It was already Saturday—12:02 AM—when he turned into the drive up to Witches Haven. A week and hours from now he and Esmeralda would legally be married. He drew in a deep breath and wondered how he’d make it through next Saturday, let alone survive his parents arriving.
The dogs were outside on the porch when he pulled up and stopped. He frowned. Marie knew she was supposed to get them in before dark when he wasn’t there. They liked to run and they were big. He knew they’d never hurt anyone, but goat ranchers in the area had been known to shoot large dogs that were running loose.
Esme stirred, then suddenly sat up, startled and disoriented. “What … oh, we’re here?” He noticed she didn’t say “home.” She’d probably need to practice that one, in case she ever found herself alone with his parents. He’d planned a number of diversions, but he couldn’t fill every minute of her time. She opened her door and slid out, and the Danes raced toward them, barking joyfully. Good thing there were no immediate neighbors, or he’d probably be reported by annoyed neighbors.
“Sorry I fell asleep,” Esme apologized. “I’d better get home.”
“You can’t leave this late,” he argued. “Shouldn’t drive the curves when you’re not wide awake.”
She yawned so widely and suddenly she only partially covered her mouth. “Oops. Maybe I’m not wide awake. But I’m perfectly able to drive. And I can’t stay.”
“Why?”
“Tía will be upset. She’ll think that we … that I …”
“Spent the night together?” he volunteered. “Isn’t she the one who sent you here?”
“She wanted me to apply for the job. I’d never forgive her if I thought she assumed that meant I’d sleep with you, Rafael Benton.”
He frowned. “You might as well get used to being here,” he said after a minute. “We don’t have a lot of time. And if you’re here in the morning, I’ll have time to show you the stable and Cody’s horses.”
“I haven’t even seen my horse in what seems like weeks,” she reminded him. “I’d stay to see the horses, but I don’t have clothes to stay overnight.”
“Maybe Marie—”
“Don’t you dare suggest I borrow something from that woman!” Esme hissed. “She hates me! And I don’t like her much, either.”
“Maybe if you gave each other a chance,” Rafael suggested. “I really need the two of you to get along.”
“We’ll get along. We won’t wear each other’s clothing.”
She glared at him and he glared back. Finally she shrugged. “I’m wide awake. I’m going home. What time do I have to be here to see Cody’s horses?”
“Try to come before eight. I need to drive in to San Antonio. I’m flying to Houston, but I’ll be back Monday.”
“So is this wedding you say we’re holding a week from today going to plan itself, Rafael?”
“Good night, Esme. Be careful.” He collared the Danes and led them toward the house, not looking back.
Chapter Fourteen
Cody Benton hadn’t minded spending money. She’d been born into money, she’d made money, and at least where her horses were concerned, she’d gone all out. The stable was low and sturdy, with six stalls along a wide aisle. Thermostats along the wall provided temperature control and decorator lights dotted the ceiling, banishing any shadows or gloominess. The stalls were spacious, and only two of them were occupied. The occupants were beauties, too, and probably cost a fortune themselves. A palomino quarter horse looked up and nickered at them. In the other stall, a tall gray gelding watched them, ears up, expression alert but not friendly.
“The palomino’s name is Treasure, and she’s an AQHA champion,” Rafael told Esme. “Cody didn’t show her, but she bought her after she got the points she needed. The gelding is a Dutch Warmblood. I understand that he comes from a line that has competed very successfully in Olympic events.”
“Impressive. They’re beautiful. Do you ride?”
“Not often. I rode occasionally with Cody if she asked me to, but the time just wasn’t there. She had an agent who booked her tours and appearances, but my parents had asked me to monitor arrangements and try to keep her away from certain people and places—like trying to stop a tidal wave with one hand.” He shrugged. “I usually lost when we disagreed, and toward the end … she didn’t make time for her horses either.”
“Are you planning on keeping them?”
