Seduced The Unexpected Virgin

Twelve


Once people started serving food, Ana gave up all pretense of maintaining a conversation with her aunt and went searching for Ward. She found him sitting on the cement block border that edged a flower bed. He sat with a plate carefully balanced on one knee, the dark waves of his hair shining in the dappled sun that filtered through the lemon tree. She sat down beside him with her own plate loaded with cabrito and charro beans.

She finished chewing her bite, then asked, “Has it been awful?”

“Not so bad.” He took another sip of his Dos Equis. “Humbling.”

“How so?” she asked, raising a glass of iced tea to sip.

“None of them know my music,” he explained with mock indignation. “Not one of them.”

She laughed, holding her hand to her mouth to keep from spewing her drink. Swallowing, she added, “Oh, you poor little famous boy.”

“Actually, it’s kind of nice. First time in decades I’ve gone to a party where no one knew who I was.”

“Oh, the women all know. Trust me. It’s been like a Senate hearing in there.” She stabbed her guacamole with a chip. “However, it is better than the last family get-together when I had to field thinly veiled questions about my sexuality from Aunt Celica, who just started watching Ellen and was convinced I was a lesbian.” She expected him to laugh at that. When he didn’t, she searched his face and found his expression oddly distant. “They’ve been okay, though? No one’s too pushy?”

“Not at all. I was surprised to see Ricky here.”

Now the boy stood in front of the food-laden picnic table. He was dressed much as he had been every other time she’d seen him. Like ninety-five percent of all American teenage boys, Ricky’s pants were too baggy and barely held on his hips by a belt. He wore a white tank top under an unbuttoned long-sleeve shirt. If he wasn’t in a gang already, he was trying very hard to look like he was.

Ana followed Ward’s gaze and frowned. “You know Ricky?”

“He’s the kid I’ve been mentoring.”

“My Ricky is that Ricky?”

He chewed for a minute and then explained, “I didn’t know you were related until just now.”

Ana stared at him, obviously surprised. “I had no idea Ricky had been to Hannah’s Hope.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out. You must think I’m a horrible aunt.”

“I think you’ve been pretty busy.” He nodded in Lena’s direction. “If she’s your cousin, why wouldn’t she come in herself? Why did her son have to manipulate her into coming?”

Ana’s gaze wandered over to where Lena stood by the back door. Despite the fact that she was only a few years older than Ana, age and weariness already lined her face.

“Lena and I aren’t exactly what you’d call close.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“You know all those stereotypes I told you my parents wanted me to avoid? Lena followed every damn one of them. Her father is my dad’s older brother. Her parents helped bring my parents over. Lena’s three years older than me. We lived two blocks away when we lived in L.A. She got pregnant at fifteen. That’s when my parents moved us to Vista del Mar. She never finished high school. She works hard, but barely scrapes by.” Not for the first time, she tried to imagine herself in Lena’s shoes. Tried and failed miserably. “And now, she’s worried about Ricky staying in school.”

“I thought you said you weren’t close?”

Ana smiled wryly. “We aren’t. That hasn’t kept the family grapevine quiet.”

“Do you think that’s why she didn’t come into Hannah’s Hope herself?” he prodded.

Ana shot him a surprised look. “I don’t know. Maybe. She doesn’t like me.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “But she also has a butt-load of pride. That could be it, too.” And then she laughed, looking around the yard. “She’s not the only one. Half the people here work for Worth Industries in one way or the other. They’re all scared about the future. No one knows what it means that so many of the uppity-ups from Worth Industries are leaving. But none of them want to admit that they need help.”

Abruptly, she set her plate aside, leaving much of her food untouched, and turned to face him more fully. “This is why what we’re doing at Hannah’s Hope is so important. You see that, don’t you?”

“I saw that before,” he countered, annoyance creeping into his voice. “I just wonder if you see it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m talking about your job at Hannah’s Hope.” His tone was serious. Harsher than his normal gravelly charm. “You’re burying yourself under paperwork because you’re afraid of getting out in the community and actually dealing with people.”

