Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection) Page 11

  Mee-Maw invited him over for chili Monday night. She said it was to celebrate opening night of the gallery, but let’s be real… the fact that it was Monday was enough to justify her famous chili. Thankfully, she’d asked me to invite Nico.

  At first, I thought having him there would break up the ramparts that hit too close to the past. Until Nico and Mee-Maw returned into their instantaneous paranormal conversation, chatting about lost spirits and bridges to another world, leaving Sam and me to our own devices.

  Mee-Maw knew something was going on. She always did. It was why she invited me to take a jewelry class with her last night. She really wanted to show me the place where she worked, insisting I would love to see all the Bisbee Blue. I turned her down, settling instead for some take-out pizza eaten in my room. I needed a night—a night to prepare for tonight.

  Ghosts.

  Too bad I was already haunted.

  “Hey, Tally. You look beautiful.”

  I groaned and rolled my eyes, shooting Carlos a glare over my shoulder. “Thank you,” I mumbled, because annoyance was no excuse for rudeness. Turning back to Nico, I asked, “I hope Mee-Maw didn’t get your hopes up too high for this…”

  He balked. “After that chili, I have no doubt this tour will live up to my expectations.”

  “Chili?” Carlos interjected, looking to me.

  “Mee-Maw makes the most fantastic chili you’ve ever had. Oh my honey, I have a foodgasm just thinking about it,” Nico replied, and I winced.

  It was strange to watch the branches of jealousy grow over Carlos’ face, considering everything that happened.

  “Mee-Maw had Nico over for dinner on Monday to discuss their plan of observation for the ghost tour,” I added, trying to placate the emotion brewing on Carlos’ face before he did something rash—like he always did.

  “And Handsome Sam.” Nico winked at me and my jaw tightened, tempted to take his smoky gray neck scarf and stuff it in his mouth.

  Carlos stewed.

  “Where’s Kendall?” I asked him directly, trying my last attempt to remind him he had no reason to be jealous. And no right to continue to know more about my life and doings.

  The question broke through his trance and his head tipped to the side as though he was trying to recall who she was for a second, and then a wide smile spread over his face.

  “Kendall!” he called over his shoulder, finding her in the crowd, and nodded for her to come over to us.

  Great.

  “Kendall, doll, where are the brownies? We should share with everyone.”

  I arched an eyebrow. Brownies?

  “Kendall makes delicious brownies,” Carlos offered as his girlfriend pulled out a Ziploc bag from her large purse.

  “Weed brownies?” Nico looked interested.

  “They’ve got just a little something to make the ghost tour more fun,” Carlos replied.

  What was it with artists and drugs…

  I took another sip of my beer, crossing my legs, and deciding the best way to politely refuse. I’d had pot brownies before. I’d made them even. I worked in the art world. Drugs were as necessary a foundation for their inspiration as a blank canvas.

  But I didn’t indulge regularly. And tonight, I wasn’t interested.

  Nico replied, but I didn’t hear what he said because the brewery door opened and Sam walked inside, followed by Mee-Maw.

  My brow furrowed.

  I’d taken her car for the day, running some errands and doing some grocery shopping for her—anything to get out of the apartment and away from my thoughts or a potential run-in with Sam. She’d insisted she could get a ride over after she was done with her class at the jewelry shop; I didn’t realize that ride would be Sam.

  Then again, he’d been the one looking after her—if such a woman needed such a thing—while I’d been gone.

  My stomach did a guilty tumble, conflicting emotions warring inside a space too small to contain them. I looked back at Sam, the center of them all, and foolishly my gaze snagged on his. Determined. Demanding. And I knew tonight would be a reckoning.

  I’d skirted around him for three days but there was no escaping him any longer.

  With that thought, I downed the rest of the beer in my hand. When I set the empty glass on the bar, I saw Nico taking a massive bite of the dark chocolate brownie, leaving less than half left.

  I huffed and rolled my eyes.

  “You already believe in ghosts. I don’t think you need any encouragement,” I told him.

