Born To Be Wild by Patricia Rosemoor Page B

family ranch while Lucy spent time with the Wilds.
    She walked in, Micah directly behind her. The old bar was just as seedy-looking as she remembered, with broken tiles on the floor and faded adobe walls, as if the saloon was frozen in time. There were mismatched tables and chairs, and the lights were so dim you could hardly see past the person sitting opposite you, even when it was bright daylight outside. But maybe that was the appeal, because the bar didn’t lack for business. It was still afternoon, not even happy hour—if the place had such a thing—but a half-dozen tables were already occupied, not even counting those belonging to Lucy’s family.
    Isabel couldn’t believe it had been only a little more than twenty-four hours since she’d realized her daughter was gone. So much had happened.
    So much fear.
    So much disappointment.
    So much uncomfortable surprise…
    A covert glance at Micah told her nothing. His expression remained neutral. Clearly, he hadn’t been at all affected by what had happened in the shower. Hurt drilled through her. Not wanting him to know how deeply she’d felt the intimate encounter, she strove to keep her expression equally bland. And hoped that she succeeded.
    Behind the bar, the balding, paunchy owner greeted them. “Hey, Micah. Isabel. Your people are in the back.”
    She almost choked at the words “your people.” They had never been her people. That was the whole problem. If they had been her people, they’d have accepted her choices, and Micah’s.
    “Thanks, Tom,” Micah said.
    No doubt Micah was a regular here. But she was surprised the owner had recognized her, since she’d only been here a few times, years ago. He’d probably been expecting them.
    The Wilds and Falcons had gathered away from the rest of the crowd. They’d pushed together three rectangular tables, the Wilds on one side, the Falcons on the other, and had left two chairs vacant.
    The two chairs at the opposite ends of the tables.
    She clamped her jaw. Even now, their families were determined to keep her and Micah apart.
    “There you are,” Micah’s grandfather said, pouring a mug of beer from one of the two pitchers in the middle of the table. “We thought you weren’t coming.”
    “We made it as fast as we could, Caleb,” she said coolly, kissing her father on the cheek. “Hi, Poppi.”
    She slid into the end chair with Reyna to one side, Seth to the other. As usual, her sister sat a little straighter, tipped her nose a little higher, as she always did in Seth Wild’s presence. Seth appeared surly and ready to take Reyna on as he stared back at her. At the other end of the table, Micah took his seat between Zia and Cruz. Zia flashed Isabel’s brother a longing expression but quickly hid it, while Cruz pretended not to notice.
    Business as usual among the younger Falcons and Wilds, Isabel thought. She hoped they’d learned their lesson well from her and Micah, and didn’t end up with their hearts broken, too.
    “So Gramps,” Micah said, “what did you and old Hector figure out?”
    Caleb gave him a look worthy of the patriarch he was. “Don’t be smart-mouthed, boy. Take help where you can get it, and be thankful.”
    Isabel spoke up before an argument could ensue between grandfather and grandson. “We appreciate everyone being willing to work together to figure out what happened to our daughter. I assume Caleb told you about the license plates and about the note from Lucy?”
    Reyna said, “He did. At least we know Lucy is all right.”
    Cruz asked, “You’re sure it was Lucy who wrote the note?”
    Isabel nodded. “It was definitely her handwriting.”
    “Well, that’s something.” Jonah sounded more subdued than usual. “At least we know she’s alive.”
    The entire table went silent for a moment.
    Isabel clenched her hands together so she could keep control of her emotions. She glanced around at the serious faces. For the first time in her memory, the Wilds and Falcons