He dismounted and waited for her to follow, then tethered both horses to a low bush. “Come,” he said, and held out a hand to help her over the scrabbly rocks. “I want to show you something.”
She put her hand in his and his body tightened.
It was a trusting move and he hadn’t expected the sweetness of it. The sharp-tongued cobra of yesterday had disappeared … when? When she’d come to the kitchen in her bare feet? This morning, when she’d blinked up at him in the baggy coveralls?
Her hand was small and soft and a lump formed in his throat. When was the last time someone had put their hand in his so trustingly? A long time. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. So many things he’d taken for granted and brushed off, not realizing how important they would become later. Things like the last time he had held Rosa’s hand, kissed her lips. The last time he’d said “I love you” and heard her say his name. Those moments were gone forever, leaving a vacuum in their place.
They went to the curve in the hill where two flat rocks waited. “Oh!” she exclaimed, letting go of his hand and moving forward delightedly. Sophia went to the first stone and perched upon it, her hands on her knees.
She looked about eighteen years old. Where was the high fashion barracuda in stilettos demanding he make good on the reservation? It had been false bravado. He understood that now. The woman before him was an enchanting sprite with flaming curls and bright eyes. This was the real Sophia. Her excitement was fresh and genuine and far more difficult to resist.
“This is so neat! You can’t even see it from above!”
“Which made it perfect for staying hidden.” He followed her, moving towards the twin boulders, his boots crunching on the gravel.
“Who were you hiding from?”
“Mostly Carlos and Maria. Miguel and I would grab a couple of horses and come out. He was in a hurry to finish school and go to the city. I was dying to get out of the fast pace and expectations and this became my second home. He still loves it—I don’t think you can take the pampas out of the boy. But he is working in Córdoba now, teaching at one of the universities.”
He sat on the other stone and stared at the bubbling creek.
“Do you normally bring guests here on the trail rides? It’s lovely.”
“No, not usually.” He suddenly knew this was a bad idea. The last thing he needed to do was start doing special things with her. She was no different than any other guest. She couldn’t be.
“And so you have made your home with Maria and Carlos, working the estancia with them.”
Tomas smiled. She made it sound so simple, when it wasn’t. Not at all. He could tell her that he was joint owner, but for some reason he didn’t want to.
“I prefer it to being with my own family. I know, that sounds awful, as if I don’t love them. And I know in my way I do. But what you said before, about looking for someone … I understand that. It is when I am here that I feel most myself. If somehow a trip here is managing to give that to you, too, I’m glad. Sometimes …” He thought about what she’d told him only minutes before. “Sometimes being here I remember I don’t have to try so hard.”
They were quiet for a few moments. He looked over at Sophia. She was gazing out over the creek and the waving grasses, her expression utterly relaxed, her hands resting on her knees.
“I know what you mean about trying hard out here. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I didn’t think so when I first drove up. It wasn’t what I was expecting. But now I think perhaps the estancia is well named. View of Heaven … yes. I think your pampas might have a way of winding itself around a person’s heart.”
And just like that, Sophia started winding herself around him. She understood what it was he felt about the pampas, about Vista del Cielo. It was the last thing he expected and the sensation was pleasant and disturbing all at once.
“I think I’ve been trying hard for a long time,” she continued. “To please people. To be what they wanted me to be. I don’t even really know what I want.”
He nodded. “But you have time. You’re what, twenty-four, twenty-five?” He traced a fingernail over the rock’s surface. “This is a whole new beginning for you. You get to decide who you want to be.”
Her smile was wide. “Thank you, Tomas.” She tipped her campero back further on her head. “I sometimes worry that I’ve taken this trip for revenge. It’s not a very attractive quality. After what you just said … I hope that instead I use it as a springboard for doing things better.” He saw a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “Living honestly, if that makes sense.”
Oh, it made sense all right. And at least her catastrophe was only a cancelled wedding. She had no need of the remorse that Tomas still felt about his own personal wake-up call.
“Anyway,” she changed the subject lightly, “I am looking forward to meeting Maria and Carlos.” She stretched out her legs and tilted her face up to the sun.
“You will like them,” he answered quietly.
“Do you suppose their son will ever have children? Is he married? My grandmother always joked that grandchildren were the bane of her existence. She didn’t like kids any more than she liked farm life.” Sophia chuckled.
Tomas did not know how to answer. She was just making simple chatter, but the subject of grandchildren was a painful one. As the silence stretched out, he searched for a safe topic of conversation. He thought about giving her a spiel on the history of the gaucho but suspected she’d see clear through his motive to deflect the conversation away from himself. “Or maybe you.” She kept on, oblivious to the sickening churning he was feeling in his gut. “Maybe you will have children and will bring them out here to visit.”
The innocently spoken words were like a knife in his heart.
He and Rosa had sneaked out to this spot on occasion too. If he had been any other boy, Carlos and Maria would have had a fit. But not with Tomas. They had trusted him to take care of Rosa. To keep her safe and cherish her. Sophia’s words were nothing that he had not thought of a million times since Rosa’s death. Time, and yes, even healing, could not erase the awful responsibility he felt.
“Tomas?”
He hadn’t noticed her rising from her rock and coming to his side. Her small hand lay on his forearm and when he turned his head she was watching him, her dark eyes wide and worried. Her skin was creamy and her hair was a mass of flaming waves. But it was the concern, the gentle way she touched him and his reaction to it that caused pain and resentment to rip through his insides.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He shook his head, knowing she was not to blame. It was him, all him. Take a breath, he commanded himself. Sophia was a guest. That was all. He should still be grieving. He shouldn’t be thinking of her this way.
“I think it is time we got back. I wanted to get the boxes moved into the boutique this afternoon.”
She bit down on her lip and his gaze was drawn to it, unerringly, inevitably. Soft and pink, it regained its shape as her teeth released it.
He got up from the rock and straightened, staring unseeingly at the creek. He would not touch her. He would not kiss her or take her in his arms.
“Why do you shut people out all the time, Tomas? Or is it just me? For a few moments I think you’re going to relax and then you wrap yourself in layers again.”
She was right, and he refused to respond. What could he possibly say that would be appropriate? That he was contemplating how soft her skin might be beneath her blouse? The only thing he could do was remain silent.
“Did she hurt you that badly?” Sophia pressed him. “I asked about you before, but maybe it was the other way around. Did someone cheat on you the way that