Matt’s hackles rose the instant he laid eyes on the stranger. Antagonism rolled off the man like the waves of heat shimmering on top of the now cloudless hills. His grandmother’s expression warned him, not that it was needed, of her dismay. Between that and Cassandra’s gasp of recognition it was obvious the devil had come calling.

Cass’s fiancé was here.

So much for telling his abuela the truth in his own words.

“Cassandra,” the man said, the words snapping like gingerbread. “What is going on here?”

She glanced at the many interested onlookers and groaned, careful not to make eye contact with Matt though he stood right beside her.

Satisfaction thrummed through Matt’s chest. That’s not the reaction he would expect from two lovebirds.

“It’s not what you think.” She took a couple of shuffling steps forward, hand out, placating the beast. “How did you find me, Jeff?”

His expression grew even colder, fists white on the handles of the wheelchair. “When I couldn’t reach you, and my family had no idea where you had gone, I called your father. He told me everything.”

He suddenly deflated, as if all that hot air couldn’t handle being contained and escaped in one long, sad sigh. “Why didn’t you come to me, Cass? I might have been able to help.”

Matt couldn’t believe the supercilious prick. Where did he get off thinking he was so much better than Cassandra? She’d handled the situation in the only way she knew how; protecting her father’s reputation and at the same time, easing an old lady’s mind. He should be treating her like… like a princess, dammit.

Consuela spoke up, moving forward to fuss with her mistress’s blanket-covered legs. “Let’s talk inside. There is fresh cornbread and honey preserves. I’m sure the children are hungry.” She took charge of the wheelchair and turned the attention to food.

Matt’s stomach growled. Cass glanced at him wide-eyed, before hurrying to grasp her boyfriend’s arm as they traipsed into the cool confines of the house behind Sophia, Consuela and his grandmother. Matt felt like he had as a schoolboy, caught out in a white lie when he’d played hooky from school. But this wasn’t a harmless prank, and he wasn’t a child anymore.

“Grandmother,” he called, “can I have a word?”

Sophia frowned, no doubt wondering what was going on, but he ignored her for now.

“Please?” he pleaded when it seemed they were going to continue into the kitchen with the others.

She held up a blue-veined, skeletal hand. “Go ahead, Consuela. We’ll be along shortly.”

Chewy click-clicked into view, bark-snorting his excitement. Sophia scooped him into her arms, chuckling at the look of horror on fiancé-guy’s smug face. “He doesn’t bite.”

“Much.” Matt couldn’t resist the dig. He shared an amused look with Cassandra, recalling her similar reaction to the little gimp. Then the humor died, replaced by memories of their time together. Of wants and desires. Lost chances. Pain.

She took a step toward him and Matt caught his breath. But then Consuela tut-tutted and the moment was lost. Cass turned away to join the exodus to the kitchen, shutting him out.

“That young man told me an interesting story,” Madeline murmured, her gaze searching his face.

He crouched next to the woman who had raised him as her own, shame a heavy weight bearing him down. “Grandma, I’m sorry.”

She patted his head, her eyes kind. Forgiving. “I know you are, child. Whatever reason you have for bringing that girl here and lying to your family, it must have been important to you.”

He swallowed the hard ball of guilt clogging his throat. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I know how much you wanted to see me happy, so I made up a fiancée.” He grasped her hand, distressed by the bruising on the papery thinness of her skin.

Her beautiful brown eyes glistened with a mixture of love and sadness, enough to break his heart. “Oh, Matthew. Always the fixer, eh?” She coughed, her fingers fluttering against her lips. “There’s some things that are meant to be, my boy.”

Matt stood and hurried over to the side table, grateful Consuela kept fresh lemon water and glasses throughout the hacienda. He poured half a tumbler and brought it back to his grandmother, helping her to take a drink.

“Better?”

“Sí,” she sighed. “Gracias.”

Matt returned the cup to the table, noticing the painting he’d missed earlier. It was one that used to sit tucked away in the family den, over the massive stone fireplace that dominated the room.

“Why did you move your wedding picture?” he asked, turning to see her diminutive form slouched in the wheelchair. She needed to rest. If only she would return to the hospital, but she refused.

“Your grandfather was such a handsome man,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes. “He could have had any woman he wanted, but he chose me.”

Matt smiled, glancing again at the painting. “I can see why. You weren’t too bad yourself.” He meant it, too. Dressed in the Spanish lace gown with a diaphanous veil covering her lustrous dark hair, it was no wonder the man standing opposite in the picture couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Oh, you Shaughnessys, you have such a way with words,” she giggled, a young girl once again.

Matt bowed low, more than willing to play along if he could keep that youthful glow on her face. “How about we go out on a da…” A thunk and muffled groan froze the words on his tongue.

He straightened and stared in shocked horror before rushing to his grandmother as she lay crumpled on the floor.

“Grandma, are you okay?” He rolled her gently onto her side, careful to keep her breathing passages open. “Grandma,” he cried.

“Help. Someone help.”