by Pennza, Amy
He smiled. “It’s Texas.”
“How could I forget?” She rolled her eyes, but her laugh was good-natured. She covered her mouth with her hand and yawned.
“Does my truck bore you?” He grinned so she’d know he was teasing her. It felt both strange and exhilarating to joke around—like his brain needed a second to remember how to do it. Now that he’d done it, though, he couldn’t wait to do it again.
“No. I just had a full morning.” Color flooded her cheeks. She opened her mouth, then shut it.
His heart squeezed, and a wave of tenderness washed over him. He threw on his turn signal and guided the truck to the side of the road.
Her shoulders tensed, and she looked in her side mirror. “What is it?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” When they were safely off the highway, he shifted to park and turned toward her in his seat. “So about that elephant in the room.”
Her blush deepened, but some of the tension drained from her shoulders. She lowered her gaze. “Oh. That.”
“I loved it.”
She looked up. “You did?”
He nodded. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do it again. It’s the first time I’ve felt good in…well, a really long time. And I’m not just talking about sex.” He looked out the windshield, where the first stars shone like tiny pinpricks in the dark-purple sky. He faced her. “I don’t expect anything from you, Ashley. I just wanted you to see the real me.”
“Smith,” she said, her voice hushed. On the seat between them, she put her hand over his. “I already have.”
He grasped her fingers, lifted her hand to his lips, and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I’d like to show you a little more. Will you let me do that? No expectations, no demands. Just a landlord and his tenant having dinner together.” He rubbed her knuckles back and forth across his lips. “A very sexy tenant.”
Her eyes glowed with amusement. “I don’t know if what we have is really a lease.”
“Then I guess that makes you a trespasser. What do you say, sexy trespasser?” He gestured toward the highway. “San Antonio is ten minutes away. You in?”
“I’m in.”
17
Oh, she was hella in over her head.
Ashley looked through the restaurant window, which was steps away from San Antonio’s famed River Walk. She needed a distraction—anything to keep her gaze off Smith.
“Everything okay?” he asked, pulling her attention back to him. He’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing powerful forearms. The heavy diving watch on his wrist caught light from the votive candles on the table. The flame threw shadows over his stubble-covered jaw. Everything about him, from his starched white shirt to his subtle cologne, screamed alpha male. When he’d ordered a scotch (neat), she’d almost moaned.
He gestured to her half-empty plate. “You didn’t like your food?”
“No, it—”
“I can have the waiter bring you something else.” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze searching the room.
“No, I meant it was good.” Actually, the chicken had been phenomenal. She smiled. “I’m not used to such big portion sizes. This would be considered Thanksgiving dinner in California.”
He studied her. “Is it really true, all the stuff you hear about the movie business?”
Ha. “Worse.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And you want back in?”
“It’s all I’ve ever known. I mean, I love acting. Just not all the crap that comes with it.”
“How did you get into it? Prattsville doesn’t seem like the sort of place to get discovered.”
“I joined a community theater group when I was in high school. My stepfather was the director.” She glanced out the window. “We performed not too far from here, actually.”
“In San Antonio?”
She nodded as memories rolled over her. “I was a nervous child, but I felt comfortable on the stage. One year, my step-dad had the idea to enter one of my performances into this online competition—sort of like American Idol but for theater geeks. The winner received representation from a real Hollywood talent agent.”
Smith’s eyes gleamed. “And you won.”
“I won.” She let out a huff of laughter. “Little did I know, the agent had just opened his doors. I was his first client.”
“Ah. This is the one who dropped you.”
Surprise jolted her. He remembered that? “Yes.”
“He was an idiot,” Smith said.
“Don’t be so sure. You’ve never seen me act.”
“I don’t need to. I know you’re good.”
That startled a laugh out of her. “How?”
“I just know.”
“You just know.” He was teasing her, but his words still made a ribbon of pleasure curl around her brain.
He kept his gaze on her as he sipped his scotch. “Mmmhmm. Sometimes I just know things.”
She got the feeling they weren’t talking about acting anymore. She licked her lips. “What about you? How did you get into policing?” Too late, she realized that was a loaded question. He’d probably become a cop after the military. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
He waved it off. “It’s okay. After Afghanistan, the Army sent me straight to a PTSD program—a pets for vets thing.”
“That’s where you got Deuce.”
He nodded. “He was the runt of his litter, if you can believe it.” A soft smile touched his mouth. “For the first couple days, they were ready to kick him out of the program. He spent the whole time hiding behind the tire of a Deuce and a Half truck.”
“You’d never know it now.”
“Yeah, he came out of his shell pretty quickly. I got a job right away with the SAPD, but the noise…the city.” His mouth tightened, like he’d tasted something bitter. “I worried about losing control. I needed a quieter environment, so when the Prattsville job came up, I took it.”
The starkness in his gaze tugged at her heart. She made her voice light. “It doesn’t get much quieter than Prattsville.”
