Ava nodded. “I just hope he burns for a long time.”
Rick put on his helmet and smiled as he climbed on the bike. “Oh, he will. Trust me.”
It was late by the time they made it back to Las Vegas. Rick drove Ava to her apartment and carried her bag upstairs.
She’d never brought him here. For some reason it felt . . . strange. She was nervous. What would he think?
She opened the door and he went in, set the bag down on the floor, and waited while she stepped in and flipped on the light.
“This is nice.”
Nice. Wasn’t he just oh so polite? She scanned the room, trying to see what he saw. Two sofas positioned perfectly in front of the fireplace. Nothing on the tabletops. Not a speck of dust. No knickknacks, no art on the white walls.
Nothing at all to indicate anyone with a personality lived here.
It was boring. Sterile. Devoid of life. She thought of Rick, of the color of his life. He might have no walls and no furniture, but his life was full.
“I’m usually at school. I haven’t really . . . uh . . . given much thought to decorating.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Two years.”
He cocked his head. “There’s nothing of you here, Ava.”
She twisted her fingers together. “Force of habit, I’m afraid.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“Decorating equals clutter, unless it’s done precisely right and only my mother has that magic touch. I was never allowed much in the way of . . . things as a child.”
“Things?”
“Leaving things out. Toys, books . . . anything really. Everything had to be put away. God forbid your life and your interests should be put on display so others could get a glimpse into who you were.”
Had she just said that out loud? Dear God.
“Sorry. I don’t usually vomit out such personal information about my life and my family.”
Rick laughed and took her hand. “I like who you are. I think you should show yourself off. This isn’t your parents’ place. It’s yours. Isn’t it time you be yourself?”
“Yes. It is.” And she could already envision splashes of color—pillows and fabric and art on the walls and placemats and plants and . . . clutter. How she had changed during the short period she’d hung out with Rick.
He’d been good for her, had drawn her out of her shell, out of her fears of living life and just existing on the fringes.
“Would you like something to drink? I have soda and bottled water. No beer or anything. Sorry.”
“Bottled water would be fine.” He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the top of the sofa. “Did you want me to hang this up?”
She laughed. “No.”
And wasn’t that a first? She didn’t even twitch when she said it. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
She went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple bottles of water, then came back and sat on the sofa. He sat next to her and she handed him a bottle. As they drank, she pondered.
What was going to happen now? To them? She didn’t want this to be over. Not after realizing how much life he’d brought to her, how he’d changed everything about her. She was more relaxed now, less tense, less worried about what other people thought.
She wanted more of that. She wanted more of him.
She shifted to face him. “What’s going to happen to Bo now?”
Rick shrugged. “I imagine he’ll be brought up on federal charges and do time.”
“And you aren’t concerned for him.”
“No. He has to face the consequences of his actions.”
“Like you did when you went to prison.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I feel bad for Lacey, though.”
“Lacey has to grow up, too, and face the consequences of her actions.”
Harsh words. But Rick was right. Lacey had made the choice to be with Bo, to do drugs, to let that lifestyle overtake her. Lacey had been blind to who he really was. Surely there had been signs . . .
“Do you think she knew?”
Rick shifted, put his arm over the top of the sofa. “About what?”
“About Bo using her to run drugs.”
“I doubt it. Or maybe she suspected something and was too blinded by love to face the truth about him. Or too afraid. I don’t know. I don’t know much about love and how people behave when they love someone.”
“You’ve never been in love?”
He smiled. “No. Have you?”
“No. Well . . .”
“What?”
It occurred to her as soon as he asked her that she wanted to tell him how she felt. But the thought of putting herself out there, making herself vulnerable like that, made her stomach twinge. Should she tell him about these feelings? They were so new, even to her, she hadn’t wrapped her head around them yet.
She had to. Because otherwise he was going to walk out of her life without ever knowing how she felt. That might be how she was raised—to keep her emotions to herself—but she wasn’t going to continue to live that way. Besides, he’d come all the way to Mexico to see her. Surely there was something between them.
She took a long drink of water and set it down on the table—without grabbing for a coaster. A monumental start. She took a deep breath, and let it out.
“I’m in love with you, Rick.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m in love with you. I want to be with you, to continue this—whatever it is that we have together—after today. I want to ride with you for a while and see where it goes. I don’t want to lose you.”
Oh, shit. Rick was simultaneously filled with a stab of incredible joy and utter panic.
No woman had ever told him that she loved him. Hell, he couldn’t even remember his parents telling him they loved him, or if they did he’d never believed it. Love had to be expressed in action, otherwise it was just empty words.
That Ava did was something he hadn’t expected. He had no idea what she saw in him, but he was damn glad she did. She was beautiful, smart, and adventurous. The thought of having a woman like her by his side filled him with a warmth he’d never felt before.
Was that love? Maybe it was. But he had no room for love in his life. And he sure as hell couldn’t be in love with Ava Vargas. She was his assignment, not his girlfriend. And he couldn’t even tell her who he really was or what he did for a living.