At three o’clock on the dot, I sit on a park bench in the square staring at the front doors of the Catholic church. I know Luisa’s in there because her car is parked half a block down.
Finally, she comes out, and all the knots in my stomach settle when my eyes sweep over her. I stand and know the moment she spots me. She goes still and stares. I’ve surprised her—stunned her, more likely. It’s broad daylight, and here at the church is the last place she expects to see me.
I motion with two fingers and beckon her over.
Her eyes shift to the left and right, checking to see if anyone she knows is around. For a moment, I worry she might not have the courage to walk over here, but then her feet start to move. Slowly at first, then a little faster.
She stops short three feet from me, but I can tell she wants to throw herself into my arms.
I respect why she’s being careful, so I don’t push it and haul her against me like I long to do.
She’s breathless, staring at me with wide, hopeful eyes. Again, her gaze darts around before she licks her lips. “What are you doing here?”
I grin. “Wanted to show you something. Will you walk with me? It’s not far.”
Again, she darts a worried gaze around. “What if someone sees?”
“You expecting someone you know to be at the church today?”
She gives a slight shake of her head. “I suppose not.”
“We don’t have to hold hands if you’re worried. Come on.” I start walking across the square toward the corner of the church, and she falls in step beside me. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her, but I keep glancing at her and smiling.
Hell, if the guys could see me now, acting like some love-sick puppy dog, I’d never hear the end of it. But that’s not what this is. I don’t love this girl. We’re just having fun. That’s all this is.That’s all this can ever be. Me and a girl like her? It’s too foolish to even consider.
But I like her. And I know this is fleeting, and I don’t want the chance to share what time we can together slip through my grasp.
We walk half a block before she dares to ask me where we’re going.
We walk a block away from the church and come to the next corner, and I gesture to the left. “This way. We’re almost there.”
As we turn down the street, leaving the square behind us, the neighborhood becomes all residential. The houses are small adobe places that were built a long time ago.
I can feel Luisa’s uneasiness the farther from the church we walk, but I like that she trusts me enough to follow me.
Finally, I stop in front of the fourth house from the corner. There’s a brown picket fence around the postage-sized front yard and a low covered porch. A big tree gives the place shade.
Standing here, and seeing the place through Luisa’s eyes, I realize it’s not much to look at.
“Where are we?” she asks, her brow creasing.
“I just rented the place.” I open the gate and hold it for her.
She hesitates, then licks her lips and follows.
Stepping onto the porch, I dig the key out and unlock the front door, then step back and let her enter.
She stops a few feet inside.
The place is clean, with polished hardwood plank floors and a fireplace against the wall, its hearth surrounded by colorful Spanish tiles.
“I know there’s no furniture yet but thought I’d get us a small table to eat at. Maybe put it in front of that fireplace.” An iron chandelier still hangs from the ceiling, marking it as a dining room.
“You’re going to live here? In Mesilla? A block from the church?” That frown still mars her brow.
To clear things up, I take her hand and lead her down a short hall to the only bedroom. “So far, I only bought one piece of furniture.”
Her eyes hit the wrought-iron bed. “The mattress is brand new, Luisa. They delivered it today.” There are white sheets and two pillows. I gesture to them. “That’s as far as I got. Thought maybe you’d want to pick out the bedding.”