He smiled, and her stomach did a flip. “It took a few weeks to get used to it,” he said. “I’d been staying with my brother, Juan. He’s a lawyer downtown. His place is right in the heart of the city.”
“Are you two close?” She’d never seen anyone coming or going at his house.
“We used to be. I’ve always been closer to him than my oldest brother.”
“Wait. How many brothers do you have?”
“Just the two. Rafe’s the oldest. To my knowledge, he’s never been to Texas.”
That was an odd way to phrase it. “Where does he live?”
He gave her an inscrutable look. “Back home, in Venezuela.”
It wasn’t exactly a shocking revelation. He’d used enough Spanish to let her know he had at least some Latin heritage. Based on what Dean had said, she’d just assumed that heritage was Mexican. Of course, Dean had said other things…
“What is it?” Smith asked.
“Nothing, I just…” Should she tell him the rest? He was the police chief. He didn’t need nasty rumors circulating. She took a deep breath. “When I had dinner with Dean, he said your family is involved in drugs.” At his raised eyebrow, she rushed on. “He’s an ass. Of course it’s not true—”
“It’s true.”
She clamped her mouth shut.
He gave her a wry smile. “My father ran one of the largest drug trafficking enterprises in South America.”
“I…don’t know what to say. Are you…”
“Am I involved in it?” He gave his head a definitive shake. “No. My mother saw to that. She hated my father’s business. To his credit, he hid as much of it as possible from her, but you can never really conceal that sort of thing from someone you love. It eventually drove them apart.”
“They divorced?”
“When I was ten. She tried to bring all three of us to Texas, but Rafe refu
sed to leave Father.” Smith sighed. “That’s Rafael, always the difficult one. He was only fifteen. It broke my mother’s heart.”
An image of Smith as a little boy rose in Ashley’s mind. He’d probably been a gorgeous child, with those eyes and dark hair. “It must have been a huge adjustment, coming here all the way from Venezuela.”
He smiled. “Not as big as you’d think. My mother was an American, born in San Antonio. She met my father in college.” His eyes grew distant, like he was seeing into the past. “She always spoke English to us in the house. My father let it slide. He could never deny her anything. He didn’t even bat an eye when she named me Smith.”
Ashley tilted her head. “Why are you named Smith?”
“It was her maiden name. She always said it was the only way she could make her mark on us boys, since we all look so much like Dad.”
“I bet the divorce was hard on her.” Moving thousands of miles away with two small boys, all on her own? Leaving L.A. was nothing compared to that.
“It was harder on my father. He was crazy about her.” Smith looked thoughtful. “I think that’s why Rafe stayed. That and Catalina.”
“Catalina?”
“Our sister. Foster sister. Her father worked for mine as one of his lieutenants. When he was killed, Cat was an orphan. My father took her in.”
“Why didn’t she move to Texas with your mother?”
Smith took another sip of scotch, then gave her an amused look. “She did for a while. Then she ran away.”
“Oh my God.”
“All the way back to Caracas.”
“By herself?”
He nodded.
“I can’t even drive from Ventura to Laguna Beach without getting lost.”
He grinned. “You wouldn’t be shocked if you knew Catalina. Strong personality doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“No kidding. What happened once she got to your dad’s? Does she still live there?”
“She went back and forth for a while, but she eventually stayed in the States. She seemed happier in Texas once Juan left for college. He and Cat have always butted heads. When my mom died five years ago, they wouldn’t even sit next to each other at the funeral.”
Ashley reached across the table and grabbed his head. “I’m so sorry, Smith. I didn’t realize your mom had passed.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. A shadow crossed his features, then he said, “It’s okay. She went downhill fast after my father died. It probably sounds silly, but I think she wanted to be with him.”
“It’s not silly. It sounds like they still loved each other.”
“Yes. I think that’s why Mom was so determined to get us away from that life. She knew how much it could cost a person. In that, she succeeded. Juan went to Harvard Law. He started out as a prosecutor, but he’s since switched to defense.”
“And you became a Green Beret and a cop.”
He continued rubbing his thumb over the bumps of her knuckles. The featherlight touch sent shivers down her spine. Humor shone in his eyes. “Mom had to try especially hard with me. I was a bit of a troublemaker as a kid.”
That was hard to believe. “What about your oldest brother? The one who stayed behind?”
“Rafe.” The humor left his eyes. “He took over my father’s business. He has a compound outside Maracaibo.”
“I assume it’s extremely dangerous. You must worry about him.”
“I worry about anyone foolish enough to cross him. Rafe is rich, powerful, and ruthless. But mostly ruthless.” He paused for a minute, then added, “In our own ways, all three of us are. Juan is the top defense lawyer in the city, and he didn’t get there by being a gentle soul. And I can be pretty ruthless when I want something.”
The little hairs on the back of her neck lifted. He said it like a promise.
Or a warning.
He released her hand and, eyes never leaving hers, picked up his scotch and drained it.
She held her breath, afraid of what he might say next—or what she might say next.
He gestured out the window, where the San Antonio River wound its way past shops and restaurants. “It’s warm tonight. Would you like to walk a bit before we go home?”
