Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection) Read online

  “The guy at the airport?” My voice was tight.

  She nodded and closed her eyes, the subtle flinch of her brow confirming there was more to the story than just a bad breakup.

  “It was recent…” She trailed off, deciding what to say next. “And I just can’t go three weeks with him and the rest of his clique-y community judging—pitying me.”

  “Why would they pity you?” I asked bluntly, turning onto Saguaro Street where the familiar apartment building from our childhood still stood.

  “Because he broke up with me and brought his new girlfriend with him.” She bit the corner of her lip and continued before I could dig deeper. “And that’s why I need you to pretend to be my new boyfriend while we’re here.”

  Fuck. My nostrils flared. Her fake boyfriend.

  Ten years might have passed, but I knew Tally like the back of my hand—and there was something she wasn’t telling me.

  “And what does that involve?” My thumb rubbed along the steering wheel, knowing I shouldn’t be considering this. “Being together twenty-four seven over the next three weeks?”

  That was nothing compared to the summers we’d spent inseparable.

  Her eyes popped wide, like she hadn’t expected me to be on board so easily. And I wasn’t. But I did want to know just what she thought was going to happen.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Of course not. I don’t want to disrupt your life.” Her eyes dropped to her folded hands in her lap. “I would just need you to be there for the events I have scheduled. For example, there’s a welcome cocktail hour tomorrow afternoon at the Belleza Gallery for all the artists. And then the exhibition, obviously. It’s not a lot. I just need you so it’s clear to Carlos that I’ve moved on, too.”

  My blood thumped with a jealousy I had no right—and no expectation to feel. “And that’s why you kissed me?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Of course,” she replied tartly. “It’s not like I need practice anymore.”

  My jaw clenched. The shot stung.

  Dammit, I wasn’t going to do this.

  “Tally, look, we need to talk.” I ran a hand over my head, resting it on the band holding my long hair back.

  Her head whipped to face me, that look of unrelenting determination in her eyes. “No, we don’t.”

  “Tally,” I growled, pulling into the apartment lot in front of the garage.

  “No, Sam, we don’t need to talk, and we haven’t needed to talk for a long time,” she insisted, unclipping her buckle. “The last thing you said to me—promised me—was that you would owe me. That if there was anything you could do, you would. Without question.”

  My fist tightened on the steering wheel, deserving every harsh, hurt word from her lips.

  “This is the thing. Pretend to be my boyfriend for three weeks without questions or talk of the past, and we’ll be square.” She laid her terms on the table flippantly, as though I’d forgotten everything I knew about her.

  I let out a long groan. “Tally, this wasn’t the kind of thing I expected to be asked. I can’t just… pretend… to be your boyfriend—your serious boyfriend—without really talking to you about what happened.”

  “No!” She groaned and opened the door, arguing over her shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about what happened with Carlos or with us. I just want to host this exhibit with you pretending to be my boyfriend and then move on. Can you do that or not?”

  Every muscle in my body tightened and tensed. I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand to see her like this.

  “But Tally—”

  “It’s been ten years, Sam.” She pointed a finger at me. “That’s past the statute of limitations for revisiting the past. Legally. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re adults. We’re still friends.” The way she said that last made the truth of it very questionable. “I’m asking for a favor, and you’re either willing to do it or not. That’s it. If not, that’s cool. I’ll see you around.”

  If she was going to stand her ground, so was I. Just like every other time she’d gone and wanted to do something hairbrained in the past, there were limits I wouldn’t cross. And continuing with any kind of show without her knowing the truth was my limit.

  “I can’t. It’s not right—”

  “You are something else, Sam Deschenes. Thinking you can sit there and lecture me about what’s right,” she scoffed, slamming the door and opening up the back door to grab her suitcase.

  “Dammit, Tally.” I scrambled out of the truck but she had the broken suitcase in her arms before I could get to it.

  “No, forget it,” she called, speeding toward the entrance to the building where I would’ve caught her if Mee-Maw hadn’t opened the door with waiting arms and her patchwork chili apron.

