“But now it’ll look bad if you don’t stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere, not until I have some answers.”
The determination in his voice sent a shudder down her spine. “I’m not sure your staying here is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“If anyone finds out about our…prior relationship,” she said delicately, “it will look really bad that you suddenly showed up so soon after Bobby’s murder and are staying here.”
“It’s been eight years. I doubt anybody will remember. I was nothing more than a ranch hand passing through, and we were careful about not being too public because you didn’t want your father finding out, remember? Only a few people knew in the end anyway. Are the Nolans still around?” he asked, referring to the people who’d owned the ranch where he’d worked that summer.
“No, they sold out a few years ago,” she admitted.
“What about Weston? Would he have told anybody about me?”
She glanced away. “I don’t think he knew. I never told him and he never mentioned it.”
“So it’s unlikely anyone remembered.”
“Small towns have long memories, especially this one. And at least one person in town clearly knows.”
“Somebody who probably wanted to help you. Why else would they send me that article?”
“To cause trouble for me? Like I said, it could look bad having you here. Not to mention, how could they know you would come here to help me if they sent you a newspaper article?”
“Guess the only way to find out what that person’s motives are is to find out who it is. Another reason for me to stick around.”
She eyed him doubtfully, unable to shake the notion that this was a bad idea. The idea of having him here, so close at hand. Yes, she could use the help, if that was what he was truly here for. If the incident with her tires was any indication, it might be a good thing to have someone nearby.
But having this particular man, with his inexplicable motives and dark, compelling eyes, so close suddenly seemed infinitely more dangerous.
He met her gaze seriously. “Look, if you don’t want me staying here, that’s your call. This is your place. I can’t force myself on you or your property. I can try to find somewhere in town to stay. But I’m not going anywhere until I have some answers. I want to know who sent me that article—and yes, why.”
Elena felt her resistance—and most likely, her common sense—weakening. Yes, it could be a bad idea to have him here. No, she didn’t understand what he was doing here, or why he would want to help her. But she believed he wanted answers, and with the rest of the town seemingly having already made up their minds, that gave them a common goal. Perhaps that was reason enough to keep him close, despite all the reasons she wasn’t sure she should.
“All right,” she said softly. “You can stay.”
If he wondered why she’d caved, he didn’t show it, simply nodding once. “Good. I was thinking we should go back into town and get your truck.”
Elena automatically frowned at the suggestion. She was in no hurry to go back into Western Bluff after her last visit, especially so soon. But as she considered the idea, she realized he was right. They shouldn’t leave her truck sitting on Main Street. God only knew what someone might do to it in the middle of the night, or if it would even be there the next day. Even if it were, she wouldn’t put it past Walt or Travis to give her a parking ticket or trump up some other infraction just to cause her trouble.
“We’ll need to change the tires,” she noted.
“Do you have any spares?”
“There’s one in the truck bed, and a few others in the barn.”
He nodded. “Great. I’ll load a couple in my truck and we can go.”
“I’ll show you where they are in the barn.”
He automatically turned and headed in that direction. Elena waited a few seconds before following, watching him walk away with that same strange sense of unreality washing over her again. Her whole world seemed to have been upended again in a mere hour. It didn’t seem possible that this was happening, yet evidently it was.
Matt Alvarez was back in her life, as suddenly as he’d once left it.
And it seemed, for the moment at least, this time he intended to stay.
Chapter Four
“Tell me about the sheriff,” Matt said as they headed back into town.
Elena glanced over at him from the passenger’s seat, grateful he’d raised the subject—any subject. Anything to distract her from her still unsteady emotions, and his closeness in the truck’s cab. “All right. What do you want to know?”
He kept his eyes on the road, his profile hard as stone. “Is he good at his job?”
Elena considered the question. “I’ve always figured he was. Walt’s been the sheriff for, I’d say, at least six years now, and he was a deputy for years before that.”
“So there’s a chance he might remember me from back then.”
Elena frowned at the memory. “There’s a chance,” she agreed.
“We can worry about that when we need to. Ever had any trouble with him before?”
“None. I didn’t have that much direct interaction with him, and when I did, he was always nice enough to me. When I was a teenager, there were a few times when he brought my father home, and he was always nice about it.” Too nice, she thought with a trace of irritation. The kind of niceness that was really just pity. Far too many people had looked at her like that back then, if they’d acknowledged her existence at all.
Poor girl. Mother took off. Father’s a drunk.
Of course, that was a lot better than the way people were looking at her now, she thought, as a grim smile touched her lips. She’d never imagined a day when being Ed Reyes’s outcast daughter would seem like a step up to her. Or maybe that was the natural progression of things in some way. She’d turned out to be the bad seed her disreputable beginning had always made them think she’d be.
“So there’s no reason to believe this is personal for him and he’s not just trying to do his job.”
“Not for him, no.”
“But for someone else?” he concluded. “The deputy?”
“Travis is—was,” she corrected with a wince, “Bobby’s best friend. Was ever since they were little kids.”
“No wonder he’s gunning for you, if he thinks you killed him.”
“It probably doesn’t help that he never liked me to begin with.”