He reached in the open door to pat the mare, but the gelding moved back in his stall, clearly suspicious of them. “Probably. I couldn’t stand letting something happen to them.” He smiled. “I’m trying to find a pony for Justin. Cody talked about very little else when she first found out she was pregnant. How cute ponies were and how every kid should have one.”
“This is such a beautiful place, and you even have riding trails. I wish I’d found a little better place for Domatrix.”
“Bring her here,” he offered. “Seriously, why not? We have the room. ”
“It’s tempting. But then I’d have to move her again in a few weeks. And anyway, I can’t do that to the Petersons. I’m not sure they have an income other than what they’re getting from boarding her.”
“Hmmm.” He took a couple of steps down the corridor, considering. “But think of how perfectly it would work into the plan.”
“Now you want my horse involved in this scheme?”
“We both agree that this has to be a platonic relationship, right? I mean, everyone knows the worst thing you can do is have an affair with an employee, right?”
She didn’t answer. She’d seen a couple of affairs at schools that had turned out with happily ever afters. Besides, he was too close to her, close enough that she could smell his cologne. Close enough that she wanted to reach out and trail a finger across his lips, silencing all his talk about not making love to each other for the next two months.
“Uh … sure,” she said, when he looked confused over the lack of an answer.
“So if you have Domatrix here, you can ride every day. For hours. Less time together, less temptation.”
“And wouldn’t your parents find that a little odd, us avoiding each other?”
“Maybe. But Cody was horse crazy as a kid. Mom might just think you were like her about horses, only longer. Although since I haven’t seen them or Justin that much lately, I guess it would defeat the purpose. But I still think you should bring her. No offense to the Petersons, who seem very nice, but she’d be safer here.”
Esme couldn’t argue with that. She just couldn’t bring herself to tell the Petersons.
“Rafael!” Marie called from the far end of the stable. “You told me to be sure you left by nine! You’ll be late.” Belatedly, she added, “Good morning, Esmeralda.”
“Good morning.”
“Knew I’d be late, and I’ve been up since five.” Rafael sighed. “Listen, don’t worry. My flight is early Monday. We’ll get the marriage license and a ring then, okay? Unless you want me to bring one from Houston.”
Talking about rings so early in the morning seemed a little surreal. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want a ring in front of Marie, who supposedly didn’t know their engagement wasn’t real, so she just nodded. “Have a good trip,” she said, then smiled. “Tell Justin I look forward to meeting him.” That was true. She hadn’t had a personal conversation with a child since school ended.
He nodded, said goodbye to both of them, and hurried off, leaving them alone.
“See you around,” Esme said, but Marie held out a hand in a placating gesture.
“Wait, please.” She looked embarrassed, but forced a smile. “Esmeralda, Rafael told me my job depended on treating you the right way.”
“I didn’t ask him to.”
“No, I know.” She rubbed her hands together nervously. “I don’t know why I behaved that way, and I promise I’ll do better. And I wanted to ask a favor.”
“Okay.” Esme waited, trying not to tap her foot on the ground.
“M
y parents are semi-invalid,” Marie confided. “Luckily, I make enough here that I can pay for help when I need to work late. Mostly I rush straight home, but tonight I really would like to go out.”
“Okay,” Esme repeated, hoping she wouldn’t be asked to stay with two people she didn’t know and whose daughter she didn’t really like.
Marie blushed. Bright red, for no apparent reason.
“There’s this guy,” she added.
Oh.
“He’s a country singer—Esmeralda, you have to see him! He’s gorgeous, and he’s got this voice …”
“What’s his name?”
“You might not have heard of him. He’s just breaking in. He’s playing at the Silver Dollar tonight. That’s …”
“I know. The place next to the Silver Boot and Booty and down the street from my aunt’s.”
“Anyway, Bounty Collins is playing there!” Marie almost squealed with excitement.
“Who?”
“You haven’t heard of him?” Her face fell. “You will soon. He’s been in Nashville but he’s making one last trip through Texas before he goes back for good.”
