Free The Saint's Devilish Deal by Kristina Knight

be surprised what I was thinking about out there.” Not one thought of waves had distracted him from Esmerelda since she arrived home. He’d tried to fool himself that he wanted to escape but in reality he could leave any time he wanted. Paying Constance’s bills assured him of that; she wouldn’t allow the place to be sold after he put so much cash into it. But Esme didn’t need to know that on the water just now he’d been thinking of her and a night beneath the vines in Napa rather than their supposed debt crisis.
    “I’m not dumb, Santiago. That roll was bad, but I saw the news coverage. A couple of bruised ribs, bruised hip, torn ligaments in your knee. Bad, but not career ending.”
    His shoulder twinged. “The papers didn’t get everything right.” He swiped more grey over the red walls. When he turned, Esme looked expectantly at him. “All the gory details?” She nodded.
    “I saw the wave, knew it was too big. Too much power, but I couldn’t not take it. I was up for a second, maybe two, and then it was just water. Over me. Surrounding me. In my mouth, my lungs.” He swallowed, feeling the weight of the water press against him, keeping him down. Ripping at his arms and legs as if it wanted to tear him apart. He pushed the memories away. “I wasn’t thinking of another competition, Esme.”
    “So you’re here because you can’t be there?” The words sounded hopeful and Santiago couldn’t let her have hope. He wouldn’t return to surfing but he also wouldn’t stay in Vallarta. He needed to be free. So did she.
    “No. I’m here because Constance was kind when I needed a place to heal. I owe her, but I won’t stay, pequeña. I was a surfer and a property developer before this crisis; now I’m just a property developer. I float between deals and I like it that way. When we’re done here, I’ll leave. Anything that starts between us again, it won’t make me stay.” He pushed more paint across the wall.
    “Well, thank god we got that settled. Here I was thinking you wanted to stay at Casa after and, frankly, I saw what you’ve been paying in rent and it’s not nearly enough. I would’ve hated to fight over rental increases in six months.” Her tone was teasing but he sensed another emotion underneath. Pain, maybe, anger. But he let the underlying tension slip away so that her words could lighten the mood.
    They pushed more paint for a while, each lost in thought. Santiago wanted to know why Esme was back in Vallarta but didn’t ask. He didn’t want any half-truths from her, the way he’d given half-truths to her. Besides, this was their first semi-normal working moment since the meeting with Velazquez. Whatever brought her back from California didn’t matter.
    “You got my answer. Why are you really here?” he heard himself say. The words shocked Santiago into silence for a few seconds. He hadn’t intended to ask that. Not now. Hell, not ever. He didn’t need to know her reasons—he only needed to show her she could thrive anywhere, not just at Casa. That way it wouldn’t hurt her so much when he took Casa away.
    “Um, my aunt was sick—”
    “You may not have your life splashed across the tabloids, but it was simple enough to call Bristol Bay and learn you’d quit your job a full week before Constance called.”
    “I can’t believe you called my old boss. For what? A reference?”
    “Just doing my homework.”
    Shoulders stiff and back straight, Esme turned back to the wall, making a show of painting over the red walls.
    “You landed in Vallarta less than five hours after she called,” Santiago pushed. “Not an impossibility if you had special dispensation from the U.S. Government to skip airport security. But I’m guessing that didn’t happen. Why were you coming back, Esmerelda?”
    “Vacation?”
    Even Santiago heard the question in the word so he said nothing, just waited.
    “Fine. I broke up with a guy I was seeing and I wanted a change of scenery.”
    “So