Authors: Francis Ray
He came to his feet when what he wanted to do was unclench her hands, gently place them on his chest, and kiss the lip tucked between her teeth. “I better be going.”
She stood as well, relief in her expressive brown eyes that kept slipping away from his. “Thank you again.”
“My pleasure,” he said and watched her gaze skitter away again. Moving around the coffee table in the opposite direction of her, he went to the front door. “Good night.”
“Good night. Drive carefully.”
He reached for the doorknob. “Don’t forget to think about asking Sierra to be your Realtor. She’s honest and she knows her stuff.”
“I will. Thank you for wanting to help. It means a lot.”
He’d do that and more if she only gave him a chance. Her ex had taken a sledgehammer to her self-esteem and self-confidence. Until she believed in herself as much as he did, she’d never be completely happy or the woman he knew she could be, not just for him, but for herself.
“Talk to you later.” He went out the door, closing it after him, then waiting until he heard Naomi slide the two dead-bolt locks into place. It hurt his heart to know she didn’t feel safe. With domestic violence of men against women rising, she had good cause. He just hoped she eventually learned not to let the fear dictate how she lived.
Continuing to his truck parked in front of the apartment, he climbed inside. After checking the rearview mirror, he backed out and headed for his ranch fifteen miles out of town. He might be prejudiced, but he agreed with Naomi that he had a beautiful home.
There were only fifty acres, but the land was as rugged as it was beautiful, with the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the distance. The eighty-year-old home had belonged to his grandfather. His parents had begun the renovations that he’d completed two years ago.
He turned off the main highway. A short distance farther he saw the peak of his house, then he saw the barn that held his horses a short distance away. Beautiful and peaceful and he had no one to share it with.
Putting the truck in the two-bay garage, he headed along the stone path to the back door. His ranch hand would have cared for the ten horses he owned. Four were Arabians, two Thoroughbreds; the others had no pedigree, and that was all right with him.
Entering the back door, he flicked on the light. The phone on the counter rang. He crossed the room and picked it up, noticing the unknown caller. “Dr. Youngblood.”
“Richard, it’s Lance.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” he quickly said. “I called you on another matter.”
“All right?”
“What’s the story on Fallon?”
Since Richard was having his own woman problems, he wasn’t going to tease his cousin. They were the only sons of only sisters who were as different as humanly possible. His mother was outspoken and self-assured, while Lance’s mother was meek and needy. He and Lance were just as different. Richard had returned to Santa Fe to set up practice after graduating; Lance had left his hometown in Oklahoma after graduation and seldom returned.
“If you’re asking why she obviously went cold on you and shut you down—if the expression on your face was any indication when you returned to the table and your quick departure afterward—I don’t know.”
“She told me the reason. She loathes people in my profession,” Lance explained. “I thought you might know why.”
“Not a clue.” The phone in one hand, he opened the fridge door for a bottle of water. “You’ll have to find out on your own.”
“Easier said than done, since she wants nothing to do with me.”
Placing the phone between his shoulder and ear, Richard opened the bottle of water. “Since when have you let a no stop you?”
Lance chuckled. “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite cousin.”
“That’s because I’m your only cousin.”
“There is that. ’Night.”
“’Night.” Richard hung up and continued to the bedroom, and his solitary bed. He’d tried not to fantasize that Naomi was there with him, but it was impossible when he saw the wide expanse of the bed.
Placing the bottle of water on the coaster on the nightstand, he unbuttoned his shirt and accepted that he’d probably dream of her again. The dreams were sweet, torrid, playful. He wanted to give her the pleasure of his body as much as he wanted to give her dreams without fear.
One day, he promised as he pulled off his boots, he would.
Chapter 5
Sunday afternoon, Naomi took Kayla to Fallon, who was going to babysit for her. Kayla was excited because they planned to go to the park. Still, Naomi had packed her new favorite book,
The Guardian,
a
Finding Nemo
DVD, and snacks before driving to the Women’s League office near downtown Santa Fe. After kissing Kayla good-bye, she got into her SUV. It was ten years old, but it had low gas mileage and maintenance records from the very first trip to the service center.
