The Texan's Secret Daughter. Jolene Navarro

by dinnertime everyone in Port Del Mar will know you’re back and that we were seen together.” Finally, he looked at her. The corner of his mouth twitched.

      Her stupid heart fluttered and skipped a beat.

      He took a step closer. “It’s amazing that you’re here. I was going to try to contact your parents again. I really have to talk to you.”

      Her heart hit her ribs in double time. Had he found out about Rosemarie?

      He stared at her for a long, silent moment, then gave her that old half smile he used whenever he thought he was in trouble. Unfortunately, it had worked way too many times.

      She had a long track record of giving in to his promises, promises that never survived forty-eight hours.

      She was stronger now. Straightening her spine, she made sure to look him right in the eyes. “What is it, Elijah?”

      Something on his fingernail became the center of his world.

      “Elijah, I have to go, but if you give me your number, I’ll call and we can...talk.”

      He took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve practiced this speech for years, and now that you’re standing in front of me all the words have disappeared. Jazz, you’re the only person left on my list that I need to apologize to.”

      She frowned. “List?” Then she understood. “You’re doing the twelve steps?”

      Scrutinizing his features, she looked for any clue that he was lying. Would she be able to tell if he was sober?

      He nodded as he stuffed his hands into the front pockets of those worn jeans. “Yeah. I started it a few years back, but well... I haven’t been able to reach you. And I...”

      “Momma! Look what GiGi got me!” Rosemarie, her five-year-old daughter—their five-year-old daughter—rushed through the doorway, holding up a fragile-looking doll in a Victorian dress and oversize hat.

      Jazmine looked over her daughter’s shoulder but didn’t see her mother. Yet. “That’s lovely, sweetheart. Can you go wait with GiGi for a minute? I need to take care of some business.”

      “But I thought we were going to—”

      “Jazmine?” Behind her, Elijah’s voice was even rougher than before. She dropped her head and shut her eyes. Putting a hand on Rosemarie’s tiny shoulder, she turned to face him.

      “Elijah. We need to talk—”

      “Obviously.” The word was barely audible through his clenched teeth.

      The clicking of heels on the concrete flooring told her that time was up. Her mother was going to take this stressful moment up another level. It was like watching a collision about to happen in slow motion and not being able to stop it.

      Gasps sounded at the doorway. “Jazmine. What is going on?”

      Calming her mind, she waited a few seconds before turning to her mother with a smile on her face. “Mother, you remember Elijah?” She glanced at Rosemarie, hoping Azalea would take the hint. “He was having lunch and offered to help me with our donations.”

      “Jazmine, this is exactly why I told you to stay away.” Azalea Daniels pinned a hard glare on Elijah. In a few quick steps, she had Rosemarie’s hand in hers. She pulled the little girl closer to her side, staring Elijah down. “You’re eating lunch at the food bank? Did you lose your home, too? Homeless. It shouldn’t surprise me.”

      “Mother! Not helping.” Jazmine rubbed her temple. A massive headache was climbing into her frontal lobe.

      With an indignant nod, Azalea dropped her gaze to the five-year-old. “Papa is waiting. The nurse will be leaving soon, and I must talk to her.” She gave a tight nod to Elijah before heading to the door. When Jazmine didn’t immediately follow, her mother’s spine stiffened. “Jazmine?”

      “Mom, take Rosemarie to the car. I’ll be right there, I promise.” She made a point of looking at the innocent little girl standing there without a clue of the drama swirling around her. “Please.”

      “Two minutes.” With tight lips and one last warning glare, Azalea walked out the door.

      “That’s my daughter. You—”

      “Yes, she’s your daughter and we need to talk.”

      “You not only left me without a word, but you took my daughter?” He stared at the door Rosemarie had just walked through, his chest rising and falling in rapid movements. “I have a daughter.” He turned to her, eyes flashing intense heat. “Your parents knew. They knew.”

      “Yes. Like I said, we need to talk. I have to go right now, but I can meet you tomorrow—”

      “Tonight. We’ll meet tonight or I’m camping at the beach house door until we talk.”

      “Don’t come to the house. That would upset Daddy, and we have to keep him calm. I’ll meet you tonight at Pier 19. We can grab some coffee. Is the Painted Dolphin still there?” That was probably a mistake. Every wall was covered with memories of when they were dating and the early days of their marriage. The days that were filled with joy and laughter. When they thought they could conquer the world with their love.

      The last thing she needed right now was all the could-have-beens from the good days before the drinking started.

      He snorted. “Yeah, it’s there. New owners reopened it last month.” A grim expression shifted across his face. “What’s going on with your father?”

      “He suffered a heart attack while driving and crashed his car and wanted to recover at the beach house.”

      Elijah frowned. “I’m sorry. I know how close you are to your father. Is he going to be okay?”

      “The heart attack itself was minor as far as these things go, but he was also injured when he hit a street sign. It didn’t yield.” She held back a groan. Not an appropriate time for humor, Jazmine. “Anyway, if we can convince him to follow doctor’s orders, he’ll recover fully.” The acid in her stomach started climbing up her throat. “I also came because I knew it was time for us to come together and discuss a few things.”

      “Really? A few things?” he snarled at her. “About six years too late.”

      She took a step back. “This isn’t something that can be done over the phone. I wanted to see how you were and...” She cut her glance back to the dining area. “I was hoping you were...”

      “Sober?” His nostrils flared, a clear sign he was angry. “I’ve been sober for five years now.”

      Her eyes closed. If that was true, she didn’t want to think about the time she wasted worrying about calling him. “I was hoping you were better. I didn’t mean to meet you like this or for you to see her for the first time without...” She fluttered her hand helplessly in front of her, then looked at her bare wrist as though there was a watch there. The glimpse of her scar gave her new resolve, and she became businesslike once more. “I need to go. Rosemarie goes to bed at 8:30. I’ll see you at nine?”

      “Rosemarie? You named her Rosemarie De La Rosa?”

      “She’s Rosemarie Daniels. I did want Rose in her name, and since my mother’s family has a history of naming the girls after flowers, I thought...” She needed to stop babbling.

      His eyes went dark and hard. She took another step back. That was the expression of rage she had learned to fear. He had never deliberately hurt her, but that look had always made her wonder if the potential was there.

      “Does she even know about me? Does she know who her father is?”

      “Yes. She knows your name.” Today he didn’t resemble that boy at all. “How long have you been at the shelter? Never mind. I’m sorry. I need to go. I promise I’ll answer all your questions tonight. And don’t worry about