From Here to Texas

“You mean, you’ve been doing work like they do in the Peace Corps?” he asked incredulously.

One corner of her full lips curled upward. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Me washing clothes in a galvanized tub on a rub board and handing out food and medicine to people who rarely see a white woman.”

Quito’s eyes slipped up and down her tall figure. She was slender, but there was also a fit look about her that said she hadn’t just been sitting on a couch eating chocolates. His eyes darted to her hands and this time he noticed her nails were cut short.

“Actually, it is. I can’t see you living in some dirt hut in the jungle.”

She laughed softly and he could see that surprising him had pleased her greatly. “I’ve been in jungles and deserts, mountains and cities, doing all sorts of work with my own two hands.”

“Why? You could just donate money,” he reasoned.

She shook her head and the sunlight rippled over her blond hair. “Not for me. Giving money isn’t the same as giving of yourself. And anyway, after the divorce, I wanted to get away from Houston.”

“A bad parting?” His eyes darted over her elusive expression.

Bad, Clementine thought with a strong urge to let out a mocking laugh. Her parting with Niles Westcott had been worse than bad, the divorce had been horrendous and now, well, she lived in fear every day of her life.

“Terrible. The only thing good about it was that there were no children to hurt.”

He was quiet for a long time and then he asked, “Why no children? I thought you always said you wanted to have several children?”

Clementine could no longer look at him. The pain in her heart had to be showing in her eyes and she couldn’t let him see. She couldn’t let him guess what a mess she’d made of her life.

Looking down at the valley stretching before them, she sighed. “That’s true. I did want children. But Niles turned out to be a far different man than I thought. I didn’t want to have a child with him. He would have made a horrible father.”

“Damn it all, Clementine. If that’s the way you felt, then why did you marry the man?”

A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it away as she turned her head to look at him. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing.”

He shook his head and then he simply looked at her as though he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to curse or cuddle her.

Finally he moved a step closer and Clementine’s heart began to pound out of control.

“You thought you were doing the right thing when you walked away from me,” he murmured.

With a muffled cry, she suddenly stepped forward and buried her face in the middle of his chest.

“Forgive me, Quito. Please forgive me.”

Chapter Three

His fingers pushed into her silky hair and he stroked the back of her head soothingly.

“Clementine, whatever you’re thinking, I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.” He bent his head and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “You were very young then. And there’s no need to rehash the past now. Just because we were once lovers doesn’t mean we can’t be friends now. Hmm?”

Clementine wanted to slip her arms around him and hold him for long, long moments. She wanted to breathe in that remembered scent of his skin and hair, feel the strength of his arms curling around her. But she couldn’t invite or provoke any sort of affection from this man. She loved him too much to make his life miserable a second time.

After a minute or so, his forefinger came under her chin and he tilted her face up to his. Clementine blinked the moisture from her eyes and struggled to smile at him.

“Of course we can be friends, Quito. I’d like that very much.”

“Good. I’d like it, too.”

Her eyes slid to his mouth and her stomach began to flutter as though the wings of thousands of birds were taking flight inside of her.

“Uh, maybe we’d better go down now,” she told him. “I’m sure you’re getting tired.”

Their eyes met and she licked her lips. Quito cleared his throat and stepped back.

“Yeah. It’s time I got back to town. Or my deputies will be sending out a search party.”

The two of them stepped back into the bedroom and Quito latched the sliding door behind him. After they’d gone downstairs and were about to leave the foyer, Quito asked, “What are you going to do with the place? Sell it?”

Clementine finished cuing in the alarm system, then opened the door.

“I’m not sure. I came up here with intentions of putting it on the market. But now that I see it, I don’t know, it still seems like home. Doesn’t that sound silly? It’s been eleven years since I stepped foot on the place, yet in many ways it seems like only yesterday.”

Quito couldn’t admit to her that it felt the same way to him. Each time he looked at Clementine, it felt as if nothing had changed. No years had passed. He felt like he still had the right to pull her into his arms and kiss her as many times as he wanted. But he had to remember that everything had changed.

“Well, you did live here for three years,” he reasoned.

“Yes, but compared to eleven that’s not very many,” she replied.

The two of them left the porch and walked down the long wide steps that would take them off the cliff side and onto the flat, parking area.

Quito made the trip going down much more easily and when they reached the vehicles she was relieved to see that his breathing seemed normal.

“It’s obvious you’re not staying here,” Quito said as they walked to her car first. “Did you find a place in town?”

She nodded. “The Apache Junction Hotel. But who knows, I might clean up part of this place and stay for a few days.” She glanced wistfully around her. “It would be nice to vacation in the cooler, dryer air for a while. When I left Houston, the city was under a hurricane watch.” And not just from the weather, either, she thought, grimly.

She’d heard from the little birds she kept on lookout that Niles had been hunting everywhere for her. Thankfully he hadn’t learned that she’d gone to Afghanistan and her time there had been relatively peaceful. She only wished she could have a few days here in San Juan county before he caught on to her trail.

“There’s nothing stopping you from staying is there?” he asked.

She swallowed hard as he reached down and opened the car door for her. “No. Not really,” she lied. “I do have another trip planned soon to South America, some of the mountain villages there. This time I’m hoping to get a driver and a truck full of food and medicine through the bandits that control the areas. We tried once before and they stopped us with machine guns and forced us to hand the goods over to them.”

“Hell fire, Clementine, you could be killed going off on such ventures,” he cursed.

She slid behind the steering wheel, then lifted a steady gaze to his.

“I could get killed in Houston, too.”

He frowned and sensing he was going to start asking her questions that she didn’t want to answer, she started the engine.

Quito shut the door to the sleek black, sports car and stepped back. “Will I see you again before you leave?”

It wouldn’t be wise. She would eventually pay for these few minutes she’d spent with him this morning. The short time was already burned into her memory and once she returned to Houston, she would relive them over and over like a spinster reliving her first and only kiss.