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He laughed, a rich, beautiful sound.
Carmen studied them with a look that was far too knowing, her grin bordering on a smirk. Plain old mischief glinted in her eyes.
Smiling up at him, Mari slipped her arm around his waist, loving the sparkle in his eyes. His tone was so dry. “You could go for a neutral heel, and a flat that will let you dance the night away, but if I was y'all, I’d go for the bling.”
Carmen’s surprised eyes followed him out the door, and Mari just laughed.
She turned to her sister and said, “I like him, Mari.”
“I like him, too,” Mari said as they watched Buck’s very tight and gorgeous backside walk away. When her sister didn’t answer right away, Mari grabbed her chin, so she was focusing on her sister. “Show me the shoes, interloper.”
A few hours later, Mari had packed a picnic lunch complete with a thermos full of iced coffee from a roasting batch she’d done before she’d gone off to San Diego. Buck met her at the patio door, and she smiled at him as Diego, wiping his hands on a rag, moved aside so they could walk down the river rock stairs.
“Where are you off to?”
“A tour of the property,” Mari said.
Diego stiffened, his eyes darting out toward the horizon. “Where?”
“The outbuildings and the fields. Just general stuff.”
“Be careful around my plants, and I’d prefer you keep to the mature ones, instead of stomping through my seedlings.”
Mari looked at him and frowned, finding the sudden change in him totally strange. He seemed uneasy and stressed, the skin around his mouth and eyes strained. What the heck? Diego was always so laid back. “All right. We’ll be careful.” Mari watched his tense back as he disappeared into the house, an uneasy sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her belly.
“Is Diego all right?” Buck asked after taking in her face.
“I’m not sure. He’s probably under a lot of stress.” Dismissing the feeling for the time being, she took Buck’s hand and led the way. As they walked, she pointed out the processing plant, the warehouse storage for the green processed beans, the drying terraces, and the shipping warehouse for the bagged coffee dried and ready for shipment.
“So, who’s your shipping guy?” Buck asked.
“Our manager used to be Juan Barrantes, but he disappeared one day out of the blue. We were all shocked as Juan was as steady as the day was long.”
“No word at all? Just up and left?”
“Not just left, Buck. He disappeared. His truck was at his house and all his belongings, but we never saw him again.” That was a very unsettled situation when they realized Juan was gone. She couldn’t imagine why he left so abruptly. They always treated their employees very well, and Juan was an exceptional worker.
Buck frowned, stopping her in mid-track, his eyes going hard and flinty, and she had to resist the urge to shiver. “When was this?” he asked sharply.
“About a month ago. We were frantic as it was still within our harvest period. We had a tight schedule to get our product out when it was still fresh.”
“Who took over?” Gone were his soft tones. In their place was a flat, steely voice. His SEAL voice no doubt.
“Diego,” she said, suddenly wanting him to drop the questioning. At the moment, she didn’t know whether she was more unsettled by Diego’s behavior or Buck’s. “He was reluctant, said he wasn’t very good with administrative work, but my father insisted he do it. He’s done a great job. Everything has gone out on time, and we have happy customers.”
Buck looked toward the shipping warehouse like he was trying to bore a hole through the wall.
She grabbed his hand and said, “Come on. Daylight’s wasting.” She dragged him away from the main area, and they were on a narrow path through the beautiful coffee plants with a lush background spreading out, the trees forming almost straight rows. She told him about the ongoing harvest and picked a couple of berries, letting him try a ripe one. “This is all ours for as far as the eye can see.” She pointed off to the left. “Our hotel is way over there, buried in all that wild jungle. It’s beautiful. We’ll have to take a trip over there.”
He nodded, giving her a sidelong glance. “These look like new seedlings.”
“They are. Did Diego?—”
“He did, but I wanted to be by the pond. We’ll be careful.” He smiled indulgently, watching her face. She looked out over the plantation again, then went to her knees. Scooping up a handful of dirt, she looked up at him. “This is our blood, sweat, and tears, every single grain of earth is part of us. We feel all of it in our bones and our hearts,” she said passionately. She reached up and grabbed his wrist and pulled him down. Carefully, she transferred the soil to his hands, then closed his fingers over it. “Feel that, Buck. Rich and moist for our growing trees. Not only are you protecting us, but you’re protecting our way of life, the very soul of our land, our legacy.”
He made no response, his face obscured by the shadows of the leaves, but even in the dimness, she could see the rigid angle of his jaw. But what she couldn’t see, she could feel in him—and it was that terrible tension, as if he was clamping down on some awful emotion.
She heard him clear his throat, his voice rough. “You can count on me, darlin’,” he whispered. “I won’t let you down.”
