“C’mon. Clearly I interrupted something.”
“Nothing,” she insisted. “You interrupted nothing,” she lied. “I’m hoping to get an interview out of him for my paper.” God, she was going to hell for all the lies tripping off her tongue. What she had been doing with Cruz had nothing to do with work. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to the family though. Given past history, they might not understand.”
He lifted both eyebrows. “That’s an understatement.”
“Promise me?” she pressed.
“Of course.” He nodded. “I’ll report back to Dad that I interrupted you reading a book.” He smirked. “The Bible.”
“Nice.” With a roll of her eyes she shoved him lightly toward the door. “Now get home and do some homework or something.”
He pulled a face. “It’s the weekend.”
“It’s Sunday. You should have something due tomorrow.”
“Not really.” His grin suddenly deepened.
“What?” she asked warily. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Now we both know each other’s secrets.”
She blew out a breath and looked heavenward. Except her secret needed to stay that way. Forever. It needed to stay hidden. Actually, no. Her secret needed to be expunged. It needed to not be a thing.
True. She was thirty, and she should definitely feel free to live her own life, but that didn’t mean it was okay to have Cruz Walsh in her life. On the surface, it just seemed like a bad idea to be involved with anyone she couldn’t introduce to her family. Not that he was proposing or anything. No, he was only about one thing when it came to her. Maybe she should just focus on that and go for it. A fling. Would it be so wrong?
Trent left and she locked the door after him. She waited, lingering in her kitchen for a few moments. She knew what she was doing. She had to be honest with herself at the very least. She knew she was waiting . . . hoping Cruz would come back. Ugh. She really was a sad, desperate creature. On one hand she told herself: no, you can’t have that. Then, a moment later, she was sidling close and purring against him like a cat.
“Screw it.” She moved into the kitchen and raided her pantry. She snatched a few Oreos, dropped them on a plate and then poured herself a glass of milk. Oreos seemed like a fine post-orgasm snack. She headed into her bedroom and settled on her bed. Flipping channels, she found a rerun of Golden Girls and settled back with a contented sigh.
It was a crazy weekend. She got locked in a closet with her high school crush.
And they made out like they were hormonal teens.
These things happened. It didn’t change her goals. She was still heading back to Austin the first chance she got and putting Sweet Hill far behind her.
Fourteen
Never in his life had he been so glad and so sure of the decision to open a gym. He had a place to go. A place to release all his pent-up sexual frustration. A place that was his own. He’d had few to none of those things in his life.
As soon as he left Gabriella’s apartment, he made a beeline for the building. He was a man accustomed to self-deprivation. He spent seven years in prison. Of course, he was used to it, but he physically hurt leaving her. He ached. He could still taste her on his lips and tongue, still feel the satin of her skin against his hands.
Her body was better than all his imaginings. Soft and yielding. Wide-hipped. Plump thighs and breasts that overflowed in his hands. His slightest squeeze could make her go wild, wiggling and whimpering in need.
He debated turning his car around and parking in front of her place again, waiting for her nephew to leave. But that felt too much like stalking. And he wasn’t a criminal. Even if the majority of the population would disagree with him.
He had his boundaries and he wasn’t going to stalk this woman. He’d have her, but she would come to him. A woman didn’t respond like that and then simply walk away and forget it. It had been the single most exciting sexual encounter of his life and they hadn’t even fully fucked. He knew she’d felt the same. She wanted him.
As he made his way across town to the building, thoughts of Gabriella twisting through his mind, he firmly decided he would be patient. He’d waited this long, after all. He’d found her when he had not even been looking. It felt unreal. He had finally found his dream girl from the boathouse . . . who happened to be the same girl he had lusted after in high school. Unbelievable, but true.
He’d never subscribed to notions of fate or destiny before, but he might have to change his mind because clearly it was meant to be.
As he pulled into the parking lot of his gym, he felt the usual deep sense of contentment sweep over him. His. This belonged to him.
The facility was eight thousand square feet. It used to be a distribution center for a furniture store that shut down operation in Sweet Hill. It had been vacant for years. He got it for a steal and then set to work renovating. It hadn’t been too difficult to convert the space and get it up to codes. Easier than building a place from scratch. While it was technically finished and he’d opened the doors a couple months ago, there was still plenty he wanted to do. For instance, he planned to install a rock wall next month. Down the road, he’d like to install a couple indoor trampolines.
He could do that now. Build. Dream. Plan for the future.
The city had awarded him a settlement of five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars for his wrongful imprisonment. It was a preemptive measure. He had no idea how they came up with such a figure . . . no idea what led them to believe five hundred and twenty-five K was the standard of recompense for seven years in prison.
Hale told him they feared a lawsuit. As county sheriff, his brother-in-law was privy to such information. Even if it wasn’t his office that had arrested Cruz, he moved in official circles. He heard things.
The thought of suing had not even crossed Cruz’s mind. Honestly, his sudden freedom was so unexpected, he was simply grateful for it.
