003

It had been two weeks since Lisa last set eyes on the handsome ranch hand.

She had been forced to send apologies to the Mendoza family, and as if that wasn't enough, her father's workers had nailed her window shut in case she attempted to run away again. Not that she was trying to.

She hated being the center of attention.

Carlos had visited three times in the past week, always bringing flowers. She had apologized for her insolence and unladylike behavior, and surprisingly, they had talked—really talked. His presence was comforting, familiar. She missed him like a brother.

On his third visit, he told her stories from his time in the military, watching with amusement as she grimaced at his gruesome tales of battle and death.

He chuckled. "I thought you wanted to be a ranger? Don't tell me you're getting squeamish now."

They were seated on a rocky slope that had been smoothly carved into a makeshift bench, surrounded by soft budding flowers. The afternoon breeze stirred Lisa's golden locks, sunlight catching the strands as they lifted in the wind.

She wore a faded light pink gown that, despite its simplicity, fit her shapely frame beautifully. The top part highlighted her feminine curves, and for a moment, Carlos found himself entranced.

Lisa, oblivious to his gaze, sighed. "I do want to join the rangers. But… I don't know, maybe it's just a ploy to frustrate my father." She nudged a stray grasshopper with her foot. "He can't always get his way. Besides, I'm sure it's just a matter of mastering it. If I become a ranger, I'll get used to all of this over time."

Carlos leaned back, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know he only wants the best for you, Lisa."

Without lifting her head, she shifted her gaze to his well-worn brown riding boots—good quality, she observed.

"I know, but he's overdoing it," she muttered. "I'm tired. I don't want to get married yet. I want to explore… experience life."

Carlos exhaled, shaking his head. "Trust me, Lisa, there isn't much to explore out there." His voice was soft, thoughtful. "The world is full of users. A beauty like you, unguarded, would be taken advantage of in no time."

Lisa scoffed but said nothing.

"Mike just wants what's best for you," Carlos added, his tone almost wistful.

Lisa kept quiet, feigning interest in the now-dead grasshopper she'd crushed beneath her riding boot. Her fingers toyed idly with the hem of her dress, though her mind was nowhere near the little insect.

She felt the warmth of his hand settle on her back, steady and sure. Stiffening, she forced herself to glance at him, only to immediately regret it.

His eyes… Dios mío.

He was lookin' at her like she was flan de leche, golden and soft, just sittin' there waitin' to be devoured.

Lisa swallowed hard and, in a desperate attempt to cut through whatever mood he was settin', lifted her arms in a long stretch, feigning exhaustion. "I'm tired," she yawned, rather gracelessly.

Carlos' brow twitched, his grip on her back easing just slightly. "Tired?" he echoed, a bit too slow.

Lisa nodded, pushing herself up with an exaggerated sigh.

"Wanna head back inside? We just got here," he pointed out, his voice colored with something just shy of offense.

Lisa had to keep from rolling her eyes. She wasn't blind—if she listened real close, he actually sounded hurt. Like she didn't want his company.

Truth was, she didn't like how close he was gettin' with her.

Carlos had always been a friend—like a brother, even. And now, the way he kept starin' at her, like she was somethin' delicate, somethin' to be had, made her skin prickle.

She stole a glance toward Julio, who stood at a distance behind a fat oak tree, his arms crossed and hat pulled low.

After her little escape fiasco, her father hadn't let her outta his sight for a whole week. Even now, he still feared she might run off.

Lisa sighed. "I'm just tired, Carlos. And it's a bit too breezy," she murmured, rubbing her arms for effect. Then, she placed her pale hands on his, offering a soft smile. "Escort me back?"

Carlos didn't hesitate. His fingers laced into hers, firm and familiar, and together they rose from the makeshift rock chair.

Julio, watching from his post, let out a slow breath of relief.

Finally.

The young miss was headin' back inside. Maybe now, he could get a moment of peace.

Guardin' her around day and night was a right chore, and if he was bein' honest he secretly wished she'd hurry up and get married already.

Clasping his hard hands together, Julio strode into the corral, where the ranchhands were already busy at work under the morning sun. The scent of sweat, leather, and fresh hay filled the air as men wrangled horses and loaded up feed.

He needed to have a word with the new guy.

Luis Delemante.

Julio didn't take a likin' to the fella. The man talked less than a rattlesnake in winter and carried himself with an air of authority that just didn't sit right.

He was the head ranchhand, after all.

Who did this young high-and-mighty peacock think he was anyway?

On reaching the corral, Julio tapped the bony back of Juan Francisco, a wiry, sweat-drenched ranchhand who was hacking away at a bundle of sugarcane.

The little man groaned, ready to spit out a sharp remark at whoever dared lay hands on him while he was working. But the moment he lifted his head and saw Julio—his superior—he quickly swallowed his words and straightened up.

"Mornin', boss," Juan muttered, forcing a smile.

Julio ignored the greeting, getting straight to the point. "Where's the new guy?"

