Unlock the Truth (14 page)

“What did you do that for?” she asked.

“To hear you laugh.”

She closed her eyes, and he kissed her eyelids. He’d known her for two days, and yet he’d know her if he was blindfolded and she wasn’t able to speak. About to take another long inhale of her scent, he thought better of it, especially as he had to walk home. And walking was already difficult. He lifted her higher, spun her around.

“Oh, my,” she said.

“Grab on.”

She laughed again as her bottom hit the leather of the saddle and she almost slid off. The horse turned his head. Zeke grinned. The weariness and worry of the past few days had left him, and he wondered how long it had been since he’d relaxed and played.

“I figured José should get to take a pretty lady for a ride,” Zeke said. “Right my man?” He patted the horse, took the reins, and walked ahead.

They ambled along, flitting from one topic to another, movies, books, sports. When they got to the stables he helped her dismount, and she hurried to the bucket where she selected two pieces of apple.

Zeke rubbed José down, put him in his stall, and Dena gave the horse his treats. She stood slightly apart from him, her arms wrapped tight around her chest, her big blue eyes wide and watching him closely. He liked being here with her, doing something as simple as tending to his horses.

“Let’s go up to the hacienda and get you warm,” Zeke said, knowing he had to stop his random thoughts. He was becoming far too comfortable. He closed the barn door behind them, drew her close, and arm-in-arm they hurried up the path to the hacienda.

“I enjoyed tonight, Dena.”

“Good. I did, too.”

Once inside, it got a bit awkward. How did they part ways now? They both wanted more. They reached the long hallway, and Zeke stopped outside her room. “At some future time, I’d like to invite you out to dinner—”

“A date, huh?”

He’d sounded so formal with his invitation, hadn’t intended to, but she did strange things to him. “Yes, a date,” he said, and gave her a lopsided grin. “What do you say?”

“I say, yes.”

He leaned down, kissed her once, a brush of lips on lips. He couldn’t risk anything more. A deeper kiss and he’d be throwing caution to the wind, and her bedroom door was wide open.

She pressed her lips together, as if tasting their kiss, and he had to look away.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, and strode down the hall.

He heard her murmured response and sensed she still watched him. He turned. She was there, leaning against the door jamb. He raised a hand in farewell before entering his own room and closing the door. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to play like he had tonight? Dena had laughed and talked, allowed him to put her on the horse, and they’d made out like a couple of randy teenagers.

What a pity she had to leave. But did she?

He ruminated on that as he stepped out of his clothes and left them where they fell. He walked over, opened the window, and peered out at the night sky. Tomorrow was a new day, and he’d approach Rocky again with a well thought-out plan.

Who knew what the light of day might bring?

Chapter Nine

On Sunday morning, Dena sat alone in the kitchen and spooned up cereal and non-fat milk. After last night’s make-out at the lake, she couldn’t wait to see how Zeke would handle things today.

She wasn’t going home. On that subject, she was clear.

She had a cup of fresh brewed coffee in one hand and unfolded
The
Desert Sun
newspaper with the other. She took a swallow of coffee, then put the mug down like it bit her. Liquid sloshed onto the table, and she dabbed at it with a paper napkin, her heart pounding. There was an article about Susie in the paper. She scanned it again. No mention of Zeke. That was good.

She froze at the next article. It was about the young man in custody for the rape of a college student. She knew the story. Manny’s friend. He was Caucasian, which surprised her after Manny’s accusation that Latinos were blamed for everything that went wrong in the valley.

“Hey,” Zeke said. “Chowing down, huh?”

Dena grasped her coffee mug before she spilled it again. “You startled me—”

“Sorry.”

He stood across from her in rumpled sweats and a creased white t-shirt, wearing socks and no shoes, and a wide grin. Being shoeless was probably why she hadn’t heard him sneak up on her. She stared him up and down.

“Did you sleep in those clothes?” she asked, and frowned.

He laughed. “No, I don’t wear clothes to bed.”

She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. Way too much information, but her thoughts went back there for one more glimpse…dirty little thoughts.

“Coffee’s fresh,” she said, and almost added “and so are you,” but this was the happiest he’d been since she’d arrived. She wasn’t about to change that.

