Mendoza's Return (5 page)

M
elina stopped herself from drumming her fingers on her conference room table then smiled apologetically at Elliot's parents seated across from her. Elliot sat at a play table, pushing sand into piles with a small plastic bulldozer. Rafe had called a half hour ago and asked if everyone could meet at Melina's office. The Andersons didn't know why Rafe had asked for the meeting, either.

“Have you and Rafe known each other a long time?” Debbie Anderson asked.

“All through high school, although I hadn't seen him the past ten years. He lived out of state.”

“I gather he and Beau have a history.”

“They played ball together for years and were always one and two statistically at the end of each
season. Who came out on top changed from year to year. It created a pretty solid rivalry.”

“More than that, I think. But rivalry certainly can spur someone to work even harder.” She glanced at her son. “All my life, whatever I've wanted to do, I've been able to. If I worked hard enough and dedicated myself, I succeeded. But no one ever put a roadblock in my way, either. I've always been given the chance—the right—to try.”

“Me, too,” Melina said, her gaze on Elliot, as well. “Excuse me. I want to get him one of our new sand toys.”

Melina walked into the lobby just as Rafe came through the front door. Her pulse picked up in anticipation.

“Are the Andersons waiting?” he whispered.

“They're in the conference room.”

He pulled her to the side and said quietly, “Beau will let him play.”

“That's great—”

“With conditions.”

The way he said it alerted her. She wasn't going to like the conditions. “What does he want?”

“Elliot has to have his own coach.”

“I don't think Steve will object to taking on that role.”

“No parents allowed, even under special circumstances. So, I offered. I think Beau knew I would.”

A hot lump formed in her throat. “That's very generous of you, Rafe.”

“There's more. He's worried about Elliot losing focus and being unable to get it back. He wants you there, too, or the deal is off.”

She stared at him. She couldn't do that. It would be too hard being there all the time, watching Rafe, trying to remember why she shouldn't be attracted to him anymore.

Focus on the letter. Remember how he ended your relationship.

“Look, I know it'll be hard, Melina. But Beau is allowing Elliot to play and—”

“He's on the team?” Steve asked from the open doorway. “Mr. Bandero said yes?”

Debbie raced up beside him, hope and excitement in her eyes.

Melina had no choice. She had to put Elliot first—no matter how much it cost her personally. “Game on,” she said, smiling, heading toward the conference room. Steve looked as excited as a kid himself.

“Elliot!” Debbie called out. “Coach Bandero says you can play on his team.”

Elliot went motionless. “I can win a trophy?”

“There are some conditions,” Rafe said, including everyone in his glance. “You have to have your own coach to help you at every practice.”

“That's no problem,” Steve said. “I—”

“No parents, remember?” Rafe interrupted smoothly. “I volunteered.”

“Why would you—” Steve stopped whatever he was going to say. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Debbie Anderson looked worried. “I think one of us needs to be there,” she said. “In case—” She looked at Melina.

In case he has a meltdown. In case he loses focus and can't get it back. In case, in case.

“Part of the plan,” Rafe said, “is for Melina to be there, too. For the ‘in cases.' Would that work for you?” he asked the parents.

“It's too much to ask,” Steve said. “Both of you? How can we let you do that? Your time is too valuable.”

“I'd love to help,” Melina said. “It would be so much fun.”

“There you have it,” Rafe said. “Piece of cake.”

“Where?” Elliot asked, looking around. “I like cake.”

“It's a saying,” his father said. “It means it was easy.”

“Oh. I wish we had cake.”

“We'll stop by the store and get some, buddy. Now I think we should get going so that everyone can enjoy their evening.”

Goodbyes were said, including high fives with Elliot, then only Melina and Rafe were left.

“What'd you do, anyway, sell your soul?” she asked.

Rafe half smiled. “Are you free for dinner? I'd like to talk things over with you, get your input.”

Melina's internal debate didn't last long. If they were going to work as a team to help Elliot succeed, they needed to establish détente.

