“Hmph!” Tía swatted Chuck’s arm playfully. “Keep insulting my native food and I won’t feed you. It’s not guts. It’s stomach.”
“That makes it all better.” Roy grinned, and the two headed back to dig into the food they’d just insulted.
Tía turned back to Esmeralda. “Look, honey, things are about to get busy—for a Thursday night. We’ll have our regulars, and this is tourist season. You look tired.” She reached out and patted Esme’s cheek, this time not pinching her with the metallic nails. “I’d be delighted to have you stay.”
Esme started to protest, but her aunt shushed her. “End of discussion. My house is on Cattle Court Road. Just go back down the main street. It turns into the highway, and half a mile out of town you’ll see a sign for Cattle Court Road on the left. There are only two houses there—the rest is part of a ranch, but the ranch house sits way back where you can’t see it from the road. My house is on the right. No dogs, but my handyman carries a gun.”
“A gun?” Esme asked.
Her aunt chuckled. “Don’t worry. He pulls double duty as handyman and watchman.” She fished out a cell phone. “I’ll call Andy and let him know not to shoot you.”
“Gee, thanks,” Esme muttered, and Tía laughed again.
“Welcome to Truth, honey. Drive safe.” Tía bussed her on the cheek. “Use anything you want. Probably won’t see you till tomorrow. Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Esme turned to the door, her legs a little weak. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, not wanting to leave Domatrix alone in the trailer on the way up, and anxiety and fatigue from the unexpectedly difficult drive and her aunt’s initial reaction had taken a toll. She couldn’t wait to get home. The word stopped her in mid-stride for a moment, and she almost stumbled. Home? Rose Creek hadn’t been. Truth didn’t feel that way. Not yet. She regained her balance, determined to give the tiny town a chance.
• • •
Rafael watched the conversation going on below him, aware that nobody could have told Tía he was here yet. Otherwise, she would have stormed up here in a rage and booted him out, demanding that he speak to her downstairs. Wondering what he’d been looking for.
He frowned. The one time Angel let him wait here before had seemed proof positive to him that the woman was hiding something. Tía had been livid to find him alone in the office, and accused him of going through her desk looking for valuables. She’d fumed that strangers were never allowed here, but they hadn’t been strangers. They’d met often, since he almost always accompanied Cody when she came, and given the wealth and position of his parents—and his own, for crissakes—she couldn’t seriously have been worried that he’d pocket anything of hers. Clearly, the woman was overly suspicious. In his experience, that kind of alarm over something unimportant was a sign that the person had things to hide.
He hoped Tom or Angel warned her before she walked in on him not even knowing he was here.
He could see well enough to gauge some of the interaction he saw between Tía and Esmeralda. He smiled a little. The name was one of his favorites, and it certainly matched her eyes. He remembered the green gaze, reflected back to him by the mirror on the door. He remembered more, too. The cotton shirt clinging to her damply, unbuttoned a little lower than she probably realized and not nearly as low as he would have liked. Damn, she was hot.
Tía’s expression changed from distant and annoyed to friendly. Maybe Esmeralda would even call it affectionate. How well did she know her aunt? He wouldn’t call their meeting joyous, by any stretch. At one point, Esmeralda almost looked as if she’d turn and walk away.
He gritted his teeth, but it didn’t help. Tía caused a lot of tears. It never seemed to bother her. He hoped Esmeralda was tough. But not tough like her aunt.
Esmeralda was leaving. What was that song about watching women leave? He remembered the lyric suddenly and smiled. Would she hate him for thinking she had a pretty nice “badonkadonk”? Almost to the door, she seemed to falter, then stumble. He reached out, his hand pressing the cold, smoked pane of glass in front of him. As if he could help.
Bitterness surged through him. As if he ever could help. Dammit, Cody, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have counted on me to save you. You should have—He forced the thought away. Cody hadn’t been able to help herself. His parents knew that, when they asked him to become her manager, assistant, bodyguard—to be the presence he’d always been. And just as he couldn’t reach through the glass to steady Esmeralda’s path, he hadn’t been able to reach Cody. He thought his parents truly forgave him. But he knew he’d never forgive himself. Never.
