by Hebby Roman
“For that, I’ll need to speak with Rusty first. But why do you care? You’ve helped me to make my decision, and I appreciate it.”
“Will you sell him to me? He’s got the makings of a race horse.”
“I haven’t told you his pedigree. And he didn’t come cheap, though both Chuy and Ramos thought he was a bargain. He’s descended from Royal Always and Ladybird Jones.”
He let loose a low whistle. “No, you didn’t tell me, but that makes me want him even more. Good breeding for Quarter horse racing.”
“Chuy paid ten thousand for him.”
She watched as John Clay drained his beer and digested the price. “I usually don’t pay that high for an untrained horse, but after seeing how he can run and his pedigree, Chuy might be right.”
“So, you’d offer me ten thousand?”
He grinned and twirled the empty beer bottle between the palms of his hands. “Are we in negotiations? Don’t you have to consult Rusty first?”
“Probably, I should.” She got up. “Do you want another beer?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“Think it over, and I’ll talk to Rusty. And it’s getting late, John Clay.”
“Yep, I’ve got a long drive back to Del Rio. You’re right. I should be going.”
The night was dark and she knew all too well, the long and lonely two-lane highway, stretching back to Del Rio. She glanced at Franco’s trailer. He’d turned off the porch light.
Then, as if in defiance of Ramos’ possessive attitude, and John Clay’s way-too-sexy appeal, she made an on-the-spur decision. “Why don’t you stay the night? Start back tomorrow after breakfast.”
He arched one eyebrow. “You want me to stay the night?”
She raised both her eyebrows, silently mocking him. “As a courtesy, nothing else. I have a very comfortable guest room.”
His shoulders slumped. “I see.” He set the empty bottle on the table and gazed out at the night, as if considering.
“I can loan you some pajamas. I kept some of Eduardo’s things. They might not be a perfect fit.”
She noticed a tremor tracing through him, pulling his jaw taut. Maybe she shouldn’t have offered her late husband’s personal things. She could see how he might feel it was strange, but she’d only wanted to be thoughtful.
“No worries, I have my own things with me.”
“Really?” She couldn’t keep the stain of surprise from her voice.
“Yeah, and it’s not what you think, either. I always keep a traveling kit and some extra clothes in my car. Makes it simpler when I go back and forth between the ranches.”
“That makes sense.” She smiled, strangely relieved. “Then you’ll stay?”
Chapter Six
Clay pushed back from the dining room table and blotted his mouth with a napkin. “Those were the best migas, I’ve ever eaten. My compliments, once more, to Maria.”
He watched as Leticia cradled her coffee cup in both hands, sipping slowly. “I’m glad you enjoyed your breakfast. And you’re welcome to thank Maria before you go.”
“I will definitely do that.” He drained his coffee cup. “And thank you for letting me stay the night. Your guest room was comfortable.”
He gazed at her. This morning, with her long hair pulled into a ponytail and not a scrap of makeup on, she was scrumptious—good enough to eat. The fine crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled only made her more endearing. He wanted her, and he was willing to be patient.
No, he wouldn’t force things. Not like when he was young and stupid and led by his cock, and when he had no idea what it meant to have a gorgeous, sophisticated, and smart woman as his. This time, he needed her to want him, too.
He ran his hand through his hair. “I should get going. But let me get this straight. You spoke with Rusty early this morning, and he wants to see Stormy Knight before you make a final decision. Right?”
“Yes, though he admits, since most of the work would fall on my shoulders, to set up a racing stable, I have the final say.
“But I told him what you said about the starting gate. So, I would like to take you up on your offer of trying Stormy on your track.” She set her coffee cup down.
Maria bustled into the room with a new carafe of coffee, but they both declined, and he made certain to praise her excellent breakfast.
After Maria left, he said, “My track and racing stable is headquartered on the Double L between Comstock and the Devil’s River.”
