"Gracias, me siento como en cása." She waits, face expectant.
I blink. "Oh, uh, that's almost all I can say. Well, that and the curse words. My sister and I did not live up to what the De la Vega name implies."
Mallory nods, lips pursed. A secret flits across her face.
My gaze narrows. Playful. "You're fluent, aren't you?"
She grins impishly. "Sí."
All I can do is laugh. Of course she is.
Mallory pulls off my jacket, craning her neck to look into the attached bathroom.
"Anything you need, toiletries, food, whatever, we'll go get it later today, ok? I have a full day, but I'll make room. Besides, we need to get your car from the hotel. I—" My palm runs over the back of my neck. How do I explain the fear, the panic, the horror I felt at the idea of something happening to her? "I needed you out of there as fast as possible."
Mallory steps into me, her arms encircling my waist, wrapping around my back. "Thank you," she says, herface against my shirt. The press of her breasts sends my heartbeats into a thunder, but the round stomach I feel against my own reminds me Mallory is someone to be careful with.
My arms wrap around her, palms flat on her back, holding her in the friendliest way possible. I'll be honest, it fucking pains me.
We stay this way a bit longer, until she yawns again.
"You'd better get some rest," I say gently, and she breaks the embrace.
"Let's talk more tomorrow. Or, later today, I guess." She looks longingly at the bed.
"You're welcome to anything you find in the kitchen. I'll probably be gone by the time you wake up."
She nods. The adrenaline has worn off.
I retreat, pulling the door closed behind me.
Checking my phone, I see my mom's text from right around the time I was leaving Summerhill. She's probably asleep by now, but I know she keeps it on silent, so I shoot her a quick message telling her I'll explain it all later when I see her.
My bed is rumpled, sheets askew. Evidence of the way I shot from bed, panicked. I lie down, close my eyes.
She's safe now.
I say it over and over, but it makes no difference. I am too keyed up to sleep.
I take a shower, pull on the canvas pants I favor for work. Padding down the hall, I notice the light under Mallory's door is out. Good. She needs to rest.
Making a pot of coffee, I step out front with myfirst cup to witness the sunrise. My father used to say he liked to watch the orchard wake up. The older I get, the more I understand what he meant. Buttery, fresh sun pours over the trees. The limbs yawn and stretch, absorb the sunlight, take the energy and store it to produce the fruit we'll harvest in late fall.
Before my eyes, Summerhill blossoms, the same as it does everyday.
But not totally.
Today, a woman lies in my guest room.
Summerhill might look the same, and so do I in my typical work uniform, but inside my chest something shifts.
Most notable, perhaps, is how much I don't fear the movement.
Chapter 22
Mallory
I neededyou out of there as soon as possible.