  He smiled as he chewed and swallowed. “Anything to help bridge that portal to the other side,” he replied with a wink and then let out a small gasp as another idea hit him. “I was only going to eat half anyway, maybe you should have the other? Relax you a bit.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  He hummed, holding the half of a brownie up, looking around, deciding who else he wanted to finish it. “Oh, wonderful. Mee-Maw is here! She will be on board with this.”

  Without thinking, one hand gripped the edge of the bar and my other hand shot out to snatch the brownie from him, shoving it in my mouth before he even realized what happened.

  “What—” He gaped. “I thought you—”

  “Changed my mind,” I said with my mouth full, letting the rich chocolate flavor melt over my tongue. It didn’t quite taste like a pot brownie—not the ones I used to make anyway. But there was no going back now.

  There was no way I was letting Mee-Maw eat a pot brownie in front of me. Sure, I was fairly confident she’d had many of these in her lifetime, probably even more recently than I had, but that didn’t mean I was ready to watch my grandmother get high.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t a huge brownie, so I finished the single bite as Sam reached my side, wiping the crumbs from my lips and greeting him and Mee-Maw with enthusiasm.

  “Ready to go?” I hopped down from the barstool, adjusting the long, cozy tee I’d borrowed from Mee-Maw and wore over black leggings.

  “Oh, I’m so excited, Talia. The spirits are so alive tonight. I feel it.” Mee-Maw shuddered with otherworldly anticipation. “Nico! Now, you’re going to be my right-hand man. Let’s go over the plan and make sure we leave time for the spots that usually have the most activity.”

  I let out a strangled half-word cry for Mee-Maw as she wandered out of reach.

  “Tally.” The stony statue behind me rumbled.

  “Sam.” I swallowed hard. “We should start moving everyone outside.”

  I tried to push by him, but his fingers curled around my elbow and his eyes implored me before the words even left his mouth, “Stop running from me, Tally.”

  My senses burned like they’d been lit on fire and then doused with gasoline.

  It was more than just the kiss. It was his request to be friends when it was all done.

  He’d kissed me like that, but still felt nothing more than friendship.

  Meanwhile, one kiss was all it took for me to want more—to want him. In spite of everything. After all this time.

  Time dwindled into nothing when a piece of yourself was left in the past. Hours could tick by into days. Days into weeks and then into years. But one blink, one look at him, and I was right back at the start, wanting him when he clearly didn’t want me.

  “Why?” It slipped out like a burning arrow straight from my lips. And then the young, heartbroken girl who’d fallen in love with her very best friend and who’d been left alone with no real explanation, crept out from the sheltered, shielded sanctuary she defended inside my chest and murmured, “You ran from me first.”

  Maybe the brownie would bridge me to another world where I wouldn’t have to talk to Sam about the things I’d said. And definitely not about the things I hadn’t.

  “Alright, gang! Are you ready to meet Bisbee’s most famous ghosts?” Mee-Maw, our self-dubbed ghost host, beamed out front of the brewery. The ghost tour was a self-guided one that Nico had found online, but when Mee-Maw joined the group, she’d taken over as the lea
der and head ghost hunter. “Our first stop is the Brewery Gulch Brothel.”

  “Are you alright, Tally?”

  I glanced over at Sam, my heart rate picking up.

  He was dressed casually again and, with only the old, waning light from the street lamps casting strong shadows over his face, I felt my desire haunting me.

  It drew chills up my spine and I felt its hot breath on my neck.

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat, my body climbing in temperature. It had been at least several months since I’d had a pot brownie, but I didn’t remember them ever making me feel like this.

  I wasn’t relaxed. I felt vulnerable.

  Not to someone else but to myself.

  “I’m sorry about the mine, Tally,” Sam rasped, effectively drawing all my attention from Mee-Maw and the group.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I told him. “I’m not…” I shook my head, words filling my mouth that shouldn’t come out. “It’s fine.”

  “No. It’s not.” He slid a hand along the top of his head, grabbing where his hair was pulled back.

