Three Little Words. Сьюзен Мэллери

waved away the thanks. “I took a different path. I’m glad you’re okay.”

      They stood and shook hands again. “We should get together sometime,” Leonard said. “Grab a beer.”

      “I’d like that.”

      His friend smiled. “I know this sounds strange, but thanks for hitting me. It made things right between us. I know Maeve will never understand, but I’m hoping you do.”

      Ford nodded. “We’re even, bro. Next time, don’t fall on your head.”

      “Next time I’m kicking your ass.”

      “Sure you are,” Ford said, holding in a grin.

      * * *

      CONSUELO STROLLED THROUGH the center of Fool’s Gold. The Máa-zib Festival was in full swing. Around her, booths sold everything from jewelry to Celtic music. There was a food court and later the promise of live music by the park.

      She’d been in town only a few months, but she’d quickly learned that the rhythm of life here was measured by the steady parade of festivals. The obvious pun made her smile as she ducked around a family walking along the sidewalk. Every month there were at least a couple of festivals and even more around the holidays. There were tourists everywhere, but she’d met enough locals to be able to offer plenty of waves and smiles.

      She was on her own today. Something she was used to, but since moving here she’d made lots of female friends. A change she appreciated. But Patience was busy working at Brew-haha and Saturdays were busy for Isabel at Paper Moon. Felicia was running the festival and Noelle had realized that her plans to open her new store—the Christmas Attic—on Labor Day weekend meant days spent unpacking stock. Consuelo had offered to help. Noelle had promised to take her up on that soon, but this weekend she wanted to be by herself to figure out where everything went.

      Leaving her at loose ends, Consuelo thought. Funny how in such a short period of time she’d gotten used to hanging out with her peeps.

      She turned a corner and saw a tall, dark-haired man talking to an older woman. Kent was so attractive, she thought wistfully as he bent down and kissed the older woman’s cheek. The woman turned and Consuelo recognized Denise Hendrix—Ford and Kent’s mother. Kent said something else. Denise laughed, then walked away.

      Kent started down the street. Consuelo watched him go, then started following, not sure what she was going to do if she caught up with him.

      Meeting him last week had been unsettling. She’d known who he was for a while. Had seen the posters his mom had put up at the festivals and thought him attractive. But what had drawn her to him had been the kindness she’d seen in his eyes. Being close to him at CDS had been both exciting and terrifying. He’d been funny and charming and she suspected he’d never once pulled a knife on anyone. She supposed most men were like that, at least for other people. She’d always found herself in more dangerous situations.

      But when he’d started talking about his work, she’d known she was in over her head. The man had gone to college. He had a degree and taught math. She’d barely passed her GED. He was educated and she was a kid from the street. A girl who had grown up in a bad part of town and gone into the army to escape. Once there, she’d been tapped for covert ops—the kind that had her doing anything necessary to ferret out secrets and then escape.

      She’d had sex with men she barely knew in the name of getting the job done, and sometimes, afterward, she’d killed them. Hardly Kent’s dream date.

      Now, watching him, she told herself to turn away. That he could never understand and being rejected by him would hurt a whole lot more than any bullet. Yet despite knowing she was making a huge mistake, she couldn’t help walking a little faster.

      She caught up with him at the corner.

      “Hi,” she said, moving next to him.

      He turned and saw her. His surprise was almost comical—or it would have been if she hadn’t cared so much.

      “Consuelo. I didn’t see you. Are you here for the festival?”

      “Yes.” Despite her pounding heart, she managed a smile. “Don’t I strike you as the festival type?”

      “Sure, and women love this one. There’s a parade later, and the Máa-zib ceremonial dance. At the end, a man gets his heart cut out.”

      “Are there a line of women volunteering men who have annoyed them?”

      He chuckled. “Probably.” His humor faded. “Can I help you with something?”

      She swore silently. Obviously he’d noticed her withdrawal the last time they’d spoken. He’d probably thought she was blowing him off.

      She knew how men saw her—they liked the curves and thought she was pretty. Confidence was appealing and she moved with a combination of grace and power. All the result of thousands of hours of training and ops. She’d had plenty of invitations and knew how to shut them down without a second thought.

      But Kent was different. He was an ordinary man living in a regular world. If she had to guess, she would assume he figured she was telling him she wasn’t interested.

      “Consuelo?”

      Right. Because he’d asked a question.

      “Do you have a second?” she asked.

      “Sure. Reese is hanging out with his friends today. I’ve got time. What’s up?”

      There was a bench around the corner on Fourth, close to the square of upscale boutiques. She led the way, thinking no one would be sitting there right now.

      She was right and she settled on one end, then angled toward him. He sat down and waited.

      “I’m sorry about before. How I acted when we were talking.”

      She drew in a breath. She’d never believed in being honest in a relationship. In her mind, telling the truth only led to more questions, and at some point, because of what she did for a living, she would be forced to lie. Only she wasn’t in that line of work anymore and she was tired of having to be someone else.

      She liked Kent. She’d liked him from the first moment she’d seen him, earlier that summer. She’d learned to trust her gut and it told her he was worth the effort.

      “You intimidated me a little.” She swallowed. “A lot,” she amended. “When you talked about the kind of math you taught. Plus, the whole college thing. You’re smart and educated and I’m not.” She forced herself not to duck her head. “I got my GED, but that’s it.”

      Emotions chased across his face. He was easy to read. Disbelief followed by confusion followed by what seemed like hope.

      “I teach math at a high school,” he told her. “I’m not a senior scientist at JPL.”

      She was pretty sure JPL was some jet engine–space business, maybe in Southern California. “I’m not sure why that makes a difference,” she said.

      “Most people don’t think teaching high school math is that big a deal.”

      “I’m not most people.”

      “That’s obvious.”

      His voice was gentle and slightly admiring, so she guessed he meant the comment as a compliment.

      “I can’t do algebra,” she admitted.

      “Yeah, and you could so kick my ass.” He leaned toward her. “Seriously? I intimidate you?”

      “Why is that so hard to believe?”

      “Have you looked in the mirror?”

      As soon as he said the words, his expression tightened. As if he regretted them.

      She glanced down at the dress she’d put on. A dress! So humiliating and girlie. But she’d worn it deliberately, and she’d