“I'm free,” she said. “But not at Red, okay? Not the family hangout.”

“We'd have to leave town if you're looking for a place where no one would be wondering about us, don't you think? Maybe I could pick up some takeout and we could eat here.”

The decision made, Rafe left. Melina raked the sand table, dusted off the toys and returned them to their cubbies. She straightened chairs, checked her schedule for the next day and generally fretted, then finally allowed herself to sit down and really think about the motive behind Beau's offer. She wondered if he knew what he was doing by forcing Rafe and her to work together. If he'd done it on purpose.

Maybe.

Probably.

It wasn't any secret around town that their relationship had ended badly. For years people had been anxiously awaiting a show when Melina and Rafe saw each other again, but that had died off. Too many years had passed.

But it might as well have happened yesterday, now that Rafe was living in Red Rock again. People had long memories when gossip was involved.

They needed to be careful not to add fuel to the rumor
fires that would flare now—and the bigger problem for her of keeping her own fires under control.

She wasn't sure there was an extinguisher large enough to handle that.

 

Rafe made his way up the street to Red, the restaurant owned by his Uncle José and Aunt Maria Mendoza, and managed by his younger-by-two-years brother, Marcos. Their older brother, Javier, lived in town and showed up now and then to hang out with them, but their younger brother, Miguel, lived in New York City and rarely came home. They had a half-sister from their father's first marriage, Isabella Mendoza Fortune, a surprise but welcome recent addition to the family. Rafe liked that his family had expanded with the addition of Isabella, especially now that his mother had passed away.

The atmosphere at Red, a converted hacienda and historical treasure, appealed to Rafe. The interior and the courtyard were classy and colorful, filled with antiques dating back to the mid-nineteenth century, when Texas had become a state. Paintings depicting the battles between Texans and Mexicans to free the republic from Santa Ana's rule hung on dark wood walls, visually soothing and stimulating at the same time.

As was the exquisitely prepared food, the tempting, spicy scents drifting through the air as Rafe entered, making his mouth water. Even without the
family connection, it would be his favorite restaurant in town.

“Hola, mi hermano,”
Marcos said, spotting him, giving him a big hug. “It's good to see you out of your suit and tie and looking like a Texan again. Did you leave your Stetson in the car?” he teased.

“Actually, I did. I found a couple of my old ones in the attic at Dad's when I went looking for my old trophies.”

“Don't tell me you put up a wall of fame in your house.”

“Nope. At my office.” He grinned. “Surprisingly, people are generally impressed by such things, even if brothers aren't.”

“Brothers are more honest.”

Rafe laughed.

“You here for dinner?” Marcos asked.

“Takeout. You know what Dad and I like. Give me enough for leftovers, too, please. And a couple pieces of your Mexican chocolate cake.” Rafe would take the leftovers home to his father when he and Melina were done.

Marcos had already started toward the kitchen. He stopped and turned around. “Two pieces?”

Rafe held up two fingers.

Marcos cocked his head. “You have a date.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Rafe started to cross his arms, then realized how defensive it would look.

“Huh. You didn't say no. Interesting. So. Not just
a date, but someone you want to keep private, even from your favorite brother.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I'll add taquitos and guacamole to your order. I happen to know your date has a healthy appetite.”

“And you know this how?”

Marcos shrugged. “Small town. Big grapevine. Apparently you were seen talking with Melina at Angie's wedding.”

“So? It would've been rude to ignore her. That doesn't make her my date.”

“You're still not denying it.” Marcos moseyed closer to Rafe. “Have you seen her since then?”

“On business, yes.”

“So, a little while ago when you went to her office? Was that business?”

“Have you got surveillance cameras all over town?” Rafe asked, exasperated.

“Better. A constant flow of customers, most of whom know our family and Melina's. Everyone loves a good speculation, myself included.” Marcos gave Rafe a good, long stare. “Dad loves chocolate cake. Melina orders it when she comes here. You don't eat dessert. Easy conclusion. Give me something harder to figure out.” He took off for the kitchen.

