Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection) Page 4

  I was going to leave Bisbee. I was going to leave Arizona. And I was going to leave all romantic thoughts of Sam Deschenes behind.

  It was the only way I’d be able to move forward.

  It would be my luck.

  It would be my luck that Carlos and Kendall were not only on the four-hour flight out to Phoenix, but then the puddle-jumper plane we took to Bisbee. My luck that I had to catch them in their make-out sessions. Their ‘deep’ artist mumbo-jumbo conversations that, of course, had nothing to do with the edibles they consumed as soon as we boarded.

  Even Kendall’s pity stare wasn’t the worst part of it. The thing that had me clenching my teeth and downing three in-flight cocktails was the way Carlos looked at me like he knew I still wanted him.

  What I really wanted was to tell him he was huffing too many paint fumes if he thought I would want him again.

  I didn’t make the same mistake twice.

  And it was infuriating that I had to be face-to-face with my latest mistake for the next three weeks.

  “I don’t think it was a coincidence we were on the same flight, Tally,” Carlos murmured, shooting me a wink.

  Oh, did I forget to mention their seats were directly across the aisle from mine?

  “It must be so I could remind you again why I’m not interested in you or a threesome,” I clipped.

  I would’ve gladly taken the last row by the toilets to avoid it, but no one was allowed to switch.

  “We’ll see,” he drawled.

  “No, we won’t,” I assured him. “I’m already over it, Carlos. Over us. Moved on. Left the runway.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  I swatted his hand as it crossed the aisle to reach for my knee—a trademark move of his when he went to confess something he thought was really deep and moving.

  “I am,” I hissed, my tongue speeding a million miles ahead of the truth limit it should’ve stayed under. “In fact, I’m already seeing someone new, too.”

  Both his eyebrows shot up, and he half turned in his seat. A thrill went down my spine, enjoying the fact I’d thrown him off this time.

  “You are?” His head tipped. “Who?”

  “No one you know.” That time I stuck to the truth.

  But his eyes narrowed speculatively. “Are you really, Tally? That doesn’t seem like you.”

  “What do you mean, doesn’t seem like me?” I bit out through clenched teeth.

  I really shouldn’t be caring what my cheating, lying ex-boyfriend thought of me right now, but I wanted to know why the hell he thought I couldn’t move on just as easily.

  He shrugged. “You aren’t spontaneous. You always look before you leap. And you take quite some time to give into your emotions, especially the romantic ones.”

  I regretted asking.

  “It took me so long to get you to open up. I think it really affected my art. And then for you to reach a deeper level of feeling… well, it’s why I ended up looking to Kendall. She’s just so open and free, while you were—”

  “Enough!” I looked up at the ceiling and half prayed a bird would take the plane down now and put me out of my misery at having to hear my ex tell me why he’d had to explore the option of cheating on me.

  I was cautious. I was very cautious with my heart and letting people in. And I was cautious because I’d been burned. Maybe it was a slow process for me. Maybe it was even something I should apologize for. But it definitely was not a justification for him to cheat.

  “Well, you’re wrong. You obviously don’t know me, just like I clearly didn’t know you,” I snapped. “I’m seeing someone—someone I’ve been friends with for a long time, and when I left you the other day, I decided to call him and things just rekindled quickly from there.” I nodded, the lie spiraling like a top out of control. “Yeah. I think it’s going to be serious. I’ve never felt this way before.”

  Again, not quite a lie.

  Carlos slid a cough drop from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. Some people did gum. Some did mints. Carlos binged on cough drops.

  “So serious, but you didn’t want him to experience your first exhibit?” he probed.

  Damn him.

  My head snapped to him, his greasy black hair catching the airplane lighting unattractively. “Actually, he’s from Arizona. So, he’s already here.”

  Once again, the sweet rush of success tunneled through my blood seeing Carlos’ look of surprise. Take that you no good, full-of-yourself, cheating—

  “Oh.” He nodded, clinging to his cough drop for a few seconds while the information soaked in. “Well, I guess I look forward to meeting him.”

