Three Little Words
Page 4

“He was gay.”
She snapped her attention back to Ford and struggled to keep her mouth from falling open. “How did you know?”
“No straight guy goes to estate sales.”
She managed a strangled laugh. “Of course they do, but you’re right. He’d fallen in love with another man. He said it had never happened before, but I didn’t know if I could believe him.”
How could he not have known? How could he have lied to her for all those years? She’d been forced to grapple with the end of her marriage and worry about her health. If Eric had cheated with one person, who was to say there hadn’t been others?
All the tests had come back fine and she was able to relax about sexually transmitted diseases, but then she’d still had the end of her marriage to get through.
“I missed him,” she admitted. “We were friends and then he was gone. I had to figure out what to do next. Sonia and I had always talked about opening a store together and suddenly we were making real plans. I came here to help out my folks, earn some money and deal with everything.”
She drew in a breath. “I never saw it coming. That’s what I wrestle with. I had no clue. I mean we rarely had sex, but I figured everyone was different. He wasn’t that interested and I was good with that. Only, what if it was me?”
“If he’s gay, then it’s not you. It’s every woman.”
He watched her with friendly concern. If there was judgment, he was keeping it hidden, which she appreciated.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “He wasn’t honest with you or himself. You had no part of that.”
“I guess.”
He lightly touched her under the chin, forcing her to raise her head and meet his steady gaze. “There’s no ‘I guess’ on this.”
“What if I turned him gay?”
Ford smiled. “You didn’t.”
“You can’t know that. Maybe I was so horrible in bed he had to go be with a guy.”
“I don’t think it works that way. Isn’t sexual preference biological? Sorry to disappoint, but you don’t have that much power.”
He was being so kind, she thought. Gentle and sweet. The unexpected support made her want to lean into him. “I feel stupid. Like I should have known.”
“You trusted him, Isabel. You believed in him and he used you.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is.” The smile returned. “I’m always right.”
“Oh, please.” She felt herself start to smile back at him.
“Better,” he said, then leaned forward and lightly touched his mouth to hers.
The kiss was brief. More comfort than seduction. Even so, she felt a distinct jolt deep in her belly. She told herself it was a combination of wine—even though she’d barely had a sip—and embarrassment. No one knew the truth about Eric. She’d been too humiliated to share what had really happened. Now she wondered why she’d been so reluctant to trust the people who loved her.
“Thank you,” she said when he straightened. “For listening and not laughing.”
“Your story wasn’t funny.”
“I was thinking more of being laughed at rather than with.”
“Not my style,” he told her.
What was his style? Who was this man who drove a ridiculous vehicle and claimed to be God’s gift to women, yet offered comfort and knew the exact right thing to say?
Before she could ask, he turned away and checked on the steaks. “They’re about done,” he said.
“I’ll get the potatoes and salad.”
She walked into the house and drew in a breath. She felt better for having told the truth. As if the secret of why her marriage had ended had been weighing on her.
What she hadn’t said, what she wondered if Ford or anyone else would guess, was that the sadness she felt was for the loss of a friend. Not of a husband or a lover. She didn’t feel as if she’d ended things with her one true love. Which meant the marriage had been a fake from the beginning and somehow she’d never noticed.
* * *
FORD LEANED BACK in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “Two more accounts,” he said, nodding at the folders on the desk.
Consuelo pushed his boots off the desk. “You’re smug. I hate smug.”
“I’m good at my job,” he corrected, then drank his coffee.
Angel’s expression turned pained. “You get the glory because you’re in sales. We’re all working just as hard.”
“Do you hear anything?” Ford asked Justice. “I’m getting a buzzing sound in my ear.”
Justice turned from his laptop and opened the folders. He glanced at the printed copies of emails, along with the signed contracts.
The workload at CDS was divided equally. Justice, who had pulled the business together, coordinated all their activities and kept everything running smoothly. Consuelo was in charge of classes and training. Angel put together custom programs for their security clients and the corporate customers, while Ford was in charge of sales.
“Don’t make trouble,” Justice said mildly as he reviewed the documents. He was tall and broad shouldered, and the only one of them wearing a suit. Ford, Angel and Consuelo had on cargo pants and T-shirts, which in Consuelo’s case was really a tank top. The influence of their military training. The clothes provided for easy movement in any situation.
“Nice,” Justice said, looking up. He turned to Angel. “I’ll touch base with the companies to find out the details of what they’re looking for. Then you can start designing the programs.”
Angel looked disgusted. “How are you doing that? You have new clients nearly every week and we’ve only been open a month.”
“Jealous? I’m good at what I do.”
“Don’t make me separate you two,” Consuelo said.
“I’ve got style, bro,” Ford said, ignoring her. “Real style.”
There were three parts to the CDS business plan. The first types of client were ones already in the security business. CDS provided advanced training for senior operatives and basic training for new hires. Most companies found it cheaper to outsource instruction.
The second source of income came from corporate clients looking for a unique team-building experience. Using the town as a selling point, Ford presented the idea of a simple series of survival exercises to grow trust in a group. Most of the corporate clients picked weeks of festivals for their dates, bringing in the employees on Monday and flying in family members to join them on Thursday. At the end, there would be a group hug and a round of “Kumbaya.” Or some crap like that.
The final source of income was from classes held for locals. Self-defense and basic exercise. It was good for the town, good for CDS, and that was all he cared about.
“You don’t have style,” Angel grumbled. “Look at that thing you drive.”
“It’s a classic.”
