He let her eat in peace as he finished his beer, and when she popped the last of the sandwich into her mouth, he made a move for the tray.
Putting a hand on his arm, she said, “I’ll do it. I need to move from this spot.”
“If you say so.” He carried his empty bottle into the kitchen.
She pushed up from the couch and dropped her napkin onto the plate. Then she reached up to stretch and bent over the coffee table to pick up the tray.
Rob called from the kitchen. “Who’s Rosalinda?”
She almost sent the dishes crashing down. “What?”
He reached behind him and rubbed his back. “That tattoo on your back. Who’s Rosalinda?”
Chapter Three
She froze, gripping the tray with both hands, wanting to drop it and tug down her shirt. Instead she composed her expression, popped up and spun around. “Sh-she was a friend of mine who died. All of us, her particular friends, got her name tattooed on our backs.”
“That’s quite a tribute.”
“She was murdered.” She snapped her mouth shut. Why was she throwing out all these details? It might make her story more believable but easier to debunk—not that Rob Valdez would be debunking anything about her. She’d be out of his wavy, dark hair tomorrow.
“I’m sorry.” He parked himself in front of the sink and rinsed out the plastic soup container.
The air crackled between them. She knew he had questions on his lips, but he knew by now she’d shut him down.
Was her name Rosalinda? Did people tattoo their own names on their bodies?
She delivered the tray to the kitchen, and he snatched the dishes from it and ran them under the water.
“I have three bedrooms in this place. One of the extra rooms is an office and the other is a spare bedroom. You’re welcome to sleep there. The door has a lock on it.”
Leaning her back against the counter, she folded her hands behind her. “I trust you.”
His eyebrows quirked over his nose for a split second. “You shouldn’t be so trusting.”
“Of you?” She pressed a hand against her stomach. Had she totally misread Rob Valdez? Being in law enforcement didn’t automatically make him a good guy. Maybe he’d been so accommodating about not calling the police because he wanted to...take advantage of her in some way. Who knew he had her here? Nobody.
“Sorry.” He grabbed a dish towel and waved it in the air like a white flag. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. You have nothing to worry about from me. I’m just saying, in general, you’ve been very trusting tonight—except for the part where you pulled a knife on me.”
“Not putting my faith in anyone all day almost got me killed out there in the desert. I figured if I were going to trust anyone, it would be a Border Patrol agent.”
“That makes sense. I’m glad it was me.”
“Me, too.” And she wasn’t even talking about the way his shirt stretched across the muscles of his back as he washed the dishes, or even the fact that he was washing dishes. Rob Valdez possessed a calmness that inspired the same in her. She didn’t know who she was or who was after her, she’d survived a car crash and a day in the desert without food or water, and yet she’d managed to chow down some food and felt ready for bed...sleep.
“Can I—” she plucked the blood-and-dirt-stained T-shirt from her body “—shower?”
“I’ll get you a towel and one of my T-shirts. If you want to give me your stuff, I can stick it in the washing machine.” He reached out and tugged on the hem of her ripped shirt. “Can’t do much about that.”
That rip had exposed the tattoo on her back, but at least it had given her a clue to her identity. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow morning and remember everything. Maybe she had a frantic husband or boyfriend somewhere.
Her gaze slid to Rob, still in possession of her T-shirt. Then she’d end this interlude and be on her merry way. Merry way with two guys out to kill her?
Tomorrow morning, she’d try to remember what they’d said, but now she just wanted sleep.
“I’ll probably just toss it when I get...home, but yeah, putting on some clean clothes tomorrow would help a lot.”
He released the shirt, a flush rising from his chest. “I’ll get that towel. You can use the same bathroom you were in before.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate everything you’ve done tonight. You didn’t have to do anything, especially when I brandished that knife at you.”
“I couldn’t leave you there, and that knife?” He winked at her. “I could’ve disarmed you and taken you down at any time.”
He pivoted and exited the kitchen. She watched his departure through narrowed eyes, his broad shoulders and pumped-up arms lending truth to his claim. Despite his caring nature and surface geniality, it would be a mistake to underestimate Rob.
She dried the dishes he’d left in the dish drainer and was putting away the last one when he returned.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m not as bad off as I look. I was wearing my seat belt.”
“But the car was upside down, wasn’t it? I could tell that even from its condition.” He shook his head. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
She shivered and folded her arms. “I am.”
He gestured behind him. “I put a towel and one of my T-shirts in that bathroom. There’s soap and shampoo, if you think you can wash around the bandage.”
“I’ll do that later.” She grabbed the plastic water bottle he’d given her in the car and slid open his trash receptacle.
He jerked forward. “You don’t need to do that. I recycle. I have a bin in the back.”
Could the guy be any more perfect?
“Admirable, but you forgot this one.” She plucked his beer bottle out of the trash and set it on the
