“Angel, are you all right?” she asked, and the older woman nodded. “Don’t worry. I think I just let my sugar and pressure get messed up. I’ll be fine. Once the crowd thins out, I’ll leave.”
“Have you heard from Tía?”
“She answered the phone at the house but just hung up on me.” Angel took a glass Tom handed her and took a sip, wrinkling her nose. “These kids don’t know how to make lemonade,” she muttered. “He’s more likely to kill me than cure me.”
“I think I’ll head home,” Esme said reluctantly. Facing her aunt tonight wasn’t something she wanted to do, but she hadn’t seen her all day. Hadn’t her aunt even wondered how the trip to Laredo with Rafael had gone? Or how her own sister was doing? The old hurts started winding their way up to strangle her heart and mind again, but she wouldn’t let them. More than ever, she’d make a go of her summer job. She could do it to help Tía and salve her own soul. Eventually, maybe she’d even try to understand her mother.
She walked over to finish her water.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Bounty Collins said, so close that his hot breath brushed past her ear.
The glass fell out of her hand, spilling its contents all over the laminated table top.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry.” Bounty stepped around her and swiped ineffectually at the ice and water spreading out to the edge. The ladies who had moved when Esme came back leaped up with handfuls of tissue and paper towel they dragged from their purses, and Tom came rushing over with a towel.
With everyone working on the table, Esme turned indignantly to Bounty. “How dare you? What made you think you could come in here to my aunt’s place and fall all over me when you treated Marie like you did?”
“Calm down, calm down.” He pulled a chair back. “Sit down for a little.” He smiled and nodded at everyone and thanked them, and they wandered back to tables. “Look, pretty woman, Marie’s sweet, but she’s just someone I met. She knows I’m not interested in her. Now you …”
Anger pulsed through her, and she fought an impulse to slap him just for Marie’s sake. But she’d attracted enough attention. She fought back the urge to grin when she thought of Rafael, off in Houston, probably thinking she was home alone, asleep.
“You have five minutes,” she muttered, and sat down. “And you owe me water with a lemon twist.” He stalked over to the bar and came back with a beer and her water; watching him walk towards her, she could see why Marie was in love and a number of women in the club were all eyes. He was nearly as tall as Rafael, with muscled arms and a chest that stretched the denim of his shirt. Not long ago, she realized, he would have been her dream man, a fantasy to chase. If he led others on and discarded them, well—their loss. Tonight he just repulsed her.
“What did you want, cowboy?”
Before he could answer, Tom suddenly came up to the table. “Excuse me a minute, Esme. But, look dude, you know you’re not supposed to be here. So when you finish your chat, go.”
“Tía would be glad to see me,” he told Tom. Then he turned his back on the bartender. “Look, Esmeralda, I’m sorry I was rude. You know how it is, the adrenaline, the crowd—and you gotta admit, you’re a knockout.”
She shook her head. “Give it up. An ass is an ass. I doubt you treat anyone better than poor Marie. And besides, I’m engaged.”
“I don’t see a ring,” Bounty noted.
“You don’t have to.”
He stood to go. “Okay. But I hope you’ll close your eyes and see me instead of him.”
Did he hear himself? “You’re pathetic,” Esmeralda told him. “Leave.”
He frowned and plucked his hat off the neighboring table. “See you around.”
She finished her replacement glass of water, said goodbye to the couples at the next table, and went over to the bar. Angel looked better, and declined an offer to let Esme take her home. “He didn’t kill me with his lemonade, so I’ll be fine,” Angel muttered, and Esme grinned.
“Tom, I’m taking off, but I just wondered—why did you run Bounty Collins off?” Esme asked.
Tom and Angel exchanged glances, and then Angel shrugged her thin shoulders.
“There’s hell to pay anyway if anyone took pictures with their phones,” Angel pointed out, talking to Tom and not Esmeralda.
After a minute, Tom nodded, and turned back to her.
“You didn’t need to do it for me,” Esme prodded. “I can handle my own problems.”
“Not that one you can’t. Not if your fiancé finds out.”
“What? Now I have to give a damn if Rafael thinks I’m having fun at my aunt’s club?”
“It isn’t that.” Tom fidgeted, clearly nervous. Finally he put down his ever present towel and faced her squarely.
“The thing is,” he said, “Bounty Collins isn’t allowed in here because that’s not his real name. His name is Doug Harper, and Rafael thinks he killed Cody.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rafael’s phone buzzed, indicating he’d received a message, and then buzzed again and again. Puzzled, he eased himself up and away from where Justin had fallen asleep in the middle of his bed. He’d lain there beside his nephew for the past two hours, knowing he should carry him back to his own room, put him down properly, but not wanting to wake him.
So many texts in such a short time had become unusual on Saturdays. When he’d been really working at things that mattered, before Cody’s death, weekdays and weekends all ran together. Now, even weekdays weren’t always busy.
Momentary hope flared. Had Esme texted him with some question or other? He’d felt so connected to her on their Laredo trip. The hurtful memories had been cleansed by sharing them. At least, he felt that way. Then again, he no longer had to deal with anyone from his pre-Benton past. She still had all of her past pain except Toby, and he suspected that she held some necessary dream that Toby and she could have made it.
He managed to get to his phone without waking the toddler. The first message was from the owner of the feed store, who kept Cody’s horses supplied with whatever he thought they needed. “Congrats on ur engagement,” the message said. When the picture finished loading, he felt his chest constrict. His breath caught. Whoever caught the shot caught Esme as she twirled, her short skirt flipping up, showing thighs that … Heart pounding again, he flipped to the next. A whole freaking video of “Achy Breaky Heart.” Line dancing was supposed to take place in steak houses among waitresses in boots and jeans. Not in flirty little skirts with tops that didn’t cover much of anything.
