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Did he mention Carmen out loud?
“David was a good man. If he never got into that car…”
She didn’t continue, but she didn’t need to. He’d heard the story of how an elderly man had had a heart attack and crossed the line to hit David’s truck head on. Jasmeka assured him David wasn’t drinking at the time. In fact, she claimed his brother never drank anything stronger than a cola. Miguel didn’t push the subject because she had become defensive again.
“If you’re a Marshall, I’m assuming you’re a good person too.”
Miguel scooped up the last bite of his meal and handed the plate to Jasmeka. She took it, and he walked over to the railing to lean on it. Looking out over the property and watching the sun go down had been his favorite pastime when he was a kid. Later, his dad shattered the peaceful existence he had enjoyed. Rather he opened Miguel’s eyes.
“What I know of David is that he wasn’t much different than Thiago.”
“Then you didn’t know him.” He noticed her anger rose easily when it came to the subject of David. If there was one thing that was steady in the Torres family, it was anger. She appeared beside him. “Thiago turned the ranch over to David for a reason.”
“That surprised me, but I’m assuming he only did it to give himself more time to drink and hang out with his friends.”
“He’s your dad, Miguel. Why do you hate him so much?”
“What I feel for him or my brother is none of your business.” He spun away from her and started for the house then stopped. Guilt made him turn back, and the feeling increased when he saw hurt in her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not going to take out my family’s problems on you. It seems like you have a good relationship with them. That’s fine, but do me a favor and don’t try to fix us. I won’t be here long.”
She started to speak and apparently thought better of it. At her nod, he left her on the verandah and went to find a mount. In New York, he didn’t get much occasion to ride. He might as well enjoy it a little while he was there because it was certain he wouldn’t ever come back no matter what anyone said.
* * *
Miguel dropped onto his bed. He’d been out riding again. The wake that afternoon, the funeral and the burial had taken it out of him. He’d been forced to talk to more people than he cared to in his mood, all demanding to know if he was home to stay. After a few excruciating hours, he broke away and had gone riding down to a nearby lake. Now with the moon high in the sky and the house quiet, he could relax.
A warm breeze blew through his window, bringing with it the scent of bluebonnets and livestock. Somebody was burning wood despite the warm dry ni
ght. Maybe they were preparing to barbecue that late. He shut his eyes and willed sleep to take him, but it remained elusive. Perhaps a snack, although he wasn’t hungry after the big plate of food Jasmeka had given him.
He left his room with only a sliver of moonlight here and there to guide him. The house creaked around him. He knew every nook and cranny. Nothing had changed in all those years he was gone except for a few updates to the siding and roof, and yet, Jasmeka wanted him to believe his older brother had. The last time Miguel visited the ranch, the twins were five years old. He wouldn’t be there now if David hadn’t died.
“Why are you sneaking around?”
The only reason he didn’t jump was because he heard her an instant before she spoke. Not to mention the hint of sweet scent she gave off. He wondered why she smelled like peaches. Perhaps it was her body wash.
He slowed and stopped to let her pass ahead of him. Her arm brushed his, and he got another whiff of her scent. The softness of her bare skin brought his body alive, and he wished there was more light so he could see those hips sway.
“I was just about to make a cup of tea,” she said. “You want some? Or do you want something stronger?”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t drink.”
She paused ahead of him. “I’m pretty sure I saw you drinking a cola earlier and yesterday.”
“I meant alcohol.”
She snorted. “Wow, I hear all kinds of judgment in that tone. Don’t you get tired of looking down on us mortals?” Her tone held teasing, but he figured she was serious. He said nothing, and she continued on down the hall with him on her heels.
She made tea, and he leaned against the counter, arms folded as he watched her. The short shorts and T-shirt she wore earlier in the day had given way to a lilac nightie with a white flowered pattern. Its length was short enough to expose her legs halfway up her thighs but not thin enough to let him see through it. Bummer. Her feet were bare, and she’d polished her toes a shade of purple. He wondered if that was her favorite color and then dismissed the notion. Such facts didn’t interest him.
“You seemed to have cared about my brother,” he said.
She spilled hot water on the counter as she poured and then mopped it up. “Of course. I told you. Your family is like mine.”
“You don’t have a family of your own?” He hadn’t meant it to sound mean or accusing, but no doubt she heard it that way. Just coming to Texas had ticked him off. In New York he was much more relaxed when he wasn’t working.
You’re lying to yourself, Miguel. No one is as intense as you are.
He rubbed his neck and prepared to apologize. She cut him off. Her voice was as conversational and pleasant as usual, but he caught an underlying pain. He’d have to try harder not to bully her with his words. She wasn’t a Torres after all.