“I know where the Double L is. Have passed by it on the way to Sonora many times. But can you be available on…” She paused and took out her Smartphone and consulted it. “On June fifth? Rusty and Camila will be between spring semester and summer school.
“Camila is going to stay with me for a week and then return to school on the fourth. Rusty needs to take care of his real estate business in Del Rio, but he can come out to your ranch, first thing that morning, and watch Stormy on your track. Will that work?”
He pulled out his Smartphone, thinking he’d make it work. No matter what. And glancing at his cell, he saw he should be at his Pecos ranch west of Langtry to finish the spring shearing and pay the crew. Too bad. He’d make certain his foreman moved the appointment to the fourth.
“Sure thing. I can do that. How do you want to get Stormy to my ranch? I can send some men and a horse trailer, couple of days before.”
She smiled. “Not necessary. I’ll bring Stormy myself in our trailer.”
He did a quick calculation. “But you’ll have to get up in the middle of the night, if Rusty is talking early morning. And given the heat, I do think early morning is best.”
“That’s not a problem. I can do it.”
“Why don’t you come the night before and let me return your hospitality?”
She glanced down at her half-empty plate and pushed it to one side. “That’s kind of you but no need. I don’t mind getting up early. It’s Rusty and I who are beholden to you for letting us use your track.”
“All right, but I wish you’d change your mind.” He’d hoped she would come the night before, and they could spend time together. But he could see she wasn’t going to give in.
Then he had a thought. “Hey, I owe you a dinner at the Country Club. How about this next Saturday night? June fifth is a long way off.”
She chewed on her lip and tilted her head, as if considering. “Okay, John Clay, you’ve worn me down, but I don’t think I really won the race. I know how fast Rudy is and—”
“Leticia, you won the race. And I want to take you to dinner. Just say ‘yes’ for a change.”
She laughed, a deep-throaty sound. Good Lord, even her laughter made him realize how much he wanted her.
“Have it your way, then.”
He grabbed the small leather bag with his toilet kit and stood. “Guess I’d better get going. How about eight on Saturday night?”
“We’re going out, in front of God and everybody, to the Country Club?”
“Why not?”
“Gossip, talk, speculation. Del Rio is still a small town, and the Country Club is even a smaller universe.”
“Let them speculate.”
She rose and hooked her arm with his. “Okay. Let me see you out.”
“Do you want me to come and get you Saturday night?”
“John Clay, I’m a grown woman, and I own a condo in town. I can get myself to Del Rio. And I’ll get Stormy to your ranch, too.”
“Okay. I won’t push.” He turned to her at the front door and lifted his free hand, pushing back a stray tendril of her hair. She smelled of roses, an old-fashioned scent, but one that suited her.
Their gazes caught and held. He could see the wanting in her eyes. Or was he fooling himself. It didn’t matter.
He dropped the leather bag and cradled her face in his hands. Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, slowly, thoroughly.
She tensed for a split second and then melted into his embrace. She tasted of coff
ee and the spicy chorizo sausage from the migas. Her lips were petal-soft and giving. He hadn’t kissed her since they were kids in high school, but he’d dreamed about it often enough—over the years.
He nibbled the corner of her mouth and stroked his tongue along the seam of her lips. Her arms came up and encircled his neck. He pressed closer, and she opened to him.
“Señora Leticia.” From far away, he heard Maria’s voice and the whoosh of the swinging kitchen door.
Leticia dropped her arms and pulled away. A startled-looking Maria stood in the dining room at the end of the foyer.
Maria muttered, “Perdóname, Señora. Pardon me, Señor Laidlaw.” Then she scurried back inside the kitchen.
Leticia looked up at him, her generous mouth puffy from their kissing. “I guess that’s your cue.” She grinned and her amber eyes sparkled. “Not only is Maria my good buddy. She makes a great chaperone.”
“No kidding. I hope you don’t plan on bringing Maria to the Country Club with you, just to keep everything under control.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “No, I think I’ll leave Maria at home.”
