One of the Guys (13 page)

R
onnie parked
and sat for a few minutes. There were no lights on in Diego’s house. If he was already asleep, she didn’t want to wake him. Of course, he could be out. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to spend the evening with her and her father, and might be with friends or gone to see Tomas, as he’d done once before.

She decided to try to reach him, and if he didn’t come to the door, she’d leave him a note so he at least knew he was on her mind.

Ronnie rang the doorbell and waited. A dog barked nearby, and she heard the sound of a train roaring over the tracks a mile or so from the subdivision.

She rang the bell again and waited.

Still nothing.

She returned to the truck, took a napkin from the glove compartment, and found a pen under the driver’s seat. She was about to write Diego a note when a light came on inside the house.

He
was
home.

Ronnie crushed the paper in her hand and arrived at the door just as it was opened—but not by Diego.

Her stomach dropped and lips parted in quiet shock.

A woman stood in the doorway—the Cristina Milian lookalike from the photos on the wall—wearing one of Diego’s sleeveless undershirts. The same item of clothing Ronnie enjoyed lounging in when she stayed with him. Only she’d never filled out the shirts in the same way.

She couldn’t be sure the woman wore anything else under it. Certainly not a bra, because the outlines of her ample breasts were clearly visible through the thin material. The hem fell past her curvaceous hips, and she was barefoot, looking completely at ease.

This was the “something” that had suddenly come up, forcing Diego to cancel plans scheduled weeks ago. This woman, his ex, who looked impossibly more beautiful in person, with her long, dark hair in a tousled mess. Like a woman who’d just rolled out of bed.

Nausea clawed up Ronnie’s throat. She was going to be sick. Not here. Not now. Not in front of this woman.

“Can I help you?” She appeared to be a little unsteady on her feet, and gripped the door.

“I…” Ronnie croaked. She didn’t know what to say.

She couldn’t help. No one could. If she hadn’t come here tonight, unannounced, tomorrow Diego could have concocted a perfectly reasonable explanation for cancelling on dinner, and she wouldn’t have known any different.

Lying to her. Cheating on her. Just like Leonard.

Anger and hurt burned her chest. Men were all the same. Said they wanted one type, but always went for the feminine, girly ones. And who better to fall back into bed with than an ex, with whom you shared a bond?

“No, you can’t help me.”

The woman looked at her strangely, confusion wrinkling her brow. Then the frown cleared, and for a moment she saw clarity in the other woman’s eyes. A smile—more like a smirk—hovered around her lips before she closed the door.

Drawing a tremulous breath, Ronnie backed away. At the same time, a round of headlights flashed across the house. Turning quickly, she saw Diego’s black truck pull up beside hers.

No. She couldn’t see him now.

He hopped out holding a plastic sack in hand and his gaze swung between her and the door. He quickly assessed the situation. “Ronnie, wait.”

She raced toward her vehicle to evade him, but he caught her around the waist with one hand.

“Let go of me!” she screeched.

“I can explain,” he growled close to her ear.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

She elbow-jabbed him in the ribs and he grunted, loosening his hold enough for her to twist free.

“You’re a liar,” she spat. Her hands transformed into angry fists, agony ripping through her veins, her skin, her heart.

“I didn’t lie.” He spoke calmly and set the groceries or whatever the hell he held in the bag on the cement and lifted a placating hand toward her.

“Something came up?”

“I can explain, if you let me.”

“Explain? There’s nothing to explain.” Her voice trembled with embarrassment and hurt. “I get it, okay? She’s pretty and sexy and has a terrific body.”

“You’re pretty. You’re sexy. You have a terrific body.”

“And after all, you have history. She may have cheated on you, but you obviously still care. It’s hard to turn off those emotions.”

“Don’t tell me what I feel,” Diego ground out. Even in the dark she clearly saw the hardening of his jaw and the flash of irritation in his eyes.

“Are you denying it?” Ronnie asked.

“Of course! She’s my ex.
Ex
. For a reason.”

“Then what is she doing here? She hardly had any clothes on. Only your shirt.”

He grimaced. “She came over, hurting, drunk. I couldn’t turn her away. Not tonight of all nights.”

“How very kind of you.”

“She’s been resting.”

“In your bed?” Ronnie asked snidely.

“I know how this looks, which is why I didn’t tell you over the phone. The reason she had my shirt on was because she threw up on her clothes, and I gave her something to wear.
Nothing
happened
.”

Ronnie shook her head. “I wish I could believe you, but I’ve been here before.”

“You’re not being fair, Veronica.”

“You know what I don’t get? You pursued me. For a whole year. I didn’t want to have anything to do with you because I knew it was too good to be true. And here you are, proving me right.” Unshed tears stung her eyes.

