Honeymoon With the Rancher

While Tomas got out the food, Sophia crawled out of the overalls and hung them on a peg. The meal was simple: a lettuce and tomato salad and cold empanadas that Tomas took out of the refrigerator. “Normally best when they are fresh and hot, but Maria made a batch before she left. It makes a quick lunch. I’ll cook a proper dinner tonight.”

He thought of the two of them sitting down to a meal together and frowned as an image of gazing at Sophia over candlelight flitted through his mind. It was too easy to stare at Sophia, admiring her heart-shaped face and the way her flame-tossed curls danced in the light. He hadn’t missed the way her trousers cupped her backside, or that with her shirt button undone at her throat he could see the hollows of her collarbone. He wished for some interference to keep him distracted, but there would be none. And he would not let on that she got to him in any way, shape or form.

“Maybe I can help you. Cooking is one thing I can manage. Usually.”

“Ah, so the princess has a skill.”

He was baiting her again, but it was the easiest way to keep her at arm’s length.

“Everyone has skills. Just because they’re not like yours doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

She was right and he felt small for belittling her. What was getting into him? She was, he acknowledged. He’d been hiding behind his estancia duties for too long. With all the reconstruction after the fire, he was aware that things around the Vista del Cielo were changing. It wasn’t the same place he remembered from when he’d first come here. Back then it had been simpler. Full of life and possibility. And Rosa. Her dancing eyes, her laugh had been in every corner. Now there were times he could barely recall her face; the memory seemed like a shadow of her real self, like a reflection in the water that could disappear with the drop of a pebble on the surface. Rosa was slipping further and further away, and damned if he didn’t feel guilty about it.

And he was taking it out on Sophia.

“I’d appreciate the help,” he offered as a conciliation.

As they sat down to the meal, Sophia looked at him curiously. “You’re not from here, are you?”

Tomas looke

d up at her briefly, and then turned his attention to the platter of empanadas. “No.”

“Where are you from, then? Where did you learn English? It’s practically perfect. A hint of an accent, but otherwise…”

“Why do you need to know?”

Sophia huffed and toyed with her empanada. “I was just making conversation, Tomas. You do know what that is, right?”

Si, he’d been right. His social graces were so rusty they were almost nonexistent. Small talk. One didn’t make small talk out here. But it had been part of his life once. He should remember how.

“I grew up in Buenos Aires, and went to private school in the U.S. for a few years. Then I came back and studied Engineering.”

“Studying in the States?” Sophia’s fingers dropped the pastry pocket as she gaped at him. “You have a degree in Engineering?”

He nodded, reminding himself to be very careful. He didn’t like talking about himself, or the man he’d once been. Keeping it to plain old facts was plenty. “Yes, Mechanical Engineering. You’re surprised.”

“I am. How does a Mechanical Engineer end up working as a hired hand at an estancia?”

The explanation was long and unpleasant for the most part, and Tomas definitely wasn’t sharing. It was better that she thought him simply the help. She’d look at him differently if she knew he was part owner of Vista del Cielo. And it would open up a lot more questions he had no desire to answer.

“This was where I wanted to be,” he replied simply.

“It is quite a leap from engineering to the Vista del Cielo,” she commented, biting into the pocket of spicy beef.

“Right.”

Tomas went on eating, silent again. This hadn’t always been his life. He’d let obligation and duty dictate until one day the price was too high. He’d let so many people down. His mother and father, who had such hopes for him and the family business. His brother, who was supposed to work by his side. And most of all, Rosa.

Carlos and Maria had offered him a place. He’d ended up making it his home. When he thought of his other life, it was like thinking about a stranger. Everything seemed so very far away.

“Tomas…”

“No, no,” he said, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. He forced a smile when he felt none, knowing that he had to change the subject. He ran his hand through his hair. “My turn. How does a pretty, pampered woman like yourself end up with a broken engagement? Who broke it off? You or him?”

As soon as he asked the question, he was surprised to find he wanted her to admit she’d been the one to call it off. It should have made no difference to him. He wasn’t interested, so why did it matter if she was on the rebound or not? She hadn’t sounded particularly sorry when she’d explained arriving alone yesterday, but then pain manifested itself in many ways.

“I did,” she replied. She put down her last empanada and dusted off her fingers.