“Okay. And the favor?”
“Go with me tonight. I’ll buy you a drink or—whatever. We can grab dinner if you want. We can get to know each other.”
Esme considered the invitation. She didn’t think she could be friends with Marie. But if Marie was infatuated with some up and coming local singer, so much the better. Marie couldn’t moon over Rafael if she were mooning over someone named Bounty Collins. So she smiled. “My aunt won’t like me going there instead of Tía’s, but I’ll tell her I was checking out the competition. What time do you want to be there?”
“Nine. Would you like a burger or something first?”
“No, I’ll just meet you there, Marie. I need to run some errands first.”
“Thanks,” Marie repeated, her whole face glowing. “I’ll walk you back to your car. Did you know that Bounty writes songs, too?” She chattered on all the way back to the drive, and Esmeralda just sat in the quiet of the truck for a long moment before she turned it on, relishing the silence. She could only hope that Marie’s adulation for Bounty would strike her speechless while they were at the Silver Dollar. She wouldn’t be able to stay sane if she were subjected to such prattle.
Chapter Fifteen
Esme walked carefully over the floor of the Silver Dollar, aware that a number of male heads turned her way and the room was crowded enough that she might bump into someone if she weren’t careful. She finally spotted Marie at a table not too far away from the stage and waved. Marie beamed at her and jiggled in her chair, full of excitement.
Esme sat down at the table with a smile, amused at the transformation. Sober and professional in their former meetings, Marie looked years younger and years happier in her skin-tight mini-dress and stilettos. “You really like this guy Collins?” she asked, sitting down with Marie.
“I met Bounty last week! I actually met him. Can you believe he told me to come tonight?” Marie gushed. “What do you want to drink?”
Esme ordered a margarita and sat back, listening to the laughter and noise around her and thinking about Rafael. Would he have objected to her coming here? Surely not. She tried to focus on what Marie was saying, but every other word seemed to be Bounty, so the gist was, the girl was in love.
A burst of applause and Marie’s mouse-like squeak of excitement accompanied the bar owner, a former country singer himself, as he announced the appearance of “country’s next big star, Bounty Collins.” Applause and a few whistles greeted the introduction.
Esme turned her attention to the singer who walked out. Spangled, fitted western shirt and jeans with embroidered boots and a white cowboy hat. Blue-eyed and blond—the man she’d seen walk by the window that night she and Rafael had eaten at Rosita’s and she’d gone to Tía’s afterwards. The singer flaunted a bit of swagger and plenty of good looks. Good for Marie if she’d already met the guy. She probably hadn’t had much time for herself with the demands of taking care of invalid parents and earning a living.
Bounty strummed his guitar and sang a few bars of an Alan Jackson song, then introduced his band members. He played well enough, and his voice was okay. But the presence wasn’t there. He covered songs listlessly at times, and Esme didn’t think he showed any genius with a couple of songs he had written. Before his first break, she was ready to leave and head for Tía’s. Or home. Leaving Marie alone so quickly seemed rude, so Esme stayed, hoping that she’d be able to sound convincing if she had to compliment Marie’s crush.
While Bounty encouraged everyone to support the bar and have another round while the band took a break, Marie reached over and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Do you think he’ll come over … look … he is!”
Esme reached over to pat Marie’s hand, hoping that the woman wouldn’t pass out.
Bounty walked up, and this time he tipped his hat and nodded. “Marie, you look beautiful,” he told her, leaning over and pecking her cheek. “Thank you for coming to see me again. I know you told me it’s hard.”
Then he turned to Esmeralda. “Well, hello, gorgeous!” He leaned over and kissed her nearer the corner of her lips than her cheek, then pulled out a chair and straddled it. “Marie,” he said over his shoulder, “thank you, thank you!” Then he turned back to Esmeralda. “When and where?”
Esme saw Marie’s face freeze, then turn scarlet. Embarrassment and anger, probably, and she couldn’t blame the other woman a bit.