Juan shrugged, already grateful for an excuse to pause his work. "Ain't seen 'im today, sir. Maybe he's sick. Or maybe he's just downright lazy." He wiped his forehead dramatically before adding, "Fella don't listen to nothin' we say 'round here, boss. I actually caught him in the stables talkin' to himself yesterday. Mighty strange, if ya ask me."

Julio arched a brow. "Oh really? Are you sure? Did I ask?"

Juan paled. "No, sir—no, sir." He fumbled with his machete and quickly grabbed the nearest sugarcane stalk. "I'll get back to work now, boss."

"You should," Julio muttered, not sparing him another glance.

His jaw tightened as he scanned the area.

Where in hell was that man?

The sun was hotter in the east wing of the Cardone

Property where the giant ranch stood.

As he walked, Luis Delemante squinted under the blazing sun, his dark eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. His riding boots crunched over a patch of dry grass, a sound lost to the warm afternoon breeze. Without thought, he ran his calloused hands down the dusty fabric of his striped black and brown cowboy shirt, brushing off the remnants of the morning's work.

Taking off his hat, its rope chinstrap dangling behind his back, he sighed deeply. He knew better than to be wandering toward the ranch house—this was beyond a worker's boundaries—but he couldn't resist the pull. That fair-haired beauty was on his mind again, haunting him like a ghost he couldn't shake.

Luis, you fool. He was here for a mission, yet all he could think about was her—the stubborn, defiant, utterly distracting Lisa Cardone.

Still, he wasn't entirely reckless. If he was going to risk getting close to the house, he might as well make good use of it. What if he could slip into the boss's office? If Cardone wasn't around, this could be his chance to snoop through some documents—get closer to the truth. But first, he needed to check if the man was home.

His boots crushed more dried leaves as he strode confidently toward the ranch house. Several housemaids turned at his approach, their gazes flickering between curiosity and something far more suggestive. Some smiled sweetly, others boldly, their interest obvious.

One, in particular, stepped forward.

She was young, striking, and dressed in a way no proper housemaid should be—her neckline scandalously low, her bodice hugging her figure in a way that left little to the imagination. Black hair, dark, knowing eyes, and an expression that carried both arrogance and mischief.

She looked him over slowly, making no attempt to hide her appreciation.

"¡Dios mío! ¿Quién eres tú?" she gasped, her Spanish accent thick. "Do you even work here?"

Luis barely spared her a glance. His focus was elsewhere.

Peering over her shoulder toward the main house, he asked coolly, "Is the boss around?"

She took her time answering, dragging her eyes from his broad chest to his strong jaw, surveying him from head to toe before finally whispering, "No, señor. He's out."

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. "You must be the new ranch hand?"

Luis regarded her for a moment, noting the sharp beauty in her face, the calculated glint in her dark eyes. She was trouble.

"I am."

Her smirk deepened. "Oh, you're the one." Her voice turned teasing. "The one who got into that little… scandal with the young miss."

Luis let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. "Scandal?" he echoed. "Now, I wouldn't call it that. I was merely helping the lady."

She stepped closer, pressing herself just enough to let him feel the soft push of her bodice against his arm.

"Oh, don't you worry, señor," she whispered, voice syrupy sweet. "The young miss always finds herself in trouble. Always looking for attention."

Then, with a deliberate slowness, she extended her hand, fingers brushing against his as she said, "You can call me María."

Luis looked her over, his gaze flicking to her extended hand. María eyed him warily, her confidence faltering for the first time. Never in her nineteen years had a man hesitated to take her hand.

A flicker of disbelief crossed her face, followed quickly by something resembling disappointment. A bruised ego, perhaps?

Luis barely acknowledged it. Instead, he glanced past her, noting that several servants had filtered out of the hallway, leaving them in relative privacy.

Turning back, he offered her a slow, apologetic smile. "Oh, forgive me," he drawled, finally taking her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he pressed a soft, gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. "You can call me Luis."

María's confidence snapped back into place. She leaned in further, pressing herself just a little too boldly against him.

"Luis…" she purred, testing the sound of his name on her tongue. "The sun is merciless today. You must be parched. Why don't you stay for some lemonade?"

Luis considered her for a moment. Truth be told, he was thirsty.

"Alright. No harm in that."

She beamed, turning on her heel, her hips swaying in a way that was far too deliberate. Luis followed, his steps slow, measured, as she led him through the back entrance into the worker's kitchen.

Inside, the kitchen was large, practical, and well-stocked—designed to feed the many hands on the ranch. Cast-iron pots hung from the walls, the scent of bread still lingering in the air. In the corner, among sacks of grain and tin plates, lay various horse equipment—saddles, bridles, worn leather straps.

María moved with practiced ease, pouring a cool glass of lemonade from an old tin pitcher.

Luis leaned against a wooden stool, shifting the rope of his hat from his back before placing the hat itself on his leg. He took the drink, tipping it back greedily. The lemonade was tart and refreshing, sliding down his throat with a relief he hadn't expected. He hadn't realized just how parched he was.