And now, Tina was jeopardizing his chance to undo at least a little of the damage. She’d promised to keep her mouth shut, and now he’d heard rumors from Lizzie Mae that she had mentioned his need for a temporary wife to her. Lizzie Mae herself wouldn’t talk, but she’d warned him that trusting Tina had been stupid. He smiled. Actually, her words had been stronger than that. When he’d told the elderly woman that he planned to hire a woman to marry him in an effort to placate his parents and possibly any court considering Justin’s well-being, he half-expected her to slap him silly with the ridiculously big Stetson she wore.
The door opened behind him, and he jerked away from the window.
“Having a private moment, Rafa?” Tía purred, her voice deep and gravelly as she approached him. “Watching my niece maybe and having a little fantasy?”
She’d hit too close to home, but he just shrugged. “And if I were? You didn’t seem too happy to see her at first. A little interest from the cowboys there and I think you saw dollar signs flash in front of your eyes! Planning on having her come in to sing like Cody would? No one could compete with Tía’s then, could they? Weren’t those two Cody’s first local fans? You might let her unpack before you start using her.”
She gasped in rage and swung at his face, but he’d seen her like this, all false anger and indignation, and he caught her arm easily and stepped back out of her reach.
“Don’t, Tía,” he warned, almost whispering. “Don’t you dare. You’ve done everything you’ll ever do to hurt anyone in my family, and someone like you isn’t going to hit me.”
“You’re trespassing,” she retorted. “Go! ¡Vete!”
“Angel let me in.”
She relented, her body visibly sagging a little as she turned away to stare across the room below. “Do you think I would ever have let harm come to Cody, if I could help it? You need to let go, Rafa! I do not believe your parents want you to suffer like this! I don’t want you to hound me like this!” She spun back to him, shaking with anger. “Your sister was a grown woman! I loved her, but she didn’t love herself, did she? The drugs and her damned pride killed her, not me! She didn’t do anything to help herself.”
“But you let them in, Tía! All of them! All those hangers-on, all those groupies who came with their little poison gifts. All those false friends, ready to give her everything she wanted. Anything she asked for, she got. Why do you think she kept coming back here? When she needed a new drummer because hers wouldn’t quit trying to make her wake up and sober up, who got her a new drummer who would just keep pouring the alcohol? And you knew that bastard Harper was her biggest problem, but he was always welcome here. Always.” He stopped himself. He couldn’t bring Cody back by yelling at Tía, no matter what her role had been. He couldn’t antagonize her any more right now, either. Not when she’d threatened to tell the entire town that he planned on hiring a woman to marry him. He closed his eyes. If word got out, candidates would come out of the woodwork. Worse, his parents would be horrified, and wouldn’t trust him with Justin. Maybe not ever. His reputation would suffer. His stomach knotted. Worst of all, if Doug Harper found out before he married, he might decide to file for custody. If he was Justin’s father. No matter how sickening the idea was, it was possible. Maybe even probable. He pulled out his phone and pretended to check his messages, but Justin’s face—his sister’s face—always gave him the strength
he needed to go on.
“Tía, Lillie Mae told me you’re talking about making my little plan public. You know that I can’t let my parents hear talk about the marriage not being real. You and I might not understand, but they were devastated by Cody being pregnant out of wedlock.”
“Your parents are uptight moralists,” Tía muttered. “And you’re the good little boy who wants to inherit everything someday, right?”
“My parents believe in family, and your insults don’t change the situation. We had an agreement. I didn’t want you to know, really. But I told the owner of the Silver Boots and Booty because he knows a lot of the locals and has connections all over Texas. I told Lillie Mae because—” He paused, thinking of the octogenarian ranch owner. Tía claimed to be Truth’s communal aunt, but Lillie Mae owned the town. “Everyone answers to Lillie Mae. You were one of my sister’s favorite people, Tía. She genuinely loved you, though I don’t know why. So I told you. You three are the only people who know—and the only people in town who can know. Don’t forget I covered one of your bank notes—no one else asked me for anything, Tía.”
