Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

“Look at you,” he said, smiling at her. “You’re tough and sweet. You care about my kid. You’re fair. You don’t take anybody’s shit. But you’re patient with the little kids. Reese talks about how you’ll spend a full ten minutes in the middle of class to help a student who’s scared.”


He managed a slight smile. “I like that you could take my brother. He needs that in his life.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t speak.

“I know there’s stuff in your past,” he continued. “I know you did things—some unspeakable things—to help our country, and that you’re as proud of that as you are scared to tell me the details.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry you went through that, but if you’re waiting for me to judge you, you’ve got the wrong guy. I won’t. Not ever.”

He thought about his past, how he’d taken the easy road. The one without risk. Maybe it was all so he could come to this moment.

“I know it’s fast and you have no reason to believe me, but I love you, Consuelo. I want you in my life, and I want to be in yours. I want to love you and take care of you for as long as you’ll have me. I want us...” He sucked in a breath. “Okay, it’s too soon to say the rest of what I want, but you get the idea. If you’re interested.”

She stared at him for a long time before launching herself around the desk and into his arms. He caught her as she rushed him, hauling her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist; then she started to kiss him.

“I thought you’d left me,” she admitted. “I was never going to fall in love, and you broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. It was me. I should have called and talked to you. I shouldn’t have been so afraid.” She stared into his eyes. “It’s just I’ve never known anyone like you. I’m so scared you’re going to figure out that you can do better and then you’ll be gone.”

“Never,” he promised, then kissed her.

She kissed him back, holding on so tight he knew she would never let go.

She raised her head, her eyes bright with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I love you, and yes, when it’s time, let’s have that other conversation. But for now, we’ll hang out and have lots of sex.”

He started to laugh then, because how on earth a guy like him found a woman like her was beyond him. But he’d been lucky and he planned to spend the rest of his life being very, very grateful.

* * *

“YOU’RE AN INCURABLE slob,” Isabel said to herself as she picked up a monster-truck magazine and two coffee cups. They’d been left in the living room, along with a lot of other stuff belonging to Ford. She put the magazine on the shelf under the coffee table and carried the mugs into the kitchen.

The man could barbecue, he could make her laugh and cause her to see stars in bed, but he left a trail of crap wherever he went. A small price to pay, she thought, nearly tripping over a pair of boots by the bathroom.

She carried the boots into the bedroom.

Sometime in the past few weeks, Ford had basically moved in with her. They were together every night, and somehow his clothes had started appearing in her closets and drawers. She would give him credit for doing the laundry. At least twice a week she came home to a freshly washed and folded pile of panties and bras. Her towels were always clean, as was the bathroom, now that she thought about it.

She set his boots in the closet and pushed them forward so she could close the door. Only they wouldn’t move. Something was in the way. She saw his duffel and shifted it. The zipper was open and a banded stack of letters tumbled to the carpet.

Isabel immediately recognized her own handwriting. She reached for the letters and undid the elastic band. The envelopes fanned out in her hand.

These were from when she was in high school, she thought. She bent down and saw three more banded groups of envelopes in his duffel. All her letters? Was it possible he’d kept them?

She sank onto the carpet and opened the top letter. The first thing she noticed was how worn the paper was. The seams where it had been folded were practically translucent. Some of the individual words had faded, and there were smudges on the side from being held.

Every one of them looked the same. Worn, well read. As if Ford had pored over them a dozen times. No, a hundred. She’d often wondered if he even cared that she wrote, but now she saw that somehow she’d connected with him.

She scanned the contents of the pages, wincing as she saw hearts in the margins or a particularly hideous picture spilling out. She heard footsteps and looked up. Ford stood in the bedroom.

“I was such a kid,” she said, waving the letters. “How did you stand it?”

“I liked them. I watched you grow up.” He gave her a slow smile. “You turned out good.”

He stood there all tall and broad. He wore cargo pants and a black T-shirt. Very “mercenary does Fool’s Gold.” He was tough and sweet, and she’d fallen for him weeks ago. Between then and now had simply been an attempt to avoid the obvious.

She scrambled to her feet and put the letters on her dresser. “So I have some news.”