“It’s Sunday,” Zeke said. “I always have pancakes. It’s Irma’s day off, and the only chance I get to play in the kitchen. Are you interested?”

She chewed another mouthful of cereal. “Sure. What kind?”

“Blueberry.”

“Yum…my favorite.”

She eyed him with amusement as he pulled out a mixing bowl and ingredients. Who’d have figured Zeke Cabrera would know his way around the kitchen? She stacked the advertising supplements for the local stores and mega-markets into a tidy pile. She’d go through those next, not that she needed to buy anything, but it was always fun to browse.

“There’s an article in the paper, about Manny’s friend.”

“Oh, he told you?” Zeke asked, but he didn’t look up.

“Yes, yesterday. I have to admit, I expected the guy to be a Latino male. I thought Manny ran with a gang.” She rustled the newspaper, shook her head. She sounded racist, and that made her squirm. She’d never thought of herself that way.

“It’s not a gang,” Zeke muttered. “Just a bunch of college friends—”

“I know. I was just repeating something Irma said.” Dena tapped at the paper with one finger. “There’s a small article on Susie. Nothing mentioned about you.”

He kept his back to her. She watched his shoulders stiffen. He added ingredients to the mixing bowl and then picked up a whisk.

“Where the heck is the horoscope in this paper?” Dena asked.

“Classifieds,” Zeke said, and turned to face her. “Why? What do you think yours will say?”

Dena gave a casual shrug. “Maybe ‘you’ll be run out of town by a guy named Rocky.’”

He shot her a quick look, shook his head, and laughed.

She turned to the classified section and found the astrological forecasts.

“Here we go: Some are lucky at finding love today; others will renew or strengthen a commitment. Job recognition is a distinct possibility.”

“What sign are you?” he asked, stirring the blueberries gently into the batter. He flicked a tiny amount of water onto the greased griddle and it sizzled.

“Libra. You?”

“Leo. Read mine.” He dropped spoons of batter onto the griddle.

“Leo? Okay, here it is: It’s a strong day for business affairs, and responsible types will see profits and advances. Be happy to put in the time and success will be yours.” She glanced up. “Oh, that’s fabulous. You’re going to love what I have to say on the art fair.”

Zeke turned around and gave her a skeptical look. “You made that up. Let me see.” He reached across the table and made a grab for the paper.

Dena pulled the paper away and grinned. “I did not—”

“I’ll bet you did.” He waved the spoon around, and dripped batter onto the floor and splattered tiny drops onto the table. Two landed on her forearm. He put the spoon down and made another grab for the paper.

“It’s all about work with you, isn’t it?” he asked.

Dena shook her head. “Nope, you’ve got that wrong—”

“Well, you’re as determined as hell. And look at how you’ve organized the damn coupons.”

“Yeah, I know. Can’t seem to help that.” She straightened a couple of coupon piles, slowly licked the drops of batter off her arm, and looked into his green-hazel eyes with a smile. “Determined…but not about work…I want to stay here.”

Her smile froze when she saw his frown, and she pressed her lips tight. She’d said too much. Would he still turn her away?

Zeke managed to grab the paper, but his eyes lingered on her damp arm for a few seconds. He read the horoscope aloud, and then raised his head. “You’re right. That’s what it says.”

“Pancakes need to be flipped.”

He gave a quick shake of his head and hurried to the stove. She fanned herself with her napkin. She hadn’t meant to lick the batter in a suggestive way, but hey, if it stoked his fire.

A short while later he slid a plate with a three stack toward her, and pulled up a seat opposite hers. He offered butter and maple syrup. Maybe he hadn’t heard what she’d said about staying, because he hadn’t reacted, other than that frown. But he frowned easily.

She cut into the pancakes and took a bite. “Mmmm, Zeke, these are fabulous,” she said, around a mouthful. “The blueberries are huge, and tart, and just the way I like them.”

The man made her crazy. She was even talking with her mouth full. She closed her eyes for a moment and savored the taste.

“So, I guess you’re staying for the morning?” he asked.

She opened her eyes just as he shoved a giant mound of food into his mouth and chewed.