She pampered the four-wheel-drive Toyota as if it were a Ferrari. She knew how dependent on others you were if you didn’t have a car. Plus she felt safe driving it no matter the weather. She hadn’t had to worry much about snow in San Antonio. She’d jumped at the opportunity to purchase the car from one of Richard’s clients. The car was one more step to independence, and best of all, she’d done it on her own. Richard hadn’t been pleased that she hadn’t let a mechanic look over the car, but she had trusted Mrs. Carson who was moving into a retirement home and didn’t need the car any longer. It felt good to trust.
After parking, Naomi went up the curved walkway, past the blooming pink and red roses, the well-manicured lawn. If you didn’t know it, you wouldn’t think of the bricked building as a place where people with broken dreams came to begin to heal.
Naomi had been one of those people. She pressed the buzzer to be let inside. Before the sound faded, she heard the click of the lock disengaging and opened the glass door. “Hi, Marie.”
“Hi, Naomi. I heard you have a celebrity in the family.”
Naomi
smiled
and stopped in front of the elegant French-inspired desk. The office looked beautiful and stylish, with large, healthy potted plants and artwork. Ruth said she wanted the people who came here to know they were valued and had worth. She’d achieved that and more. “Kayla is still walking on air.”
“I would be, too, if I was spotlighted in a book.” Maria came to her feet. She was five feet of bubbling energy with an engaging smile. “My life is too dull for anyone to ever want to write about me.”
Be thankful
, Naomi almost said before she caught herself. “You have a wonderful husband and three beautiful children. I’d say your life is far from dull.”
“They drive me crazy, but I’d be lost without them.” Maria opened the hardwood cabinet in the corner and removed her purse. “The oldest has a soccer game this afternoon. Her team hasn’t lost a game.”
“I’d say you have some celebrating of your own to do,” Naomi said. “That’s wonderful.”
“We kind of think so.” Maria shoved the thin leather strap over her slim shoulder. “Dan and the other two girls are picking me up on the way to the game.”
“Have fun, and tell Paula I said good luck.”
A car horn interrupted what Maria had been about to say. “That man. He used to drive my mama crazy honking that horn instead of coming in for me. He does it now just to get a rise out of me.”
Since Naomi had seen Maria and Dan together, she wasn’t concerned. He outweighed Maria by eighty pounds and was a good foot taller, and he treated her like spun glass. “He likes to tease you.”
Maria shook her dark head of hair as the horn sounded again. “Sixty-two and he still acts like a kid at times.”
Naomi couldn’t ever remember Gordon being anxious for her. Impatient and annoyed, yes, but never anxious. “You go on. I’ll take it from here.”
“Things have been quiet,” Maria reported, heading for the front door. “You’re closing at six.”
“Yes, this will be my first time.” Before, she hadn’t wanted the responsibility of closing or being out late. Baby steps, Catherine called them. Placing her handbag in the cabinet, Naomi took the seat Maria had vacated. “You better get out of here before Dan comes to get you.”
“I’m going. Bye.”
“Bye,” Naomi said, watching the heavy door swing shut. Uneasiness momentarily swept through her. She was alone. If she needed help, there would be no one.
Stop it,
she mentally chastised herself. She was safe, the door locked, the glass in the front door unbreakable, the alarm system the best available, camera on the front and back doors. She didn’t even have to pick up the phone. All she had to do was push the button Rio had installed and an alarm would go straight to the police office.
She’d asked Mrs. Grayson how she’d managed to have that installed and she’d just smiled. Naomi imagined with a billionaire son-in-law, wealthy relatives, famous in-laws, influential friends, and protective children, most people didn’t say no to Ruth Grayson.
She looked sweet, but on a couple of occasions when an unruly boyfriend or husband had tried to coerce a woman into leaving the center, Ruth had stepped into the conversation.
Their harsh words and threats hadn’t fazed her. She hadn’t used her connections or her sons—who would have torn the men apart—just her unflinching courage and desire to help others. The men had backed down even before the police car had pulled up. Not long after, so had Luke and Brandon. Her other children had been out of town or Naomi was sure they would have shown up as well. Ruth Grayson was a phenomenal woman. Naomi would settle for waking up without fear. One day she’d get there.
