His Forever Valentine Page 10

  The way he seemed to see right through her was a little unnerving. “What makes you think that there’s a knot in my stomach?” she asked. Val had always prided herself on how relaxed and friendly she came across. Using only a handful of words, Rafe had totally negated that self-image.

  “Because I knew you wanted to do a good job,” he explained, “and everyone who’s worth their salt always worries about things going south on them—which means they’ve got knots in their stomach. Nothing to be ashamed of,” he told her.

  “Like an actor having stage fright before they go on,” she countered.

  Rafe inclined his head after a beat, unable to relate to the image she’d just described. But he was fairly confident that it carried significance for her and underscored what he’d just said. He felt it was fairly safe to agree.

  “Yeah, like that,” he said with as much conviction as he could summon for a metaphor that meant utterly nothing to him.

  “Is your dad in the kitchen?” she asked. “I’d like to thank him.”

  “Yeah, he’s just finishing up his breakfast. Mike and Ray have already had breakfast and left,” he added.

  Just as well, she thought. She’d gotten the feeling that the oldest son didn’t approve of filming on the family ranch and she would really rather talk to the senior Rodriguez without having to incur any negative vibes from a member of his family.

  Val hurried past Rafe, wanting to see the older man while his acceptance was still fresh.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly, reaching the kitchen and walking into the bright, sun-splashed room with its burnt orange tiled floor, rimmed in blue. Had anyone mentioned the melding of these two colors to her, she would have cringed at least inwardly if not outright. But seeing them now side by side, they actually worked, she thought, glancing down at the floor.

  The bright, glazed colors made the room seem larger and welcoming—as if the presence of the older Rodriguez with his bright, warm smile wasn’t already welcoming enough.

  Ever the courtly gentleman, Miguel half rose in his chair. “Good morning, Valentine. I take it you slept well?”

  “The fresh air works miracles,” she said, hoping he would accept that as her affirmative answer without her having to actually fudge the truth. The sympathetic smile she received in response made her realize that Miguel Sr. was reading between the lines and had gotten the true answer to his question. He seemed to know not only that she’d had a restless night, but why—in general—it had been a restless night for her.

  Like father, like son, she thought again, getting a definite feeling of déjà vu. If she had the opportunity to play poker with either of these two men, she wouldn’t, she decided.

  “Take a seat,” Miguel said, gesturing toward the place setting that had been reserved for her.

  Nodding her thanks, Val sat down, noting with a measure of relief that Rafe was staying, as well. He took the seat beside her as his father sat down again, facing them.

  There were covered dishes in the center of the table. He’d done that, she knew, to keep whatever he was offering warm for her. The man took his hospitality very seriously.

  “We still have some breakfast left,” Miguel was saying, “although these boys of mine, especially Ramon and Miguel, they eat like locusts, like tomorrow there will be a famine,” he explained. “I had to remind them that we had a guest staying with us.”

  Acutely aware that she had imposed on his hospitality without having actually received an invitation from him, she took this opportunity to make her apologies. “About that, Mr. Rodriguez, I hope that you don’t mind—”

  “Mind?” he echoed, interrupting her because he wanted to spare her any discomfort. “Why should I mind having such a lovely person grace us with her presence? It has been a long time since Alma lived here,” he confided with a twinge of wistfulness in his voice. “Once my daughter became the sheriff’s deputy, she moved into town to be close to her work. And then, of course, she got married so now I only see her on the bigger occasions—”

  “Like Sundays,” Rafe pretended to whisper to her as an aside.

  “Sundays are special,” Miguel told his son. “Especially when everyone can come to dinner. But I usually get excuses instead of my children,” he confided with a sigh. “But I understand. They have lives and are too busy to come by.” Miguel milked the moment for sympathy. “It is the life of a parent to do everything he can to raise his children well—so that he can never see them except once in a while.”

  Rafe laughed. “This is where the violins come in,” he told her.

  “Violins? Why would violins come in?” Miguel asked. “Who would be playing these violins?”

  Rafe shook his head. Maybe he’d hurt the old man’s feelings. “That was just a joke, Dad.”

  “Tell a funny one next time,” the older man instructed his son.

  He turned his attention back to the young woman at his table. The one he had already decided would be a good match for this particular son. He could tell that they balanced one another out nicely. Now it was up to him to do whatever he could to make sure that the two would come together and realize what he already saw: That they would be good together—and that they would have beautiful babies.

  “So, my dear,” Miguel began, warming to his subject, “my son tells me that we will be seeing a great deal of you for the next two months or so.”

  She spared Rafe a glance. The latter raised his shoulders in a hapless gesture, silently telling her that he had said no such thing.

  If that had truly been the case, that meant that there’d been more reading between the lines, Val thought. It made her feel somewhat defenseless if this knack of his was even partially operational.

  “Well, I don’t know about a great deal,” she answered, trying to hedge slightly, “but I’ll be here for a while during filming. And on that subject, thank you for agreeing that we can use your ranch house.”