“It’s an embarrassment to Jeeps everywhere. The company should come take it away from you.”
His friend’s comment made him think about what Isabel had said. Which made him think about last night and the feel of his mouth on hers.
Nice. More than nice. He’d been aware of wanting to pull her close and do a lot more than kiss. Sometime while he’d been gone, his ex-girlfriend’s little sister had grown up. Now she was funny, sexy and completely off-limits. Isabel was troubled and he didn’t do troubled. She was also the commitment type, which, again, was not him. But a guy could sure dream.
“If we could get back to business,” Justice said. He went through the rest of the schedule. “Angel’s getting more work than he can handle.”
“Thanks to me.” Ford grinned. “Damn, I’m good.”
Consuelo rolled her eyes.
“Don’t ask him to help me,” Angel demanded. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You can’t design all the curriculum yourself,” Justice reminded him. “Not at the beginning when it’s all new. We’ll all help.”
“But I’ll be the most help,” Ford said.
Angel lunged for him. They tumbled to the floor, wrestling and punching each other.
Neither of them was trying very hard. If either of them put in any effort, there would be a fairly serious injury...or seven. Justice had already lectured them on not doing anything to increase their health insurance premiums.
“Are we done?” Consuelo asked.
“Apparently,” Justice said and turned back to his computer.
Angel rolled Ford a couple of times and tried to get an arm around his neck. Ford twisted and got away, only to have his friend pull him back to the mat. Consuelo grabbed her coffee and stepped over them.
At the door, she paused and looked back. “The Maá-zib Festival is coming up. The highlight is a man getting his heart cut out. I’m volunteering both of you for the sacrifice. Don’t worry about thanking me.”
CHAPTER THREE
FORD WALKED DOWN the stairs by the garage and headed to his Jeep. He glanced toward the kitchen and wondered if Isabel was up yet. It was early by civilian standards and he knew the store didn’t open until ten or eleven, so she had no reason to be. Oddly, he found himself wanting to go inside anyway, to make coffee and wait for her. An urge he couldn’t explain or justify. He guessed she would be as freaked by his unexpected arrival as he’d been by his mother’s.
There were elements about coming home that were more difficult than he’d expected. Not his mother—she was as much a pain as usual. He knew her actions were born in love, but honest to God, the woman needed a hobby. He’d seen his brothers and they were fine. Low-key. Welcoming but not so much with the hugging and worrying. His sisters were another matter and he didn’t look forward to hanging out with them.
But Isabel was different. Being around her was fun. He could relax and enjoy listening to her talk or tease her. Probably because of the letters. She’d written him for years. He’d watched her grow up, had been privy to her secrets and had slept better knowing that while he was in hell, there were still good people going about their lives.
He doubted she knew what her letters had meant to him. How her words had kept him grounded. He’d never answered, and over time, the letters had changed. They’d become more of a diary and less of a correspondence. He’d liked that part, too.
He’d laughed over the funny things and felt for her when she’d gone through life’s lessons. He’d been changing, too, and in a way, it was as if they’d gone through both together.
Seeing her was different than reading about her. Better. Three-D, grown-up Isabel was a lot more intriguing than the teen had been. She was pretty enough to tempt him but, as he’d been reminding himself, not someone he should pursue. He wasn’t a good bet romantically, and she deserved a good guy in her life. He was more the good-time type. He felt bad about her ex. That had to set a girl back. If there were—
He stopped halfway down the stairs.
Someone was standing by his Jeep. He’d seen movement and then it had stilled, as if whoever was there was trying to stay in the shadows. Ford went on alert. He reached for his sidearm, only to remember this was Fool’s Gold and he didn’t have a gun.
Not a problem. He would take out his stalker the old-fashioned way.
He continued down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. He circled the vehicle and came up behind the guy. Ford had to consciously lower his arms to his sides as he recognized the man loitering.
“Leonard?”
Leonard, all five feet eight inches of him, jumped. “Ford! You startled me.”
Leonard had dark hair and glasses. He wore slacks and a white shirt, along with a tie. Ford saw the white SUV parked on the street and guessed there was a suit jacket lying neatly in the backseat. Or worse, hung on a hanger.
Leonard held out his hand. “It’s good to see you. Welcome home.”
“Thanks.” They shook. “What are you doing here?”
Leonard pushed up his glasses. “I thought we should talk. We need to settle our differences.”
Ford held in a laugh. “It was all a long time ago, bro. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“I disagree. I was wrong to do what I did.” Leonard’s expression turned guilty. “You and Maeve were engaged. I had no right to get in the middle of that. You were my best friend.” He paused to clear his throat. “I’ve never forgiven myself for hurting you.”
Ford remembered being stunned when he’d found Maeve with Leonard. He was sure he’d been upset, but it was a long time ago. It was like recalling a movie he’d seen rather than reliving an emotional event.
“The better man won.”
“No,” Leonard said earnestly. “I’m not the better man. I can’t be until I apologize and you accept.” He squared his shoulders. “We should have told you. We should have explained we were falling in love.”
“Yeah, you should have. So you have and we’re good, right?”
Leonard shook his head. “No. That’s not enough. Maeve and I were young and foolish. You have to see that.”
“I do.” He could also see the beginnings of a headache.
“Sure, we’re married now, with four kids and another on the way, but so what? Our happy marriage doesn’t make what we did right. You deserve your pound of flesh.”
Ford sighed. “Do I have to?”
Leonard stepped closer. “Hit me.”
Ford held in a groan. “Seriously?”