Mendoza's Return

“I’ll do it,” he said. “Or at least, I’ll see if I can do anything. I need to research a few things first. But maybe even more important, Melina? You need to consider that my getting involved could work against what you’re looking for. You know my history with Beau.”

“If I had other options, I would use them.”

He reached behind her and opened the door to the waiting room. “Vonda, how does my schedule look for tomorrow?”

“You’re free after two o’clock.”

Rafe looked at Melina. “I’d like to meet the Andersons. Do you think they could come in tomorrow at two?”

“I’m sure they’ll move heaven and earth to be here. I’ll call you if they can’t, but I don’t think that’s likely. Should Elliot come, too?”

“Yes. I need to see him for myself.”

“They don’t have much money,” she said quietly.

“Okay.”

“Thank you. Listen, I’ve got a ton of material on Asperger’s. I could drop off a couple of books at your house. Leave them on your porch sometime today, if you want,” she said as they headed to the entry door.

“That’d be good.”

“Angie said you bought the old Dillon house.”

“It needs work, but my dad and brothers are helping when they can.” They stepped into an empty, quiet hallway, the door shutting behind them.

“I didn’t think you’d ever move back,” she said.

“Me, either.” He didn’t elaborate on his reasons. “So, Beau’s gotten fat, huh?” he asked.

Her brows went up at the change of subject, then she nodded. “Beer belly.”

“Drowning his sorrows.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rafe,” she said, then left, the unfamiliar perfume he’d smelled on her at the wedding trailing enticingly in her wake.

Rafe returned to his office and closed the door. He couldn’t read her. If she hadn’t needed someone to plead Elliot’s case, would she have contacted him?

Probably not.

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small box. He’d always kept it in a place where he could look at it frequently, reminding him how tenuous love could be, but he hadn’t looked inside for a while. He did so now, revealing a small, pretty promise ring he’d given Melina their first Christmas at college, only to have it mailed back to him some months later, a one-word note included. The tangible, devastating memory of a promise broken.

He didn’t owe her anything, even if she was still the one he’d never gotten out of his system, and still the sexiest woman he’d ever met. But he could do this. He would try to help young Elliot but also wipe the slate clean with Melina.

He would be able to get rid of the ring, get it out of sight and out of mind.

Then he would finally be free to move on.

Chapter Three

Rafe pulled into his garage a little after seven o’clock that evening. He saw the living room lights were on even before he spotted his father’s pickup. He was probably sanding woodwork, a tedious process on the way to restoring the hundred-year-old house in a neighborhood where the homes were old but well maintained. Rafe had recently furnished one of his four bedrooms for his father, who’d become a fixture, not always spending the night, but staying often enough to warrant a bed of his own. Luis Mendoza had seemed to age ten years since losing his wife, Rafe’s mother, to pneumonia a year ago.

Rafe unlocked the back door and stepped into a dark kitchen, turning on lights as he went.

“Hey, Dad, I’m home!” he called out above the sound of sandpaper scraping wood.

“In the living room!”

There was no evidence that his father had eaten—no dishes, no jumbled-up McDonald’s bag in the trash. Rafe passed through the dining room and on into the living room. “How’s it going?”

“Almost ready to stain.” From where he was kneeling he arched his back, stretching and groaning.

That’s how I’ll look in thirty years, Rafe thought, although the same could be true of his three brothers, as well. Their mother’s DNA showed up in other ways—drive, work ethic, sociability and deep love of family, but that could also be said of their father, too. Rafe missed his mom more than he could say, so he could only imagine the depth of his father’s loss.

Rafe had expected to have the kind of marriage his parents had—with Melina. He still grieved the loss of that dream, and the children who hadn’t come.

Rafe laid his suit jacket over the back of his leather sofa then crouched next to his father and rubbed his back. “How long have you been at it?”

“Couple hours.” He angled away from Rafe’s touch and gestured to the entryway table. “Melina stopped by, left you some books and a DVD.”

“She said she would.” Rafe checked out the materials. The DVD was marked “Elliot Anderson.” He took the disc out of the case and headed to his television. “I haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“Nope.” Luis stood. When he turned sideways he almost disappeared. He’d probably lost thirty pounds, twenty of which he couldn’t afford to lose. “Is that the way the wind’s blowing these days? Melina Lawrence again?”

“It’s a business thing. I might be helping her out with something.”

“She was gone for your mother’s funeral, but she came to see me as soon as she got back.” He brushed wood dust from his shirt. “I don’t understand why she hasn’t gotten married yet. She’s about the best catch in Red Rock, that’s for sure. Doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Loves people. Smile that lights up the world.”

Rafe hadn’t seen much of that famous smile since he’d returned, but he remembered it, as well as the slow, sexy one she’d perfected, the one he’d likened to her crooking a come-hither finger at him.

“I’m surprised you’re even talking to her, though, son. You suffered a lot.”

“Everyone moves on, Dad. You seem to be okay around her.”

“For me, sure. But not for you. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I’m okay. But thanks for the support.”

He slid the DVD into the player then hit the start button. The quality wasn’t bad, but the camera was a pretty good distance away.

“That Beau Bandero?” his father asked, coming up beside Rafe.

“In the flesh.”

“A lot of flesh, too. Heard he’s been drinking a lot. It shows— Did he just hit that kid?”

Rafe didn’t answer, wanting to hear the exchange between Beau and Elliot, which happened just as Melina had described. “What do you think, Dad? Intentional?”

“Don’t know. Play it again.”