Someone Like You (Night Riders) (24 page)

“I’ll make sure he’s tucked in bed and snoring like a lumberjack in half an hour.”

Luis looked indignant. “I don’t snore.” His expression changed. “What’s a lumberjack?”

Broc put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your education
has been sadly neglected.” He cast Maria a mischievous grin. “I see I need to fill in some of the gaps.”

“Remember he’s just nine,” Maria warned.

Broc only grinned more broadly. “A boy’s education can’t begin too soon.”

Feeling a little uneasy, she turned to Rafe. “You don’t think he’ll—”

“Broc likes to tease people.”

Now she felt guilty for questioning Broc’s integrity. It looked like her education had been neglected as well. She had no idea what to do with men like Broc and Rafe. Did she have any idea what to do with
any
man?

In the traditional wealthy house hold of Spanish heritage, marriages were arranged by the parents. A young girl would be married by the time she was fifteen to a man of her parents’ choosing.

The loss of her family’s wealth and her father’s suicide had meant that Maria’s life had taken a different path, but she had been happy living at Rancho los Alamitos, bringing up Luis, taking care of the house hold for Dolores and Warren.

“You might want to get a shawl.” Rafe’s voice brought her out of her abstraction. “It can get cool and damp at night.”

Entering the room she would share with Luis, she started to show Broc where to find everything the boy needed for bed. That incensed Luis, who announced he was perfectly capable of showing Broc himself. She watched with amusement as he systematically took out everything he needed and carefully explained its function to Broc. She wanted to laugh because it was funny, but she felt sad because her little boy was growing up. He would always love her, but he would never need her in the same way he once had.

“I think we can handle everything else ourselves,” Broc said to her. “I don’t want you to keep Rafe waiting.”

She was sure she blushed, and that annoyed her. Deciding
there was no response that wouldn’t cause further speculation, she chose a shawl. “Don’t keep Luis up too late telling stories. And don’t make them too exciting, or he’ll never fall asleep.”

Broc promised to have Luis in bed and asleep before she and Rafe reached the end of the street. Rafe was waiting in the hall when she stepped out of her room.

“Giving Broc some final instructions?”

“He doesn’t know anything about children, and Luis is still a little boy.”

“Broc grew up the oldest in a family of nine. I expect he knows enough to put Luis to bed.”

She would not blush for her ignorance. It was Broc’s fault he’d never said anything about his family. “It isn’t that he doesn’t know how. It’s that he enjoys telling stories too much, and Luis likes hearing them so much, he won’t let Broc stop when it comes time.”

Rafe put his hand on the small of her back and guided her down the hall that led to the lobby. “It won’t hurt Luis to stay up late. Festival occurs only once a year.”

She wondered if Rafe would come back next year at festival time. “It’s a good thing, with you encouraging him to risk his neck in a pony race.”

Rafe didn’t respond until they’d crossed the lobby and emerged from the hotel. “So now it’s my fault he’s in danger.”

She could tell from the tone of his voice he was teasing her. She wasn’t sure she liked that.

“What events do you plan to enter tomorrow?” she asked.

Rafe’s amused look served only to irritate her further. “Probably a race, performing some tricks, and bronco riding.”

“All in one day?” The list seemed like a lot to her.

“They last only a few minutes each.”

It only took seconds for something to go wrong. She didn’t understand why men had to unnecessarily court danger just to show they were men.

As they walked along the street, she realized that Cíbola
looked very different at night. The town throbbed with life. Even though it was dark, people filled the streets, some just walking as she and Rafe were. Others talking in doorways and courtyards. Still others eating on tables that had been set outside. The feeble light from the crescent moon was supplemented by multicolored lanterns lining the street, sitting on tables, and hanging from tree limbs or ropes strung from windows. Rich reds, brilliant yellows, and warm oranges gave the festival costumes a cheerfulness that was reflected in the laughter and excitement that filled the air.