  “Talia!”

  I stopped several feet away, letting the grandmother and granddaughter have a moment. Clearly, my and Tally’s moment was over.

  When Mee-Maw finally released her, Tally looked back at me with resignation in her eyes, and honestly, it hurt worse than the anger. “Just never mind, Sam. Thanks for the ride.”

  Mee-Maw ushered her inside, instructing her to change and shower and get ready for chili night, and, as soon as Tally was out of earshot, she stepped outside and pulled me in for a hug. My six-foot-two form bending significantly to reach her.

  “I need to tell her what happened.”

  “I know, Sam.” She rested her hand on my cheek, patting it gently. “But you’ve both built a life over what happened that year. You can’t just go blasting through it, looking for the past buried underneath.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know, but I also can’t keep building up lies on top of it.”

  She gave me an understanding smile, the kind that made her eyes crinkle into imperceptible slivers underneath her glasses.

  “Then think of it like this. Telling her the truth now is like throwing beans, meat, and tomato into a pot and calling it chili.” She shuddered at the obviously unacceptable thought. “You’ve got to build up to it. Piece by piece. Right now, she doesn’t trust you. Not for the truth, and not to not hurt her again. You’ve got to warm her back up to that. Remind her who you are… what she means—meant to you. Then she’ll be ready to listen.”

  I crossed my arms and rocked back on my heels, finally replying, “Did you just compare your granddaughter to chili?”

  She cackled. “She should be so lucky!” And with another pat on my shoulder that she couldn’t quite reach, she went back inside.

  Climbing back in my truck, I started the engine but before I pulled away, I looked up at Tally’s window—the one I’d climbed through more times than I could count.

  There were so many things I had to tell her. Things that had happened. Things I said that weren’t true, and things I never said that were as brutally inescapable as the Arizona sun.

  But Mee-Maw was right. Tally might have left the state, but I’d left for the Nation first and hadn’t come back; I’d left her behind.

  I sucked in a breath, catching a flash of copper in the window and then her cold, captivating blues. Our gazes locked for several long seconds, long enough to heat my blood all over again before she disappeared.

  Absentmindedly, I rolled my ring around my thumb—the first one I’d ever made and the one that matched hers. She hadn’t left me. Even when she was gone, in New York, she hadn’t left me. In fact, I’d stared at the turquoise of Tally’s eyes every day for the last seven years.

  And it was just one of the many confessions I would have to make.

  But first, I had to warm the shell that had been hardened against me. And that meant agreeing to her little proposal.

  “You always get me into trouble, Tally Kerr.”

  “Talia, I put on another pot of coffee if you want some before you go!” Mee-Maw called down the hall.

  Groaning, I pulled myself off my childhood bed, still in the sweats and T-shirt I’d passed out in last night, and wandered into the kitchen.

  “You okay, dear?�
�� My grandmother beamed at me, as bright and chipper as someone forty years her junior rather than an eighty-year-old.

  “Tired.” I sighed.

  With the complete disaster yesterday started out as, ventured steadily deeper, and finally crashed into, I’d hardly managed the strength to eat a full bowl of Mee-Maw’s chili last night before shuffling to my room and falling asleep.

  The benefit of exhaustion was I didn’t have strength or time to think about the exhibit, Carlos, or Sam. But, when morning rolled around, the worries of today greeted me with renewed vigor.

  I’d spent the last two hours prepping everything I needed for the welcome cocktail hour along with information packets for all the attending artists including the events I had planned if they chose to join, as well as the layout for the exhibit.

  I’d also been intermittently wondering what to do about Sam, which was a problem. I wondered about his kiss. I wondered about what he’d said.

  And I wondered if I hadn’t learned my lesson the last time believing his well-sworn promises.

  I also had to come up with some explanation for Carlos about the disappearance of my new boyfriend. A better use of my time.

  I could tell him he went back to his family’s reservation. I snorted, the sharp irony making me laugh bitterly.