“That is ridiculous,” she protested. Standing abruptly, she crossed to the trash can by the back door and dumped her plate in.

He followed a few steps behind, dumped his own plate and then followed her in to the now deserted kitchen. Everyone else was out in the back, enjoying the food, which left them alone in the tiny, homey kitchen.

“So ridiculous that you storm off in response?” he prodded.

She stopped and spun to face him, then poked a finger in the direction of his chest. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m not doing my job.”

“The administrative crap is only half of running Hannah’s Hope. That’s the easy part. The hard part is getting volunteers to commit their time and energy to making it work. And the really hard part is reaching out to people and getting them to accept help.”

His words stung and she turned away from him, busying herself collecting the many bowls and utensils that had been left scattered over the counter once the food was prepared. “You think I don’t know how hard that’s going to be?” She dropped the biggest of the bowls in the sink basin and turned on the water to fill it. “You think I don’t know a thing or two about the stubborn pride that goes along with poverty and lack of education?” She grabbed the bottle of dish soap and gave it a vicious squirt. “Because I do. I know all about that. I grew up among these people. I know precisely how hard it’s going to be to get them to accept help.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking up Hannah’s Hope to the people here today?”

“I—” Her mouth gaped open as she struggled to find a fitting response. Finally, she snapped her mouth closed, then said through clenched teeth, “You’re right.” She grabbed a deadly looking butcher knife and dropped it into the bowl of sudsy water. “I haven’t been talking about Hannah’s Hope. But this is my family. And it’s difficult and—”

“And that’s why you haven’t gone over to talk to Lena? Even though you know she’s a perfect candidate for Hannah’s Hope? Because it’s difficult?”

She added more dishes—a few more bowls and some spatulas—to the growing tower of dirty dishes. “That’s not fair.”

“But somehow it is fair that you’re ignoring her needs because they make you uncomfortable?”

Even though she didn’t so much as glance in his direction, she was painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze.

“But maybe you think she really isn’t a good candidate,” he added, his tone glib as he turned away from her to prop his hips against the counter perpendicular to the sink.

Ana snatched up a cutting board and wedged it behind the tower of bowls, but she didn’t leap to Lena’s defense.

“Maybe you think she’s screwed up everything in her life so far,” he continued. “How could she possibly handle all the extra work it would take to actually commit to getting her GED?”

She slammed down the final bowl. The tower of dirty dishes crashed into the sink, splattering water, bubbles and bits of food across the counter and her shirt. “Don’t you judge her! You have no idea what it’s like being a poor Latina woman in this country.”

Ward gave a humorless laugh, finally turning to face her again. “Yeah, well, I suspect you have no idea what that’s like, either.”

She gasped, shock at his words making her light-headed. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Instantly, his gaze softened. “It’s what you believe, isn’t it? That you’re different. That you can’t relate to their struggles.” For a long moment he just looked at her as if taking in every emotion flickering across her face. As if he saw everything she desperately wanted to hide, but somehow couldn’t. Finally, he shook his head. His eyes were sad, his tone gentle. “I don’t believe it,” he said slowly. “But it’s pretty obvious to me that you do. Otherwise, you would have laughed it off. Or more likely, you would have socked me in the jaw.”

She pressed her lips in a compact line, blinking back tears that she refused to let him see. “So what was that? Some kind of test?”

“No. I was making a point.”

“Why would you say that to me? What kind of point would be so important you’d have to—”

But she broke off. If she wasn’t going to cry in front of him, then she damn well wasn’t going to tell him point-blank that he’d just skewered her emotionally.

Just when she least expected his tenderness—when she least wanted it—he gently cupped her chin and tilted it up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I said those things because I had to.” His tone was gentle. As sincere as she’d ever heard it. “You have it in you to be an incredible nonprofit director. But you have to get over your fear that the community will reject you if you reach out to them. You can do amazing things for Hannah’s Hope, but I won’t always be here to push you.”

His words sucked the air right out of her lungs. Actually, suffocating couldn’t have hurt more.

