the time she died, I had a lot of work ready to go. I used some of the money she left me to lease the studio, and then almost ten years went by without me realizing it.”
“Life happens.”
“Something like that.”
“I did sort of the same thing when I finally made it to college.”
He didn’t have to tell me about the football scholarship to Texas A&M he ended up turning down because of the injuries he suffered in the accident that killed Jordan. The whole town knew about that.
“The minute they sprang me from the rehab hospital, I did a semester at UT in Austin, found out college wasn’t for me and went to work for my uncle. I bought him out when he was ready to retire. Like you said, ten years went by, and here I am.”
“Are you where you want to be?”
“I guess. I can’t imagine doing any other kind of work or being stuck in an office all day.” He shudders. “That would kill me. Garrett already wants to kill me half the time because I suck at keeping track of receipts and expenses and other crap that gets his panties in a wad.”
“Lauren wants to date him.” The words are out of my mouth before I take even one second to contemplate the magnitude of what I’m doing.
Blake glances over at me. “Is that so?”
I’m struck by how gorgeous he is, with a sprinkling of golden whiskers on his jaw, lips swollen from kissing me and eyes as blue as the endless Texas sky. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Speaking of someone wanting to kill me.”
“Might be info he’d like to have.”
“As long as my name isn’t attached to that info.”
“Your secret is safe with me, darlin’.”
I shouldn’t want to swoon at him calling me that. Texas men call all the females in their lives darlin’. But coming from him to me… Well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting down. “Where’re we going anyway?” We’re on 67 South, heading toward Presidio.
“Just a little further.” That’s all he says, so I settle in to watch the world go by in our remote corner of the state. We’re hours from El Paso to the northwest, Austin to the east and San Antonio to the southeast. There’re not a lot of places we can go in this direction without ending up at the Mexican border.
Most of the time, I love the isolation of Marfa. I love my small town with the artsy flair and the tourists who come for music festivals and art events that happen throughout the year. There’s always something going on in town, which keeps it from getting boring.
The song “Sex Machine” by James Brown comes on the radio, and I lose it laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Blake asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“This song.” I fan my face and dab at the laughter tears in my eyes.
“What about it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Don’t worry. I already know that’s what they say about me.”
I’m horrified. “ How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “I’ve always known. It’s no big deal. Hell, it’s true.”
I’m oddly, strangely hurt for him. “It’s not true,” I say quietly.
“Why do you say that?”
“There’s so much more to you than that .”
“Not that much more. Not anymore.”
Not since he lost Jordan. That’s the part he leaves unspoken. Nothing has been the same since he lost her, but he isn’t the unfeeling robot he’s made himself out to be. I saw cracks in his armor during the two nights I spent with him. I saw it in his expression when he appeared at my door last night, not seeming to understand why he was there or what he wanted from me.
I witnessed his need to connect to another human being. I understand that need better than most ever could. For reasons I can’t explain even to myself, I reach across the bench seat for his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he curls his fingers around mine, and we ride that way for another five miles before he takes a right-hand turn onto a dirt road that ends at a construction site. Or rather, a renovation site. Something about
“Life happens.”
“Something like that.”
“I did sort of the same thing when I finally made it to college.”
He didn’t have to tell me about the football scholarship to Texas A&M he ended up turning down because of the injuries he suffered in the accident that killed Jordan. The whole town knew about that.
“The minute they sprang me from the rehab hospital, I did a semester at UT in Austin, found out college wasn’t for me and went to work for my uncle. I bought him out when he was ready to retire. Like you said, ten years went by, and here I am.”
“Are you where you want to be?”
“I guess. I can’t imagine doing any other kind of work or being stuck in an office all day.” He shudders. “That would kill me. Garrett already wants to kill me half the time because I suck at keeping track of receipts and expenses and other crap that gets his panties in a wad.”
“Lauren wants to date him.” The words are out of my mouth before I take even one second to contemplate the magnitude of what I’m doing.
Blake glances over at me. “Is that so?”
I’m struck by how gorgeous he is, with a sprinkling of golden whiskers on his jaw, lips swollen from kissing me and eyes as blue as the endless Texas sky. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Speaking of someone wanting to kill me.”
“Might be info he’d like to have.”
“As long as my name isn’t attached to that info.”
“Your secret is safe with me, darlin’.”
I shouldn’t want to swoon at him calling me that. Texas men call all the females in their lives darlin’. But coming from him to me… Well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting down. “Where’re we going anyway?” We’re on 67 South, heading toward Presidio.
“Just a little further.” That’s all he says, so I settle in to watch the world go by in our remote corner of the state. We’re hours from El Paso to the northwest, Austin to the east and San Antonio to the southeast. There’re not a lot of places we can go in this direction without ending up at the Mexican border.
Most of the time, I love the isolation of Marfa. I love my small town with the artsy flair and the tourists who come for music festivals and art events that happen throughout the year. There’s always something going on in town, which keeps it from getting boring.
The song “Sex Machine” by James Brown comes on the radio, and I lose it laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Blake asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“This song.” I fan my face and dab at the laughter tears in my eyes.
“What about it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Don’t worry. I already know that’s what they say about me.”
I’m horrified. “ How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “I’ve always known. It’s no big deal. Hell, it’s true.”
I’m oddly, strangely hurt for him. “It’s not true,” I say quietly.
“Why do you say that?”
“There’s so much more to you than that .”
“Not that much more. Not anymore.”
Not since he lost Jordan. That’s the part he leaves unspoken. Nothing has been the same since he lost her, but he isn’t the unfeeling robot he’s made himself out to be. I saw cracks in his armor during the two nights I spent with him. I saw it in his expression when he appeared at my door last night, not seeming to understand why he was there or what he wanted from me.
I witnessed his need to connect to another human being. I understand that need better than most ever could. For reasons I can’t explain even to myself, I reach across the bench seat for his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he curls his fingers around mine, and we ride that way for another five miles before he takes a right-hand turn onto a dirt road that ends at a construction site. Or rather, a renovation site. Something about
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