  We approached the old brothel, Mee-Maw’s voice blurring around the edges as she told the tale of the ghosts that frequent the bar at the brothel, listening to the jukebox even when it was unplugged.

  “Tally.” Sam reached for my arm, holding me back and keeping me outside as the rest of the group filtered inside.

  “Sam the man,” Carlos’ sarcastic voice rang out, shattering our private conversation. “Need your help.”

  “With what?” Sam bit out through tight teeth, slowly shifting his focus from me to Carlos.

  “What can you tell us about the ghost dance?”

  Sam visibly pulled back, shaking his head in confusion. “What?”

  “The ghost dance,” he repeated, he pulled Kendall to his side, the blonde swaying unsteadily on her feet with a goofy smile on her face. “You’re a Native American, aren’t you?”

  “Seriously?” I spun and felt like I was hit with a tsunami, my balance pulling out from under me before pushing me forward.

  What was going on?

  “Tally…” Sam’s hand found its place on my lower back.

  “Go back to the ghost hunt, Carlos. We’re having a private conversation,” I insisted. I didn’t care what Carlos thought at this point, I just wanted him to go away.

  “This is part of the ghost hunt, Tally.” He laughed. “My thought is that a ghost dance will bring out the spirits we’re looking for.”

  “That’s not how the ghost dance works,” Sam bit out harshly.

  “Well, I’m sure we could make it work. We’ve already got part of the process down” Carlos went on.

  “You are very handsome, Sam. I’m sure the ghosts would want to meet you,” Kendall gushed, and Carlos squeezed her gently to silence her.

  “What are you talking about?” Sam demanded.

  “I provided the group with some medicinal assistance to get out of their minds and into the spirit.” Carlos’ smile spread.

  Ducking my head, I answered, “They brought pot brownies.”

  Carlos’ dark curls fell forward, and I caught the way he lowered his gaze.

  “Carlos…” I warned.

  “I never said they were pot, Tally.”

  Surprise made my world spin. No wonder I didn’t feel the same.

  I felt out of body. I felt myself but in tune with the pieces of me that a sober soul would know it was wise to ignore out of self-preservation.

  “Tally, did you…” Sam was only looking at me now. Concern and anger swirling in his gaze.

  “If she did, I didn’t make her,” Carlos chimed in.

  Sam’s head whipped to the arrogant man, leveling him with a threatening stare.

  “What did you give her?”

  “First off, I didn’t know she had any.” Carlos put up his hands.

  “What. Was. In. The. Brownies?” Each word hissed through his lips like an arrow, landing with a loud thump of threatening accuracy.

  Carlos gulped. “I told you. It was for the ghost dance. It was what they said was used for the ghost dance.”

  “Are you fucking—” Sam’s nostrils flared, anger steaming from the steady crank of his jaw tightening and releasing. “You put peyote in the brownies?”

  “Peyote?” Stars exploded in my vision, but I wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the drug.

  Carlos shrugged. “Figured it would be a sure way to bring out the ghosts.”

  “Oo! I think I see one!” Kendall pulled out from under his arm and jogged toward the front of the group, pointing toward a flickering streetlight in the distance.

  I folded my arms over my stomach, nausea rolling through me. My steps slowed, unsure if the world was shifting with me.

  “It’s fine.” Carlos flapped his hand like he was waving our concerns away. “Everyone else is fine. Everyone else is enjoying it. You should know it’s fine. You’re Navajo. It’s part of your fucking religion.” His head tilted like it was burdened by a new recollection. “Actually, should you even be here? I heard ghosts are a big no-no for the Navajo.” He snickered. “Or maybe a brownie might help with that?”

  Sam’s nostrils flared, and I knew, if I wasn’t here… if he wasn’t concerned about me… his restraint would’ve gone out the window minutes ago.

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” Sam seethed with a low, dehumanizing voice. It was the kind of tone that suggested Carlos was going to get what he deserved, and no one was going to feel sorry for him in the process.

  “I didn’t make her eat it,” the idiot replied, running a hand through his hair, but it was the curl of his lip that hinted he wasn’t as nonchalant about the situation as he appeared.