In the seven years he was in prison he had not let himself contemplate freedom. According to his sentence, he was going to be an old man before he got out. He shifted uneasily. The prospect of that now struck cold fear through him. If things hadn’t played out the way they had—if he hadn’t been exonerated—he’d still be in his cell right now and Gabriella would be out in the world. Some other man would be going down on her and it wouldn’t be him. She would float through her life, through relationships, eventually marrying and having babies with someone else.
The entire prospect made him feel ill. His hands clenched on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
Also, he had confessed to the crime in which he was convicted all those years ago in an effort to spare his sister. Sisters, actually. No one had forced him to do that. He had no one to blame. Hale said he could probably get an attorney and press for more money. Except Cruz had confessed to the crime, so perhaps not. That would not be a factor in his favor.
True, the City of Sweet Hill Police Department had done little in the way of investigation. Once he confessed, the case was closed. After all, murder was precisely the sort of behavior expected of him. Cruz Walsh a convicted murderer? That sounded about right to the citizens of Sweet Hill. He wasn’t about to contradict the assumption.
Piper had thought herself responsible for killing Shelley Rae and he had bought into her assumption of guilt. When she woke up from a drugged sleep to find Shelley Rae dead, she assumed she had killed the girl and simply couldn’t remember doing it. He’d stopped her from turning herself in. He couldn’t let her go to jail. If Piper went to prison, Malia would have gone into state custody. Cruz had a record. There was no way they were going to give custody of a little girl to him.
So he had done what he had to in order to protect them. He had gone to jail for his sisters. It was the story everyone wanted. The police knew, of course, because the real killer, Colby Mathers, had confessed after all these years and they finally had all the facts. The rest of the world, however, wanted to k
now the details. They wanted to know why.
Why did Mathers kill Shelley Rae and come forward so many years later? Why did Cruz confess when he had been innocent? Those were the details the rest of the world wanted to know.
As far as he was concerned the rest of the world could go to hell.
If they wanted to be entertained they could look elsewhere. His life wasn’t going to be salacious fodder for bored housewives at the checkout stand. Sure. Media outlets were offering serious money for his story, but he could live without it.
He didn’t, for one moment, regret his decision to take the fall. Not even during the seven years he was in prison. Not in his bleakest moment in Devil’s Rock.
He parked his truck in the empty parking lot. This late, no one else was here. As he stopped at the door and unlocked it, a voice called out from behind him.
“Hey, y’all open?”
He turned around to spot two teenagers. One of them bounced a basketball in a steady beat over the sidewalk, his hand gripping the ball in clear expertise. Cruz recognized them as boys who had started coming to the rec center to play basketball after school.
“Little late,” he commented. “Shouldn’t you be home? Parents are probably looking for you.”
The two boys exchanged looks and snorted. “Our parents aren’t home.”
Cruz grew up with a mother who was never home either. Most of the time he and his sister had to fend for themselves. He decided to take the money from his settlement and open the rec center so the kids in the surrounding neighborhoods would have a place to go. Kids like him—or rather kids like who he used to be. Kids that felt a little lost. When no one was at home, they would have a home at his gym.
It was a way to keep them out of trouble, but it also gave them community . . . a place where they would always feel welcome.
He assessed the boys for a long moment. One of them jutted out his chin, almost seeming to say: Go ahead. Turn us away. Everyone does.
“You can come in and play basketball as long as I’m here working out.” He shrugged. “Should be about an hour. You can go home when I leave.”
They glanced at each other and then smiled slowly. “Cool. Thanks, man.”
He pushed the door open and motioned them in. They took off and headed for the side of the gym with a basketball court, the sound of the bouncing ball echoing off the far walls and high ceiling.
Cruz headed toward the weights and other various exercise equipment. He climbed up on a treadmill. After his run, he’d move on to weights. He fully intended to wear himself out to the point of exhaustion so that when he got home and fell into bed, he’d surrender to sleep instantly and wouldn’t lie there for hours fantasizing about Gabriella Rossi. He’d leave thoughts of her to his dreams.
Cruz returned the next night.
She’d spent the day cleaning house and on the phone with Nana’s insurance, trying to get her physical therapy extended into a permanent home-care plan. Keeping busy mostly. It helped. She only thought about Cruz every few minutes instead of all the time.
“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, flipping out inside for multiple reasons—the main one being that Cruz Walsh was standing on her grandmother’s front porch. What alternate reality was this?
“I thought you might not feel like cooking.” He held up bags. Instantly her nose was bombarded by the smell of all manner of goodness.
Coco was distracted by the presence of food, too. He growled and yipped and whined, lifting up on his hind legs and then losing his balance as a result of his cumbersome weight. Scrambling back up to his feet, he took turns between growling and whining, still torn. Clearly, he couldn’t decide whether he should do his usual greeting of snarling growls when the visitor in question comes bearing food.
She actually understood his indecision.
Instead of making excuses and closing the door on him—like she probably should—she pointed to the bags. “What are those?”
“A little of everything. I didn’t know what you and your grandmother might like so I got some baked ziti, barbecue and some pad thai.” She looked from the bags to him and felt herself relenting.
“Gabriella! Who is at the door?”
