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Consuelo looked her over. “He would have been. Eventually. He might not be your type, but you’re sure his.”
“He likes blondes?”
Consuelo’s mouth twisted. “He likes women.”
Isabel had friends in New York who were all about the thrill of the chase. Sex was important to them, which was fine. But she was different. She wanted someone she could talk to. Someone she could hang out with. Which was probably why she’d ended up with Eric, she thought sadly. They got along great, had the same interests. Their relationship had been one incredible friendship. Unfortunately, they’d both mistaken it for more.
“I have to get back to work,” Isabel said. “I have two brides coming in this afternoon to try on gowns. Let’s have lunch this week.”
“You’re on.”
* * *
FORD HENDRIX COULD disappear into the mountains of Afghanistan for months at a time. He could live within a mile of a village and no one would guess he’d ever been there. He’d traveled the world for his country, fought, killed and been wounded. More than once, he’d stared down death and won. But nothing in his fourteen-year career with the military had prepared him to have to deal with the determined, stubborn woman that was his mother.
“Are you dating?” Denise Hendrix asked as she filled a mug with fresh coffee and handed it to him.
It was barely six in the morning. Normally Ford would have been up and heading for work, but he was a civilian now and starting his day at O-dark-thirty was no longer necessary. He’d stumbled into his kitchen, only to find his mother had shown up and started coffee. Without warning.
He glanced around the small furnished upstairs apartment he’d rented and tried to make sense of it all.
“Mom, did I give you a key?”
His mother smiled and took a second mug for herself, then settled at the small table in the corner. “Marian gave me keys to the apartment and the house before she and John left on their vacation. In case something happened.”
“Like you thinking I can’t make my own coffee?”
“I’m worried about you.”
He was worried, too. Worried that coming back home had been a mistake.
When he’d first arrived, he’d stayed in the family home because it had been easy. Only he’d awakened more than once to find his mother hovering. What she couldn’t possibly know was that with his military training, he didn’t react well to people hovering while he slept. Sneaking around like that was a good way to get dead.
So he’d moved out and into a house with Consuelo and Angel. Only he and Angel were too competitive for that kind of arrangement, so he’d been forced to move again. Technically, Consuelo had threatened to gut him if he didn’t, but he was going to ignore that. In a fair fight, he could take her. The problem was Consuelo didn’t fight fair.
He’d found what he thought was the perfect apartment. Close to work, quiet and away from his mother.
He sat across from the woman who had given birth to him and held out his hand.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“The key.”
Denise was in her mid-fifties. Pretty, with highlighted hair and eyes. She’d survived six kids, including triplet girls, and the death of her husband. A couple of years ago, she’d fallen in love with a guy she’d known in high school. Or maybe after. His sisters had written Ford about the romance. As far as he was concerned, his mom had been a faithful widow over a decade. If she found someone else at this stage in her life, he was happy for her.
“You mean the key to the—”
“Apartment,” he finished. “Hand it over.”
“But, Ford, I’m your mother.”
“I’ve known who you are for a while now. Mom, you can’t keep doing this. Dropping in on me. You have grandkids. Go freak them out.”
Her dark eyes filled with emotion. “But you’ve been gone for so long. You almost never came home. I had to travel to other places to see you, and you didn’t even let me do that very often.”
He wanted to point out that she was the reason why. She smothered him. He knew that of the three boys, he was the youngest, but he’d grown up a long time ago.
“Mom, I was a SEAL. I know how to take care of myself. Give me the key.”
“What if you lock yourself out? What if there’s an emergency?”
He didn’t say anything. He kept his gaze steady and determined. She was no more threatening than a Kalashnikov, and he’d faced plenty of those in his day.
“Fine,” she said, her voice small. She pulled a key from her jeans pocket and dropped it into his palm. He closed his fingers around it.
The part of him that knew his family wanted to ask if she’d made a copy. He figured he would wait to see if that turned out to be a problem. For now it was enough that she wasn’t going to pop in when he least expected her.
“You probably want me to go,” she whispered.
“Mom, don’t be a martyr. I love you. I’m home. Can’t that be enough for now?”
She sniffed, then nodded. “You’re right. I’m glad you’re home and staying in Fool’s Gold. I’ll give you a couple of days to settle in, then call. We can go to lunch or you can come over to dinner. How’s that?”
“Perfect.”
She rose. He did the same. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. They headed for the door. She opened it and stepped onto the small landing at the top of the stairs. He’d nearly breathed the sweet air of freedom when she turned back to him.
“Did you get a chance to look at those files I sent you?” she asked. “There are several lovely girls.”
“Mom,” he began, his voice warning.
She faced him. “Honey, no. You’ve been on your own for too long. You need to get married and start a family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“I love you, too,” he said, gently pushing her out the door and closing it before she could say anything else he would regret.
“I want you married, Ford,” she yelled through the closed door. “I have the applications on my computer, if you want to go through them. They’re on a spreadsheet so you can sort them by different criteria.”
She was still yelling when he reached the bedroom and closed that door, as well.
CHAPTER TWO
ISABEL TURNED HER CART down an aisle and knew a lack of inspiration would be a problem later. If she didn’t figure out what she wanted for dinner, she would be starving in a couple of hours. Ordering a pizza at eight-thirty, then eating the whole thing was very bad for her hips and thighs. Remembering that the women in her family eased toward pear-shaped as they aged, she headed for the produce section and virtuously chose a bag of salad. Great. She had salad and red wine and a very small container of ice cream. Disparate elements that did not a dinner make.
She started purposefully toward the meat section, not sure what she would do when she got there. As she turned the corner, she nearly ran into another shopper.
“Sorry,” she said automatically, only to find herself staring into a pair of dark eyes. “Ford.”
He smiled. It was the same slow, sexy smile he’d used before. The one that made it hard for her