To Hope Again: A Sweet Romance (Forty and Free Book 3) Page 4

  She parked the truck and turned off the ignition. All the way from the end of the driveway she could hear Mateo’s shouts.

  “What are you doing? Get out of my truck!” He ran toward her faster than she’d expected him to.

  She looked toward her house, but knew there wasn’t much chance of getting to it before he reached her. He was already halfway up the driveway. She grabbed the keys out of the ignition and jumped out of the truck.

  As she backed away from it, her breath caught in her throat.

  What was he capable of? What had she done? She felt ridiculous and furious at the same time. She was embarrassed that she’d taken the truck, but there was no way to go back and change things. Mateo brought something out in her that she’d never expected to experience.

  Chapter 10

  Her presence stoked Mateo’s irritation. He couldn’t get away from Kate, and apparently, he couldn’t get away from Jillian either. A part of him knew that it would be simple just to move his truck, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be interrupted any more. He didn’t want to be controlled by the will of a woman.

  If she wanted to leave, she could wait until he was done. It made no logical sense, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get his point across to Kate but he could have the upper hand with Jillian. It crossed his mind that she hadn’t done anything to truly deserve his behavior, but he wasn’t interested in fairness.

  When Jillian got out of her car, he only caught a glimpse of her before she was in his truck. It took him a second to process what was happening. A moment later, she was driving it away from him, leaving him in a pile of empty boxes and garbage.

  He was so shocked that he couldn’t even react at first. What kind of person just got into someone else’s truck and drove it off? His first judgment of her being an impossibly positive pushover was clearly wrong.

  He couldn’t stop the string of ugly language that came out of his mouth. He shouted at her, loud enough to disrupt a flock of geese that had been walking up the side of his yard. He ran up the driveway after her. He pumped his legs so hard that his muscles burned, but he couldn’t catch up. By the time he reached her, she’d already parked and turned off his truck. When she climbed out, he was there to face her.

  “What are you thinking? I could have you arrested!”

  She stared back at him, her face tense and her hands in fists at her sides. In one hand, she held his truck keys. He reached for them, but she pulled back and scowled at him.

  “It’s a shared driveway! You can’t just block it!” She swung his keys in the air. “These don’t give you the power to trap me in my own home.”

  “You’re out of control! First you barge into my house and now you steal my truck! I told you I would move it when I was done. Are you too important to wait a minute?”

  “I didn’t steal it. I moved it! I waited much longer than a minute! Again, instead of trying to cause a problem by calling the cops, I did what you should have done. I don’t know where you’re from or what you’ve been through, but there is no excuse for the way that you’ve been treating me ever since you moved in here. I have been as polite and welcoming as I could be, and you have been nothing but rude! Everyone has their limit, Mateo!”

  “You call being nosy polite?” He took a step closer to her as his hands tensed. “You’re absolutely right. You know nothing about me or what I’ve been through. You think a little meditation is going to fix everything? Well, it’s not! You want me to be polite? Fine! Please, Jillian, give me back my keys and get the hell off my property.” He grabbed for the keys again.

  Jillian pulled her hand back out of his reach. “Or what?” She met his eyes.

  He was a little distracted by their ice-blue shade. After a quick blink his anger resurged. “Give me the keys.”

  “Are you going to threaten me, Mateo? Are you so big and bad that you think you’re going to scare me?” Her lips tightened as she glared at him.

  “I haven’t threatened you.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Do you want me to?”

  “How do you live like this? With all this anger inside of you?” She shook her head. “It must be exhausting.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, Jillian. But I can promise you this—I will be getting my keys back, and you’re going to regret this little stunt.” His heart pounded so heavily that he couldn’t hear his own words. The urge to wrench his keys out of her hand was overwhelming, but he resisted.

  “If I give them back to you, how do I know you won’t try to run me over with your truck?”

  Wickedness surged through him as he met her eyes and smirked. “Is that it, Jillian? Are you afraid of me?” He took another step forward. “You really think I’m going to run you over with my truck? Is that the monster that you think I am?” Even as he spoke the words, he knew that was what she saw. She saw the monster he wanted to believe that he wasn’t.

  “I don’t know.” She stared back into his eyes as she stammered out her words.

  He held her gaze and waited for the accusations. He waited for her to tell him that he was crazy, that he was a terrible person. Instead, she only continued to look into his eyes. The intensity of her search forced him to look away.

  “Mateo.”

  “Don’t.” He had no idea what she was about to say, but he knew that he didn’t want to hear it. The way she said his name—with a softness around it—stirred a strange feeling within him.

  He held out his hand. “Give me back my keys. Now.”

  “No.” She took another step away from him. Her back was against the side of his truck.

  He put his hands on either side of the truck, trapping her between his muscular arms as he met her eyes again. “I’m not asking you, Jillian. Give me back my keys.” He stared into her eyes as fury throbbed through him. He expected her to shy back, or maybe even to spit in his face. Instead, she held his gaze without a hint of fear.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this, Mateo. We can reach an understanding.”