She had been perfectly fine by herself—alone, but happy. A state not easily achieved after the heartbreak she suffered from Leonard. But mentally she had arrived at a place where she accepted her single status. Until Diego changed her mind. Until he made her have feelings long ago suppressed and provoked emotions she purposely turned off.

“You’re wrong. I wanted to be there tonight. I wanted to celebrate with you and your father. I wanted get my mind off of the significance of today’s date.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You have to believe me.”

“No, I don’t. I trust my eyes. Not your empty words. Go back inside and play house with your ex and leave me the hell alone.”

She rushed to her vehicle and hopped in.

She flicked on the headlights and he stayed right there, illuminated and unmoved. Ronnie cranked the engine and backed out with a squeal of tires. Seconds later she roared out of the subdivision, on the way home.

The tears she’d dared not let fall in front of Diego tumbled from her eyes. And to think she’d come over there out of concern. She swiped tears from her eyes, falling into a vortex of emotions.

Hating him. Loving him. Hating herself for loving him.

R
onnie lay face
down on her pillow. She didn’t know the time. Maybe late morning or early afternoon. Either way, she didn’t care. She had no intention of leaving the house today or tomorrow. Maybe ever.

Good grief, she’d turned into such an emotional drama queen.

The doorbell rang, and she rolled onto her back. After crying all night, her puffy eyes burned. She pulled the pillow over her face to protect her eyes from the glare.

The doorbell rang again.

Who could that be? And where was her father?

She rolled out of bed and peeped out the window. Diego’s truck sat in the driveway. Her heart constricted painfully. He wasn’t in it, though. He must be standing at the door, hidden by the eaves.

She sagged against the sill. His betrayal cut deep. She didn’t want to see him. Shouldn’t want to.

She heard movement downstairs and tiptoed across the floor to crack the bedroom door open.

“What do you want?” her father asked in an extra-gruff voice.

She smiled at his rudeness and appreciated the support of her protective Papa Bear. He liked Diego and was almost as hurt and disappointed as she was when she burst into his room last night and told him what she discovered when she went to his house.

“Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” Diego said.

“Don’t you good morning me,” her father snapped. “I’m very disappointed in you. Whatever you have to say, you can keep it to yourself. No amount of apologizing is going to fix what you’ve done. You hurt my daughter.”

“She misunderstood what she saw.”

“Anything else?”

Conversation paused for a moment, and Ronnie strained to hear. Were they having a staring contest?

Diego spoke quietly, and then her father asked in a sharp voice, “What’s that?”

“Something for her.”

“I doubt Ronnie will want anything from you.”

“She’ll want this.”

“I doubt it, but all right. I’ll let Ronnie decide what she wants to do.”

“Thank you. And would you tell her if she wants to talk, I’m home. By myself.”

“By yourself? Quite the change from last night,” Ezekiel said.

The door slammed closed and Ronnie crossed the room and went back to bed. She pulled the covers up to her waist and waited for her father. He came up shortly and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

When he came in, she expected to see flowers or balloons or some kind of apologetic gift. Instead, he dropped a slick red folder onto the bedspread.

“What’s that?”

“Diego left that for you.”

Ronnie sat up and opened the folder.

“He looked pitiful,” Ezekiel said. “You wouldn’t know the two of you just argued last night. He looked like he hasn’t slept in days.”

“You’re not getting soft on me are you?” Ronnie asked.

“Not at all. But are you sure about him?”

“I know what I saw.”

“All right, then. Anybody hurt my baby, they hurt me too.” He patted an ankle under the bedspread.

She could always count on her father, the one man she could trust.

“You getting out of bed anytime soon?” he asked.

“In a little bit,” Ronnie answered, distracted by the folder and the contents.

“Okay, whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to breakfast.”

“The breakfast buffet?” she asked hopefully.

Going to breakfast was one of the things they liked to do, and they often went to the same place, which offered delicious servings of ham, cheese grits, scrambled eggs, toast, and pancakes. They’d been going there since she was a little girl, and right now she felt young and vulnerable like a little girl. Comfort food and her father’s nurturing nature offered the perfect salve for her emotional bruises.

“Is there any place else for breakfast?” He grinned.

“Not at all.”

After her father left the room, Ronnie read the contents of the package, a professional and detailed marketing plan. Did Diego pay someone to do this?

Her heart raced triple time as she reviewed the extensive report tailored specifically for Taylor Automotive & Repair. She reviewed the colorful graphs and charts and skimmed the market analysis of potential customers available in the surrounding area. What most intrigued Ronnie was the recommendation to focus on women customers.

