“I don’t get why my father would feel like this ranch belongs to him. I mean, I know my grandfather bought it, but it sounds to me like it was for his life with Poppy. Maybe he just resents his father living a separate life.”
“How do you feel about it?” Collin places the empty containers back into the bag.
“Right now I just feel numb. I can’t say I knew my grandfather so well. I was away at school from a young age. But it’s strange to think he’d compartmentalize his life the way he did, love one woman but call another his wife. Ironically, my father seems to have loved a lot of women who weren’t my mother.” Flor lets out a nervous laugh, recognizing the irony of it all.
Collin’s face clouds over. “Then there’s me and you.” He weaves his fingers through her hair and grasps the back of her neck.
“You’re married.” Flor completes the sentence. “History seems to enjoy repeating itself.”
“We’re changing that,” Collin replies. “My divorce will go quickly. I wish I had done it sooner. I don’t want to be with anyone else, Flor. Living honestly takes courage, and I want to do it with you.”
Flor’s heart jumps into her throat. The idea of being with Collin excites her. The future holds so much uncertainty that she doesn’t want to consider the implications. She has two weeks left at Belo Horizonte. The present will have to do.
Realizing how serious the conversation is quickly becoming, Collin steps out of Flor’s legs. “If I hadn’t come by tonight, what would you be doing right now?” He asks.
Flor leans back on her hands. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I want to know you.”
“I think you know the important parts.”
Collin chuckles. “Naturally. You know your way around a stable, you’re a decent rider . . . .”
Flor slaps his chest playfully. “Please be serious.”
“Then answer my question. I want to know. At night, when I’d go to sleep, sometimes I’d wonder what you were doing all alone in this house. Show me.”
Flor slides off the countertop and takes Collin by the hand. “This way.”
Chapter 56
“I love that this house doesn’t have a TV,” Flor says as they walk along the long corridor. “I just want to bathe in its silence all the time.”
“This is my favorite place to be.” Flor motions toward the library. Collin is instantly transported back to the night he was here with her. The memory makes him angry at himself. It’s difficult to call it a mistake since it was the tipping point that forced him to confront his past with Suzann. He hates that it hurt Flor, but at least she’s understanding enough to forgive him. Now, standing in this very room, he has an opportunity to create new memories with her.
Collin stands behind Flor and folds his arms around her torso. He leans down and nuzzles her neck. “Then let’s stay here tonight,” he murmurs.
Flor walks over to the shelves and searches for something specific. She pulls a book down and hands it to Collin. “Read this to me.”
Collin turns it over and smiles to himself. Gabriel García Márquez. How’d she know? He wonders to himself.
Flor crosses the room and opens the doors to the terrace. A thin sliver of moon slices through the night sky that’s littered with stars. Her skin warms in the balmy air. Collin joins her outside and sits down on a bench where she lies with her head in his lap.
“Why did you choose this one?” Collin asks.
“Because he has a poet’s soul like you, and all lover’s of love find meaning in it.” Flor looks up into his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the library. She knows she would never tire of those dark brown eyes and beautiful full lips. They contain a promise to her that’s true and profound.
He clears his throat. “It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love.”
Flor’s mind drifts to the melodic sound of Collin’s voice. She considers the possibilities of their own relationship and the patterns that seemed to govern her father’s and grandfather’s relationships. She’s not so naïve to presume that those issues won’t become hers. Already she’s fallen for a married man. Thankfully, his circumstances turned out to be different. Yet, deep down, Flor wonders if she’s learned the lessons to break the curse that looms over their lovers. Clearly, Poppy’s heart became hardened by not being able to realize her love for Gustavo Sr. Perhaps it was her own grandfather’s inability to be with someone he truly loved that became the curse for her father to bear, like so many children who suffer the sins of their parents.
Collin runs the back of his knuckles along Flor’s cheek. “You do realize Love in the Time of Cholera has over 350 pages. Am I reading all night?”
She turns her face to look at him. “What would you do if I said ‘yes’?”
“Then I’d keep going,” he replies without hesitation.
Flor reaches up her arms and pulls Collin in for a kiss as soft and tender as the words he had been reading. Their kiss grows deeper. Collin parts Flor’s lips with his, drawing soft moans as his lips caress hers. He pulls Flor up to his lap, his tongue searching for hers. It amazes Flor how easily a simple kiss can turn into so much more with him.
He gathers her into his arms and takes her into the library. This time he doesn’t want her against the wall. He’ll save that for a later time when they both want to fuck each other senselessly. Tonight, Collin wants to show Flor how much he believes in what they have, and how tirelessly he’ll work to make her happy.
Chapter 57
Collin lays her down gently on the soft, ivory sheepskin rug. He hovers over her, his lips never leaving Flor, alternating his deep kisses with tender ones. No one has ever drawn such deep emotions from him before. With one fluid movement her shirt is off, and he glimpses the mark on her neck. “That’s a beautiful souvenir from earlier today,” he says before running his tongue over it, then continuing up to her right ear. He traces the outer shell of her ear then sucks on her fleshy lobe.