“Good evenin'. Welcome to Red,” said a pretty young woman with long brown hair. She stepped into the lobby. “We'll be able to seat you in just a moment. Unless you'd like to go to the bar?”

“Neither, thanks. I've got a takeout order coming.”
He extended his hand toward her. “I'm Rafe. Marcos's brother.”

Her brown eyes took on some sparkle. Her handshake was firm and direct. “Oh! You're the one who's come home again. I'm Wendy Fortune.”

“Fortune?”

“I know, I know. The Fortunes are famous in Red Rock. I'm from the Atlanta branch. Actually, I was exiled here.” She glanced past Rafe. “But that's a long, boring story,” she said. “Here's Marcos now. It was nice to meet you.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

“About ten minutes for your order,” Marcos told his brother.

Rafe waited until Wendy was out of sight then said, “She's cute.”

“Spoiled. Youngest of six kids and been indulged all her life.”

Rafe heard something in Marcos's voice that he couldn't identify. “It sounds like you didn't want to hire her, so why did you?”

“I didn't have a say. Plus she's connected to our half-sister through marriage, you know.” He shrugged. “She's learning. It's not an easy job.”

“Well, she's attractive. That'll help.”

“I guess.”

Rafe grinned. “You guess? I saw you watching her walk away—and you weren't looking at her feet,
hermano.
” He held up both hands in surrender while
his brother pretended to throw a punch. “Dad finally told me he's having a hard time coping.”

Marcos shifted gears just as easily. “He actually admitted it? Good.”

The brothers talked until the order was ready, then Rafe made his way back to Melina's office. Through the open door to the conference room he saw Melina laughing with a tall man whose straight black hair was as long as hers. He spotted Rafe then whispered something to her.

Melina whirled around. “Rafe! That was fast.”

Did she looked embarrassed? Flustered? Excited? He couldn't tell for sure. He only knew he felt pinpricks of jealousy stab him everywhere.

“This is my partner,” she said. “Quanah Ruiz. Everyone calls him Q.”

Partner? Oh,
business
partner. Q reached for one of the bags of food and set it on the table, then shook Rafe's hand.

“Rafe Mendoza,” he said.

“I guessed as much. Melina was just telling me the great news about Elliot. Well done.”

“Thanks. There's plenty here for three if you want to join us. Chicken enchiladas, chile rellenos and Spanish rice. Taquitos and guac. Mexican chocolate cake,” he added, looking at Melina, who made a sound close to a whimper.

“From Red?”

“Of course. Q?”

Rafe wasn't sure whether he wanted the buffer or
not, but was surprisingly pleased when Q said he had other plans.

Melina started opening up the foil containers the moment Q left. She'd rounded up paper plates, plastic silverware and a couple of Cokes.

“I don't think I've ever heard the name Quanah,” he said.

“It's Comanche—his mother's side. You can see it in his cheekbones, I think. For all his imposing height and that long hair, kids respond to him instantly. He tends to work mostly with the children, and I take on most of the adults, but sometimes a child takes a shine to me instead, or an adult to Q, so then we adapt. It keeps us both fresh that way, too.”

They sat down and started serving themselves and each other. “I noticed your grandfather is in a wheelchair,” Rafe said.

“He doesn't use it all the time, just when he'd be on his feet for long periods. He needs hip replacement but won't do the surgery. He says he's too old.”

“Is he?”

“He's eighty-six and in pretty good shape, actually. He's just stubborn. And I don't think he has the desire. He says he'd rather join Grandma Rose in heaven.”

The mention of Rose's name stopped the conversation cold.

“Thanks for giving my dad advice last night,” he said, changing the subject. “He finally talked to me about Mom.”

“I'm so glad. Your parents weren't just married, they worked together. That's a double loss and a constant sorrow. The last time I saw him was a couple of months ago, and he didn't look well to me, but he seemed better last night. I'm guessing it's because of you.”