  “Do you want some more chili?” She opened the fridge like my answer was an automatic yes.

  “I’m okay, Mee-Maw. Just coffee. I’ll grab a sandwich on my way over to the gallery,” I told her, watching the dark liquid brew into the same coffee pot she’d had a decade ago.

  “Are you sure?”

  I looked over at her, nodding because I didn’t trust myself to verbally walk my way around the truth. I wasn’t okay. I was back here. I’d seen Sam. Kissed him, for crying out loud. And now, I didn’t know what was happening to me.

  It was like returning to the scene of a battle where I’d almost lost my life. And definitely lost my heart.

  “Thanks.” I forced a brave face, my eye catching on the bright teal around her neck. “I like your necklace. Is that Bisbee Blue?”

  Grabbing a fresh mug, I poured the steaming liquid into the cup.

  “It is.” She smiled and rested her fingers on the jewelry. “From a local craftsman in town,” she went on. “I’m actually on my way over there for a jewelry-making class with Krist—a girlfriend.”

  I hesitated and then slowly set the coffee carafe down. “Sam’s mom?” I asked. “You can say her name. I’m really fine, Mee-Maw. It was just a long day, and Sam… he knows how to push my buttons.”

  She shut the fridge and folded her arms, a look of disbelief passing over her face. It lingered for a second and then she sighed, letting her arms fall so she could reach for her blue and green crocheted purse slung over her shoulder.

  “Alright, fine. With Kristy and some of the other girls from my weekly poker group.” She reached in her purse and pulled out her sunglasses. “Now, do you need my car? Because I can see if Kristy can pick up the girls, and I’ll just walk into town.”

  I laughed, waving at her to stop. “I’m not letting you walk downtown,” I told her, shaking my head. Calling Bisbee ‘hilly’ was the understatement of the century. One of these days, Mee-Maw was going to start acting her eighty-five. But that day wasn’t today. “I’ll walk. I’ve been missing the sun.”

  She stared at me for a beat and then settled her red-framed and flared sunglasses on her nose. “Peachy. Then I’ll see you later. Good luck with your meeting. I can’t wait to see this exhibit. I’m so proud of you, dear.”

  I relaxed into my old self when she pulled me close and kissed my cheek like she always did before going anywhere. “Thanks, Mee-Maw.”

  Time to get this show on the road.

  The walk to downtown Bisbee wasn’t far from my grandmother’s apartment, but when I stepped outside into the beating sun, I caught a glare off the metal handlebars of Mee-Maw’s bright yellow cruiser. Smiling, I decided to forego the walk in favor of a bike ride.

  Tossing my tote and all my paperwork into the front basket of her bike, I hopped on and coasted down Opera Street and onto Howell which would drop me onto Main Street and the center of town.

  Slowly, the bulk of Bisbee rose up around me with each grade of hill I descended. The scenery was familiar, yet changed. But I wasn’t sure the town had changed or if I had just changed since I’d left it.

  Bisbee was a living portrait of the Old West, the iconic facades reminiscent of the Wild-West towns in old western movies. Only this wasn’t a set. This was my hometown.

  Known as one of America’s most quaint and iconic small towns, Victorian homes transitioned into boutiques and saloons and historic hotels. The buildings rose up as proudly and vibrantly as the Mule Mountains that surrounded the town. I passed the Copper Queen Hotel—the oldest continuously operating hotel in the state; the orange brick framed windows and forest-green painted deck were just as vibrant as I remembered them.

  Bisbee had character. It always had. It always would. Colorful, quirky, vibrant character.

  The Belleza Gallery sat partway down the first block and, like the hotel, had deep green painted wood accenting its yellow exterior. There were several art galleries in town on top of all the street art and murals, transforming the whole town as an Arts and Cultural District, but the Belleza was the most well known.

  I coasted along the parked cars on Main Street, most of them with bumper stickers that read ‘Keep Bisbee Bizarre,’ and tried to filter my memories of this place to ones that didn’t include Sam.