Home. He meant it in the general, impersonal sense, but the word resonated inside her like the deep beat of a drum. The way he said it, she could almost imagine them returning to Prattsville together. She looked toward the river so he wouldn’t see anything on her face. “I’d love to. I haven’t seen it in a long time.”
* * *
She’d never looked more beautiful than she did tonight.
Smith had to stop himself from sticking his chest out and strutting down the concrete path. It was hard to control his ego with Ashley by his side. Her face had lit up when he’d offered her his arm outside the restaurant. And when she’d curled her hand around his bicep, he’d sighed.
As in, slap a heart eyes emoji over his face because he was fucking done for.
It was also hard to ignore the guys they passed taking covert glances at her ass. A couple times, he caught an offender’s eye and let the bastard know exactly what kind of hurt lay in store for him if he didn’t point his eyeballs somewhere else.
Fortunately, Ashley didn’t seem to notice. She gazed around with a look of wonder on her face, like she was taking it all in—the lights, the people, the sound of the river splashing gently against the walkway. Occasionally, she pointed out a window display or restaurant. Once, she tugged him toward a stage where a band was performing.
“Whoa,” he said, laughing as she pulled him to the edge of the small crowd gathered around the stage.
She shot him a guilty look. “Sorry. I’m a sucker for live music.” On stage, a male performer with an acoustic guitar sang the first languid notes of Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love.”
Pitching his voice low, Smith leaned into her and said, “You move fast in those things.”
She glanced up, her expression confused. When he gestured to her heels, she smiled and put her hand on his sleeve. “I’ve had lots of practice,” she whispered. “Short people have to compensate somehow.”
Oh, you’re perfect just the way you are. The thought was so loud in his mind, he wondered if she could read it in his eyes. He looked at her hand on his arm. She started to move it, and he grabbed her wrist and slid his hand down until his fingers tangled with hers.
They stood like that, her body brushing his as she swayed to the music, until the song ended. As the last note faded, she stood on her tiptoes and clapped her hands above her head.
The crowd watched the stage. He watched her.
As the band thanked the audience and launched into another song, she turned to him. “Would you like to keep walking, or…?”
“Anything you want.”
She pointed to the path. “I thought I saw another stage farther down.”
This time, he didn’t bother trying not to strut. The most gorgeous woman in the world was on his arm. No one in their right mind could blame him for feeling like he’d just won the lottery. As they approached the stage, she caught her breath.
He looked over people’s heads and saw the source of her reaction. It wasn’t another band—it was a play. “Looks boring,” he said. “We should go find the truck.”
She slapped his arm. “Keep moving, cowboy.”
Happiness rose so hard in his chest, he almost coughed. As helpless as a moon in orbit, he followed her to the stage, where actors in Renaissance-style costumes darted around an artificial forest.
When they got close enough to hear the lines, she tugged on his sleeve. He lowered his head, and she whispered, “It’s As You Like It.”
“Shakespeare?” He sent up a prayer of thanks to his high school English teacher.
“One of his best. Or one of my favorites, at least.”
Then it was his favorite, too, even though he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the actors. There was too much to look at right by his side. Ashl
ey practically vibrated with joy. She clasped her hands to her chest, her eyes bright as she mouthed the lines.
On stage, a man in a shepherd’s costume faced the audience and spoke, his voice booming across the crowd. “If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.”
Smith barely noticed. He was too busy watching Ashley. She seemed to know several characters’ lines by heart. After a minute, something like awe stole over him. It was quickly replaced with a pang of jealousy—and maybe loss. She was transfixed. Transported. More than the music they’d heard, this moved her. It was like seeing a captive creature finally freed. She didn’t just watch the performance, she absorbed it.
When the act ended and the actors left the stage, she turned to him. “That was great. Thanks for letting us stay.”
He looked at the stage. “You really love this, don’t you?”
She followed his gaze. “Live theater? Yeah. I miss it.”
“Why don’t you try it again?”
She rubbed her lips together as she appeared to think of a reply. “I guess there’s nothing stopping me. It’s just that television is a whole other world. Plays are fun, but there isn’t much money in it unless you’re on Broadway or one of the big touring shows.” She looked at him. “Still, there’s nothing like stepping in front of a real audience.”
“And you’re great at it.”
She blushed. “Like I said, you’ve never seen me act.”
“I saw you just now. You knew all the lines.”
“I used to spend days memorizing scripts. It drove my mother crazy.”
She’d never talked about her mom. “What does she think about you being home?”
Her smile faded. “Honestly? I wouldn’t know. She’s on her honeymoon in the middle of the ocean somewhere.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Even though she hates the water.”
“So you have a new stepfather.”
“That I’ve never met. Although, that’s nothing new. My mom changes husbands with the seasons.”
Ah, now he’d gone and made her sad. All the light in her eyes had died. Unable to stop himself, he tugged at a thick curl that tumbled over her shoulder. “I’m sorry to bring up bad memories.”