Three Little Words (20 page)

* * *

F
ORD
DRAGGED
THE
RAKE
across the grass. Fall had definitely come to Fool’s Gold. The days were notably shorter; the leaves were turning and falling. Up on the mountain, scarlets and yellows created a quilt of bright colors. Here in town, all those colors meant leaf cleanup.

Isabel collected the yard-waste bin and eyed the growing pile. “There’s not going to be enough room,” she said. “The trees are serious about shedding.”

“You have yard-waste bags in the garage,” he told her. “On the shelf above the lawn mower. They’ll take the extras.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re spending way too much time over here if you know where stuff like that is.”

He grinned. “I happened to see them last time I mowed. I’m not taking inventory.”

He wore an old Los Angeles Stallions sweatshirt and jeans. Battered boots and no jacket. His hair was mussed and he hadn’t shaved that morning. He looked better than a hot-fudge sundae. Looking at him practically made her stomach growl.

Their fake relationship was starting to confuse her. Mostly because it was so easy. He was here every night. They had dinner together, did chores. She’d joined him on that work dinner, and he occasionally popped into Paper Moon.

Lately, the thought of leaving wasn’t as thrilling as it had been. Sure, the dream of her own store was still a draw, but what about Ford?

Whenever those questions arose, she reminded herself that this wasn’t real. That while she was emotionally engaged, he wasn’t, and that if she stayed, he would break her heart. Wouldn’t it be easier to be on the other side of the country instead of having the risk of seeing him around every corner?

She heard the phone ring in the house. “I’ll go get that,” she said.

“I know you’re calling yourself on your cell,” he yelled after her. “To get out of work.”

She was still laughing when she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Isabel, it’s Denise Hendrix. How are you?”

The laughter faded in her throat. “Fine, thank you. And you?”

“I’m doing great. I was thinking we didn’t get much time to talk when you and Ford were over for dinner. The family is such a crowd. I think we should spend some quality time together, so I thought we could go out for tea. The lodge has one every month, on Saturday afternoon. I’d invite the triplets, so it would just be us girls. How does that sound?”

Isabel opened her mouth, then closed it. Tea with his mother and sisters? Lying to them directly for a couple of hours?

“I’m sorry, Denise, but Saturdays are really difficult for me,” she said. “It’s our busiest day at the store. I usually have fittings and showings. I only have Madeline helping me, so I can’t really leave her alone on a Saturday.”

“Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that. All right. I’ll come up with something else. Your store is closed on Monday, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Isabel said weakly.

“Good. I’ll be in touch.”

Trapped, she thought grimly. She was completely trapped.

She dragged herself back to the front porch and collapsed on the steps. Ford frowned at her, then dropped the rake and walked over. Even the sight of him, all masculine and sexy, didn’t make her feel better.

“What?” he asked when he was in front of her.

“Your mother wants me to have tea with her and your sisters. But the lodge only does tea on Saturday afternoons and I can’t leave the store then.”

“Problem solved.”

“Not exactly. She confirmed I have Mondays off and is going to come up with something else. Something I won’t be able to get out of.”

He tugged her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he said, staring into her eyes. “How can I make this up to you?”

He smelled good. Clean with a hint of leaves. The air was crisp, but he was warm, and as she settled into his embrace, she wondered what it would be like to never let go. Dangerous thoughts, she reminded herself. Also pointless. But the question remained.

“You don’t have to,” she told him. “I just want to pout.”

“You’re an adorable pouter. Cutest ever.”

That made her smile.

Then his mouth was on hers, and he was nudging her back toward the front door.

“What are you doing?” she asked, not doing very much to avoid his hot, arousing kisses.

“Making it up to you.”

“You’re not all that,” she told him.

He grinned. “Yes, I am.”

Yes, he was, she thought, giving herself over to the feel of his mouth against hers and his tongue slipping past her lips. She hung on as he kicked the front door closed, then moved his hands under her sweater.

Her body already anticipated the pleasure that would follow. The slow, steady road to arousal, of how he would touch and lick and tease every inch of her. She trembled slightly as she thought about the laughing argument they would have about who got to be on top and the way their rapid breathing synchronized as they got closer and closer. How he held off until he was sure she’d fallen over the edge of the world and then how he followed her.

Once they were in the living room, she pulled off her sweater. He took it from her and dropped it onto a chair. While she pulled off her shoes and socks, he did the same. She unfastened his jeans and he ripped off his sweatshirt. Her jeans and thong followed, because for them, the fun didn’t start until they were both naked.

“Me,” she breathed, moving behind him.

“Me” meaning she got to be in charge. She got to say when and how.

