The Daddy Verdict. Karen Smith Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ where she doesn’t even know the language—and her parents are preoccupied with their careers?”

      No matter how she’d tried to be factual and not emotional, Ben had focused on the undercurrent. “I lived in books if I had access to them. When I didn’t, I learned the crafts of the people we lived with.”

      “Crafts. You mean like cooking, making clay pots?”

      “Basket making, weaving, dying yarn, etching, whittling. You name it, I’ve probably done it.” Definitely wanting to change the topic, she asked, “Are you close to your family?”

      “‘Close’ is a relative term, but yes, I think I am. We call one another when we need something. I go home for holidays when I can.”

      “The night of Camille and Miguel’s engagement party, you mentioned your dad and going ice fishing with him. What about your mom?”

      The silence that invaded the car at Sierra’s question told her more than any words could that Ben’s childhood hadn’t been perfection, either. “She left when I was six.”

      “Left your dad?”

      “Left my dad, Nathan, Sam, me and Rapid Creek.”

      She could tell this wasn’t territory Ben traveled often, either. To push or not to push. If she knew more about his background, she might understand him better, right?

      “Where did she go?”

      “It’s not important. She just went. Dad wiped her out of our lives. He finally told us she’d died when Nathan went to college.”

      “And you didn’t know?” Sierra was absolutely shocked.

      “When she left, she didn’t stay in touch.”

      Although Ben was obviously trying to keep his tone neutral, she heard bitterness and she stopped asking questions. They’d both shared enough for one session.

      It was so much easier to concentrate on the scenery she loved. New Mexico was absolutely her favorite place on earth. No sky seemed as blue, no clouds seemed as close, no cliffs seemed quite as awe-inspiring. From the Sandia Mountains northeast of Albuquerque to the Sangre de Cristos east of Santa Fe, from the piñon pines along the Rio Grande to the sage, coyote fences and adobes, New Mexico made her feel as if she fit here in a way she didn’t fit anywhere else. Maybe it was because her aunt lived here and her aunt had been the one loving, guiding, gentle force for her whole life. Yet her aunt wasn’t the only reason. There was something about the creative spirit here that just enveloped Sierra in loving arms.

      Obviously also wanting to end their conversation for now, Ben switched on the CD player. Strings of an acoustic guitar and flute floated into the car. It was the kind of music she liked, too. Did she and Ben have common interests?

      She doubted it more and more as the miles passed and he didn’t speak. He seemed to be miles away, and she suspected he wasn’t thinking about the wedding.

      Sierra left Ben to his thoughts for the remainder of the drive. She refused to think beyond today. She was going to enjoy her best friend’s wedding and try to find out more about Ben. But something told her finding out more about him might lead her someplace she didn’t want to go. With him beside her in the car, it was hard to escape memories of the night they’d shared. But for now, she had to put them aside. She had to think clearly. She couldn’t let the sight of his strong hands on the steering wheel remind her of how those hands had made her feel.

      She was almost relieved when they took the road to the Padilla family’s hacienda. The black, wrought-iron gates were open, welcoming them. A sprawling peach adobe house nestled against the hills while a tiered fountain in the front courtyard bubbled and streamed.

      They’d almost reached the protective arch above the door when the heavy oak portal opened and Camille came running out. She embraced Sierra and then saw Ben holding Sierra’s gown and duffel. “What’s this? Did you two come together?”

      Before Sierra could answer, Ben replied, “It seemed the practical thing to do.”

      “Why, yes, I guess it would be practical,” Camille agreed, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity as she arched a brow at Sierra, and her black hair blew in the fall breeze.

      As they all stepped inside the foyer, Ben said, “I can just drop this all in Sierra’s room. Which one is hers?”

      “Upstairs, second door on the right.”

      After Ben headed that way, Camille looked at her friend. “What haven’t you told me?”

      Sierra felt her cheeks warm. “We’ll have to talk when you have some time.”

      “I’ll make the time,” Camille assured her.

      “Sure, you will. In between saying your vows, dancing your wedding dance and leaving for your honeymoon.”

      “Sierra, how nice to see you again!” Camille’s mother, Maria, greeted her as she joined them. “You look beautiful, as always. But I’m going to have to steal my daughter away now. It’s time for her to get dressed.”

      “Mom, I have plenty of time.”

      “Not as much as you think. Sierra, once you’re dressed, come down to the master suite. That’s where Camille will be. Mrs. Padilla and I will be helping her get ready there.”

      Camille rolled her eyes and murmured to Sierra, “This is a tradition of some kind.”

      “Traditions are good,” Sierra tossed back with a smile, knowing she was going to begin lots of traditions for the child she carried…so many her son or daughter wouldn’t be able to count them all.

      She gave Camille a hug. “Go on. Make yourself beautiful for your husband-to-be. I’ll see you in a little while.”

      As Sierra wound her way through the living room to the stairway that led to the second floor, she found Ben just mounting the steps.

      “I got waylaid by Miguel—last-minute instructions,” he explained.

      “Anything I should know about?”

      “I don’t think so. Apparently there was a glitch and the wedding arch just arrived. But it’s set up now and all the chairs are in place. He said there are enough flowers to open his own shop.”

      Sierra laughed. “Camille loves flowers, especially jasmine and gardenias.”

      “That’s what’s there.”

      As they walked up the beautiful oak stairs, the scent of lemon oil permeated the space. Ben asked, “What’s your favorite flower?”

      She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m partial to roses, especially pale pink ones.”

      “You wear the scent of roses.” He reached the landing a step behind her.

      “You noticed!”

      Beside her now on the second floor, he gazed into her eyes and admitted, “I noticed a lot about you, Sierra. That’s how we ended up in bed together.”

      Her СКАЧАТЬ