There it was. He’d all but announced his intention of leaving her. Now that they’d had sex, he was no longer interested in her. He was being as polite as he could about it, but it still hurt.

She’d known their relationship wouldn’t last forever. Known she’d never live up to Cara’s memory. But she’d never dreamed him leaving her would feel like this.

She pulled her gaze away from his. Focused her eyes on an obscenely cheerful blue-and-yellow tile behind him.

“Well, then,” she said. “I guess you have me all figured out. It’s good to know that your duties as a board member extend to psychoanalyzing the employees.”

“I didn’t say that as a board member.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” She forced herself to look him in the eye again. She wanted him to know that she’d gotten the message. He hadn’t said it as a board member, but as her boyfriend.

Or rather, not her boyfriend. But the guy she’d slept with the previous night. What was it he’d said a moment ago? He wanted to say this now because he wasn’t always going to be around to push her. Yeah. She got that. Good thing she hadn’t expected him to be around forever.

She just hadn’t expected the breakup to hurt this badly.


It was obvious from Ana’s expression that she didn’t want him touching her at all. Probably ever again.

“Okay, then,” she announced roughly. “As long as we’re putting it all out on the table and being completely honest, as long as we’re talking about what would be best for Hannah’s Hope, I don’t really think you’re stepping up and doing your part, either.”

He had not seen that coming. He’d heard the pain in her voice, but he still hadn’t expected her to lash out. “How’s that?”

“What about Rafe?” she asked sternly.

Her words were so unexpected, it took a second for them to register. “What about Rafe?”

She gave a shrug that was part false confidence, and part pure, ballsy anger. “You’re his friend. You can talk to him. Influence him.”

“Whatever influence you think I have over him,” he said slowly, “it doesn’t extend to business decisions. If he’s thinking of closing the factory, there’s not much I can do about that.”

“I’m not talking about the factory.” The water she’d been running in the sink had nearly reached the edge and she reached over to turn it off with a jerk of the handle. “I’m talking about his involvement with Hannah’s Hope. Or rather his complete lack of involvement.”

He stepped away from her, once again propping his hips against the counter. He kept his tone carefully blank. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”

She picked up one of those long-handled scrubbers that people used to wash their dishes. But instead of using it, she gestured with it. “For starters you can talk him into coming to the street fair on Saturday. No matter how many times I’ve called him, I can’t get him to commit to being there. But the people of this town need reassurances that only he can give them. They need to know that even if he dismantles Worth Industries and sells it off bit by bit, he’s still committed to Hannah’s Hope.”

“And you think him showing up at the festival will do that? You think it will magically convince everyone he’s a great guy?”

“I’m not suggesting he come to make balloon animals and eat cotton candy. He should say a few words.”

“About what?”

“Hannah’s Hope is in honor of his mother. Surely that means something to him.”

“In other words, you want him to trot out his grief and parade it around to reassure the citizens of Vista del Mar.”

“That’s not what I said.” She poked the scrubber in his direction, wielding it like a sword. “You’re being obtuse.”

“Excuse me if I don’t think Rafe talking about his mother is going to make anyone feel any better at all.”

“How can you not have sympathy for these people? They need someone to stand up for them. They need an advocate. They feel helpless in the face of Rafe’s power. And if you could just imagine what that feels like—”

Tired of waiting to be swatted with that damn scrubber, he snatched it out of her hand and tossed it on the counter, out of her reach. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know what it feels like to be helpless and scared. I know all about that.” His tone was harsh. His voice foreign to his own ears. “If you think the threat of losing your job is scary, well, I gotta tell you, it’s nothing compared to the fear of losing your wife. So I know all too well what fear is like and the kinds of things it does to you.”

Ana looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with anguish. For a second, he thought she might even cry. Or maybe apologize. He didn’t think he’d be able to stomach either of those reactions.

But instead, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were unbearably cold. When she spoke, her tone was brittle and bruised. “It always comes back to her, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” The anger that had been so close to the surface just a second ago faded.

