Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

“What are you thinking?” he asked unexpectedly.

She put down her spoon and went for a version of the truth. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have known about Eric. The g*y thing.”

“He wasn’t admitting it to himself. Why should you have it all figured out? He said he loved you and wanted to marry you. You believed him. It’s his bad, not yours.”

“You make it all so simple.”

“I’m a simple kind of guy.”

“Your fake-girlfriend plan is more than a little complicated. How long are we doing that, by the way?”

“I don’t know. Awhile. Then we can break up and I’ll be crushed.” He grinned, then scooped up more cereal. “You’re moving to New York, so maybe we could date until then. That’s a long time with my mom off my back.”

It was a long time to be around Ford, she thought. There might be unexpected dangers. At least for her. She liked him and she liked being with him. Wasn’t that how real relationships started?

“At some point you need to be able to tell your mother the truth.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You can’t spend the rest of your life lying to her.”

She expected a snappy comeback, but instead his humor faded. “She won’t believe the truth.”

“Which is?”

“I’m never going to get married because I’m never going to fall in love. I can’t. Or won’t. I’ve met some great women who were in love with me. But the second they admitted their feelings, I was gone. I couldn’t picture myself with them in two years, let alone fifty. I have no interest in anything long-term. Not now, not ever.”

“You wanted to marry Maeve.”

“I was young and figured we were supposed to get married. Don’t forget how fast I got over her. That wasn’t love.”

“Maybe that wasn’t but you’re not giving yourself a chance. You haven’t met the right person.” She believed in love even if he didn’t. One day Ford would lose his heart.

For a second, she thought about making a joke about it, only to realize she didn’t like the idea of him falling for someone else. Not that she was interested in him that way, but was just...

She paused, unable to come up with an explanation.

“There’s something missing in me,” he said. “Something I don’t get.” He shrugged. “I like women. I like being around them, but picking one and staying with her forever? I don’t see it happening.”

* * *

CLASSES STARTED IN the morning. The information was right on the sign out front of the Fool’s Gold High School. Consuelo could see it from where she stood on the sidewalk.

She hated apologizing even more than she hated being wrong. She hated being unsure and feeling stupid and a thousand other things that had nothing to do with why she was standing here.

She’d done it again. Walked away because she was afraid. Walked away from the nicest man she’d ever met because when she was around him she couldn’t breathe.

She forced herself up the stairs and into the school. The polite lady in the office gave her Kent’s room number and then pointed the way. Consuelo walked in that direction, still not sure what she was going to say.

She hadn’t been able to sleep in two days and yesterday she’d spent an hour sparring with Angel. He’d finally collapsed on the mats, gasping for mercy, but she hadn’t been done. She’d climbed ropes and finished with an eight-mile run. Even so, she’d spent much of the night staring at the ceiling.

It was all so ridiculous, she thought. The fear and her reasons for it. A man had asked her out and she’d run off like a frightened puppy.

She found the room in question. The door was open and Kent sat alone at the desk in front. She watched him for a few seconds, taking in the concentration as he looked from his computer to the screen behind him. A PowerPoint presentation flipped from slide to slide. No doubt he was preparing for when classes started.

The man wore a tie, she thought, not sure if she should laugh or whimper. A tie and rolled-up shirtsleeves, with jeans. The combination was sexy and appealing and she both wanted him and needed to head in the opposite direction equally. Before she could decide what to do, he looked up and saw her.

“Consuelo.”

That was all he said. Her name. Just like that. No hint of what he was thinking, no anger or frustration or disinterest.

She stepped into the room and walked toward him.

She’d dressed specifically for the occasion in her favorite cargo pants, an army-green tank and combat boots. She wore no makeup and had pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail. This was her at her core. She needed him to see that, mostly so he would understand she wasn’t trying to be different. It, in fact, came naturally.

He rose as she approached. Of course he would. The man was polite.

“How can I help you?” he asked.