Taming the Legend (23 page)

She was the messed-up woman who kissed her first heartbreak with the same passion
she had when she was ignorant of how he could mess up her life. Now she knew better. But it didn’t matter because she was that same stupid girl.

He kissed down her neck, down the middle of her chest to her stomach. He nuzzled her there, his hands pushing her shirt up until he’d bared her from her hipbones to the bottoms of her breasts. His hands and lips worked together, stroking her, caressing
her, until she was hit with the nails-on-a-chalkboard eeriness of a scar being touched. She looked down, the breath knocked out of her when she realized what he was doing.

He was kissing her C-section scar.

“Ash.” Her voice trembled.

“You never should’ve had to make that decision alone.”
Kiss.
“I should’ve been there.”
Kiss.
“I would’ve been there.”

She pressed her lips together,
but she was beyond fighting for control now. “I waited for you so long.”

“I know.”

“Waiting for you…it broke me.”

His face contorted with pain. “I know.”

“You’re going to leave again.”

He was quiet a moment. And then: “I know.”

Just like last time, he was leaving because she wasn’t important enough to stick around for. She had nothing to offer but herself, and that
wasn’t enough. But she had a more pressing reality to cope with right now. “Do you think she knows? I mean, there’s no way this can be a coincidence—is there?”

He shifted back up the bed and lay on his side next to her. “I can’t imagine she knows. She’s not very good at hiding her feelings. She comes out and says whatever she’s thinking. I doubt she could hold onto a secret like this for
three weeks. Don’t you think she’d show some sort of anger at us? The only times she’s lost her temper with me were when I made her run laps for giving me lip.”

“So why would her parents send her here? How could they even have found out about me? They were the ones who insisted on a closed adoption, and my mom convinced me it was the best thing. Legally, they’re not supposed to have access
to my name until she’s twenty-one, and then only if I give my permission.” Which she definitely planned to do, but she hadn’t thought it would become an issue for another four years.

“I don’t know. I’ve got no fucking clue about anything anymore.”

“What are we going to do?”

He threaded his fingers through hers and held her hand. “What do you want to do?”

“I want…”

“Tell
me.”

Her brain blanked. Words spilled out. “I want you to have answered my letters. I want to have kept my baby. Fed her. Loved her. Raised her.” She pressed her palm against her mouth, closed her eyes and barely noticed as Ash pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, nearly as raw now as she had been the day she’d given up her baby. Hannah.

Oh, God. Hannah was her baby. And Camila
wouldn’t have known it without Ash. If he hadn’t been here, Hannah would’ve come and gone without either of them realizing their relationship.

She’d blamed Ash for so long for taking her baby away. In a bizarre way, he’d just given her back.

“I want to find her and stare at her forever,” she whispered. “More than anything, I want to do what’s best for her, but I have no idea what that
is.”

Ash hugged her tighter. “Let’s give it a day. Now that we know, we might get more clues about whether she knows. And we don’t want to do anything hasty. I haven’t heard her talk about her parents much, but her dad sounds like a right prick. Her attitude has been more positive lately, but she’s still vulnerable so we need to handle this carefully.”

Oh, yeah. Because that was one
piece of the puzzle that hadn’t dropped into place for Camila until now. The one comfort she had always pretended to have—that her daughter was somewhere being loved by the world’s best family—disappeared in a puff of smoke.

No one came to this camp unless they were hurting. And as badly as Camila ached inside right now, she vividly remembered the agony of seventeen. This time, she had the
wisdom of experience, and she had Ash backing her up. Back then, she’d had nothing.

She would damn well make sure Hannah didn’t feel the same.

Chapter Twenty Three

Jesus. Ash felt like he’d been shredded from the inside out. The only time he could remember feeling this way was when he’d tackled an All Black and found himself lying on the wrong side of the ball. Three of his opponents had raked their spiked rugby boots over any part of him they could reach, ripping his skin apart.

Camila lay on the bed next to him,
her arms wrapped around her middle and her face distraught as she stared up at the ceiling. He’d seen a similar expression on Hardy’s face the day they’d buried his wife. Hardy still didn’t know Ash had a daughter. Ash hadn’t worked up the nerve to say anything before leaving London, not wanting to add to his burden. But he needed to talk to his mate soon. If anyone would understand, the man he’d
known since they were fourteen would.