She continued talking, almost as if she hadn’t heard him. “Everything always comes back to her. Cara’s right there under the surface. No matter what else is going on in your life. You won’t push Rafe to trot out his grief in public, because you’ve never gotten over having grieved for her that way.” Ana sucked in a deep breath, like she need strength to continue. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse to cancer. I hope I never know what that’s like. But I can’t be in a relationship with someone whose entire existence is centered around that one experience.”

“That’s not true,” he said, trying to deny it.

“Then why haven’t you sold the house? Why haven’t you gotten rid of her sunglasses? Or her art collections? Why don’t you play the Alvarez?” She met his gaze, her own eyes wide and tearful. “I can’t do this anymore. I think you should leave.”

What could he say to that? He could hardly beg her to reconsider. Not when he knew she was making the right decision for herself. All he could do was nod and say, “Fair enough.”

“Ward, I’m—”

He abruptly let her go and turned away.

“—sorry.”

And with that, he stormed out, before his anger really got the better of him. He didn’t take any comfort in knowing that he’d done right by Hannah’s Hope. In knowing that even if he’d hurt her, he’d done right by her, too. He’d seen the flash of pain in her eyes. Heard the anguish in her voice.

He’d pushed her away. Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to do all along. Either way, he was pretty sure he’d just done a bang up job of crushing the rose.


The day after the barbecue at Ana’s uncle’s home, Ward found Ricky’s house about three blocks away. The tiny bungalow where Ricky lived with his mother sat on a scorched swath of dead grass with a rusting bike in the front yard and an even rustier late-model compact car at the curb.

Though Ward had been up since his dawn run on the beach, he waited until after ten to drop by Ricky’s house. There were some things even stardom couldn’t excuse and Ward knew from experience that waking up a night owl too early was one of them.

Ricky answered the door after the first knock, dressed in his standard baggy jeans and sweatshirt. He appeared to have just woken up, despite the fact that it was a school day. Ricky made a shushing gesture as he nodded toward what was obviously a back bedroom, then led him back to the kitchen where a box of cereal sat open beside an empty bowl.

Ricky slid the kitchen door closed and said, “Mi mamá is still sleeping. She got a job on the cleaning crew at the plant.”

“That’s great.”

Ricky gave a defeated shrug. “As long as the plant stays open.”

Ward didn’t want to say how unlikely he feared that would be. Instead, he asked, “Why aren’t you in school? I thought you said you wouldn’t skip anymore.”

“It’s a teacher work day.” Ricky held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I swear!” He poured some cereal into his bowl and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. As an afterthought, he raised the box up in silent offer.

“No, thanks.” The sugar-coated, neon puffs barely resembled food.

“Why’re you slumming?” Ricky asked through a mouthful.

“I…” Now that it was time to explain, Ward choked. With a sigh, he turned around one of the kitchen chairs and sat on it with his arms braced over the back. “Next week, after the street fair, I’m leaving Vista del Mar for a while. I wanted to tell you myself.”

Ricky’s gaze dropped to his bowl. He shoveled in another spoonful of neon puffs, his face as expressionless as a placid cow as he chewed. Then he ate another bite before shrugging. “Okay.”

The boy’s studied lack of response said more about his emotional state than he probably knew.

“Ricky, I need you to know that this has nothing to do with you. I’ll make sure Ana finds you a great mentor to replace me. I’m sorry we only met a couple of times.”

“Naw, man.” He waved a negligent hand. “It’s okay. No big deal, right?”

“I wish I could stay, but I just can’t.”

“No, I get it.” In went another bite of food. “Who wants to hang around here and mentor some stupid kid, right? I mean, you probably have, like, concerts to plan and stuff.”

“It’s not that. You’re a great kid.” Ward reached out a hand and laid it on Ricky’s arm. “You’re smart and—”

“Stop it.” Ricky shook off Ward’s hand with annoyance.

“I mean it. I’ve enjoyed knowing you. You’re—”

“You don’t have to kiss my ass, okay? You can go back to your real life without feeling guilty.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that,” Ward explained, trying to keep his own frustration from his voice. “I was being honest.”