Women strolled by, their hair coiled in tight knots and adorned with flowers, jeweled combs, or covered with lace. Many wore lockets at their throats and heavily embroidered shawls draped over their alabaster shoulders. Men were dressed with equal flamboyance in embroidered coats and vests sporting silver buttons, and flat-crowned, wide-brimmed hats decorated with colorful bands. They wore tight-fitting
calzoneras
of every color with red sashes tied around their waists. The sounds of violins, guitars, and voices raised in song competed with one another, first one then the other gaining prominence, only to fade out and be replaced.

The spicy smells of food of every description—tomatoes, garlic, beef, onions, chicken—filled the night air. Feeling a slight chill despite Rafe’s nearness, Maria pulled her shawl more tightly around her.

“Are you cold?” Rafe asked. “Do you want my
serape
?”

Maria couldn’t remember Rafe having ever worn a
serape
, a blanketlike garment that could be draped across the chest and thrown over the shoulders, with the ends falling down the back or wrapped around the body like a cloak. He always wore the shirt, vest, and pants that Broc said were cowboy gear in Texas. She wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but his usual attire showcased his raw masculinity better than anything else.

“Thank you, but I’m warm enough.”

She wondered where he was taking her, what he wanted
to talk about, why he couldn’t have done it in the hotel. They came to the bridge that crossed the creek dividing Cíbola in two.

“I remember the spring the creek flooded so badly it washed the bridge away,” Rafe commented. “They found pieces scattered all the way to the Sacramento River.”

The creeks always flooded when the snow melted in the spring. “What did you want to talk with me about?” she asked. “If it’s about Luis or managing the house, we could have done it in the hotel.”

“It’s not about either.”

“What then?”

“Do I have to want to talk about anything in particular? Can’t I just enjoy being with you?”

Maria’s heart beat so rapidly, she felt breathless. “You’ve been with me all day.”

“I wasn’t with
you
. I was with everybody.”

She understood. Hadn’t she been trying to avoid being with him by surrounding herself with people? “Why would you want to be alone with me?”

“I enjoy your company.”

“Really? Why?”

Rafe looked vaguely amused. “Do I have to have a reason?”

She opened her mouth to say of course, but closed it when she realized she couldn’t say exactly what it was about Rafe that attracted her. “Most people do have a reason, that’s all.”

“What kind of reason?”

She started to mention the obvious but was certain Rafe wasn’t talking about that. He wasn’t attracted to Dolores despite her beauty. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I haven’t known many men.”

“The only women I’ve known even reasonably well are Dolores and Cade’s wife, Pilar. I completely misjudged Dolores, and I was never romantically interested in Pilar. That doesn’t make me much of an expert.”

Why had she always assumed he had wide experience with women? Was it his confidence, his decisiveness, his habit of command?

“You might say I’m trying to learn about women by being with you.”

Maria felt bereft of speech. His words could have so many possible unspoken meanings…or absolutely none. She reminded herself that Rafe would be returning to Texas. If she had any sense, she’d go back to the hotel right now.

To give herself time to think, she walked onto the bridge. The water in the creek below tumbled over polished stones, eddied in twists of the creek bed, and pooled in places undisturbed by rocks. Against the backdrop of the celebration in Cíbola it seemed silent, going on its way without comment or notice of its surroundings. That was a lot like her life over the past ten years. She’d filled her days with her love for Luis and her house keeping duties. She’d grown from a girl into a woman. She might never have noticed the changes in herself if it hadn’t been for Rafe. But she
had
noticed the difference, and she now knew that she wanted things she’d never wanted before. “Maybe you ought to find a Texas woman. I doubt they’re the same as Californians. There’s a lot of Spanish blood in our veins.”

Rafe had followed her onto the bridge. “One of Pilar’s grandfathers was French and the other Spanish. Her grandmother is this fierce Spanish lady who tolerates me only because my mother was part of the Vallejo family.”

“My father was Spanish; yours was an Anglo.”

“Yours committed suicide, and mine closed himself up in his room until he died. I suggest we forget all our ancestors and think only of ourselves.”