Three ornate clocks were hanging on Camila’s bedroom wall, and each told a different time. It was either five, five fifteen or five forty-five. Or, if he believed the wooden cuckoo clock, time had stood still at midnight. Whatever the time, he was ravenous and not up for facing anyone at the canteen. “How about I make us some dinner?”

“I’m not sure
I could eat. I feel a little sick.”

“You need to eat, Mila. You’ll just feel sicker if you don’t.”

She turned troubled eyes his way. “Do you think she blames us?”

He pushed a lock of hair away from her wet cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Probably. Wouldn’t you?”

She opened her eyes to glare at him. “Do you have to be so honest?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never found any
good comes of blowing smoke up people’s arses.”

She rolled onto her side, facing him, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Weirdly, that’s one thing I remember liking about you. When you told me things, I could trust you were telling the truth.”

“That puts you in a minority of the women I’ve known, then. I’ve inadvertently stomped on some tender feelings.”

“I’ve never considered
my feelings to be very tender. Except, you know, things having to do with… Hannah.” She drew in a deep breath. “It’s so strange to have a name for her after all these years. Almost as strange as having a face for her.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

For the first time since he’d stormed into her office, a small smile touched her lips. “I think we’ve been through enough that you don’t need
to ask that.”

He settled himself more comfortably next to her. “Do you know when you got pregnant?”

“You mean which time we were together?”

“Yeah.” He half grimaced. “This will probably sound stupid, but I know next to nothing about pregnancy. Did you feel something different? Like…a flutter or something?”

“No. Nothing. But if I count back the days, then our time at the hotel
was in the middle of my cycle.”

“So I might’ve got you pregnant the very first time we had sex?”

“Yeah. It may have been your first time, but you sure made it count.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Fucking hell. I’d apologize, but that feels wrong now that I’ve met Hannah. She’s pretty incredible, you know? And I’m not just saying that because she’s probably our daughter. She
stood out to me right away.”

“Because she’s a smart aleck.”

“Yeah. She’s brilliant. Mouthy and clever and not scared to speak up. I’ve been trying to channel those qualities in a more positive direction, but I’d much rather she show that kind of personality than to be timid.”

Camila smiled. “She sounds like your daughter all right.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “And yours,
sweetness.”

She blinked, and he realized his view of her was still different than her view of herself. He ran his hand down her back, letting himself appreciate the comfort of her curves one last time before sitting up. “Too much emotion on too little food. I need to eat. What’ve you got that I can cook?”

“Not much, but I have some tamales in the freezer.”

“What are they?”

Her brows shot up. “You don’t know what tamales are?”

“I know what enchiladas are. Does that count?”

“For what? Mexico points?”

He chuckled softly, a bit surprised he could still manage it after the emotional train wreck of the past hour. “What can I exchange Mexico points for?”

She gave his hand a quick squeeze and kissed his knuckles. “Tamales. Come on, let me introduce you
to my comfort food.”

Apparently as eager as he was to focus on trivial matters instead of The Big One, she explained the tamales to him as she heated them. Steamed cornmeal filled with shredded pork didn’t sound all that appetizing, but when Ash discovered they were served wrapped in corn husks he decided they were one of the most exotic foods he’d encountered. And when he took his first
bite, the spicy, fatty deliciousness made him a believer. Covering his mouth with a hand so he didn’t feel
too
rude speaking with his mouth full, he said, “Oh my God. These are amazing. I’m definitely collecting more Mexico points.”

Camila’s laugh was rough, but it was still a laugh and Ash felt grateful. “Better than black pudding?”

“Sweetness, most things are better than black pudding.
I don’t actually eat that shite. I just forgot to ask the waitress to leave it off my plate.”

“What’s better—tamales or paella?”

He grinned, suddenly transported back to Barcelona and the restaurant he’d taken her to the night he’d given her his hotel key. That night he’d discovered not only the savory rice and prawn dish but also what it felt like to become as close as possible to someone.
Kinda how he felt with her right now. “Toss-up. You?”

“Tamales every time. They remind me of my grandmother.”

“Does she live around here?”

“Rosarito in Baja, with my dad’s older brother. He likes to pretend he looks after her in her old age, but she does all the cooking, cleaning and laundry. He’s pretty traditional.”