She turned to the next page, which detailed a wonderful idea of doing community outreach through an automotive clinic for women. The clinic would teach the basics of car maintenance to educate female drivers, but serve as a funnel to establish trust and future business.

Why hadn’t she thought of this herself? It was a brilliant idea.

Ronnie rolled out of bed and rushed to the window. Diego had already left, of course. She picked up the phone and dialed his number, but it rolled to voicemail. She should probably thank him in person, anyway.

She splashed cool water on her face, curling her lip at her swollen eyes, but shrugged since there was nothing she could do about them. Dressing quickly, she donned a lime-green shirt and a denim skirt, absolutely not wearing a skirt because Diego liked her legs.

She scooped up the package from the bed, and rushed down the stairs.

Her father came down the hall, his eyes wide and startled. “Where you going in such a hurry? What about breakfast?”

“I need a rain check. This”—she held up the package—“is a marketing plan on how we can expand Taylor Automotive.”

“Diego did that?” her father asked.

“Maybe he paid someone. I don’t know. But I’m going to thank him.”

“Thank him?”

“Yes. I…couldn’t get him on the phone.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck, nugget.”

Ronnie bit her lip. “I’m only going to thank him.”

“Okay,” her father said, a gleam in his eyes.

Ronnie arrived at Diego’s and then second-guessed herself. Dread ate at the insides of her stomach. Maybe she should have left a message instead of coming over.

The front door opened and Diego stood there in a pair of jeans and no shirt.

Crap. Now she couldn’t leave.

She exited the vehicle and made her way slowly to the door on unsteady legs. Stopping a few feet away, she hugged the folder to her chest. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His face appeared drawn, and her father was right—he looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Despite the tiredness, he was as handsome as ever. A dusting of hair on his face and his hair tousled and uncombed. She wanted to launch herself into his arms.

“Are you alone? I—”

His mouth tightened.

“Can I come in?”

He stepped aside and she walked into the living room. Bonkers lounged in her favorite spot on the arm of the sofa, licking her paw. She watched Ronnie with suspicious eyes, her tail swishing up and down, the way a human would impatiently tap their fingers.

“I read the report,” Ronnie said.

“What did you think?” A tuft of dark hair peeked out from the top of his low-slung jeans, distracting her.

“It’s great. How much do I owe you? “

“Nothing. Talia works at a marketing firm and prepared it as a favor to me.” He spoke in a dull, flat voice.

“Wow, that’s some favor. She put in a lot of work, or so it seems. You’re sure there isn’t something I could do? Maybe offer free service or something?” She smiled, lips trembling with the effort to remain cool.

“You don’t have to do that. She’s family.”

Ronnie hugged the report tighter. There was nothing more to say. She should leave, but couldn’t.

“You only came by to thank me?”

She lifted her gaze and saw pain in his eyes. But she felt pain, too. Deep, ugly pain that shredded her insides and made her feel like a fool.

“I’m angry at you,” she said quietly.

“If you let me explain—”

“I know all the stories, I know the game. I’ve been on the inside.”

“So I’m just like every other man, is that it? Is that fair? We hit a snag and you bail?”

“Snag? Is that what you call what you did?” She wanted to scream.

“I didn’t
do
anything!” he shot back. A vein pulsed in his forehead.

“Yes, you did!” Her arm muscles quivered. Tension choked her. “You pursued me for a year, and you gave me hope. Hope that you liked me for
me
. With all my rough edges. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else—something else. You made me believe that I was fine the way I was, whether I was Veronica, or whether I was Ronnie.” She took a quivering breath. “And then you took back the hope and the love and stomped on me. On us.”

“I never took anything back,
mami
,” he said.

“Your ex was here, half-naked in your house…” She choked on the words.

“What you saw was me helping someone who once meant a lot to me. Nothing more.”

She wanted to believe him. Dare she? His eyes looked so sincere. The words sounded heartfelt.

“Loisa and I have history, but I don’t love her. I love you. I meant the words when I said them before, and I mean them now.”

He came closer, and the muscles in her shoulders tightened in protective tension.

“I did not cheat on you with my ex. Memorial Day weekend, you asked me to trust you. What about you? Can you trust me, Veronica?”

He was the only person who called her that. The only man who treated her with such care and consideration. With him she could be vulnerable, without feeling weak. She could be strong and still reach for him, and his steady hand would be there, at her elbow, or supporting her back.

“Can you trust me?” he asked again. “Trust us?”

He stood right in front of her, and Ronnie squeezed her eyes tight. She leaned into him, perilously close to tears.

Diego enveloped her in his arms, and she rested against his warm chest. He rubbed up and down her back, and she melted—simply melted against him.

He kissed the top of her head, and she sighed contentedly.

“Yes. I trust you,” Ronnie whispered.