  My chest deflated like a popped balloon as the stewardess came through with the trash cart one more time as we prepared for landing, her presence cutting off the communication between Carlos and me.

  It was fine.

  I’d get off the plane and call Sam again, and it would all be fine.

  We were friends. We’d grown up together. Done so much stuff together. He’d think it was a weird request, pretending to be my boyfriend, but it would be fine. Then, we’d go to the few excursions I had planned as part of the local inspiration, show up at the exhibit a couple times holding hands or whatever, and that would be it.

  Carlos would get off his high horse, thinking he’d completely trashed my heart. And I’d save face in front of all the people I needed to impress if my career was going to be successful from here.

  And I definitely would not fall for Sam Deschenes again. I probably wasn’t even attracted to him anymore. No, I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice because that wasn’t how Tally Kerr worked.

  As soon as that seat belt light went off, I was un-clicked and out of my seat. Grabbing my carry-on out of the overhead, I mumbled my apologies to the other passengers and escaped my way to the front of the plane, putting a safe distance between Carlos, Kendall, and me.

  Why?

  Why me?

  It would be my luck that my bag was the very last one off the plane.

  And, because of the oversized cases Carlos and Kendall used to transport some of their work for the show, it meant we were the last three people standing in baggage claim when my traitorous suitcase decided to make an appearance.

  “Are you—” I broke off with a whimpered cry, reaching for my haphazardly taped-up bag, my clothes spilling out of one open side, and pulled it off the baggage trolley to examine the damage done by the TSA.

  “Oh, Tally,” Carlos tutted. “You should get one of the suitcases with the locks they can open. That is so upsetting.”

  “Hopefully, they didn’t take any of your things,” Kendall added with helium-high airiness to her voice.

  Grunting, I tried to peek through the openings to see if my stuff was okay. “Thanks for your concern, but you guys can really go. I’m fine.”

  Huffing, I stood, shoving my rising frustration back down. I’d just wait until I got home to Mee-Maw’s to cut through the tape and see what I was left with.

  “One time, the TSA opened my bag and took all my underwear out of it,” Kendall offered as some sort of consolation, distractedly toying with her hair. “Oh, wait.” She giggled and turned into Carlos’ chest. “That’s right. I just forgot to pack underwear.”

  “For the love of Arizona,” I grumbled under my breath, yanking out the handle of my suitcase and charging forward.

  “Is someone picking you up, doll?” Carlos called after me.

  “I’m fine.” I walked faster. “And don’t call me doll.”

  “Is your new boyfriend coming for you?” he continued and, with model-long legs, easily kept in close stride with me. “We could always give you—”

  “I have a ride, Carlos,” I shot at him over my shoulder as I walked through the exit doors, a wave of Arizona heat blasting me.

  I stumbled when there was a loud snap behind me, and the weight I was dragging shifted.

  Are you—

  My suitcase had broken.

&
nbsp; Correction: My suitcase was already broken. But now it had lost a freaking wheel.

  I’d made it past rock bottom.

  I’d made it to the point where the rocks at rock bottom looked at me and said, ‘Dude, even we don’t roll down there.’

  Whatever Carlos and Kendall were saying faded into white noise behind the buzz of overwhelming frustration. I bent down and realized the wheel was irreparable.

  I was going to have to carry my suitcase. My broken, half-open suitcase. And I was going to have to carry it far enough to where the cheater and the cheatee didn’t see me get in a cab.

  My heart pounded, the hating the sense of pity swarming me like a cloud of locusts. The summer heat burned its way into my lungs, reminding me of the harsh extremes of my home state.

  I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have called Sam. I shouldn’t have—

  “Tally?”

  I’d been a wave of frustration suspended on its crest, and the familiar low baritone sent everything crashing down around me.

