Love In Plain Sight. Jeanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
the bed. “You probably would have seen it coming. I didn’t.”
“Really? Well, you don’t know Marc that well,” Harley conceded. “He is not in a good place.”
“He’s alive after an accident. That’s a very good place.”
“No argument. But he’s another one who isn’t being honest. You two have that in common.”
“Cut me a break, will you?”
That got a hint of a smile. “You’ve come to the wrong house for breaks. I’m fresh out. No breaks for Marc, either. It was only a matter of time before Mama found some way to light a fire under his ass and get him moving. Sounds like you and your little work problem fits the bill.”
An answer to a prayer. Isn’t that what Mama had said?
Had the prayer been to give Marc something to distract him from his pain and slow recovery?
“I think Mama might get a bit more than she bargained for.” Courtney certainly had. She explained how Marc had invited himself to move in.
“He’s staying with you?”
“No. He has apparently taken a liking to your old place, because he wasn’t there ten minutes before informing me he wouldn’t be leaving. What was I going to say?”
“You’ll nearly be roommates. Good luck with that.”
“Speaking of, would you mind swapping cars with me? There’s not enough legroom in mine. I’m providing car service, too.”
Harley nudged Courtney’s leg with her foot. “The keys are on the ring by the door, but listen to me. Whatever you do, do not let Marc give you a hard time. I’m serious. And do not, under any circumstances, let him into your bedroom.”
Courtney opened her mouth to issue a quick reassurance on that score, but the phone on the bedside table rang out a rock tune.
Harley reached for it. “Do you mind? Mac will freak if I don’t pick up.” She glanced at the display. “Oh, it’s not— To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Courtney rolled over, ready to provide privacy, but Harley shook her head and cradled the phone against her shoulder to broadcast half of the conversation.
“No, where?” she asked. There was a beat of silence while the caller replied. “My old place? Really?”
Marc was on the other end of the line, and Courtney’s reaction came fast. A fluttering heartbeat. A shallow breath.
Harley was watching Courtney so closely that a flush prickled her cheeks and she missed the next exchange. Harley arched an eyebrow, and Courtney forced herself to look casual. She wished she had stepped out of the room.
“Tell you what, Marc,” Harley said. “Why don’t you come over here and stay with me? We can both lie in my bed and keep each other company while we work. I’ve got my big tummy and you’ve got your wrecked leg. We’ll make a great team.”
Even Courtney could hear the disgusted snort on the other end and admired the easy rapport between two people who had known each other forever.
“Play nice with Courtney or you’ll be answering to me,” Harley cautioned before saying, “Thanks. You take care of you, too. Call me if you need help. I’ll be here. In bed. Staring at four walls. Not moving.”
Disconnecting the call, she set the phone back on the table. “Well, you’re right. He’s settling in for the long haul.”
“You warned him to be nice. How much trouble am I in?”
Harley considered her. “Can’t say for sure. Marc’s off his stride since the accident. Any other time I’d tell you to lock your bedroom door and throw away the key so you don’t get your heart broken.”
Right. No problem there. “But now?”
“Now...well, I don’t know. He’s one grumpy bastard. More miserable than I am. That much I can tell you. But he and I aren’t the same as before. He hasn’t forgiven me for marrying your brother.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “Marc hasn’t lived here for a long time. He stays up on what’s going on, but that’s not the same as seeing for himself. He’s really hardheaded.”
“Like the rest of his brothers.”
Harley’s expression was thoughtful. “Except this one has a marshmallow center.”
Which was about the last thing Courtney expected to hear.
CHAPTER SIX
MARC SAT ON the couch in his new living room, grimacing as he grabbed a pant leg to hoist up his leg. The couch was just long enough to stretch out, and almost instantly the ache eased so he could attempt to think clearly.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust particles. And silence. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard so much quiet. Not since he had come home, for sure.
He should close the windows. The need for fresh air was yielding to the need for cool air. Despite all the trees, this was summer in New Orleans. God, he hoped there was central air or he might be regretting his decision. He was already starting to sweat, but he didn’t have enough energy left to get up and deal with the situation.
Instead, he opened the file on the coffee table to start piecing together the mystery. He needed to learn all he could about the missing kid.
Araceli Maria Ruiz-Ortiz had been born in New Orleans. Her parents had been from Colombia. She had one sibling, a brother who was four years younger. The father, Silvio Ruiz, had drowned on the wharves where he worked unloading cargo on the river. Araceli had been seven. The mother, Gracielle Ortiz, had been a seamstress and housewife before the husband’s death, a full-time housekeeper after.
Both parents had been in the country illegally.
“Not good,” Marc said to no one in particular. He could guess the next part of the story before setting down the profiles and starting on the court documents. Sure enough...the mother had been deported during an immigration crackdown when Araceli was eight.
The son had been at work with the mother when she was detained, but Araceli had been in school. For some undocumented reason, she had wound up in the care of a neighbor before being picked up by Family Services.
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