Entering her password, she brought up the log for the day and entered her name. The Women’s League wanted accurate records. Unfortunately, they might be needed in legal cases. Naomi’s hands flexed as she recalled the woman in the coma. She hadn’t been a client of the Women’s League.
Naomi had overheard women at her job and in line at the checkout counter at the grocery store saying that they didn’t see why the woman hadn’t left. Some even blamed her for the abuse. They had no idea how you could be beat down, cowed. They took their safety and the love of a good man, their ability to stand up for themselves, for granted. They didn’t see it as a blessing like Naomi did.
She looked over the calls for the day in case anyone called again and wanted additional information. From experience, Naomi knew that making the call was the first and most difficult step of admitting you were abused and needed help. Women could come into the office for assistance daily. Although there wasn’t a place to stay, the league could provide hotel accommodation, if necessary.
Working there for the past month, Naomi had learned that she wasn’t the only one who’d had a knock on the door and received the gift of new clothes, and, more important, the gift of self-worth when you felt you couldn’t make it a day, an hour longer. She wanted to help others who found themselves alone and feeling hopeless as she had.
The buzzer sounded. She looked up to see Sierra holding a stuffed plastic garment bag with the name of a local department store. Two men stood a few steps behind her. Each held a large handled shopping bag in his hands.
Naomi hit the buzzer to unlock the door and rushed around the desk to help. One of the men reached around Sierra to open the door.
“Thanks, Aaron.” Sierra stepped inside. “Hi, Naomi.”
“Hi, Sierra,” Naomi greeted. “Let me have that.”
“Got it, thanks.” Laughing, Sierra glanced over her shoulders at the two men who had quietly entered behind her. “You might want to help Paul and Aaron.”
Naomi might have hesitated, but the men stepped around Sierra and extended the bags in their hands. She took the ones from the man nearer to her. The others were set down beside her. Once the bags were relinquished, the men smoothly stepped back behind Sierra, their motions in sync, their faces pleasant but unsmiling.
“I found a fantastic sale and couldn’t resist,” Sierra said.
“Thank you.” It was well known Sierra loved clothes and shopping. The clothes closet in the league was often the beneficiary of her enjoyment. Her yellow spiked heels matched the beautiful lemon dress that stopped a couple of inches above her knees.
Still bubbling, she glanced behind her at the two men. “We had a good time, didn’t we?”
They simply stared at her. Laughing, Sierra turned back to Naomi. Leaning over, she whispered, “They’re my shadows. I can take care of myself, but it makes Blade feel better. Rio heard me mention shopping and chickened out.”
Bodyguards,
Naomi realized. Blade wanted his wife safe and made sure of it. The door swung shut behind one of the men before Naomi realized he’d moved.
“I’ll help you put everything up.” Sierra reached for the other two bags. The remaining man stepped around Sierra for the bags, startling Naomi. She gasped and stumbled back. The man froze.
Naomi didn’t know what to say. She felt heat flush her cheeks. There had been no threat to her.
“I got it, Aaron,” Sierra said easily. “Naomi, you lead the way.”
Naomi turned, then swung back to the silent, watchful man. She would not hurt someone’s feelings because she was learning to live without fear. “It’s not you.”
“No problem, Mrs. Reese.”
Surprise widened her eyes that he knew her name; then she realized that they had to know the family’s close associates to be effective.
Sierra must have noticed her surprise. “They even know my hairstylist, although she tried to flirt with them.”
Naomi understood Sierra was trying to make her feel better and lighten the mood. While grateful, Naomi wished for the day people didn’t have to be cautious or make excuses for her. She wanted a normal life for her and Kayla. She’d already decided that didn’t include a man. “This way.”
The “clothes closet” was a room with revolving racks of women’s and children’s clothes from floor to ceiling, with full-length mirrors and private dressing rooms. No one saw the sense of leaving with clothes that didn’t fit. Naomi reached into her bag to find toiletries. She began placing them in the designated bins. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Sierra on the short ladder, hanging up the clothes she’d purchased.