Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(31)

So much for being subtle, he thought grimly. “Uh, sure. You’re beautiful.”

The words were out before he could stop them and he braced himself for laughter, a scathing rebuke or her simply walking away.

Consuelo put down the taco and gazed at him. “That’s it?” she asked. “You can’t do better than that?”

“It’s the truth.” He smiled. “You’re out of my league and I know it, but I’m not going to waste the opportunity.”

She surprised him by ducking her head. “I’m not out of your league.”

“You’re used to guys like my brother. Soldiers. Operatives.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not my type.”

“What is your type?” If only she would say “Single fathers in their mid-thirties with unremarkable jobs.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a type,” she told him. “Am I anything like your ex?”

“No. Nothing. She was tall and blonde. Cool, if you know what I mean.” Icy was a better word, but he rarely spoke ill of Lorraine. There were a lot of reasons. Some of them were about how he’d been raised and some were about pride. There was also that she would always be Reese’s mom.

“Where’d you meet?”

“College. I was a math major. She was studying business. We ended up in the same off-campus apartment building our senior year. Her roommate liked to party. One night, just before midterms, she knocked on my door and asked if she could please study in a closet. I offered her the kitchen table.”

“Of course you did.” She sighed. “Because it was polite.”

“I wasn’t going to make her study in a closet.” He wouldn’t do that to anyone. “We started hanging out. One thing led to another.” He paused, not sure how much to tell.

“And?” she prompted.

“She got pregnant,” he admitted. “We found out right after graduation. I loved her, so proposing was easy. We got married and Reese came along.” He picked up his taco, then put it down. “I don’t know how she felt about me or being pregnant. I don’t think she was happy. Maybe she went along because it was easier than not.”

“Did you know she was going to leave?”

“I wasn’t surprised. I knew she wasn’t happy for a while, but I figured that was the stress of work and life and having a kid. We went through a couple of rough patches, but I thought we’d work them out. Then she was gone.”

He’d been in shock. He’d come home one day and there had been only a note. For a long time he’d thought she would come back, but she never did. Not even for her son.

That was the part he couldn’t understand—her total rejection of her child. What kind of person did that? At first she’d seen him occasionally, but even that had ended.

“You’re not going to call her names, are you?” Consuelo asked.

“No. I don’t blame her for leaving me, but she shouldn’t have left Reese, too. It’s been hard on him.”

“He’s a good kid,” she told him. “You did well.”

“Thanks. A couple of years ago, I realized he needed more family around. I guess I did, too. So we moved back here. It was the right decision.”

She watched him intently. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but the fact that she was asking questions seemed like a good sign.

“I’m glad we ran into each other,” he said. “There’s a concert later. Want to go with me?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” she said quietly.

Nothing about her expression changed, so at first he didn’t get what she was telling him. Then she rose, collected her plate, drink and plastic fork and threw them in the trash.

“Bye, Kent,” she said, then turned and walked away.

* * *

TUESDAY MORNING FORD wandered over to Isabel’s house. He could have gone to the office, but there wasn’t much point. The contracts had been signed with the new companies, and until it was time to put the actual courses together, he was at loose ends. He needed coffee. Not that he didn’t have some at his place, but he was pretty sure Isabel’s was better.

He went up to the back door and knocked loudly. It swung open. Unlocked, of course. This damn town, he thought as he strolled in. Sure enough, a fresh pot of coffee sat in a carafe. He took two mugs from the cupboard and poured. He didn’t think he’d ever learned how Isabel took hers, so he left it black. He could add whatever she wanted later.

He carried both mugs down the hall, pausing to take a sip of his. He passed the master, a guest room, a study. At the end were two open doors. One led to a bedroom with an unmade full-sized bed. The walls were pink. There were shelves filled with books, pictures in frames and trophies. A couple of tattered stuffed animals sat on a wide window seat. The furniture was white, as was the desk with a sleek laptop on it. Several pairs of shoes had been kicked to the side of the room.

The space was an intriguing combination of Isabel as a teenager and her today. The old and the new.

On the opposite side of the hall was the half-open door to a bathroom. Isabel stood in front of a mirror. She wore a short blue robe. Her hair was up in electric curlers and she was carefully applying mascara.

He leaned against the wall to watch.