Dena nodded and took another bite. So, he had heard her comment and now made it clear that she couldn’t stay any longer.
Darn
. She’d find a way. They ate in companionable silence and within minutes they both sat back with happy sighs.

“What should we do first?” Zeke asked, and poured another mug of coffee. “Can I top yours up?”

“Thanks.” Dena slid her mug toward him. “First on the agenda is we go to Posada del Gato Negro and examine the art work.” She smiled. “I love saying that. Love that name.”

Zeke swallowed hard a couple of times, and she saw his Adams apple bob up and down. He picked up his coffee mug and drained it. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

He stood and began to clear dishes.

What had her horoscope said about finding love? Hah. Not likely. She could feel him slip further and further away with every second, as if the ghosts from his past had resurfaced. He must hate that casita. Did it have ghosts?

“Thanks for breakfast. Shall I meet you back here in twenty minutes?” she asked, and stood.

He spun around, his eyes wide. “Ah—”

“It will be best to get an early start.”

“Make it thirty minutes,” he said, and rubbed at the bristles on his jaw line. “I need to take a shower and stuff.”

****

“I love the place.” Dena smiled so wide she thought her face might split. She clapped her hands together like a kid in a candy shop. “I really, really, love it.”

Zeke stood rigidly just inside the front door of his mother’s studio, like he expected her ghost to leap out and attack him. The place was dusty. His mother had died here, and she guessed he’d just locked the door and walked away.

“Sorry, it’s a bit untidy,” he said, and ventured one step closer to the living room.

“Nothing a little elbow grease can’t fix. Why do you keep everything locked up at the estate?”

He looked perplexed.

“The gates at the entry to Three C’s, the gates at the front courtyard.” She waved her arms around. “The side gates to the hacienda, the padlock on the gate to this casita?”

She walked over to the small bistro table with the four black iron-backed chairs, pulled one out, and sat. “You know the whole place is so…well, locked up so tight.”

Zeke scratched at his head and blinked hard at her questions. He looked baffled, as if he’d never noticed.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “I guess it was a security thing my mother did, after my father died. It’s always been done this way, and—”

“Maybe it’s time to change,” Dena said softly, and assessed the tiny kitchen space where a black wrought-iron cat took up most of one wall. She understood why Zeke’s mother spent more time here than in the big house. It was comfortable, cozy.

Zeke entered the living area, picked up a magazine, shook it, and then leafed through it. Dena walked over to the bedroom and stood in the doorway.

She’d died here. Isabella Cabrera. She’d spent her last days in this room, in that bed
.

Sadness washed over her, but she shook it off. It was all good. Everyone had to die somewhere. She walked inside, smoothed the duvet cover, and wondered if she would have liked the woman, if they would have become friends.

“Might as well test that, too,” Zeke said dryly, coming up behind her. He nodded toward the double bed.

Dena knew she’d been acting like a kid in awe of everything but wondered why Zeke would allow her to sit on the bed. She sat gingerly on the side of it, and bounced once. “It’s nice.”

She got up and checked the bathroom. There were perfume bottles, candles, potpourri and bath salts. It was feminine, romantic. “How pretty,” she called over her shoulder. “This is definitely a woman’s place.”

Back in the small L-shaped living area she drank in the ambience again, and ignored the dust. The four dark pink armchairs faced in toward a large wooden coffee table. The walls were soft yellow. Dark wood beams crossed the ceiling. The sun shone through the honey-colored plantation shutters and cast a warm glow over the room. Most of the furniture had a touch of black wrought iron, yet it wasn’t as severe or masculine a style as in the main house.

“Where are the paintings?” she asked.

Zeke pointed toward small boxes lined up alongside the wall. Disappointment crept in. They were such small boxes, and she’d hoped for large canvases.

“The bigger ones are in the bedroom closet. Those boxes,” he said, and waved a hand toward them again. “They hold the smaller paintings. Some of them are sets, or suites, or whatever she called them.”

Dena only half-heard him as she hurried back into the bedroom, opened the closet, and let out a huge sigh. “Oh, perfect. Fantastic.”

There had to be at least thirty paintings, some framed, some not. There were no clothes or personal belongings of Isabella’s. She pulled out one canvas, propped it on the bed against the pillows, and took a few steps backward, admiring the work from every angle.