  “Are you crazy? You just stole my truck. Give me back my keys, or the only understanding you’re going to get is from the lawyer that you have to hire!”

  She shied back then, as his anger was unleashed yet again. For a split second he was certain that he’d scared her, and to his surprise, he regretted it. A moment later all of that sympathy was gone.

  “Go get them!” She threw the keys across the yard into some of the brush that needed to be cleared.

  “Seriously?” He glared at her and slammed one of his hands into the side of the truck.

  He ignored the fact that he’d left a dent in his own truck, then took off at a run to find his keys. He heard her as she ran back down the driveway. Then he heard the sound of her car roaring away.

  He clenched his jaw as he searched through the brush for his keys. Thorns and sharp branches tore at his hands. He had work gloves in the house, but he didn’t bother to get them.

  He ignored the pain as he finally found them amid gnarled roots. He held them tight in his hand as he looked back down the driveway. The woman was bold—he had to give her credit for that. He hadn’t anticipated that she could be so spontaneous or fierce.

  As much as he wanted to hate her, a part of him wanted to know more about her. How did a woman like her see his behavior and still want to reach some kind of understanding? She didn’t threaten to have him arrested. She didn’t call him all the terrible things that Kate would have done.

  Instead, when faced with his fury, she had taken the time to look deeper. The entire experience left him feeling unsettled, not just because of anger, but because he had no idea what to think about the feelings she seemed to be stirring within him.

  Not that it mattered. He’d be lucky if she didn’t spray him with Mace the next time she saw him.

  Chapter 11

  It was in the moment that Mateo had trapped Jillian against the truck that she’d thought about calling the police. No man had ever put her in that position before. But w
hen she’d looked into his eyes, the urge to call for help faded.

  What she saw when he had looked back at her was a deep-rooted grief. It was more intense than any grief she’d seen in the eyes of any of her clients. Sometimes she worked with people that had given up on life.

  But Mateo was a little different. He hadn’t given up on life. He was angry to be living it. Maybe she was giving him a little too much credit considering the situation, but she couldn’t look away. Those cinnamon-shaded irises drew her in as if they wielded a force of their own. There wasn’t much in life that surprised her, but Mateo had managed to.

  When he set off to find his keys, she raced toward her car. She didn’t want to slow down, so she ran as hard and fast as she could.

  Once she was inside her car and driving, the enormity of what she’d done hit her. Her entire body reacted to the rush of adrenaline that flooded through her. Her heart raced, her eyes watered, and she drew deep open-mouthed breaths to try to control the myriad of emotions that assaulted her.

  Would he call the police? Would he be waiting for her when she got home? She didn’t plan to throw his keys, it just happened that way. After she did it, she wasn’t sure why she’d done something so foolish.

  Jillian tried to focus on the road while at the same time attempting to clear her mind. Her mind shifted back to what she’d seen in his eyes when she looked into them. It shook her to the core to think that his anger could mask so much. There was no question that Mateo was in a lot of pain.

  As she drove down the road she realized that they were acting a bit like children. He blocked her way, she threw his keys—none of that was normal or acceptable adult behavior. Instead of being a beacon of logic and calm, she’d sunk to his level. It disturbed her that he had such an impact on her.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the small park. She made sure that her doors were locked before she walked away, as she didn’t want to risk his following her and doing something to her car. As she walked down a short stone path to a familiar bench, her entire body shivered with the reality of what she’d done.

  What if he couldn’t find his keys? Would she have to pay for a new set? Could he sue her? None of these worries had gone through her mind before her rather irrational actions. It was impossible for her to understand how or why she’d reacted that way.

  As she sat on the bench she attempted to go into her meditation. It only took a few minutes for her to realize that her anxiety was way too high to allow her a peaceful state of being.

  To calm her nerves, she logged onto Forty and Free, the online group that her friend Ella had introduced her to. She wanted to check in with a few of the women and especially Angela, whom she’d been coaching.

  She skimmed through a few posts—none of which compared to the description of the odd day she’d been having—then she started a private chat with Angela.

  How are you doing today?

  A few minutes later Angela’s response came.

  Doing okay.

  Did you go on a date last night?

  Yes. But I went home early.

  Why?

  I just wasn’t enjoying myself. He wasn’t the right person for me.

  You can’t know if he’s the right person if you don’t give him time to show who he is.

  I know, I know, but it wasn’t right. I’ll try again tomorrow night.

  Good luck!

  She saw that Angela had logged off. As Jillian stared at the screen, she recognized that she was irritated by Angela’s refusal to even participate in her dates. She often didn’t even want to go on the dates. She was an interesting woman with a beautiful personality, but she clammed up whenever it came to socializing. Angela had explained to Jillian more than once that she didn’t believe in love, and so she didn’t see the point in dating.