  It was easily ninety-odd degrees, but his voice sent a rush of goose bumps down my spine. I’d heard that voice so many times. At my highs. At my lows. It was just as much a part of me as the blood running through my veins, yet it had never been mine.

  My chin dipped.

  Gripping my unsteady hands on my knees, I pushed myself up, leaving the tattered remains of my suitcase to be dealt with later. And I turned to face the man I thought would be with me forever.

  “Sam,” I croaked, my gaze locking on him.

  The glare of the afternoon-high sun made me wince, but my eyes adjusted quickly to the man standing a few feet in front of me.

  The scar on his chin caught my eye first. Like a key that unlocked the rest of the man from the boy I’d left behind.

  My best friend.

  The boy I’d fallen in love with.

  And the man who’d broken my heart.

  Burnt brown eyes met mine, their almond shape set above prominent cheekbones that stood like they’d been cut from stone slabs. Black hair as glossy as a raven’s feather capped his head, several locks streaking down the sides of his face all the way to his chin. He’d let it grow. Reaching up, he brushed one back behind his ear, the tattoo on the inside of his bicep catching my eye—an arrow peeking out from the edge of his shirtsleeve.

  He was familiar but more defined in the way that only age can accomplish. His jaw was still hard and straight like the edge of a canyon wall. And his skin… it had always darkened quicker than mine. A benefit from his Native American heritage, it drank in the sun like it was its life-source.

  Like most other things, age had filled out his form into generous swells of muscle strapped to his towering form and straining against the red T-shirt and blue jeans he had on.

  Our gazes roamed each other with equal fervor and intrigue, nostalgia and newness blending into something intoxicating.

  “You’re here,” I breathed out stupidly, and just as quickly, sucked in a rapid breath when a half-moon flash of white appeared between his full lips.

  Oh no.

  There were so many familiar things about him, but the butterflies in my stomach was a familiarity I didn’t want to remember. His smile had done this to me before. His full lips disappeared like clouds from around the sun when he smiled, giving up their full texture in favor of the bright beacon underneath.

  “You said you were getting in this afternoon.”

  I stepped closer to him, partially in a daze, frustration from the day fading into a twilight of forgotten memories.

  “This is the Sam?” Carlos’ voice pulled me from the moment where past and present crashed together into a swell of emotion. “Your new boyfriend?”

  Dark brown eyes snapped to the artist, narrowing on him.

  Crap.

  We hadn’t had a chance to talk. To go over why I was here and what my favor would entail. We hadn’t had a chance to go over anything.

  “Tally says you two are pretty serious—”

  “Yup!” I exclaimed. “We are.”

  Today was already competing for worst day of my life, inching closer to the day I found out Carlos was cheating, which still trailed behind the last day I saw Sam.

  Might as well go for the gusto.

  Forgetting my suitcase and belongings, I closed the distance between Sam and me with a determined pace, ignoring the growing shadow of confusion over his features with each step.

  He didn’t move away or flinch—which was good because it felt like I was walking over a bed of flaming coals to reach him.

  And then I was in front of him, my palms flattening on his broad chest. My fingers curled into his shirt.

  His head dipped down, his gaze querying mine. And all I could do was pull myself up toward him.

  There was no warning. No apology. No plan.

  There was no explanation for why I sealed my lips over his.

  The butterflies in my stomach burst into flames like they’d been tiny little firecrackers all along. I’d dreamed of this moment countless times when I was younger after that first kiss.

  But this one meant nothing.

  It meant nothing when I felt his sharp inhale before his lips softened against mine. It meant nothing when his hands gingerly settled on my waist, holding me, and not pushing me away. And it definitely meant nothing that for the first time in a decade, I remembered Arizona—I remembered him.

  And it felt like I was finally coming home.

  But. It. Meant. Nothing.

  I jerked back, my cheeks flushing hotly. My eyes snagged on Sam’s like string catching on a splinter.

  I swung back to the two artists who were watching our kiss with curious eyes and then returned to my suitcase and hoisted it into my arms.