“Well, you sound like a sleazebag.”

Great. And now he was being criticized by a teenager. Just barely a teenager. “I was going for honest, but if that’s sleazy to you, so be it. You want the truth? We broke up. Ana dumped me. So I decided to leave. To make it easier on her. I’m—”

Ricky burst out laughing. “She dumped you?”

“Yes. She dumped me.” Ward waited for Ricky’s peals of laughter to die down. “But I’m glad you find my broken heart funny.”

Ricky just shook his head, clearly still amused, even though he was no longer laughing. “I just didn’t think you were the kind of guy to get dumped. I mean, dude, you’re rich.”

“Yeah, well, rich guys get dumped, too.”

“Did you really dig her?” Ricky asked quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” Ward said after a thoughtful moment. What would have been the point in lying?

“I saw you two at the party. She was into you. So why are you leaving?”

“She saw through all the smoke and mirrors.” Ricky just looked at him blankly. “You know, smoke and mirrors. From The Wizard of Oz? No?”

Ricky ignored the reference and asked, “You’re not even going to fight for her. What’s up with that?”

“She was pretty clear. She doesn’t want me.” And then, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, he found himself opening up to Ricky. “I can’t make her fall in love with me.”

Ricky smirked. “Can’t you just tell her how you feel? Write her a song or something.”

Ward sighed. If only it was that easy. ’Cause, sure. He could write her a song. He could pull out all the stops and charm the pants off her. But then he’d never really know if he’d won her back or if she’d just fallen in love with the musician.

That wasn’t something a kid like Ricky could understand.

Before he could attempt to explain it, Ricky finished chewing his bite and added, “Just make it a good one. Not a cheesy one like your others.”

“First I sound like a sleazebag, and now my songs are cheesy?” Why was he even talking to this kid? “Wait a second. I thought you hadn’t heard any of my music.”

Ricky shrugged. “I downloaded some of your songs.”

“You didn’t even pay for them? You’re insulting my music and you didn’t even—”

“Hey, I paid for them. My grandparents gave me an iTunes gift card for Christmas. I’m poor. I’m not a thief.”

Mollified—just slightly—Ward pressed, “But you thought they were cheesy.”

“I guess you play guitar pretty good.”

“Yeah,” he said drily. “I guess.”

It was a good thing he had those multiple walls full of platinum albums to fall back on, because this kid was kicking his ego’s butt.

“I just thought your lyrics were… I don’t know. Sappy.” Ricky studied him with his head tilted to the side. “Do chicks usually dig that?”

“Yes. They usually do.”

“Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong kind of girl.”

Ward blew out a long breath. The kid had sure said a mouthful there. “This is crazy. I’m not going to take romantic advice from a kid.”

“Whatever.” Ricky gave another little shrug. “But I’ve known her longer.”

“Okay, then. What’s your point?”

Ricky leaned forward, gesturing sharply. “A woman like Ana, she’s tough, man. She’s not gonna fall for some guy just ’cause he’s smooth. She’s too smart for that.”

“Okay, mister fourteen-year-old-expert-on-women, what do you suggest?”

Ricky held up his palms in a sign of innocence. “Hey, I’ve lived with a single mother my whole life. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve seen The Notebook?”

That was actually a good point. Ward lowered himself into the chair opposite Ricky. “So what do you suggest?” he asked seriously. And then mentally kicked himself. Because if he was legitimately going to follow the advice of a fourteen-year-old boy, the situation was truly desperate. And then he realized, desperate or not, he loved Ana and she was worth fighting for.

“All I know is that at the end of the movie, Rachel McAdams doesn’t end up with the rich, charming guy. She ends up with the guy who really loves her.”

Well, that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Ward sat back in his chair.

“I do really love her,” Ward mused aloud. “But she sees through all my tricks.”

Ricky gave him a well-duh look. “You don’t use a trick.”

The most obvious solution, but also the most painful. And still a long shot.