The Texan's Secret Daughter. Jolene Navarro

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СКАЧАТЬ options tumbled over each other in her brain, confusing her body and making it impossible to pick one.

      Elijah De La Rosa. It had been over six years since she’d seen her husband. Ex-husband.

      His hair was a little longer and there was more red tangled in the dark strands, as though he’d spent a lot of time outdoors. He looked older, his skin weathered in a good way. A small groan formed in the back of her throat. How was it possible that he was even better looking now than the day she had first seen him? Not fair.

      He laughed at something one of his companions said, and she forced herself to look away. Her mother and daughter would be following her any minute. She needed to leave before that happened.

      Her eyes scanned the large open room for a fast escape. Colorful carved starfish hung on the walls while windows flooded the dining area with friendly sunlight. About twenty-five people gathered around the long tables, eating the lunch that the local mission provided to the homeless and needy.

      Homeless? Her stomach plunged. He couldn’t be homeless, but why else would he be here? The drinking must’ve gotten worse after she left. Had his family refused to help him or had he refused to accept their help?

      His pride had always been bigger than his common sense. Not that she had blamed him. Her heart had wanted to fix all his hurts, but she hadn’t been enough.

      She shook her head and bit hard against the remorse. No. Her actions kept her and her daughter safe. That had to stay at the forefront of her brain.

      The good times wanted to sneak in and melt her heart for the boy she had loved with every fiber of her being. That boy was long gone.

      This was the reason her mother had told her to stay away from their beach home. Both of her parents had agreed that any kind of contact was dangerous for her. They had handled everything needed for the divorce.

      She hadn’t seen him again, only his signature on the papers that broke the vows they had made to each other.

      No, he had broken those vows. She glanced down at the ugly white scar running from her palm to the underside of her wrist. It had been caused by her own careless mistake, but it was a was a tangible reminder of that night.

      The night she had come face-to-face with the ugly truth of his self-destruction.

      He had never hurt her, physically or emotionally, but his hatred of the world leaked into all his actions.

      When her heart’s memory failed her, one glance at the mark reinforced why she had left. He had refused her help and closed her out.

      Her daughter’s safety had been her priority. So, she had run from him without saying a word about the pregnancy.

      Guilt was hard to live with. This last year, she had almost called him several times. Rosemarie had asked about her father. With first grade starting in the fall, it was time to let Elijah know about their daughter.

      But only if he was sober. She refused to put Rosemarie in danger.

      Eyes burning, she took a step back. This was not how she had imagined their first meeting. In a homeless shelter. Beautiful, proud Elijah with the quick and easy smile was eating a free lunch at a homeless shelter.

      She glanced at the door. It wasn’t that far. She looked back at him, then groaned. Too late. They had made eye contact. Her lack of decision had taken the choice out of her hand.

      His eyes lifted, and the smile that used to make her heart flutter slipped into a frown. He tilted his head, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

      The exit was just a few feet away. Maybe she could rewind, go right out the front and pretend she hadn’t seen him. Her breathing came faster. Her feet were cemented to the cold floor.

      “Jazz?” It sounded as though his throat was full of sand.

      He stood. A worn T-shirt with the words Saltwater Cowboys stretched across his broad chest. There was a rip at the neckline.

      One, two, three slow steps and he was around the table. Then he stopped, like he was afraid of getting too close.

      His faded jeans were low on his hips and fit him perfectly, but they were threadbare and ripped at the knees. Small flecks of paint decorated the denim. Was he painting houses now, or were they secondhand clothes?

      After growing up in hand-me-downs from church donations, Elijah had refused to wear anything someone else had thrown away. He’d started working at thirteen. Once he had a job, he had dressed immaculately every day, his boots constantly polished.

      Even on his worst days, he’d still looked put together. Until he stumbled through the door late at night, drunk.

      She lowered her eyes. Those boots looked worse for wear.

      “Jazmine? What are you doing here?” Two more steps brought him close enough for her to see the unusual blend of color in his eyes. The color of Spanish moss, somewhere between gray and green. The exact shade of her daughter’s.

      Unable to talk, she lifted the bags of food she, her mother and daughter had brought in to donate. To her horror, her arms started shaking.

      “Here, let me get those for you.” He reached over and took the bags, his callused hands brushing her wrist. His fingers touched her scar and she jumped back, ripping one of the bags and sending cans rolling over the floor.

      The men who had been sitting with him rushed to help pick up the canned vegetables and junk food her mother had cleaned out of the beach house’s pantry.

      After a bit of fumbling and laughing, one of the older men brought a new bag, and they collected her donations.

      “So, who’s this lovely lady, Elijah?” The shortest one said with a grin. It was hard to judge their ages, due to the rough life that was written in every wrinkle and crease.

      Elijah cleared his throat. “Guys, this is Jazmine...” He looked at her with a question in his eyes.

      “Daniels. Jazmine Daniels.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes, afraid to see his reaction when he learned that she’d dropped his name. Holding out her now free hand, she made sure to smile. So, what if pieces of her world were crumbling around her? There was no need for them to know. “Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the help.”

      They handed her the bags.

      Her ex-husband started introducing the three men, but they all went wide-eyed. “This is Jazmine? Your Jazz girl?”

      His? Had he been talking about her to these men? Her forehead wrinkled as she glared at him.

      He closed his eyes and grimaced.

      When he reached for the bags this time, she was ready. She held her ground without acting like a middle-school girl at her first dance.

      “The food donations go in the pantry area. Through the door over there.” He pointed his chin to the left, then walked in that direction.

      She followed without thinking but stopped midway. No way was she going anywhere with him. She glanced over her shoulder. Then again, he was leaving the dining area where her mother and daughter СКАЧАТЬ