Page 90 of Hard to Love
The whistles pierced Alex’s eardrums and the stomps shook the ground beneath him. He clenched his fists and stared down at his feet. If she called his name, it wouldn’t change what couldn’t be between them. But it would mean the difference between him taking Nicolás away fromTexas without worrying a Tejanos Pintados member would track them down and take what they felt was due to them some other way.
“A quick reminder about the open house after this. You’ll have the chance to meet the artists and purchase items. And the competition winner is…Chad Holcombe.”
The breath Alex had been holding whooshed out, leaving his chest—his whole damn body—feeling hollow.
All the time, all the hard work, all the effort to fit in. For fucking nothing.
Nothing but the desire for a woman and a life he shouldn’t want.
And couldn’t have.
After she’d shakenChad Holcombe’s hand, passed over the ten-thousand-dollar check, and posed for publicity photos, Greer looked out across the milling crowd to the spot where Alex had been standing.
Gone.
God, how disappointed must he be to have lost the competition? The money was important to him, but over the past few days, she’d begun to believe the town’s approval and acceptance might mean even more. Alex would see this as a rejection.
Knowing him, he was taking a few minutes to himself. Time to shake off the loss. So she chatted her way through the people still milling around the pasture and headed for the back of the barn. She knocked on his door and called his name, but there was no answer.
Her heartbeat sped up, but she tried to breathe away the thread of panic weaving through her.
Maybe he’d just sucked it up and headed straight back to his booth. Still, she tried the knob. It turned in her hand,and she poked her head in to find the tiny apartment as spotless as it had been the day Alex moved in. The air still smelled of him—cotton and leather—but the space felt still. Alone. Lonely.
And that shot Greer directly in the heart.
She dashed down the stairs, almost tripping over her boots in her haste. She caught herself on the rail, hit the ground, and exploded into a dead run.
He wouldn’t leave without a goodbye. Without a word. Would he?
She catapulted though the barn door, juking through the shoppers and ignoring several people who called out to her. When she made it ten feet from Alex’s space, she knew.
Goddamn him.
His work light was turned off. The worktables were bare. His tools were gone.
Hewas gone.
Just in case she was missing something, she walked inside the booth.
“Hey,” Delaney said from the aisle, “where’s Alex?”
Greer’s eyes burned as she looked at her friend. “Gone.”
If Delaney had a mean look, she was wearing it now. Hands on her still slim hips, mouth pinched, and eyes squinty. “What do you mean gone?”
“You know, like that Montgomery Gentry song.” Greer’s words hitched in a laugh-sob. A slob? “Gone like a freight train and all that.”
“That bastard.”
“He told me that he couldn’t stay. I got pissed off and left his apartment. But afterward, I went to Dad’s house, just sat there with my parents’ boots. It made me realize things would work out the way they were supposed tobetween Alex and me after he won the competition. After he saw that Prophecy could be like a family for him. But…but deep down, I believed he was the one.” She noticed something clipped to the back drape. Because it was black, it blended with the heavy curtain fabric. “He left his piece.”
Delaney strode into the booth. She reached up to release the piece of expensive leather from the binder clip he’d use to attach it to the curtain. “Hell of a way to treat his art.”
A scrap of paper fluttered to the ground, and Greer stooped down to grab it with an unsteady hand.
Greer, for you. Sometimes even the strongest people, the strongest feelings, can’t weather what the world throws at them. But you,mi cielo, are an exception. I know how you feel about your own art, but I hope you can see what you’re doing here at Wild Card is a form of art. Art made from love and passion.
Alejandro
