Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(10)

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.”