  Jillian thought about what Hannah had said to her about Angela’s issues bringing up Jillian’s own feelings about love. It was clear by her irritation that there might be something to Hannah’s observation, but she couldn’t understand why.

  She pulled her feet up on the bench under her and sighed. As she rested her chin on the top of her knees she gazed out at the large butterfly bushes in front of her. Nature always calmed her. She’d embraced it for many years. But there were some things that couldn’t be satiated even with the hypnotic flap of butterfly wings.

  There had to be something about Angela’s beliefs that had struck a hidden truth within Jillian. She enjoyed romance and she’d had a few strong healthy relationships, but none had lasted. Nothing tragic had happened and the division in most cases had been mutual.

  Was it possible that there was something about love that she avoided without realizing it? At forty, she’d never dated anyone she would consider marrying, but in her mind she had a picture-perfect image of what that marriage would be like.

  Her parents had offered her a stellar example of romance. She’d always witnessed their sweet small kisses and they’d always had a compliment for one another. How could she have a bad impression of romance?

  She closed her eyes as she recalled her mother’s laughter that night as her father had danced her across the living room. They were going out on their monthly date, and her mother wore a brand new dress. Jillian didn’t remember ever seeing her mother look more beautiful.

  It was a perfect memory, marred forever by the fact that her parents never made it home that night. She winced at the thought of the accident. Even after years of working through her grief, the pain was still there.

  With another sigh she stood up. It was time to go back and confront whatever consequences she might face.

  Chapter 12

  Mateo thought about going after Jillian when he finally found the keys, but he didn’t see a reason. She hated him now, and he didn’t blame her. He wasn’t very fond of her either.

  He looked over his badly scratched-up hands with a grimace. As he stepped back into the house, he wondered if she would file a complaint against him. He wasn’t sure if she would—considering that she’d basically stolen his car—but if she did, that would be one more problem on top of the mountain he already had to deal with.

  He paced through the house in an attempt to calm down, but that seemed to have the opposite effect, as everything he noticed was something that needed work. He was overwhelmed by the amount of work that needed to be done and the short time he wanted to do it in.

  He stepped into the bathroom to clean and bandage his hands. When the water hit the deep scratches he winced at the burning sensation. Instead of the pain making him angry at Jillian, he acknowledged that he deserved all of it.

  When he and Kate would fight, she’d pluck at his weakest points. She knew so much about him and his life. She knew how to hurt him when she wanted to. It wasn’t an excuse to lose his temper, but he never understood how she could be so cruel to him one moment and the next act as if she was completely in love with him.

  His emotions worked in a different way. If he claimed to love, he loved. If he claimed to be loyal, he was loyal. He didn’t drift back and forth. But Kate, in his mind, had always had one foot out the door.

  It seemed to him that she’d been looking for a better option than him. She’d never cheated—that he knew of—but she’d let him know what a failure she considered him to be. She always wanted more—more money, more house, more of his time. Only, if he was at work, she was angry that he was neglecting her. If he was at home, she was angry that he wasn’t working overtime to earn more money.

  No matter how many times he’d tried to figure out exactly what she wanted from him, he never could—not until the last few months, when she was crystal clear about what she wanted—a divorce.

  He grimaced and looked down at his shredded hands. That’s what he felt like inside—torn up and raw.

  His mind shifted back to Jillian and her calm nature. He had provoked her on purpose. He knew that he was out of line. He’d certainly proved Kate right. No one should treat another person the way he’d been
treating Jillian.

  It was a struggle to bandage his own hands, but he knew he had to, otherwise he might not be able to continue with his work the next day. After he did the best he could, he stared into the bathroom mirror.

  If he was being honest with himself, he knew why he was behaving the way he was around Jillian. It wasn’t that he was irritated by her, or that he thought her meditation was ridiculous. It was that she interested him. While that made him angry in itself, it also made him want to scare her away.

  She was unmistakably beautiful. When she turned on him with rage etched into her features, she became even more attractive. Maybe it was the loneliness of the move, or maybe it was his burning need for something to be good in his life, but he was fascinated by her—not that he could let her know that and not that she would ever speak to him again. She had every right to never look in his direction.

  Mateo left the bathroom and walked out through the back door.

  His backyard and Jillian’s were separated by a thin line of trees. He guessed that she was the one who’d planted them, as they were quite young. They did nothing to block the view of the stone fountain and fire pit a few feet from her patio.

  He noticed that there was a small garden, as well as several flowerbeds sprinkled throughout her backyard. She was obviously someone who spent a lot of time in nature. He could see why. The view of the lake was picture perfect. Despite the chaos of earlier, the nature around him remained placid.

  He recalled a time when all it took was a swim or a run to ease his frustrations. Now, it felt like his anger had become a mountain that was crushing down on him. He had no way to escape from it. Instead of being a decent neighbor, he’d taken his anger out on an innocent woman, who’d made her best effort to connect in a friendly manner with him. He could acknowledge that he was a terrible person, but he had no idea how to change that.