He chuckled and grabbed his Stetson from one of the pegs in the foyer. He picked up his leather bag and touched his index finger to the rim of his cowboy hat. “Until Saturday at eight. You’re going to let me pick you up at your condo, I hope.”
She smoothed the collar of his shirt and tilted his Stetson a fraction. “You want to pick me up, so you can take me home. Am I right?”
“That’s the general idea.”
“Okay, my condo is number three-o-four at the corner of Lavaca and—”
“I know where it is.”
“Oh, so you have been stalking me.”
He lifted her chin and kissed her again. “Maybe.” Then he winked.
* * *
Leticia sat at the ornately-carved mahogany desk she’d given Eduardo. So many years ago, it seemed like a lifetime. She traced her fingertips over her lips. What on earth had she been thinking this morning?
She’d let John Clay kiss her and she’d returned his kiss—hadn’t pushed him away. And she couldn’t wait to see him this Saturday. But could she trust him? Good heavens, did she even care anymore?
She was tired of being alone, of having nothing to fill her lonely days but work, her charities, and anticipating the few times she saw her daughter.
Her gaze lit on Stormy’s thrown shoe, still sitting on her desk. Was it bringing her good luck—did she even believe in that old superstition? Good luck or not, her life was changing.
And it was more than past time. She’d been widowed for eight years now, and she wanted more. Needed more in her life. Not that John Clay, given his track record, was a permanent solution to what she should do with her solitary life, but he certainly was a tempting diversion.
Just so long as she didn’t lose her heart.
But she could take up her life again, come out of her shell, and enjoy sharing time with a man. As the kids would say, they could be “friends with benefits.”
She tapped her chin with her finger. She could do that. Well, maybe not the “benefits” part right away. This time, she wanted to call the shots.
John Clay, with his money and his looks, had had it “easy” all of his life. He expected easy. But if he wanted her, he’d need to prove how much. Given how he’d treated her in the past, she was determined he understand she wasn’t going to be easy.
She’d never had a frivolous affair in her life. Had only slept with her two husbands. But despite her inexperience or maybe because of it, she doubted if it was possible for her to lose her heart—no one could replace Eduardo in her affections.
There was a knock on her study door. Must be Maria again. She hadn’t sought out her housekeeper after Maria had interrupted them, kissing. She’d settled down to pay bills but had been half-expecting Maria to show up and let her opinion be known about John Clay. Not that it mattered. But she would listen.
“Come in,” she called out.
The door opened, and she was surprised to find Franco standing in the doorway. And the look on his face was just-this-side of intimidating. He was frowning and a vein in his forehead visibly throbbed. He was clutching his cowboy hat so hard, he’d probably leave permanent dents in it.
Undaunted, she folded her hands on the desk and looked him straight in the eye. “Please, have a seat, Franco.” No one was around and maybe, by invoking his given name, he’d calm down. Though, she couldn’t guess what he was angry about.
“Gracias, but I prefer to stand.” He moved closer to the desk.
And if he thought towering over her was intimidating, she’d show him the stuff she was made of. She rose, too, and folded her arms across her chest.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked.
He dropped his gaze and set his crushed Stetson on the desk. “Yes, I came earlier to the back door to speak with you about how you wanted to divide the horse training duties between me and my son. I saw Señor Laidlaw’s car, and Maria said you’d just finished breakfast—”
“Let’s get this clear. Not that it’s any of your business, Franco. But Mr. Laidlaw is an old acquaintance, a friend from high school. And he owns a Quarter horse racing stable. He’s helping me with my decision about Stormy Knight.”
His jaw clenched and the vein in his forehead stood out. He raised his gaze to hers again. “He may be an old friend but I could see from that first day at the race track, he wants more than your friendship.”
“What if he does? It’s no concern of yours.”