He growled his complaint but didn’t protest.

As she stopped directly behind him, she noticed all the perfection that was his body. Not that there weren’t cuts and bruises. You couldn’t do what he did in a day and not have physical evidence. There were also scars—a couple she thought might be bullet wounds. Not that he would tell her. Ford simply didn’t talk about what he’d done in the military.

But he knew how to work out so every inch of him was honed muscle. Now she placed her hands in the center of his back and slid out and down, over his narrow hips, before grabbing his butt and squeezing.

She got close and pressed the front of her body against the back of his. She cupped her breasts in her hands and lightly dragged her tight nipples against his back. He sucked in his breath.

After she dropped back to his hips, she eased her hand around to his front. She leaned her cheek against his back and closed her eyes, then explored as much as she could reach. His chest, his rib cage. She danced her fingers against his nipples before sliding down his belly to his erection.

Her eyes still closed, her face still pressed against his back, she began to move the way he’d taught her. The way she’d watched him please himself one evening after they’d shared a bath. He’d stretched out on the bed, with her sitting next to him, not touching him, just watching as he took himself over the edge.

She’d been too shy to return the favor, despite how turned on she’d been, so he’d gone down on her, bringing her to orgasm in about thirty seconds. But a few days later, she’d managed to put on her own show, at halftime with a football game on TV. Ford had told her it had been by far the best play of the game.

Now she moved up and down, steadily increasing the speed, focusing on the tension she felt building in his body and the increase in his breathing.

Heat moved through her, making her want to squirm closer and rub against him. Blood hummed as her excitement grew. She was swelling—she could feel it. Getting ready for him. The thought of him pushing inside her, filling her, made her own breath catch.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, then spun toward her. Before she knew what he had planned, he was lifting her onto the sofa table and spreading her legs.

He filled her with one long, powerful thrust. She groaned as she arched back, taking all of him into her. When they were pressed together, groin to groin, she wrapped her legs around his hips and held him close.

“Now you’ll never get away,” she said with a smile.

He cupped her breasts in his hands and rubbed his thumbs against her nipples. “Why would I want to?”

He kissed her then, deeply, his tongue moving against hers. She ran her fingers along his shoulder and the back of his neck. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. There was almost a fierceness to his embrace. Not from aggression, she thought, hugging him back, but from some need he would never name.

He was still hard, still inside her, but the moment had shifted. They weren’t having sex. This was about connecting, and it shook her far more than any orgasm.

She clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Not speaking. Completely still. Then he began to move again.

He withdrew and filled her over and over. He shifted his hands so he was cupping her face.

“Look at me,” he breathed.

She opened her eyes and stared into his. Emotions chased across his face, but they changed too fast for her to read them. She still hung on to him, feeling her body begin the journey to pleasure.

“Isabel.”

Her breath caught as he pushed in deeper still and then she lost control, shuddering in her release. He kept his cadence steady as she shattered, then still gazing into her eyes, came himself. Deep pleasure shared and a moment when she was sure she could at last see all of him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I
SABEL
, C
ONSUELO
AND
F
ELICIA
settled at a table at Brew-haha. Patience was in the back with an early delivery and the store was quiet.

“No puppy?” Isabel asked.

“Webster’s sleeping in my office,” Felicia told her. “He gets enough attention during the day. Plus, I don’t think Patience would appreciate having an animal in her establishment. Ignoring the various health codes, some people find dogs off-putting.” She smiled. “I’ll admit I was concerned when Gideon wanted to get Carter a dog, but I find him to be an excellent companion. He’s friendly and helps establish a rapport with people I don’t know.”

“We’re talking about the dog and not Gideon, right?” Isabel asked.

Felicia smiled. “Yes, the dog.”

“You’re not as weird as you think,” Consuelo told Felicia. “Being in Fool’s Gold has changed you. You’re much more open and relaxed.”

“The town has helped,” Felicia said. “And having a family.”

“And the sex,” Isabel teased.

Felicia nodded solemnly. “The combination of physical pleasure and emotional bonding is very satisfying.”

Felicia was strange, Isabel thought, but in a good way. The woman was some kind of genius and had an interesting past that included working for the military on secret missions. That was how she’d come to Fool’s Gold in the first place—through Ford and his company. But she fit in perfectly.

Isabel supposed that was because the town was especially welcoming to those who weren’t exactly like everyone else.

Felicia looked at Consuelo and picked up her latte. “After years of you taking care of me, I finally get to ask what’s going on with you. Something is different.”

Isabel expected the pint-sized commando to threaten Felicia with bodily harm, but instead Consuelo dropped her head to her hands.

