“I’m fine . . . fine,” she assured the woman and a few others who had gathered—two black teens who cast suspicious glances her way, the blond woman with her two children, and a group of young girls, each with a cell phone attached firmly to her ear. There were a couple of businessmen as well, and, as luck would have it, a priest speaking to a homeless guy pushing a shopping cart. Lucia wanted to die a thousand deaths. “I, um, I guess I was lost in thought.” She forced a smile to the blonde and felt the heat wash up her face.

The light changed, and most of the pedestrians crossed, the worried woman clutching her children’s hands as they hurried across the street to the park where playground equipment was visible through the stands of live oaks and hedgerows of vibrant crepe myrtle.

Lucia didn’t follow but took a deep breath, then turned her attention to Cruz, her erstwhile savior. “So what are you doing here?” she demanded, casting a nervous glance at the post office. “Following me?”

“Yep.”

Oh, dear Mother, this was not what she needed! Not now. Well, not ever.

His mouth was that insanely sexy slash of white, and she mentally kicked herself for noticing.

“Why?”

“To save you from deadly SUVs?”

She almost laughed. Almost. “The real reason?”

“Because the last time we talked, you told me to stay away, something like forever.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Part of my charm.”

“Right.” Still shaken from nearly being run down, she started walking along the sidewalk, away from the corner and the few remaining people who still cast curious glances her way. Quickly, she walked along the storefronts, and as she did, she told herself her nerves were stretched tight because of the adrenaline still racing through her bloodstream, that it had nothing to do with Cruz. But, of course, she was lying to herself again.

This lying, it was becoming a habit. Not healthy.

To her consternation, Cruz fell into step with her. “I think we’re even now, right?”

“Even?” She shook her head. “I’m not keeping score.”

“Sure.”

She wasn’t going to be baited by him. “You still haven’t said why you were following me.” She thought of the package she’d just mailed, and her palms began to sweat. Mother Mary, she was a horrible liar. “I thought I made myself pretty clear that we couldn’t see each other.”

“I know, but I thought you were a little on the melodramatic side.”

“So what? I was serious.”

“Don’t believe it.”

She’d forgotten how irritating he could be. “Believe what you want to,” she said, mentally scolding herself for kissing him, for giving him the slightest glimpse that she still cared. “Just leave me alone.”