That was exactly what she was trying
not
to do. She needed to conclude this conversation and get back to the hotel. But if Rafe didn’t have anything specific to say to
her, only wanted to enjoy her company, there was no easy way to bring the evening to an end without just walking away.

“Why do you find it so hard to be around me?”

She’d never expected him to be so blunt. She didn’t know how to answer his question honestly without revealing too much about her own feelings. “We’re so different.”

“I’m not talking about that. You’ve avoided me ever since Dolores accused me of trying to compromise you.”

“Isn’t that reason enough?”

“No. You were kissing me back.”

It was foolish to think he wouldn’t have realized that. “That’s all the more reason to keep our distance from each other.”

“Because of one little kiss?”

“In my culture, any action can be misinterpreted when it’s between a man and woman who aren’t married.”

“Did you misinterpret that kiss?”

“I can’t say. I don’t know how you meant it.”

“My meaning wasn’t complicated. I like you and wanted to kiss you. What did you think I meant?”

Rafe didn’t play fair. Men weren’t supposed to be so direct. Honesty put a woman on the spot, gave her little or no room to be evasive, to keep from committing herself. She didn’t have the same freedom as Dolores had as a widow, but she was old enough to make her own decisions.

“My experience of men is very limited,” she confessed. “I’ve never had to sort through so many conflicting emotions.” Rafe reached out, took her hand. She knew she should resist but didn’t.

“Are you going to turn me away?” he murmured.

Maria couldn’t breathe. Rafe hadn’t asked anything of her, yet she felt he’d asked everything. Any answer could be the wrong one—for her and for him. “I can’t give you an answer until I know what you’re asking.”

Rafe seemed to sense her confusion, her anxiety. He gently
rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I was only going to ask if I could put my arm around you, maybe kiss you again.”

Only put his arm around her, maybe kiss her again
! Didn’t he realize granting him permission to do those things was the same as turning her world upside down? “You say that as if it’s no more important than asking whether I want to go for a ride.” It was difficult to read Rafe’s expression in the shadowy light, but she could feel the increase in tension through his grip on her hand.

“Then I didn’t say it right. I like you very much. I’m not good with words, so I can’t explain that because of things that have happened to me in the past, I’m not sure exactly what my feelings are.”

Odd that she should be more attracted to a man who wasn’t sure of his feelings for her than men who knew exactly what they wanted. She had questions of her own that needed answers, and she hadn’t found any of them in the privacy of her thoughts. She didn’t want to risk her heart, but she suspected it was already too late for that.

“I like you, too.” Why was that so hard to say? It was only four words. She told Luis she loved him a dozen times a day. What was so difficult about admitting that she liked Rafe? Because loving Luis and liking Rafe weren’t the same. They were miles apart. A universe apart. One emotion filled her with happiness, the other with terror and confusion. “One kiss,” she agreed, “but that’s all.”

“You’re going to limit me to one?”

She’d been kissed only once in her life—by Rafe. But that one experience had been enough for her to know how powerful a kiss could be. She felt herself flush. “I’m not trying to be coy.”

His grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her closer. “I enjoy being with you. I have from that first night.”

She started to protest, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.

“I was angry at having to come back and face Dolores, and I was irritated I was attracted to you. I was certain you were like Dolores.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Lots of things, even the way you looked out for Dolores although she took advantage of you.”

She felt guilty she hadn’t recognized sooner that her sister was a badly flawed woman. “I tried to make Dolores see reason, but I wasn’t very successful.”

“That wasn’t your responsibility. Now, I don’t want to talk about Dolores anymore. I’d much rather talk about you.”

Maria didn’t know what he could find to say about her. She wasn’t beautiful, she wasn’t young, she wasn’t sophisticated, and she had never been anywhere or done anything. “That will be a short conversation.”

“I disagree. You’re a complicated woman, and I love your smile.”

What could any man say about a smile that would take even half a minute? She didn’t know how to tell him she wasn’t amused, but he seemed to sense her change of mood.

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t
want
to believe you, but a smile is just the curve of two lips.”