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“Someone’s coming!” She fumbled with her bra but hooked it and smoothed out her top before anyone came into view.
A horse whinnied nearby, and Rafael quickly buckled his belt. He picked up his sandwich and took a swig of beer. “Try not to look so guilty,” he teased. “We have every right to be here together.”
She had no idea how to fade the bright blush from her cheeks and doubted the men would believe they’d happened upon an innocent outing. She held her breath hoping they would pass by without noticing them, but when the two riders came into view, one raised his hand to wave.
“Matador! Señorita!”
Rafael waved to them, and the pair continued on toward the stable but looked back over their shoulders with big grins.
“Well, clearly the encore on the table is definitely out,” she said. “Sitting out here, I’m too shaky to think. With a roomful of clapping people, I’d be no good at all.”
“Don’t worry. I’d handle the action.”
She hoped he was teasing her, but her hands shook as she unwrapped an apple tart. “You’re not into sex in public, are you?”
He chuckled. “You’re the one who forgot her underwear.”
“What do you mean? You never wear any.”
“I’ll admit it.” He took her hand. “Relax. I can wait until we get back to the house. Let’s just si
t here and talk. I don’t want you to worry someone else will ride by.”
She pulled her hand from his. Her heart was beating too fast, racing as it had last Sunday, tumbling her fears and stealing her breath. He’d soothed her with kisses yesterday, but it had been a brief reprieve. She crumbled the apple tart into gooey bits, and he caressed her arm to catch her wrist and licked the sweet apple filling from her fingertips.
His tongue tickled. A ray of sunlight caught the trace of brown in his amused gaze. Clearly he thought she couldn’t possibly be afraid when they were together, and yet she was terrified of everything she knew and he didn’t.
She pulled away and sprang to her feet. “Just let me go this time.” She sprinted away, but the specter of death trailed her as a devoted shadow.
Chapter Twenty
Maggie couldn’t bear to be cooped up inside the ranch house and fell into one of the front porch chairs. Still shaking, she gripped the chair’s arms and held on. She’d be safe in Tucson, although her condo was as emotionally sterile as a model home. She loved teaching, but if she didn’t count Craig, none of her fellow teachers were close friends. She could analyze her life with plus and minus signs on a mental white board, but while there was nothing to draw her back to Arizona, she had to get out of Spain.
Fox walked out on the porch carrying his letter from Miguel and sat beside her. “Have you read your letter? He said he was proud of me and apologized for not being a better father. I didn’t give him much of a chance, but my mother was the one who fell in love with him, not me.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that her father might have written the same letter to everyone. That was undoubtedly why Mr. Calderon had asked them to read their letters in private. He hadn’t realized they might compare them and discover their own message had been repeated for another, even if it had been appropriate.
She swept her hair off her face with her fingers. “Being a stepchild is difficult regardless of the situation. If you have stepchildren someday, be understanding and remember how you felt about Miguel.”
“I’m taking Santos’s advice and never getting married.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I’ve always assumed I’d marry someday, but now, I don’t know.”
“Hey, Rafael, we’re taking a poll. What do you think of marriage?” Fox called.
Maggie’s heart dropped. She sat up and tried to smile, but as he stepped up on the end of the porch, he looked too wary to appreciate the effort. When she’d become so unstable, maybe he was having seconds thoughts about her, and she couldn’t blame him.
He sat beside her. He’d taken the basket and blanket inside and come outside looking for her. “First I’ll have to find a woman who’d want to marry me; then I’ll think about it.”
“So you don’t have an opinion?” Fox replied.
“Not at this moment, no.” He stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. “Isn’t that an odd subject to interest a kid your age?”
“No, you’ve got to plan ahead, or life will run over you.”
“Good advice,” Maggie agreed. “I’ve been run over a time or two.”
“Hell, I’ve got tire tracks on my heart. That would work for a country western song, wouldn’t it?”