  “My pleasure entirely,” Miguel responded with another warm smile.

  “And the check you’ll be getting for letting them use the house doesn’t hurt either. Right, Dad?” Rafe teased him.

  Rather than deny it, Miguel nodded. “Money is always useful. It takes headaches away and if the bills are paid, it allows a man to focus on the more important things in his life. His family.” Leaning forward over the table ever so slightly, he told Val, “I have endured worrying that the bills would not be paid and this is a far better way to approach life,” he assured his guest. “Believe me.”

  Miguel was making this very easy for her and she wanted to reward him for that.

  “I could perhaps negotiate a little more money for you,” she told Rafe’s father. “If you found the amount we initially talked about a little on the low side, then perhaps I could—”

  Miguel raised his hand to stop her. “The amount is fine, Valentine,” he assured her jovially. “But thank you for offering. I am a man of simple tastes and I do not wish to look as if I am being greedy, asking for more after you have already quoted such a generous amount to me.”

  Still, she wanted to do more. Something about the man compelled her to be generous. It wasn’t her father complex kicking in. She loved her own father dearly and he was always there for her.

  But Miguel Rodriguez was like a warm, huggable teddy bear of an uncle she wanted to do right by. “I also want you to know that if anything is damaged—not that it will be,” she quickly assured him, afraid he might have second thoughts on the matter, “but if by some chance something does go wrong, we will pay for any and all repairs—or a replacement if that becomes necessary.”

  Miguel nodded, attempting to maintain a solemn expression on his face because he knew this was important for her.

  “That is good to know. Now, eat,” he instructed, gesturing toward the covered serving plates. “We cannot send you b
ack to your mother looking as if we were trying to starve you.”

  Val was tempted to say that her mother hadn’t had anything to say about how she chose to eat in a very long time, but she had a feeling that her consumption of food wasn’t really the subject here.

  Her mother was.

  And then she thought of the perfect way to show her thanks to the senior Rodriguez for being so cooperative and nice.

  Val measured out her words, watching his expression as she spoke. “You know, Mr. Rodriguez, my mother told me that she might come out here if she has a chance.”

  Instantly, Miguel’s eyes gleamed in anticipation. “Your mother would come here?” he asked incredulously. “To Forever?”

  Val nodded. “Well, she is the casting director for this film and sometimes she likes to watch a couple of days of filming to see if her casting instincts were right or if perhaps someone else might have filled a particular role better.”

  “I am sure her ‘casting instincts’ are perfect,” Miguel replied. “Just as she is.”

  Mother is going to absolutely love you, Val thought. She saw Rafe’s father look around his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time—or through different eyes. Eyes, undoubtedly, that belonged to the woman he had idolized for decades now.

  “If your mother is to come here, then I will have to do some redecorating. It has been a long time since some of this furniture has been here,” he recalled, frowning as he stared at a piece.

  Maybe she’d gone a bit too far, Val thought. “Please don’t change anything on my mother’s account. She has very simple taste,” she told Miguel. “I’m sure she’d find your home charming.”

  The expression on Miguel’s face told her that he had his doubts. But for now, he would take her words under advisement. She could tell by his wide smile.

  * * *

  “LET ME APOLOGIZE for my father,” Rafe said once breakfast was over and they were finally outside the house. “I’m afraid that he tends to get a little intense at times.”

  “No need to apologize,” she assured Rafe. “I think he was adorable.” She grinned. “And I completely understand that sudden attack of nerves that he was having back there.”

  “When?” As far as he could see, his father was just being a little too intense, but he was fairly accustomed to that. Being intense was all part of his father’s more volatile side. It emerged whenever he became passionate, about a cause, or, in this case, a person. A person, he now realized, his father had fantasized about for years. The perfect woman he’d once overheard his father call her. At the time, he was just a teenager and he’d had no idea who Gloria Halladay was.

  “At the end,” she confided, “when he started talking about redecorating the whole house for my mother. That was a giant case of nerves,” she pointed out. “Your father’s starstruck and I get that—but my mother is just a very simple person.”

  The look he gave her reeked of disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

  “She is,” Val insisted. “My mother was the one who made sure that I was well grounded, that my head wasn’t turned by the over-the-top lifestyle of some of the kids I went to school with. She always cherished the simpler things in life, things money couldn’t buy. She really is an old-fashioned girl at heart,” she told Rafe.

  Whether or not her mother was such a sterling person he had no idea, but he could tell that Val really believed she was.

  “And are you?” he asked. “An old-fashioned girl at heart?” he added in case she misunderstood.

  Val couldn’t help the grin that came to her lips and she didn’t bother to hide it. “Oh, you have no idea,” she guaranteed.

  He liked the look in her eye when she said it. Anticipation welled up within him, whispering promises in his ear.