“My life’s a mess.”

“Empirically or emotionally?” Felicia asked.

“Emotionally.” Consuelo turned to Isabel. “You can’t say a word. Seriously.”

“I swear.” Isabel put down her latte and made an
X over her heart.

Consuelo sighed. “It’s Kent. I’m still seeing him.”

“I thought you liked him,” Isabel said. “He’s a really great guy.”

“I know. That’s the problem. He’s so normal. Nice and smart. Reese is a great kid, and Kent is a great dad. It’s like stumbling into some perfect sitcom. I don’t belong.”

Isabel didn’t understand. “Have you looked in the mirror? You’re every guy’s fantasy. Plus, you have the tough thing going on, which is fun, but you’re secretly caring.”

Consuelo glared at her. “What did you say?”

Felicia shook her head. “We’re not supposed to notice she cares. It makes her feel vulnerable.”

Isabel wondered if she should back slowly out of the room. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Consuelo touched her arm. “My bad. Automatic response. Which is why I’m totally wrong for Kent. Have you met his family?”

“Yes,” Isabel said glumly, thinking about the tea she was going to have to share with his mother and sisters. “Many times.”

“I haven’t and I’m going to have to. They’re going to ask about my family. What am I supposed to say? That my father took off when my youngest brother was born and no one’s seen him since? Mom’s dead, as is one of my brothers. The other’s in jail. There’s a happy conversation.”

Isabel hadn’t known the details of Consuelo’s past. “That’s a lot to overcome,” she said quietly.

“I didn’t overcome it. I left. I took off and never looked back. I thought—” She shook her head. “Hell, what does it matter? It can’t work. He and I are too different.”

“You’re looking for trouble,” Felicia said, then smiled, as if pleased to have found the right cliché. “Your past has made you who you are today. Yes, you and Kent come from different places, but you have a lot in common. You’re both good with children. He’s a teacher and you teach your classes. Your students are very fond of you. You both have a strong sense of right and wrong.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Consuelo muttered.

“Is it because you were a soldier?” Isabel asked, suddenly wondering if Consuelo was simply verbalizing what Ford wouldn’t talk about. “Because of what you’ve seen or done? Is the inability to connect more about a fear of opening a door? That if the two worlds collide, something bad will happen?”

Consuelo stared at her with an expression Isabel couldn’t read.

“Don’t hurt me,” she said quickly.

“I won’t,” Consuelo told her. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it because of Ford. There are times when I have no idea what he’s thinking. I can only guess and wonder if he’ll ever talk about what happened.”

“Not with you,” Consuelo said flatly. “He won’t want you to see it through him.”

Which made Isabel wonder what Consuelo kept hidden. “So, who do you talk to?”

“Some people don’t talk to anyone. They let it fester inside. Or eventually it works itself out.” She hesitated. “I see a counselor.”

“I’m glad,” Felicia said quietly, touching her friend’s arm.

“I don’t know if it helps,” Consuelo admitted. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m fine and other times... There’s a reason they call it the ‘ragged edge.’” She looked at Isabel. “No one can go through what Ford did and remain unaffected. War leaves scars. Some are on the inside and some are on the outside, but we all have them. Ford’s basically a good guy, but he’s still dealing.”

“Like how?” Isabel asked.

“Moments when he isn’t sure where he is. Or why he made it when others didn’t.”

She hadn’t seen any signs of that, Isabel thought. Every now and then he got quiet, but that was it. Like the last time they’d made love. When he’d held on to her. If she had to guess, she would say she’d been the only steady object in a rapidly spinning world.

“Are the scars the reason you worry about being with Kent?” Felicia asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m just not like him.”

“You keep saying that,” Isabel pointed out. “But he’s obviously interested in you and you in him.”

“Because he doesn’t know me.”

“Of course,” Felicia said. “The root of all fears. Not being accepted by those we care about. Being rejected and isolated. It’s a primal fear. As a species, we are meant to be part of a group. A community. We mistrust loners because we don’t understand them. With the exception of our romanticizing the loner in movies and novels, of course.”

Consuelo stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re terrified Kent is going to reject you, so you withhold yourself from him. He will sense that there are secrets he will never know and parts of you he can’t touch, which will in turn make him feel rejected.” Her voice gentled. “You’re already planning your exit.”

“I’m not!” Consuelo said loudly, then sighed. “Okay, maybe. But...” She pressed her lips together. “Damn it, Felicia.”

Felicia’s smile was just a little bit smug.

“You’re good,” Isabel said.

“With others. I’m less insightful with myself.”

“While you’re being brilliant, what about Ford? He claims he can’t fall in love. That he’s tried but it simply hasn’t happened for him.”