“Sounds like my dad. Mum worked at a university press till
Dad had his stroke, but she also had a second job doing everything around the house. I remember her going away for a weekend with her girlfriends, and Dad tried to boil some water for pasta. He ended up causing an electrical shortage and the cooker had to be replaced. After that, whenever Mum went away she made a bunch of food in advance and taught me and my sister how to heat it.”

Camila
glanced away momentarily, probably thinking about the man who’d come between them. But she didn’t ask anything about his dad directly. Instead, she said, “When I was a kid, I used to dream of having a family like that. A traditional one, where everyone knew their role. It seemed so safe and comforting. I would hate to have a relationship like that now, but my family was so messed up and confused
that I used to daydream about it. A father who came home at six, gave us all a hug and had a beer while watching football or rodeo. A mom who stayed home and cooked for us instead of cooking for strangers at a diner. Older brothers who looked out for me instead of ignoring me as if I were nothing more than a dust mite. Sounded like the perfect life.”

Ash tried to eat as quietly as possible
while she opened herself up more than she ever had before, but her words struck him low in his gut, stealing his appetite. She’d never shared much about her family with him. He’d known her dad was Mexican but one of her grandparents was Spanish, and that was why she had cousins in Barcelona. He’d known her father lived in L.A. while she was mostly growing up in Montana with her mum. He’d known she
had a twin brother and two older brothers. And he’d known that her arsehole cousin had called her mum a whore. But he’d never been able to pull all the strings together into a complete picture of the girl she’d been when he’d met her, and she’d never seemed eager to give him the details that would fill in the gaps. “How old were you when your parents split up?”

She took a bite of tamale and
chewed slowly before swallowing. “Minus nine months old, or so? They were never really together other than to…you know. They met because my dad had this romantic idea of being a cowboy in Montana, so he got a job on the ranch where Mom lived. With her husband and two sons.”

A bit of tamale got caught in Ash’s throat, and he coughed. “She was married to someone else?”

She nodded. “Still
is, technically, though they haven’t lived together since the day Gabriel and I were born. Aaron—her husband—he didn’t know she’d cheated on him till Gabriel and I came out looking…well, not like him or Mom. I think she’d hoped we were Aaron’s kids, or maybe we’d resemble her so much that no one would ask questions.”

“Jesus Christ. How long had they been married when she…?” For some reason
he couldn’t bring himself to say the word
cheated,
as if it were too insulting a word for someone’s mum.

“About three years. Austin was only a year old, and Wyatt was two.”

“Were you raised with them?”

She shrugged. “Off and on. They spent a lot of time on Aaron’s ranch. They lived with us during the week because it was closer to our school, but they went to Aaron’s every weekend
and school vacation.”

Her family was messed up in ways he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“According to Mexican tradition, I should have my dad’s last name followed by my mom’s. So I would’ve been Camila Morales Wilder, but Wilder is her married name and my dad and Aaron both refused to let me have it. I always thought that was kind of sad—like my mom didn’t even have her own name.”

“Why?” He couldn’t think of a gentle way of asking. “Why did she do it?”

“She’s never told me much about it. Aaron’s family owned the ranch they lived on, and she cooked for all the ranch hands and cowboys, so that’s how she met my dad. They were both good-looking and probably feeling lonely and isolated. I guess they just acted and didn’t think about the consequences till it was too late.”

She finally met his eyes, and he couldn’t help thinking about Camila and himself doing exactly the same thing sixteen years later. How horrifying her pregnancy must have been to her whole family. No wonder his name was shit in her family.

He stood, walked to her side of the table and took her hand. “Stand up a minute.”

A look of confusion stole over her face but she stood, giving
him enough room to sit on her chair and pull her onto his lap. Arms around her, he tugged her even closer. “I was young and stupid when I left you before. That won’t happen again. I’m here now, and we’ll figure this thing out together.”

She chewed on her lower lip, her brows drawn together as she tried to figure out whether to trust his promise. Apparently deciding she could, she leaned into
him and pressed her lips to his. But they both knew the truth. A plane ticket to London and a signed copy of his dream contract sat in his email inbox, committing him to leaving in a week. His promise had an expiry date.

He needed a game plan, now more than ever.