Lowering the glass, he caught María staring at him, dark eyes flickering with an unreadable expression.

"So," she began, her tone casual. "You plan to wait here for the boss? Or do you want to go straight to his study?"

Luis set the glass down. "I'm fine here."

María's lips curved. "Oh, but visitors usually wait in the study." She tilted her head, brushing a stray curl from her face. "It's where all important business is handled, after all."

Luis didn't miss the invitation in her voice, but he merely shook his head. "I'll stay here."

She frowned slightly, eyeing him with new curiosity. Slowly, she let her gaze roam over him, from the rough callouses on his hands to the way his cowboy shirt fit over his broad shoulders. He was a striking man.

María prided herself on always getting what she wanted, but now a sudden, irrational annoyance bloomed in her chest.

Lisa Cardone.

Lisa always got everything. Even when she wasn't trying. Even now, María could see it—the way Luis's eyes hadn't truly settled on her, how his disinterest in her flirtation wasn't rejection, but distraction. And she knew exactly who distracted him.

Her stomach twisted. Had he really risked himself for Lisa Cardone?

María pressed her lips together, willing away her irritation. She would keep him entertained—give him reason to look at her, not some pampered little ranch princess.

But before she could speak again, voices echoed through the hallway.

Luis stood, instantly alert. His fingers brushed the brim of his hat, muscles tensing as the kitchen doors swung open.

Lisa Cardone stepped in.

Luis's eyes snapped to her, taking in the sight of her sun-kissed skin, her gown swaying at her ankles, and the soft strands of blonde hair curling against her cheek. But before he could say a word, his gaze shifted—and darkened.

Because standing right beside her, with their hands entwined, was Carlos.

That man.

Luis's jaw ticked, his expression going carefully blank.

Lisa, however, looked stunned. Embarrassed. Guilty.

The moment her gaze locked onto him, she snatched her hand from Carlos as if burned.

Luis caught that tiny, nervous gesture, and something inside him twisted.

Why did she look guilty?

Carlos was her betrothed. She should be holding his hand, walking beside him without a second thought. But instead, she looked like a woman caught in something sinful.

He had no time to dwell on the thought. Straightening, he stepped back, bowing his head slightly in greeting. His lips curled into a slow, curt smirk as he murmured,

"Buenas tardes, mi hermosa dama."

Lisa's lips parted, but no words came. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, unsure… almost timid.

"Buenas tardes, señor." Her voice came out softer than intended, barely above a murmur.

Luis caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, the way her fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to fidget. She was nervous.

But before he could push further, before he could relish the effect he had on her, Carlos's voice sliced through the moment.

"Didn't expect to find you here Ranch-hand."

Luis's jaw tensed as he turned his attention to the man beside her. The sneer on Carlos's face was subtle, but it was there a mix of challenge and something sharper, something possessive.

Luis merely smirked. "I go where the work takes me."

His words were casual, but his eyes, his eyes were still on Lisa.

Maria, now noticing the tension in the air, clenched her jaw, hiding her anger behind a tight-lipped smile. She had greeted Carlos, had spoken directly to him, and yet, he acted as if she was invisible. As if her voice was nothing but a whisper lost in the wind.

Her dark eyes flickered between Lisa and Luis. She didn't miss the way Carlos had looked at them, how his hand had instinctively tightened around Lisa's wrist before he pulled her along, dragging her through the hallway.

Their voices drifted as they disappeared deeper into the house.

"You didn't have to drag me like that," Lisa's voice, though faint, still carried an edge of defiance.

Carlos' reply came lower, yet sharp enough to cut. "I'm just protecting you, darling. You seemed real close to that ranch hand who almost kidnapped you."

Luis' jaw twitched. His fingers flexed at his sides.

And then—silence.

Maria, still standing by the counter, exhaled harshly through her nose. Turning back to Luis, she caught him looking at her as if just now remembering she was there. That only made her irritation grow.

She pointed toward the lemonade pitcher, her voice clipped. "You can have more if you want."

Luis barely had the chance to respond before she turned on her heel. "I have things to tend to," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "Lupe's been slacking on the linens again."

She stormed off, her skirts swishing, her spine straight with forced dignity.

Luis watched her go, one brow quirking slightly at her attitude, before his mind pulled him elsewhere.

He could still hear their footsteps faintly above.

Instinct pushed at him.

This didn't sit right.

Slowly, he rose from his seat, adjusted his hat, and stepped out of the kitchen, his boots making barely a sound against the wooden floors.

He wasn't entirely sure what drew him forward.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was something else.

But as he ascended the staircase in the opposite direction Maria had taken, his thoughts buzzed.

Lisa and that man were going to her room.

A young lady like her should have had a chaperone. If Carlos was really her betrothed, why had Lisa looked so guilty the moment their eyes met?

Then—a muffled sound.

Luis froze.

His heart slammed against his ribs as his head snapped toward the sound.

It was coming from the end of the hallway.