  “Looks like I’m all set. See you both tomorrow for the staging,” I told them blithely, my voice high and tremulous from the swell of emotion I’d stifled by pulling away from the kiss.

  I cringed inside, unsure whether I was more unsettled by the thought of having to see them again or knowing what conversations I needed to have with Sam between now and then.

  Ignoring whatever remarks came next, I bolted for Sam, practically plowing him down with my suitcase in an effort to drive him away from Tweedle-Dick and Tweedle-Dumb.

  Now, Sam’s lips disappeared into a firm line rather than a smile and, without question, he took the suitcase from my arms like it was a bouquet of flowers, walking me in tense silence back to his truck. The silence was necessary, but I knew it came with a tax—an additional price I would pay once we were alone, and I had to explain myself.

  Thankfully, the explanation was easy.

  This was all part of a ruse.

  I’d never think of crossing that line with him again. He’d made it clear we weren’t meant to be.

  Ten years.

  I hadn’t seen Tally Kerr for a damn decade, and not even ten seconds after walking back into my life, she’d kissed me.

  Now, I had a million assumptions—and a million questions to go along with them. But the one burning at the forefront of my mind was how she could still have this effect on me after all this time.

  “Nice truck.”

  I grunted, unlocking the doors to my Ford F150, and carefully setting her suitcase in the back seat.

  “Where’s Mee-Maw?” Her question was soft—the calm anticipating the storm—as I climbed into the cab and roared the engine to life.

  “Making chili. Waiting for you.”

  I drew several long breaths as I maneuvered out of the airport, my gaze flicking over to the woman I knew but hardly recognized.

  She’d cut her long hair. For so many years, we’d been in competition to see who could grow theirs longer. Eventually Tally won out. But not anymore. It was cropped around her heart-shaped face, but it was her bright blue eyes—Tally turquoise—that I would recognize anywhere. Especially now.

  “Did she tell you to come get me? Because you didn’t have to.” She shifted in her sea
t, half turning away from me toward the window.

  “I told her I was coming to get you.”

  “I didn’t even know you were back in Bisbee.” I caught her sidelong glance for a split second.

  “I moved back when my dad died,” I replied, watching the conversation veer dangerously off track and on to topics that needed to be discussed but not in the front of my truck. Not after she’d walked up to me and kissed me a few minutes ago.

  Her posture softened. “Mee-Maw did mention that. I’m sorry for your loss. I know you were close.”

  I cleared my throat, my jaw tightening. “Thanks.”

  She wouldn’t be sorry if she knew the truth.

  Dragging my emotions back in, I demanded, “What’s going on, Tally? What the hell was that back there?”

  She sighed, her small frame sagging against the seat and her gaze stuck out the window, watching the copper-stained mountains blur by.

  “I left you a voice mail.”

  “Yes, you did. But a voice mail telling me you need a favor and then kissing me isn’t exactly an explanation,” I said, forcing my tone to remain level though my pulse was still reeling from seeing her—tasting her—again.

  I wanted to demand so many things, but it had been too long. There was too much rubble from the past between us that all I could do was start to clear away the bigger boulders from on top before I could get to the wreckage underneath.

  “I’m hosting a three-week art exhibition in Bisbee. My first one,” she began.

  “Congratulations.” I swallowed over the painful tightness in my throat.

  I knew what she did. Mee-Maw had kept me updated in a casual way ever since I’d returned from Navajo Nation. Mee-Maw knew I was asking without having to say anything; she also knew that whatever happened between us at eighteen had hurt us both in equal measures.

  “One of the headlining artists—the headlining artist—is my infuriating ex-boyfriend.” Her arms folded over her chest, the way they always did when she tried to hide her wounds.

  Two thoughts hit me. One, she’d kissed someone. Logically, I knew that would’ve happened in a decade, but I didn’t expect confronting the fact to sting like it did. Two, he’d hurt her, and I wanted to snap his neck without needing any details.