His Devious Angel by Mimi Barbour

the help.”
    The loving pat on his shoulder from Isobela as she put his coffee mug in front of him spoke of her thanks, and Pedro’s beaming face as he climbed onto his father’s lap made his momentary loss of brain function worthwhile.
    Now he’d done it! He’d be forced to go and see his old man and face the past he’d ignored so long. Just the thought of opening those wounds made him feel ill.
    ***
    Liam saw the curtains move as he and Ruiz approached the sidewalk of the sprawling, oversized rancher where he’d grown up. Before he could ring the bell, the door opened and his father stood in front of him, a huge smile of greeting plastered across his face.
    Liam felt the discomfort immediately and would have given anything not to be here, not to face the one person who ranked highest on his list of people he didn’t want to talk to or be near.
    Close up, the old guy didn’t look too good. For a man whose appearance had always been polished and debonair, he appeared scruffy and unkempt, his pants and shirt clean but wrinkled and his hair shaggy. Mind you, the gladness spread over his two-day bearded face made up for everything else…or at least it should have. But old hurts didn’t just disappear—or even fade over time. Not if they’d been nursed.
    “Liam!” How could a name ring with so much love? Discomforted, Liam stuck his hand out in a formal way and stepped into the hallway his father presented with a flourish.
    He had trouble getting his feet to work; they wanted to run in the other direction, most likely because his brain was screaming for him to get the hell out of the place where he’d known such unhappiness, and where he’d sworn to never return.
    “Hi, Dad.” His father held his hand with both of his and wouldn’t let go until Liam nodded to Ruiz and said, “I’d like you to meet Angelo Ruiz, a friend of mine.”
    Quickly the older man reached out to shake hands. “Welcome, Angelo. Any friend of Liam’s is welcome in this house. Come into the garden with me, and I’ll make coffee.  By the way, my name is Paul.”
    As Liam followed behind the other two, he scanned the rest of the house to find it in a terrible mess. As they passed the kitchen, he glanced in to find it was the worst. Dishes were everywhere; the floor needed a good clean, and the smell of burnt food lingered to add a sourness that made his nostrils react. Whew! Not good!
    The patio area was altogether a different story. The various reds and lush pinks abounding from the potted geraniums were beautiful, and the table clean. An opened newspaper lay next to a cup of steaming coffee and a small plate with toast crusts. A little idiosyncrasy of his dad’s that Liam remembered. In fact, it would drive his mother into one of her numerous tirades, and to stop that from happening, Liam had taken to eating them himself just to stop the screaming—a secret he and his dad had shared. Now that she was no longer alive, who cared if they got eaten by a man or the nearby noisy birds?
    Once they sat, coffee in front of each man, Paul made small talk with Angelo while Liam dealt with his inner conflicts. His guts hurt, and he needed a headache tablet. Automatically, he massaged his stomach until he spotted his dad’s gaze riveted to his hand and he stopped instantly. Old eagle eye never did miss a thing.
    Strange how any minute now, he expected to see his mom ranting at them from the doorway and, as was usual, sarcastically reaming out his dad. If he concentrated, he could hear again the woman’s vitriol that had made him lose all respect for the man he couldn’t help loving.
    Anger rose just as it always did when he let himself remember. Following the anger was the shame that burned in his soul. Shame for loving his mother and hating his father’s wife.
    Shaking it off wasn’t easy, but he had something he needed to do, and do it he would. Breaking into the others’ conversation, he said in a firm voice, “Dad, this place is too