Nana’s cane thudded on the floor, drawing closer. She was only occasionally using the walker now. They made her take it when she left the house on any outings. With the help of her physical therapy, she was starting to get around well—almost like a spry sixty-year-old again. She was better than before her surgery, which had been the hope all along and the reason she put herself through the ordeal.
Gabriella looked over her shoulder, watching Nana’s approach with dread, worried what she would say when she spotted Cruz. No doubt she would recognize him. She’d been in the courtroom all those years ago during his trial.
“What do you have there, young man?” Nana’s gaze dropped from his face to the bags he held.
“Uhh, this is my friend, Nana. He brought us some food.”
“Good. I’m starving.” She waved at Gabriella. “This one here was about to make us a box of macaroni and cheese. Let’s see if you can beat that. Come on inside.”
Smiling in satisfaction, Cruz stepped inside and murmured to her, “Box of mac, huh? That shouldn’t be hard to beat.”
She shut the door after him, grumbling, “Don’t act so pleased with yourself. It’s not as though you slaved behind a stove and cooked the food yourself.”
Chuckling, he moved ahead of her, following after Nana. Nana, who apparently didn’t recognize him. God bless her cataracts.
“No, I’m just the guy who brought it.”
She followed at a slower pace, taking several deep breaths to calm her racing pulse. Nana didn’t know who he was. They would eat and he would leave. End of story.
She likely would never remember this night enough to piece together his identity.
Nana never watched or read the news anymore; she claimed it was too depressing. She stuck to Wheel of Fortune and episodes of Law & Order. Apparently those weren’t depressing.
Gabriella couldn’t argue with Nana about her opinion of the news, but she felt an obligation to know what was happening in the world. It was a requirement of the job.
Nana and Cruz continued to banter ahead of her and she forced herself to relax.
It would be okay. She just had to keep her composure.
She entered the kitchen to the scene of Nana and Cruz unloading the food onto the kitchen table like they had done the task a hundred times. Like they were old friends. Nana was chatting about Law & Order. It was actually a new episode tonight so she was extra excited.
Nana looked up and caught her eye. “So,” she said in a jarring tone. “How long you two been dating?”
Ugh. “Nana! You know I’m not dating anyone.”
“Honey, the man brought you food.” Nana pulled back the aluminum foil over a tray of food and arched both bushy eyebrows at the assortment of brisket, sausage and ribs. “Meat. He brought you meat,” she clarified.
“Nana,” she groaned.
Cruz chuckled as he pulled the pad thai out of a bag. “It’s okay.” He leaned in closer to Gabriella, his arm pressing against hers. “I am kind of into her. Have been since high school.”
Fire lit her face. Stupid flutters erupted in her belly. “Stop that,” she hissed.
“Aww, isn’t that sweet? You hear that, Gabriella?” Nana pointed at Cruz approvingly. “I like this one. He liked you even in high school and we all know how awkward those years were for you.”
Nana turned to take down three plates from the cabinet.
Cruz sidled closer and murmured for her ears only, “Well, your grandmother likes me. What about you?”
She scowled. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“And let you eat boxed mac n’ cheese?” He shook his head with a tsk.
“Let’s eat in the living room.” Nana returned with plates and started loading her own plate with a variety of food. “We can watch Law & O
rder. I don’t want to miss it.”
Nana had yet to figure out that you could record shows or pull them up to watch later.
“Here, Nana, I’ll get your plate.” Gabriella gestured for her grandmother to go ahead of her into the living room.
Gabriella followed and helped settle her into a chair. After making sure the plate was balanced carefully on Nana’s lap, she said, “I’ll get you a drink. What would you like?”
“Tea. I made a fresh pitcher this afternoon.”
Satisfied she had a handle on her plate and wasn’t going to spill her food, Gabriella turned to fetch her tea, but Cruz was already entering the room with it.
“Here you go.” He set it on the side table beside her grandmother’s chair.
Gabriella frowned, wishing he wasn’t being so solicitous. It would be easier to resist him that way. If he wasn’t so . . . charming.
He sent her a wink as he straightened. With a huff, she marched back into the kitchen, trying not to care if he followed.
She made herself a plate, wishing she wasn’t hungry. Then she could ignore the impressive spread of food. Plate in hand, she turned to fetch a fork from the drawer only to find him directly in her path.
“Oh.” She stepped back.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not happy to see me?”
“Yesterday you hid your car so my grandmother didn’t see it. Now you’re in her kitchen.”
“Yeah. I thought about that, and I figured that since I wasn’t a criminal, I shouldn’t sneak around and act like one. I have a feeling I’m going to be coming around a lot to see you, and I don’t really feel like being your dirty little secret. I played that role before.” He shook his head and she understood his meaning.
He meant Natalie and other girls. The good girls who used him. That was a slap in the face. She winced. She didn’t want to be anything remotely like them. Never.
She swallowed thickly. “You’re going to be coming around . . . a lot?” Her stupid heart fluttered at that. She felt like a teenage girl who just found out her crush liked her back. God. She might be an adult now, but her heart hadn’t gotten the memo.
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