  Chapter Ten

  “See, there it is, safe and sound and none the worse for having spent a night out here, away from you,” Rafe pointed out cheerfully as they drove up to the front of the diner. The slightly dusty powder-blue CRV was parked exactly where she had left it. “I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”

  “I didn’t initially refuse your offer because I was worried something would happen to my car,” she told him as he parked right beside her CRV. Val got out of the Jeep and rounded the rear of the vehicle. “I’m just used to doing things on my own.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Rafe allowed. “Unless, of course, you get so stubborn that common sense goes out the window.” He saw her open her mouth to protest, but he beat her to the punch. “Fortunately, you’re not like that.” Rafe shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked slightly on his heels. “So now what? You drive off into the sunset until the movie people come out, or—”

  “Or.” She picked the second option. “No point in wasting time going back and forth. Everything that I need to access I can get via either my smart phone or my netbook.”

  “Netbook?” Rafe echoed, raising one eyebrow as he looked at her. He’d heard of the former, but “netbook” was a new term for him.

  “Think of it as a shrunken laptop.” She patted the shoulder bag that was all but a part of her anatomy. Inside she carried around what she considered were all the electronic essentials of life—along with at least one set of backup batteries. For his benefit, she pulled out the eleven-inch netbook she had come to depend very heavily on. “These days, the smaller they are, the more powerful.”

  Rafe didn’t look at the netbook she was holding up. Instead, his eyes washed over her at the same time that amusement entered them. “That’s the feeling I get,” he replied.

  Their eyes locked for a moment, until Val glanced away. If she hadn’t, she was positive that her cheeks would betray her and turn pink—and she absolutely hated when they did that. If nothing else, it went against the image she had of herself. She was supposed to be unflappable. Unflappable people didn’t blush.

  Changing the topic, she nodded at the diner. It was a little after eight in the morning. “Think Miss Joan is in yet?”

  He laughed and Val looked at him quizzically. “Miss Joan is always in.”

  “I thought, being the owner, she’d have people working the morning shift for her so she could sleep in.” Wasn’t that the reward for a life of hard work? To get to the place where you were actually free to sleep in? “Doesn’t she have a family?”

  “Yeah, she does. You’re looking at them,” he told her, gesturing around the general area. “Miss Joan did get married not all that long ago, but her husband, Harry, understands that running the diner, being there to oversee everything’s running smoothly, is what makes her happy. And Harry wants his wife to be happy.

  “I guess you could say that Miss Joan’s pretty much the town’s lifeblood. That’s part of the reason Harry loves her.”

  Because her whole life was centered around making and watching movies, as Val listened to Rafe tell her about Miss Joan, she felt that there was a story in here somewhere and for her, all stories just naturally turned into movies in her head.

  She headed toward the diner’s front steps. Val learned a long time ago never to take anything—or anyone—for granted. “Well, then I’d better tell the town’s ‘lifeblood’ that Jim was thrilled with the photographs of the town that I sent.”

  Rafe was right behind her. “Jim?”

  Val paused for a moment to fill him in. Jim Sinclair was so much a part of her life that there were times she forgot not everyone knew the man. “Jim Sinclair, the director of the movie.”

  She took the three steps to the diner’s door quickly and walked in.

  Miss Joan was behind the counter, talking to a tall, dark-haired man in a uniform seated in front of her. He was nursing a cup of steaming black coffee. When the owner of the diner raised her eyes to watch her approach, the man seated at the counter turned on the stool to see who had come in. Val saw
a star pinned to his shirt. This had to be the law in Forever.

  Taking a last sip of his coffee, the man nodded at Rafe. “Rafe.”

  “’Morning Miss Joan, Sheriff.” Rafe greeted the duo in the order he deemed most appropriate, then turned toward Val. “Rick, this is—”

  “Valentine Jones,” Sheriff Rick Santiago completed with a nod toward the woman with Rafe. “Yes, I know. Miss Joan already filled me in.” He smiled at Val. “So you’re the one bringing the movie crew to our town.”

  That gave her way too much credit, Val thought. She never presented herself to be more important in the scheme of things than she was. “I’m just the one making recommendations. The final decision lies with my boss.” She looked from Miss Joan to the sheriff. “But for the record, my boss thinks that your town is just perfect.”

  “Most of us here think so,” the sheriff told her.

  Val’s eyes shifted toward the woman she had come in to see. “I wanted to tell you that it’s official. I sent the photos I took of the town and the Rodriguez ranch to my boss and he agrees with me. Forever is just the way he envisioned the location for his film would look. Filming starts as soon as they can get everyone out here.”

  Miss Joan nodded. “Appreciate you giving me the head’s up. And just so you know,” she went on, “the town council had their meeting here last night and the vote went in your favor. Just keep it orderly,” the woman added, sounding like a teacher about to let her class out for recess in the schoolyard.

  “It’s a good group of people coming out,” Val assured her. “There won’t be any rowdy incidents. Jim, the director, likes to use the same crew on all his pictures. This way, they know what he means when he says something and they’re familiar with his style. It’s more efficient that way and it makes for faster filming,” she explained. “He’ll be bringing the contracts with him to sign. With the money the town will be getting, you can afford to build an official place where you can hold your meetings.”