“What are your thoughts?” Felicia asked.

“He was pretty young when he was engaged to my sister. So getting over Maeve quickly isn’t a statement on his character. Since then, he’s been in different war zones and on secret assignments. I know he was in a task force, but I don’t know any details.”

She picked up her latte, then put it down. “He didn’t work around many women, and I don’t think his leaves were long enough for him to really get involved with someone. So he made the decision to keep things casual. He likes women and they like him. But is that all he has in him? Did he skate on the surface because it was how he kept himself safe, only now that’s all he knows and anything else is too scary to try?”

“Possibly,” Felicia said.

Isabel laughed. “I was hoping for more.”

“Why? Your analysis is sound. If Ford has never had the opportunity for a significant relationship—either through circumstance or preference or both—then he’s unlikely to be willing to try now without motivation. Are you giving him that?”

The question was unexpected. “No. I’m leaving for New York in a few months. We’re only fake-dating.”

At least, she hoped they were. Isabel thought about how she’d felt holding him. How she looked forward to seeing him and how she avoided thinking about what it would be like when she was gone.

“I refuse to fall in love with him,” she said flatly. But as she spoke, she was touching the dragonfly necklace Ford had bought for her. The one she didn’t take off, except to shower.

“Good luck with that plan,” Consuelo told her, looking sympathetic.

Patience came out from behind the counter. “Sorry,” she said as she approached the table. “My refrigerated goodies are all put away. Now, what did I miss?”

* * *

I
SABEL
LEANED
FORWARD
and adjusted the toe separator on her right foot. She’d decided that a spectacular sex life deserved painted toenails and had dug out some polish, a nail file and the toe separators. Now her left toes were a deep violet.

The bathroom door opened without warning and she shrieked. “What are you doing?”

Ford stood by the sink, his expression wounded. “You locked the back door.”

“Yes,” she told him. “On purpose. I wanted privacy.”

He glanced around the bathroom. “Why? What could you be doing that I couldn’t watch? It’s not like you’re waxing or something.”

She shoved the brush back in the bottle. “It’s not like you asked before you burst in.”

“Good point. So, what are you doing?”

She waved the bottle of nail polish. “I would think it was obvious.”

He glanced at her toes. “I could do that.”

“Paint my toes? I don’t think so.”

“Why not? I’m good with my hands.”

“This is different and the polish on my left foot is still wet. So go away.”

He flashed her a grin. “Right. Because telling me that always works.”

He moved closer. She tried to duck away, but there was nowhere to go. He reached down, picked her up. She yelped.

“Inside voice,” he told her as he carried her into the kitchen, where he put her on a chair.

He pulled up a second chair and sat down, then grabbed her unpolished foot and set it on his hard thigh.

“Bottle,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Fine.” She sighed. “Don’t use a lot of polish. I do a second coat.”

“Then topcoat?”

She stared at him. “You know about topcoat?”

“I have three sisters. I know everything.”

“You are a constant surprise,” she murmured.

“One of my best qualities.”

He painted her nails with slow precision. She watched his steady hand and realized that she was in more trouble than she’d first thought. Walking away from Ford could very well break her heart.

When he was done, he applied the topcoat, then screwed both bottles shut. She leaned back in her chair, both her feet on his thighs, thinking that this was one of the best views in town. She would remember this should her heart end up smashed.

“Why don’t you talk about the war?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “There’s a change in subject.”

“There’s an avoidance of the question.”

He pressed his thumbs into the arch of her left foot and found a sore spot she hadn’t known she had.

“There’s nothing to say.” He rotated his thumbs and pressed harder.

She held in a moan.

“I did things, saw things,” he continued. “They’re ugly and I don’t want you to think about that stuff.”

“You’re protecting me?”

He gave her a slow smile. “Something I’m really good at.”

“I don’t need protecting. We’re friends. You can talk to me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Do you talk to anyone?”

“I was debriefed, I saw a navy shrink because it was required. I’m done.”

“I don’t believe that. You can’t ignore what happened.”

“Why not? It’s the monster under the stairs. Eventually it starves to death.”

She wasn’t sure it was that simple.

He shifted his hands to her other foot and massaged her arch. “There are times when it gets bad,” he admitted, “but not many. I was lucky. I didn’t have it like Gideon or even Angel.”

He raised his head. “Do you know a woman named Taryn? She’s tall, with dark hair. Great dresser. Hot.”

Isabel stared at him for a second, then carefully pulled her feet free. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “Not for me. Angel noticed her the other day. It was like watching a leopard separate an animal from the herd. I wondered if she was up to the chase.”