She shrugged. “You offered. I haven’t said anything.”
He snorted. “If I remember, the offer began with something like ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.’ And you said it, I didn’t. I won’t be blackmailed.” He frowned. “And I can’t loan you the money you asked for, either.”
She walked over to him, her hips swaying. “Sure you could, Rafa.” She ran a hand up his arm. “You just won’t.”
“True.” He pulled her hand off his arm and dropped it unceremoniously. “You know how you said you tried to help Cody, but she couldn’t help herself? That’s how I see you, Tía. Scheming and manipulative and addicted to things you can’t have.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, then simply moved past him. “I won’t tell anyone about your idiotic plan,” she agreed. “But we still have the deal?”
“Yes,” he acknowledged, keeping his voice level in spite of the anger gnawing into his soul. “Lillie Mae and Brockton were insulted that I offered, but if you find an appropriate applicant, and she takes the job, I’ll give you an additional ten thousand. As long as no one knows about it.”
“No one will know. And I’m bound to think of someone. Lock my office when you leave, Rafa.”
“I’m right behind you,” he muttered, and followed her out.
• • •
Esme stopped at what appeared to be the only fair-sized grocery store in town, determined to provide for herself. Her aunt’s initial reaction still troubled her. But then again, her mother had reacted that way when her own sister dropped in uninvited.
“You’d think Tina would realize she’s another mouth to feed, not to mention more work for everyone,” Adriana would mutter uncharitably. Then she’d sigh heavily and glare at her husband Eduardo as if he were to blame. “But she is family,” she’d add. “We’re obligated.”
Her brother Beto, three years older, despised Tía, and would hurl epithets around that a child shouldn’t know. Beto’s behavior was never corrected, because he was the adored oldest son of the household. Some of Esme’s friends complained of their brothers being favored, but Esme couldn’t imagine that anyone could be as cruel and degrading as Beto was, even then. She’d been away from home for years, but thinking of Beto still made her shiver with revulsion. And remembering her mother’s words about another mouth to feed seemed indelibly etched into her soul. Even now, Esmeralda preferred being her own woman, independent and in control—of finances, food, friendships—everything. So she’d buy her own food and try to make as small a footprint in her aunt’s life as she could. She smiled. Maybe the problem was that she was her aunt, personality-wise, and Tía didn’t know that yet.
By the time she finished loading up the car and arrived at her aunt’s place, she found herself dragging. She drove down Cattle Court Road at a crawl, too aware of all the deer she’d seen grazing along the sides of the road. The Hill Country seemed like wilderness compared to Rose Creek’s plowed and planted fields.
She pulled up to a neatly kept two-story rock house before darkness cloaked her aunt’s property and spotted Andy immediately. A spry, older man was sitting on the tailgate of a battered blue truck, legs swinging with barely contained energy, his thin shoulders moving rhythmically from side to side. At first she puzzled over so much movement when he was sitting, but then she noticed the thin cord running from his waist to an ear.
She slid out of her own truck, stretching and smiling as he came over, reluctantly pulling out his device and turning it off, then putting it and the cord back in a pocket.
“Ms. Salinas,” he greeted, in a voice devoid of warmth. He nodded, but didn’t smile, and when Esmeralda offered her hand, he took it for the briefest of seconds.
“I unlocked the door,” he told her. “If you have a lot of stuff …”
“I bought some groceries and have a few suitcases.” She didn’t wait for an offer to help, just scooped up the nearest two bags and headed up the stone walk to the house. She thought she’d have to set the bags down to try the door, but he bounded up at the last minute and pulled the door open. “Kitchen’s to the right, just go through the dining room. And your room’s the one at the end of the upstairs hall.” And he was gone, leaving her to haul the rest of her stuff in alone. So the handyman/watchman didn’t like her? She refused to worry. At least he’d kept his gun in his pocket. She yawned into her arm and shuffled into the kitchen to get rid of the bags. She was on her way out to the truck for the next load when she realized that in most small, tranquil communities, even business owners didn’t need armed guards.