She pushed her chair back. “Thanks for the compliments, Cowboy, but I’m engaged.”
She saw Bounty glance at her finger. “The first ring wasn’t expensive enough,” she explained. “Marie, I’ve got to run now. Bounty, if it hadn’t been for Marie, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure. Better take care of your number one fan!” She waggled her fingers and walked out, furious at the way the singer had behaved with Marie. Now how would she mend fences with Rafael’s assistant?
She glanced back at them, and could tell they were arguing about something. That seemed odd. Did Marie have enough of a claim that she could reproach him over coming on to another woman? A country honkytonk probably wasn’t the best place to find a man who wasn’t a player. She frowned. She was sure Marie had said first that she didn’t know the man, that she just wanted a chance to meet him—and then Marie had mentioned that she already knew him. Maybe she’d just misunderstood. What possible reason would Marie have had to lie? Mentally shrugging it off, she decided to drop in to Tía’s.
She opened the door to see a trio of regular customers belting out “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under” and doing Shania Twain a huge injustice. The poor woman would want at least an apology if she ever saw this. She waved at them as she walked over to claim a stool, looking around and seeing neither her aunt nor Angel.
“Where’s everyone, Tom?”
He didn’t answer, turning around to set three full beer mugs in front of their owners, then wiped his forehead with a bar towel and tossed it aside.
“We don’t even have that many customers and I can’t buy a break.” He peered at her. “Hey, can you serve drinks as well as you sing?”
“Oh, no.” Esme smiled at him. “Speaking of drinks, can I have a glass of water with lemon?”
“Wimping out?” He brought her the water before turning back to take an order from the waitress who came in some Saturdays.
“Yeah, but I only slept an hour or two last night. My aunt and Angel are both gone?”
“Tía didn’t come in again today. Angel called and talked to her, then she started feeling bad and …” Tom shrugged. “I told her to go home, but she insisted she’d be back in a bit. She’s a hard worker and one good woman to have around.”
Tom’s tone expressed sincere admiration, and maybe a hint of something more. The idea of Angel and Tom being in love amused her, although probably they’d chosen their prospective romantic partners badly. Her smile faded away. She’
d chosen hers for money. Not exactly, but certainly Truth would think so. If not now, when Rafael and she just turned and walked away from each other.
“You look glum,” Tom noted. “Hey, that’s not the look for a woman in love to be wearing.”
“You heard?”
Tom hooted. “If anyone in Truth hears, everyone hears. That’s why it’s called Truth.” He gave her a wink and turned to wait on new customers, and she climbed down from the stool, carrying her water, and wound up at a table by the window again.
The boisterous trio who had been singing up on the stage without benefit of Tom’s help suddenly came rushing over. “We wrote you in! Come on, girl!”
“Night off. Besides, I’m a married woman now.”
“Engaged,” one of them protested.
“And that’s the same thing. I’m spoken for, guys. Go away!”
“Aw, hell, Miss Esme. We’re not disrespectin’ you or your man. We just can’t hit those high notes like ol’ Billy Ray.”
“What’s he got to … oh, no. I will not—not—do ‘Achy Breaky Heart.’”
They didn’t listen, just caught her hand while the customers around who had heard her sing before started chanting, “Esme, Esme, Esme!”
“Someone will get my table—”
“I’ll watch it,” one of the clerks at the local grocery store said, grinning. She waved at the three other women with them, and they left their husbands to take over Esme’s table.
“One, and I finish my drink and go home.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Esme saw Angel, wan and preoccupied, come in and whisper something to Tom, then give him a gentle shove toward the karaoke machine. A few seconds into the song, Esme admitted to herself that she loved moving with the song while she sang, stomping and shaking and hitting the notes the men had complained about without any trouble. She almost gave in to the shouts for an encore, but when she glanced at the bar, Angel looked worse than before, and Tom had gone back to serving drinks to some much thirstier customers.
His Temporary Wife Page 16