  Sam held on to my shoulders, and I breathed a sigh of relief at his steadiness.

  “Why did you?” he murmured.

  “I didn’t want Mee-Maw to eat it,” I said quietly.

  “Dammit, Tally,” he growled.

  “I thought it was pot.” My head tipped. His lips were so full and they’d felt so warm, so solid and sure against mine. I wanted to kiss him again. I needed to.

  “See? Not my fault,” Carlos insisted. “Plus, she could use it. Relax a little. You’ll see. She doesn’t know how to loosen up. It gets boring. It’s why I had to get Kendall involved—”

  Sam swung and, just like in the matrix, seconds slowed. Movements stretched like a rubber band pulled apart by time. I watched the shadows paint over his skin, the swift strokes of the streetlights bouncing off the flexed muscles of his arm all the way down to the curled joints of his fist. His arm was a man-made strike of lightning and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the crack of thunder.

  And then the rubber band reached its maximum elasticity and time snapped back to the rapidly unraveling present.

  Sounds. Commotion. Concern.

  It crashed through the group like a flash storm, washing away all thoughts of ghosts in favor of gossip.

  Kendall, Zane, and some of the other artists rushed to Carlos’ side where he lay curled on the ground. Nico reached for Sam, placing his body in the way and begging him for restraint.

  “Tally! What’s going on?” Mee-Maw reached me and pulling me under her arm, asserted her authority to rein in the group. “What happened?”

  “That asshole drugged her—” Sam charged.

  He stood poised to launch another attack, even if he had to fight through the entire group to get to him.

  “I didn’t force her,” Carlos whined from the pavement, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his hand.

  “Mee-Maw.” I turned, my grandmother’s white hair swam like an undersea cloud before my eyes. Oh God. “I don’t feel—”

  With a tortured groan that was by no means warning enough for me to angle myself to the side or for Carlos to move out of the way, I lurched forward, nausea crashing into my stomach and pulling from its depths a wave of vomit.

  “What the—” His words ended in a horrified shriek when I vo
mited all over him.

  Carlos, nose bleeding and now puke-covered, on the ground in front of me, rolling to the side and being helped upright before I threw up all over again.

  “I don’t feel well,” I breathed out, though vomiting did make me feel a little better, both with physical relief, and the knowledge that I’d managed to puke on Carlos.

  “Oh my Bisbee, Talia. I’m taking you home.” Mee-Maw patted my arm, and started to address the group, “The tour is post—”

  “No,” I mumbled, starting to shake my head before deciding against it when my stomach rolled again.

  If the tour stopped now, once again, it would be an event defined by me and Sam. First, the mine was overshadowed by our kiss. Now, this would be eclipsed by Sam punching Carlos. No matter if he’d deserved it.

  “Talia—” Mee-Maw tried to protest.

  “Please, Mee-Maw. Stay with them.”

  “Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but we’re leaving,” Carlos snapped, finally freeing himself from his vomit-stained shirt. His glare narrowed on Sam and me as he spoke, and it glowed with bitterness and anger.

  And jealousy.

  I hoped it was the peyote. I hoped it was the foreign drugs flowing through my veins that made me see things that weren’t there.

  “I will gladly take over the tour,” Nico offered, holding up his pamphlet of ghost notes and sightings he and Mee-Maw had been meticulously reviewing.

  “Nico, I can’t let you do that alone.” Mee-Maw patted his shoulder.

  “Please.” I shivered, sickness settling in my stomach again.

  “I’ll take her home,” Sam broke in, stepping to my other side, putting me directly between him and Mee-Maw and meeting my grandmother’s unwavering gaze. “I can take her home, and you can finish the tour. I’ll take care of her.”

  Like always.

  I wanted to protest, but my tongue felt thick in my throat and the thing in my chest beat in Morse code that what I really wanted was this. Was him.

  I was losing my grip on the handles of restraint I clung to like they were the only thing keeping me alive.

  My first mistake was that kiss.

  Hell, my first mistake was the first kiss I ever gave her.