered the paper for a long moment, and then she looked up at Grant. “That’s not him.”
“What do you mean, that’s not him? It’s his social security number.”
She shook her head. “That’s not who he is, though. That’s not Rome.”
“You sure about that?”
“Has he ever tried to sell drugs to anyone while he was here?” Elise asked.
“No, but—”
“Borrowed money from anyone?”
“I think he borrowed five from me once,” Brenna called out, then held up a hand. “Wait, never mind. I borrowed it from him. Carry on.”
Elise turned back to her brother and arched an eyebrow. “Well?”
“He’s never done anything,” Brenna volunteered when Grant was silent. “Actually, he’s a really good employee, considering we pay him shit.”
Grant gave Brenna another warning look. “Please, love, you’re not helping.”
“She is, actually,” Elise pointed out. “She’s showing you how wrong you are.”
“Zing!” Brenna called out merrily.
“The facts don’t lie,” Grant said. He picked up the piece of paper again. “This is on his official record.”
“I know, and I’m sure there’s a story behind it,” Elise said calmly. “And I’m sure that’s not the man he is today. You keep saying he was a bad man, but he treated me like a princess.” Her voice wobbled a little as despair threatened to overcome her control. “He always said he wasn’t good enough for me.”
“He’s not—” Grant began, and grew silent at the look Elise shot him.
“I don’t care about who he was back then,” she said calmly and got to her feet. “I care about who he is now. And who he is now is good, and kind, and used to being treated like shit by people like you and me.”
Grant’s jaw set mutinously but he said nothing.
“I’m sorry he didn’t trust me enough to share this with me earlier,” Elise said, gesturing at the paper. “Maybe if he had, this would have all blown over and you wouldn’t have cared that I was in love with him.”
“He’s after your trust fund,” Grant began again.
“That’s funny,” Elise snapped. “No one’s ever mentioned the trust fund before you. Not me, not Rome, not anyone. So am I supposed to assume that you’re after it, big brother?”
His face went red.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She smoothed her pullover and tried to remain calm, when all she wanted to do was scream and fling some stuff at the wall to watch it break. “Look, Grant. I love you. You’re my brother. But I am an adult. I can make my own decisions. And if I want to date an ex-con because he treats me like I’m a goddess, then I’m going to date an ex-con, understand?”
“You fucked up, baby,” Brenna called out. “Admit it. I still love you.”
“Brenna,” Grant bit out. “Please.”
“It’s okay,” Elise said to Brenna over her shoulder as she headed to the door. “We all know he fucked up. He can figure out how to fix
it. I’m going to see how to get in touch with Rome again.”
• • •
She texted him three times and tried calling him twice while driving back into Bluebonnet. He didn’t answer, and she was starting to wonder if he was deliberately ignoring her. That hurt, but she felt like they needed to talk. If nothing else, they needed to clear the air.
She’d shown him all her scars, all her war wounds that had messed with her head and stolen her pride. Rome’s scars were on the inside, and it was clear he hadn’t trusted her enough to share them. That made her ache and question if she was so sure after all. Did he love her? Or was she just seeing it because she so desperately wanted to? Elise didn’t know, and it was driving her crazy.
Numb, she parked her car and went into the Peppermint House. Should she stay? How could she possibly leave? She wanted to be where Rome was, though, and Rome wasn’t here.
The house smelled delicious and homey, as always. Elise passed by the kitchen and saw Emily slicing a fresh-baked loaf of bread. At the sight of Elise, Emily smiled. “Hey, you’re just in time for some fresh bread if you want to eat.” Her smile faded when she saw the look on Elise’s face. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”
Elise’s first thought was to hole up in her room. To internalize her pain and frustration and deal with it alone, like she always did.
But something about Emily’s friendly demeanor and the warmth of her kitchen drew Elise toward her, and she found herself sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Emily never judged. She was sweet, friendly, supportive, and only a few years older than Elise. She was also divorced and lonely, which meant that she’d understand some of what Elise was going through more than Brenna, who was madly in love with Elise’s brother . . . and, okay, also a little mad.
Emily put a cup of coffee in front of Elise and buttered a slice of warm bread, then put it on a plate and slid it toward Elise. “You need to talk?”
“Rome’s gone,” Elise said woodenly. “He just . . . left.”
Emily frowned, pulling up a stool and sitting next to Elise. “But didn’t you just spend the weekend together? Did something come up?”
The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving Page 22