Page 86 of Chris

“Mamá?”

Valeria looked up from the book she had been reading to her daughter to find Maria peering over at her from just under the edge of her comforter. “Yeah, niña?”

“Jorge was angry we took the horse today.”

Well, sort of.

Mostly, Jorge got pissed that Valeria took her daughter away from the nanny and did so without telling him. Which meant she had to listen to him rant and rage for a good hour after she arrived back at the ranch.

The good thing?

He didn’t realize what happened out on the cliffs. No one picked up on the fact Valeria had taken out one horse but came back with two. They didn’t seem to notice Chris wasn’t around, either. Then again, Jorge had a one-track mind, and since Valeria took his focus when she stepped out of line, that’s all he cared about.

He calmed down.

After a while.

“Don’t worry about Papá and what he says,” Valeria told her daughter, lowering her tone even as her gaze drifted to the open doorway of the bedroom. She could take care of Maria without someone looking over her shoulder in the evenings. Meaning, the nanny. Or Jorge. Even still, she had to leave the bedroom door open, and she didn’t trust that someone wouldn’t listen down the hall. “He was angry with me, not you, Maria.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she assured, leaning over in the bed to kiss her sweet girl in the middle of her forehead. “You don’t have to worry about that stuff, okay? All you have to worry about is you and being happy.”

Maria glanced down at her comforter. “But I don’t like it here, Mamá. I am not happy.”

God, yeah.

Didn’t she know it?

Rolling over in the bed, Valeria tossed the book aside—she’d almost finished it, anyway—and slipped under the blankets with her daughter. Jorge would ready for bed soon, and expect her in their room, but she took five extra minutes with her child. She didn’t get enough time with Maria now.

She hated that.

Once she had her arms locked around her child, Maria settled, closing her eyes as her mother kissed her temple, and sung a sweet lullaby she remembered her own mama singing to her long ago. As she finished the song, Maria sighed.

“Do you remember the promise you made to Chris today?” she whispered to her daughter.

Maria nodded. “I will not tell.”

“That’s a good girl.”

She didn’t want to put her daughter in that position, but she also didn’t think she gave Maria enough credit, either. Maria was smart—quick as a whip. She recognized when something didn’t seem right, or rather, when something was.

Chris was right.

Just in different ways.

“Do you like Chris?” Maria asked.

Valeria blinked. “I … that’s not an easy question.”

“Why not?”

Because it was complex.

Difficult.

Dangerous.