“But you know I’ve wanted more than … friendship and you turned me away. Is it because he’s a wealthy gringo while I’m just a lowly—”
“Señor Ramos!” She couldn’t help but raise her voice. Now she was furious. How dare he compare himself with John Clay and accuse her of being unfair?
“If you don’t like how I handle my private affairs, you and your son are free to leave my employ and return to México.” She tapped her foot on the hardwood floor.
She didn’t like threatening anyone, but his attitude was just-this-side of insufferable. She didn’t want to lose his expertise with the horses. Though, this was exactly what she’d feared—having a personal relationship with an employee was a bad idea.
Partially, she knew she had herself to blame. Her loneliness had lowered her defenses. She’d spent too much time with him and allowed him to hope for more. She’d even kissed him that night in Houston—until she’d come to her senses.
She waited. The ball was in his court.
He snatched up his hat and dropped his gaze again, but not before she glimpsed a fleeting look in his eyes. Was it a look of alarm? Over his job? He could return to México and get a job without even trying. It was odd, but she didn’t dare question him or allow herself to feel sorry, either.
He let his features go slack. “My apologies, Señora.” He made that funny half-bow of his. “You’re correct. It is not my place—”
“And you’d be right.” She waved her hand. “As for how to divide up the duties between you and your son…” She paused, thinking, that had been a convenient excuse to see why John Clay had stayed the night. And she didn’t like his snooping.
“You’re more than capable of knowing how best to delegate the horse training duties. And if you have questions, you can ask Chuy.”
He sucked in his breath and squared his shoulders. He lifted his head, but this time, his gaze went straight through her, as if she wasn’t there. “I understand, Señora, and I won’t bother you again. Chuy can direct us. Do you want me to ask him to come and see you?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” Then she stopped herself and decided she would like to talk to Chuy and explain what John Clay had taught her about training Stormy for two-hundred-and-twenty-yard trials and the breezing workouts.
“On second thought, I’ve changed my mind, Señor Ramos.” Never would she use his given name again. “Yes, tell Chuy to come and see
me at his earliest convenience.”
He bowed again and turned. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he muttered softly, almost to himself, “I wish you would have afforded me the respect to tell me of your changed affections before you kissed Señor Laidlaw in broad daylight. Just the slightest courtesy, so I don’t feel like a … a…”
Who had told him? Maria! It could have only been Maria. And as much as she loved the woman, this went beyond the pale. What had Maria been thinking?
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. But it wasn’t planned. And…” She stopped herself again. This was past humiliating for them both, and she shouldn’t have to go there. She shook her head and unfolded her arms, fisting her hands. “I think you should go.”
He nodded, exited, and closed the door.
She waited for a few beats in time and fiddled with Stormy’s horseshoe, thinking it would look good, hanging over the study door, bringing her luck. Even if she didn’t keep the horse.
She crossed to the door and threw it open, looking both ways, but the foyer was deserted. Then she raised her voice and called out, “Maria, could you please come in here.” She’d be damned if she went searching for her housekeeper.
Returning to her desk, she folded her arms again and waited. She looked around her office and settled on Stormy’s horseshoe again. It might be changing her life but was it for the better?
Maria sidled in the door, appearing awkward and guilty. “You called for me, Señora?”
“Yes, I called for you.” She went right to the point. “Why did you tell Señor Ramos about me kissing Mr. Laidlaw? I know you don’t like Ramos but—”
“No, no, Señora, I didn’t tell Señor Ramos—”
“Then how did he know? X-ray vision like Superman?”
Maria’s head drooped lower. “I told Chuy, not Señor Ramos.” She lifted her head and tried to smile but failed. “I’m happy for you, Señora, Mr. Laidlaw is worthy of you, not like—”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a snob, Maria?”
And if Maria had told Chuy, but Ramos had known, then Chuy must have told Ramos. My, my, her personal life was beginning to remind her of “Dallas” re-runs where everyone knew what the other one was doing, back at the ranch. All of this came from getting too close to her employees because she had no one else and was lonely.