His place. The words inspired thoughts of her and Robert alone on his couch, on his bed, in the shower, on the floor of his bedroom when they couldn’t make it from the shower to the bed fast enough.
“It’s fine,” she said with a swish of her hand, doing her best to push the lurid images from her mind. “We can stay here.”
Where we’re not alone,she silently added.And there’s a disapproving mama watching to make sure no one succumbs to temptation.
“It’s not fine.” Robert shifted closer, sending his better-than-a-pan-of-frying-bacon scent drifting her way, turning her brain to mush. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way. I wouldn’t have brought you home if I’d thought anyone here would be rude to you. And I…”
He tipped his head down, until the brim of his cowboy hat shaded both of their faces from the setting sun, and Marisol’s heart started to beat in her throat, in her belly, in places lower than her belly that she didn’t want to think about.
“I’m sorry for being an asshole on the way here,” he finished in a husky voice. “It had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me needing to get a life. I’m sorry.”
Marisol took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. Now, all she could smell was Robert, and all she could think about was that they were less than a foot apart. She could be in his arms in a second, and she knew he wouldn’t turn her away. There was kindness in his brown eyes, but there was heat, too. If she gave him the slightest encouragement, he’d pull her back into his arms, thread his fingers through her hair, and kiss her until she forgot she’d ever met his chilly mother.
But she couldn’t encourage him, especially not now, after it had been made abundantly clear she wasn’t the kind of girl his last living parent wanted for her youngest son. Marisol had enough family drama of her own, she certainly didn’t need to take on someone else’s.
Still, she was touched by his apology. “It’s okay.” She put a hand on his arm but only let her fingers linger a few seconds before she severed contact. Even an innocent touch between the two of them was likely to turn not-so-innocent if she wasn’t careful. “As long as we’re good now, and you’re not thinking of dumping me for the greasy guy with the moustache.”
“That’s what I call him, too.” Robert chuckled, that deep rumble that made her want to start purring and rub up against him every time she heard it. “And no, I’m sticking with you. The meeting this morning went well, don’t you think?”
“It went amazingly well,” she said, spirits lifting. Work talk was her favorite kind of talk. Work talk was safe, without any messy emotions in it. “I won’t be surprised if we get a call in a few days. I know they’re interviewing other artists later in the week, but I think it’s in the bag. We should work on finishing up “Where You Are” while we’re here. Then you’ll have enough songs for a solid set with a few to spare.”
Robert squatted down to the bottom of the shed door, spinning the numbers on a combination lock. “Sounds good. And I should take you by Old Town, see if you have any more advice for organizing the benefit concert after you see the site in person. I know Mia needs to finalize plans soon. The tickets just went on sale last week, but they’re going fast.”
“I’d love to see the ghost town. It looked cool on the website.” Marisol waited until Robert shoved the sliding door up before following him into the semi-darkness, where eight four-wheelers were parked in two even rows.
“Wow,” she said with a laugh. “You Lawsons really love your recreational vehicles, don’t you?”
Robert smiled over his shoulder as he fetched two keys from a pegboard on the wall. “We do, but we only had one to share growing up. When John took over the ranch, he started using four-wheelers to herd the cattle on the lower pastureland. You want to drive your own, or ride with me?”
“I’ll drive,” Marisol said, knowing being pressed up against Robert sharing one ATV wasn’t a good idea. “Just show me how to get it started.”
He gave her a brief lesson on how to start, accelerate, and decelerate, and they were off on their tour. He took her farther up the gravel road to where it dead-ended at the cattle processing and hospital pens, and pulled over to show her around. She followed him across the impeccably maintained yard, nodding her head at the appropriate times as he explained details of cattle ranching that were already intimately familiar.
Confessing she knew her way around a ranch and a horse and everything else Robert assumed was foreign to her would lead to telling him more about her past, and she’d already spilled too much. She hadn’t intended to mention her brothers—or, God forbid, her parents—but something about Robert made it easy to forget all the things she needed to hide. He was too good a listener, the kind of thoughtful, empathetic person who made you want to confess your secrets because you knew they would be safe in his hands.
But the truth about what had severed her family ties wasn’t a secret it was safe to share.
If Robert found out about Shane, and all the stupid, naïve, andhighlyunprofessional things Marisol had done with him, her professional image would be shattered. Secrets were like a sweater, each stitch depending on the integrity of those surrounding it. It only took one confession to unravel everything, sending the stitches falling away row by row until you were completely exposed. And Marisol had no intention of baring herself to Robert, or anyone else, ever again.
It was better to keep her mouth shut and let him assume whatever he wanted to assume, as long as those assumptions kept him far away from the truth.
After their walk around the pens, they mounted back up on the four-wheelers and rode down the hill, past Laura Mae’s house, to where a large barn perched on a gently sloping hill overlooking the lower acreage. By then, the sun had set, casting the flatland below in a hazy orange light so pretty that Marisol couldn’t help lingering a few minutes outside the wide entrance to the barn, soaking up the view.
“Nice, huh?” Robert asked, crossing his arms as he stopped beside her.
“Beautiful,” she admitted. “I forget how pretty it is out here. Even in the summer, when everything is so brown.”
“I could never forget,” he said, his affection for the land clear in his voice. “I’m ready for a change and whatever comes next, but I’ll never be able to stay away from Lonesome Point for long. This place is in my blood. It’s just…home, you know?”
Marisol’s chest tightened. She didn’t know and wasn’t sure she ever would.
So often, she felt like a square peg in a world full of round holes. Her entire childhood, she’d been the odd one out, the girl expected to stay close to home, while the boys went out to face the world. She was the extrovert in a clan of people who preferred to keep to themselves. She was the girl who craved an audience and applause, in a family where the parents were stretched too thin and praise was in increasingly short supply as the years passed and more babies were born.
Even in the music business, where she’d had more success than most women her age, she didn’t quite fit in. She was a Mexican girl in the overwhelmingly white world of country music. She’d given up trying to make it as a singer herself when she was barely out of high school—sick of fighting to find people willing to take a risk on her blend of country and Chicano music. She’d started working behind the scenes, instead, where her differences didn’t matter as much, but there were still times when she felt out of place, like she would never find the niche where she fit just right.
Most of the time, she managed not to think about it too much. But here on this ranch, where Robert clearly felt he had always, andwouldalways, belong, the knowledge that she had yet to find what he took for granted stung.
“You okay?” His hand came to rest between her shoulder blades, making the knot of emotion fisting in her chest pull even tighter. His touch was warm, generous, and if she let him, she knew he could unravel her knots, soothe her ragged edges, and make her feel like she belonged, even if it were just for a little while.