Flor gasps, the sensation pulling at her pussy until she’s wet with need. Collin sits back on his haunches and removes his shirt, his fingers fumbling over the last button. Impatiently, he tears at it until the button pops off. With equal impatience, he takes off Flor’s blue silk pants, exposing her glistening sex.
“No underwear,” he says in a hoarse voice. His need is beginning to override his desire to be gentle. There’s nothing gentle about the way he feels in the moment. He wants to taste her sweetness and devour her dripping sex.
Flor’s legs open instinctively for him as she luxuriates in his passionate gaze. Feeling this wanted by him turns her on even more, and the moment his mouth lands on her cunt, she can already feel how close she is to coming. His expert tongue runs along the lips of her pussy, lapping up her juices. With two fingers, he pulls back her folds to explore her cunt. “Beautiful,” he whispers, plunging his fingers inside her as he probes her with his hot tongue.
Flor arches her back off the sumptuous rug, wrapped up entirely in this perfect moment with Collin. She toys with her heavy breasts, tugging on her nipples until they’re swollen. She shivers from the intensity of her touch mingling with the pleasures from his mouth. Flor begins to beg for him, to feel the weight of his body over hers.
Collin pulls out his fingers, and she lets out a jagged breath, her pussy trembling from his touch. She’s just so close. So close.
Collin lifts his face from her pussy as he watches Flor begin to spiral, her eyelids fluttering. She reaches down and pulls him up to her. “I don’t want to come yet,” she breathes into kiss. The taste of her wanting is almost too much. One touch and he’ll send her over. She moves her tongue around the outside of his lips, then sucks his bottom lip between hers.
“Turn over,” he growls, lifting up her hips as she does as she’s told. She can feel his velvety hard cock at her entrance. Collin folds his body over hers, “Is this what you want?” He says roughly.
Flor nod
s, words escaping as she delights in the anticipation. Collin trails wet kisses down her long back as he massages her pendulant breasts, drawing out their mutual need. Unable to take it anymore, Flor pushes back on his dick, the tip rubbing against her clit.
“In due time,” he teases, although those are just words. He can hardly restrain himself. Collin was ready to explode as he licked her pussy.
Without warning, Collin thrusts himself into Flor, who cries out inaudibly. Her pussy is tender from earlier that day, but it makes the moment even better somehow, as if their familiarity with each other is allowing them to take it further.
“You feel incredible,” he groans, moving in and out of her slowly. “Warm and wet.”
Flor leans back and brings his mouth to hers, her tongue finding his as she runs her fingers through his thick hair. She’s losing herself in this and wants one more kiss to ground her in this reality. It’s here, in this special room, that the outside world can disappear and leave them alone.
Collin grips her hips and pounds into her so hard she lands forward on her hands. This is what she wants, an intense rhythm that will push her beyond her limits. His hand smoothes over the soft curve of her ass as he continues to plunge in and out of her wet hole, his balls hitting against her clit. She’s all feeling now, his cock inside her, his fingers pulling and tugging at her nipples.
With one arm, he pulls Flor up to his chest, his sweat dripping down her back. They’re a mix of limbs and bodies now as Flor’s hips rise and fall over Collin’s glorious shaft.
She opens her legs to allow his fingers to strum over her clit, their bodies fluid and in sync. Collin continues to plunge into Flor, his cock slicking in and out in perfect tempo. A few more strokes, and they’re both there, at the precipice of something indescribable. It’s pleasure combined with that profound sense of being that comes from the union with someone who inspires so much.
Flor’s body begins to tremble as the pressure builds even more. One more thrust and Flor feels herself shatter into a million pieces around him, pulling everything from Collin as he explodes into her.
Chapter 58
“Are you alone?” Poppy asks, peering around the front door.
“Of course, Mrs. Baron,” Flor replies.
“Again with the formalities, Flor. Call me Poppy,” she says, stepping into the foyer. Her bright blue eyes belie her fatigue. She hadn’t slept at all last night. She wanted out of Belo Horizonte before she’d even arrived. It hasn’t felt like home to her in years, not since that day . . . the day that Gustavo Sr., Tavo to her, was supposed to arrive but never did.
Keeping the ranch was never in doubt. She loved it as much as he did, perhaps even more if that were possible. Every room, every piece of art and every book in this house had its purpose, like bricks in its foundation. They represented everything they loved about life, about each other. It pained Poppy to walk into it, like a ghost occupying a home in which she could never really live in again. Nothing about it seemed real to her anymore.
“Would you like something to drink?” Flor asks, starting toward the kitchen, but Poppy remains transfixed in the hallway as if considering the blank wall in front of her.
Her shoulder length blond hair sways slightly as she shakes her head. “No thank you.” She heads toward the library instead. Flor begins to realize the room isn’t just her sanctuary. It was the soul of the entire home cultivated by Poppy and Flor’s grandfather.
She stands in the doorway and watches silently as this cultured, sophisticated woman climbs a short carved walnut ladder.
Poppy reaches for the top shelf filled with dusty first editions. Flor had ignored that shelf, indulging her preference for contemporary pieces for the summer.