• • •
There were no pictures of family on the walls or mantel in the living room, the dining room, or the spacious room Andy told her would be hers. Her aunt moved a lot, and she’d never been close to her sister. Esme toweled her hair as she walked around the room and wondered about the lack of photographs.
How deep had the rift between sisters been? Would she and her aunt get along? Did Tina even want her here, or had she just asked out of some sense of duty? Worried, she tossed the towel aside and padded out in the hall, decided to get a bottle of water, chug it down, and go to sleep. Somehow.
On her way down, Esme paused suddenly, glancing at the door nearest the stair landing. Was it her aunt’s room? Tía’s closed at two and it was only one-thirty, so she doubted Tina would be home yet. Feeling guilty, but almost possessed by the need to peek into the room, Esme gently opened the door.
The room was huge, painted in soft peach shades. A four-poster bed dominated one corner, and a nearby door opened, she supposed, onto the tiny balcony she remembered seeing as she drove up. A mammoth dresser took up most of one wall, with a desk and chair against the other. And over the desk, there were the photos. The memories of a life.
A life spent with others, not family. There were men, with their arms wrapped around a young, smiling Tía. Other women, clearly friends and companions, sharing drinks or hugs, laughing at the camera, forever young and perfectly groomed.
And then—Esme’s heart thudded. Her aunt stood next to a young woman, smiling up at her as if she were flesh and blood, one hand on the younger woman’s cheek in a caress the camera hadn’t missed. The tall, blond woman in the low-cut, high-slit gown was Cody Benton. And on her other side, head bent slightly as if listening to something, devastatingly handsome in a tailored tuxedo, stood Rafael Benton.
She stared at the picture for a long time before the last names hit her: Benton. Cody and Rafael … were married? Somehow, she couldn’t remember anything at all about Cody’s family. Her presence on the country stage had been explosively successful and tragically short. Try as Esme might, she couldn’t pull anything out of her memory about husbands, parents—anyone.
But she knew one thing: Cody Benton was dead. No matter what her relationship to Rafael, the last man she’d actively gone after had been a widow, grieving for a wife. Sh
e wouldn’t make that mistake again. She spun around and choked back a startled scream. Angel stood just inside the door, watching her with wary eyes.
“You startled me, Angel!” Esme swept a hand around the room. “Hope you and Tina don’t mind that I wandered into her room …”
“My room.” Angela came into the room, moving a little stiffly, and patted her arm as she passed and went to sit on the bed. “You’re always welcome in my room, Esmeralda.”
“I’m embarrassed,” Esme admitted, coloring slightly. “If I’d known it was your room …” She waved at the walls. “I just felt drawn to come in, and when I saw the pictures, I assumed it was my aunt’s room.”
“No. Your aunt insisted I live with her when she gave me a job, back in Chicago. I’m … I guess you’d say I’m her assistant. Or companion.” She shrugged. “Sometimes we hate each other. Sometimes it’s love. But she’s always generous. Her room is much smaller than this.”
“I’m a little ashamed to tell you this, Angel, but I don’t know Tía very well. I grew up having this image of her as the most exciting, most beautiful woman in the world. I wanted to live with her since I was little. My mother and father always hated it when she came to visit, though.” Esmeralda looked around the room again. “You have so many pictures of her and her friends.”
“Your …” Angel seemed to hesitate for a second, then continued, her tone weary. “Your aunt dislikes pictures. Clutter, she calls them, and she always says an uncluttered life is a free life.” Angel shook her head. “Well, she says that. Most of these pictures are hers, but she told me I should take care of them for her. She’s not easy to figure out, I’ll tell you that.”
“But freedom is important to her, isn’t it?” Esme folded her arms against her chest, warding off the chill of the air-conditioning humming softly in the background. “Even as a child, I remember she’d never stay.”
Angel nodded. “I’ve known her for over ten years now. She doesn’t stay anywhere. But she claims the club is her last stop.”
His Temporary Wife Page 3
