Page 21 of Unspoken Promises

“She’s not locked up.”

“Well, invite her out and work with her over in the stable offices or something. My gut says she’s a good girl and she’s not here to do any damage. By the way, I asked her to Town Hall tomorrow.” He unties Hector. “Oh, and can you drive us all? I’m having a beer after with the guys so I don’t want to take my car in.”

Why the hell is my temperature rising? Why the hell do I get the urge to spark up and tell him to let her be? She’s my employee, and for her to possibly be part of saving this company from the hacks, I need to keep it all professional. Hell, I still don’t know anything about her. And yet, the thought of Santi spending more time with her than I do pisses me off.

He doesn’t wait for an answer because Santi’s life has been so full of yeses he’s come to expect them. He starts to lead Hector into the barn.

“Listen, if you’re so worried about Ava, the feeling is mutual. She wasn’t exactly thrilled at being given a fucking presentation as her job for the next three months. That wasa pretty lame move. Seems to me you put her on guard as much as she’s got you there.”

He gives me one last word of Santi wisdom before heading into the dim light of the barn. “The thing about trust is it’s hard to get it when you don’t give it.”

8

It’s the weekend now.I wonder if she’s gone through all the food she bought. She still hasn’t spent any time roaming the grounds or coming outside. I know because I’ve fallen behind on my work just to sift through all the CCTV footage, and her door doesn’t open.

I climb up the few stairs to her front porch, and when I raise my hand to knock, the door opens before I make contact.

“Hijo!”

Dad?

My dad wears one of his going-out shirts, and his salt-and-pepper hair is styled with somepomade. He opens the door wider, and there is Ava, one hand tucked into her back pocket, and the other one gives me a wave.

My God, is every man in my life hell-bent on befriending this woman? “What are you doing here?”

He goes to Ava’s side and elbows her in an affectionate kind of way, like they’ve known each other for years. But he could have only slipped in here a few hours ago at most because I checked footage up until noon today.

“I noticed Ava hasn’t been out and about so I paid our new neighbor a visit,” he explains.

She bends down and picks up a brown paper bag from Piggleton’s that’s sitting on her coffee table. “Your dad brought me some carrots and broad beans from his garden.” She dips her head deeper to peer inside… “Some herbs.”

Unlike my brother, I know my father’s intentions are pure and innocent. I can hardly get annoyed at him for making friends. He left his small hometown of over forty years, and officially left behind the walls that housed memories of my mom. Dad never remarried. He’s been a widower for well over a decade. One of the reasons that after my sister finally moved out of our childhood home, we knew we had to push for the move to Echo Valley. Our sister was always his favorite.

Dad is a total extrovert. He came from a big family and created one himself. Being on his own doesn’t suit him. I bet he loves having Ava here.

I eye up Ava holding the brown paper bag that now lies flush with one of her long, lean pins.

I dart my eyes back to Dad. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh…” He glances at Ava. “An hour?”

Her head bobs up and down. What the hell have Avaand my dad been talking about for an hour? Seems she has lots to say with everyone but me.

“Ava was asking me about the veggies, and I told her about how in Starlight Canyon everything grew so much better without all the fussing I’ll have to do here because of the heat.”

Dad just moved here a couple of weeks ago. We got it all ready for him in hopes of not hearing these little digs on Echo Valley. We had the veggie garden already planted. We got him a few quiet quarter horses to choose from, and the house even has his old rocker on the porch. He needs to slow down now, not drive cattle all day and pound fence poles until he has to knock himself out with painkillers to sleep.

Still, he misses it.

I miss my calluses, too, sometimes. There’s something honest about manual labor. I see why Santi and Gabriel didn’t want to end up behind desks.

Just then, as if Dad and Ava hanging out wasn’t enough, Santiago appears behind Ava with two beers in hand.

“Hey. Just brought Ava some welcome beer, but she doesn’t drink. Want one to mark Friday before we head off?”

I don’t know how I feel about my family getting all cuddly with Ava. On the one hand, Dad and Santi do have good intuition. If she was here under false pretenses, they might get a whiff of something being off.

And work aside, I’m not a monster. I don’t want her or my dad to feel lonely.

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