  Bizarre was one word for Bisbee. But the quirkiness of the town had nothing on the predicament I returned here with. Needing the boy who broke my heart to pretend to be my boyfriend.

  Shaking my head, I pedaled past the gallery and pulled up in front of the Bisbee Cafe which was a few doors down. I needed a snack before I had to deal with Carlos and all his questions.

  As I swung my leg over the bike, my attention caught on a building across the street. The entire thing was painted teal and the name, Heart of Blue, was mounted on the window. Squinting, I could see some of the jewelry in the window and realized that must be where Mee-Maw was headed for her class.

  “Tally Kerr? Is that you?” The questions hit me even before I’d closed the cafe door.

  “Debbie?” I smiled, recognizing one of the girls I’d graduated high school with. “Oh my God, hi!”

  She rounded the counter, her stomach extending out in front of her, but that didn’t stop her from pulling me in for a giant hug.

  “I can’t believe it’s you. I thought for sure you’d never come back here,” she exclaimed. “Mee-Maw always comes in and tells us how you’ve been working for some big-name artists, designing their shows and all that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Only Mee-Maw would say that,” I replied, letting her escort me up to the counter.

  “What can I get you?”

  I quickly scanned the menu and then looked at the bakery cabinet. “Just a blueberry muffin.”

  One eyebrow arched as if to ask, That’s all?

  “So, are you back for a visit? How long are you here?” She dove back into conversation, pulling out a fresh-baked muffin and putting it in a pastry bag for me.

  “Just for a few weeks,” I told her, opening my wallet. “I’m actually curating an exhibit over at the Belleza. You should come check it out. All of the artists will be creating a piece inspired by Bisbee, displayed as an in-progress work at the end of each week until they’re complete.”

  “Oh, that sounds wonderful.” She handed me my change with an eager nod. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

  “Yeah.” I tucked my wallet in my purse. “You’ll have to let me know all the new spots that’ve cropped up since I moved.”

  “Oh, of course! Actually, have you heard about—”

  I held up a hand as my phone started buzzing. It was Carlos. “Sorry, Debbie. I have to get this. Work thing. I’ll see you soon.” The pro
mise fired from my lips as I used my back to open the door, sinking back into the dry heat.

  “Yes, Carlos?” I answered with a flat tone.

  “Where are you? We have to talk about this space.”

  Swallowing my groan, I looked up at the clear blue sky and sent up a silent prayer—several in fact—not that I would survive this exhibition. But that he would.

  “I’ll be right there.” I hung up as I approached the burgundy sign hanging outside of the gallery, Belleza etched in gold into the wood, and shoved a giant bite of my muffin in my mouth. I was going to need all the sugar I could get.

  “Miss Kerr?”

  As soon as I walked through the door, I was greeted by a small Philippine woman with energetic eyes, a hopeful smile, and bright orange hair.

  Welcome to Bisbee.

  “Yes. Hi. Are you Lorelei?”

  “Oh, wonderful. Yes, that’s me.” She pulled me in for a hug, my hand, extending to greet her, crushed between us with her embrace.

  “Nice to meet you,” I squeaked, her hold tight for a small woman.

  “So glad you’re here. Let me give you a quick tour while I take you back to one of your artists who’s already here.” She motioned me to follow her.

  Carlos wasn’t my anything. Thankfully, I swallowed those words rather than speaking them.

  “Great, I appreciate it. I didn’t expect him to arrive early.” In fact, he was notoriously late for everything.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she repeated, nodding eagerly. Clearly, Carlos wasn’t just being a pain in my ass…

  Lorelei moved like a mouse through the space—hastily but with the tiniest of steps. “First things, first. I will come in and unlock the building every day for you and close up at night, just let me know what times you need it open for.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I assured her. “If you have a spare key, I’ll make sure everything is locked up—”

  “Oh no.” She spun, orange flashing in my vision as her head whipped side to side. “I don’t believe in extra keys. I will open and lock up.”