Her long, manicured nails run along the pristine, leather spines. They come to rest on a copy of Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy. Poppy traces the letters of the title, as if unlocking a safe she hasn’t opened in years. Finally, she removes it from the shelf and climbs down the ladder, careful not to scuff her leather boots.
To Flor’s surprise, Poppy offers her the book without explanation. The young woman walks toward the plush cream sofa opposite her and sits down. Tucked inside the pages that smell of dust and mildew are photographs, some black and white, some polaroids of her grandfather with Poppy.
Tears prick Flor’s eyes. She’d never seen such candid photos of her grandfather before. These were clearly taken long before her and her father were even born. Her grandfather’s features were smooth and chiseled, as if carved from stone. He resembled the man she knew, but the man in the pictures appeared both strong and vulnerable, like when you meet a stranger for the first time and you see the light and shadow in them. Here was a whole image of her grandfather in one photo, Poppy smiling perfectly for the camera, her blue eyes glinting from the camera flash.
Tears splash against the brittle pages. A wave of sadness washes over Flor, her heart breaking for Poppy and her grandfather. “What kept you both apart?”
Poppy lets out a long sigh and sits down next to Flor. “Think more Oscar Wilde than Shakespeare,” she replies, stretching the truth a bit for Flor’s sake. “Miscommunication, gossip, and poor timing.” While that’s all true, it is more Shakespearean than that—lies, betrayal, and murder. Yet, if it’s one thing Poppy will never do to Tavo’s granddaughter, it’s to plant any seed of doubt in her about her family. It’s not her place. It will never bring her lover back from the dead.
“It must be hard for you to be here,” Flor observes.
Poppy nods. “It’s not the same without him. We would talk for hours, or sometimes read or take long walks. There’s comfort in being with someone who respects you for your mind. I could be myself with him. Unfortunately, I didn’t know who that really was until it was too late.”
Flor notices how unmoved Poppy appears, like a mask she can put on in an instant. Yet her voice trembles slightly when she says his name. The beautiful Baron Matriarch forces a smile and says, “Romance is fantasy, you do know that, right?” Her slim hand grips Flor’s knee as if to impress upon her these words. “It’s how you feel in the presence of your lover that matters the most. Your feelings won’t betray you, only your mind can do that. You have to know the difference.”
Flor is stunned. This is probably the most honest piece of personal advice she’s ever received. Sure, she and her girlfriends would share their thoughts about relationships, things they’d read in Cosmo or learned about first hand. However, Flor recognizes how fortunate she is to hear this from Poppy directly.
“How do you know that your feelings don’t betray you?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. What if what Collin feels for Flor dissipates when she leaves for Smith? Or worse, what if Flor’s feelings do? She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge those doubts, even to herself. But now, with Poppy’s vice-like grip on her knee, she feels compelled to consider the possibilities.
“My dear, fearing heartbreak is what keeps us from experiencing true love. We calculate too much, assessing risks and rewards. It may sound cliché, but being clear about who you are and allowing the feelings to follow suit will never set you up for failure, even if the one who loves you doesn’t love you back. You see, it isn’t about that.”
Flor shakes her head. She can’t completely wrap her head around that. Isn’t the point of finding “the one” supposed to guarantee some form of emotional security?
Poppy releases her hand and covers Flor’s with it. “Never fearing your feelings is what gives you strength. The outcome doesn’t matter if you aren’t afraid. If it’s love, it will survive. If it isn’t it, it will burn itself out.”
Flor parts her lips to speak. She wants to get to that level with Poppy, be able to ask her how this could apply to Collin. But she stops herself. “Were you afraid to be with my grandfather?”
Without hesitating, Poppy replies, “Yes. I doubted too much. I didn’t believe my feelings would be enough. I threw them aside because I thought I’d have too many
obstacles to overcome. In the end, I realized I was the greatest obstacle to my happiness.” Poppy lets out a low, dark laugh.
“Is that when he married my grandmother?”
Poppy’s jaw drops, and she shakes her head emphatically. “Oh no, not at all, honey. Even when she turned up pregnant with your father, he refused to marry her. Your grandparents were never married.”
Flor feels like she’s just been punched. These revelations are beginning to overwhelm her. And by the look in Poppy’s eyes, there are more. How much more can I take?
Poppy smiles at her sympathetically. “Your grandmother always knew about me and Tavo, although she believed he would never leave her. He accommodated her shallow need to pretend they were married. It was selfish of him, but he didn’t want his children to think they were bastards either. But he said the only person he would ever marry was me.”
This declaration brings a tear to Poppy’s eye. If only she hadn’t allowed herself to be seduced by William Baron. She knew better. Only now can she see it as a form of self-sabotage, forcing herself into the same miserable arrangement her mother had had. At least she prevented her daughters from making the same mistake.
“This,” Poppy holds up her hands to indicate the ranch, “was our second chance. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. Life is too short not to live it the way you want to, but we had too much at stake so we felt we had to compromise.”
Flor can feel her mouth go dry. Even though Poppy is able to contain her emotions well, Flor feels so much emanating from her—pain, sadness, regret. It’s enough to make the young woman depressed.
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