He couldn’t imagine complaining to her, though. Maybe after they married he could convince her that she couldn’t be out like that when his folks came. How would they ever believe a woman that wild, that sexy, had decided to settle down? He wasn’t jealous of the three drunk guys; she wasn’t paying attention to them. But the music seemed to own her, move her of its own accord … good thing she wasn’t into tangos.
Two more shots were stills of the same dance, one of them so blurry that he deleted it on the spot.
When he went to the next picture, sent with no message from a number he didn’t recognize, he froze again. But this time it wasn’t from the rush of desire for a fiancée he’d never really make love to, a physical reaction to the most sensual woman he’d ever seen.
Cold fury hammered him in the chest and he sat down on the edge of the bed so hard that Justin stirred and mumbled. He reached over to pat him, in spite of the blind rage threatening to push him over the edge. What the hell was Doug Harper doing pressed up against Esmeralda, his mouth all but wedged to her ear?
• • •
Esmeralda woke up late on Sunday, disoriented and feeling that she’d done something terrible. She just couldn’t remember what. As her senses cleared, she remembered Tom’s angry orders to Bounty to leave and Angel’s worried remarks about cell phone pictures. She’d been talking to the man Rafael hated most in the world, and she hadn’t even known.
No point in worrying. She’d go into San Antonio and look for a
dress for her wedding. The sooner she and Rafael married, the sooner they could get on with the charade and be done. That thought didn’t ease her mind, so she focused on planning out the entire day. Shopping and lunch in San Antonio. Alone. She couldn’t find any more headaches off on her own, could she?
Then she’d go riding. The Hill Country was beautiful, and she could take a little hot weather. She’d come from Laredo, after all, where spring temperatures often topped a hundred. She and Domatrix could use the exercise.
After she dressed, she picked up her phone to find a number of messages. The first one was from Lillie Mae. Surprised, she opened the message. “Girl, you oughta know this picture is out there. Rafa won’t be happy.” And there she was in the Silver Dollar, with Doug Harper grinding his mouth against her cheek, almost getting her right on the lips.
Lillie Mae was warning her, not scolding her. But if Lillie Mae had somehow seen it, could Rafael have gotten it? She had no idea who had taken it. Surely not Marie who’d been shocked, hurt, embarrassed—she wouldn’t have had the time or motive. The place had been full of people she didn’t know, and everyone these days took pictures of everything. So who did it didn’t much matter. But where had the picture gone, besides to Lillie Mae? What if someone who knew Marie sent it to both Marie and herself? Girls night out, they might have decided, not knowing that Bounty was destroying Marie right in front of their eyes.
Oh, God. What if Tía got the shot, too?
She didn’t know what to do. Call Rafael and ask him straight out if he’d seen the picture? Ask Lillie Mae how she first heard? She smiled grimly. One thing she wouldn’t do would be to ask the cantankerous woman what to do about the whole mess. She’d gotten her head bitten off once too often already.
Nothing she could do made sense. The woman she’d been once would have gone out to demolish her foes, whoever they were, even if they were just small town gossips. The woman engaged to be married—the woman in a lot of trouble—deleted the picture and went shopping.
• • •
Hours later, she thought she had a grip again. No one else had called or texted, so maybe only Lillie Mae had seen the picture. Rafael didn’t strike her as the kind of man to sit and do nothing if he thought he were being played for a fool, so surely he would have had the balls to call her and ask. She tamped down the little voice in her head that pointed out the old Esmeralda would have called him.
She’d found a beautiful dress, a silvery sheath with wispy lace sleeves that made her think of fairy wings. A fantasy dress for a make-believe wedding—perfect. And the price had been reasonable. If Rafael wanted to give her a ring she’d give back to him at the end of the summer she couldn’t stop him, but she could afford her own clothes.
Rushing, because she didn’t know how she’d spend her days once she married Rafael, she threw on riding clothes and hurried down the stairs. She almost pulled off her escape, grabbing a bottle of water and sprinting for the door, just in case anyone should appear, and—
“Not so fast, sobrina!” Tina’s voice froze her steps. She’d never heard her aunt call her “niece” in Spanish before, and the word held a sinister tone the way she said it.
She inhaled, forced her hands not to knot into fists, and turned. “Good afternoon, Tía. I hadn’t seen you.” She made herself smile. “I bought a dress for the wedding. I think you might like it.”
“I’m sure you’re concerned about what I like,” her aunt spat. Esme stared at her, surprised. And worried. She didn’t smell alcohol on her aunt’s breath and Tina’s eyes looked clearer than she’d seen them recently. And yet she seemed furious, ready to attack her own niece. For the life of her, Esmeralda couldn’t understand the changes she saw in the woman. The woman she’d idolized for so many years evaporated into a harder, more insulting version of her mother.
“Did you have fun last night?” Tía hissed. “Get all hot and bothered slumming in that hellhole that calls itself a bar? Oh, and you didn’t just go out whoring around, you took Rafael’s little spy just to make sure he’d find out about everything.”
“You know what? I’m done trying, Tina. I don’t owe you explanations, and I don’t want the apologies you owe me. I’ll move out tomorrow.”
She left, careful not to look back or let the door slam. She was on the bottom step before tears traced a slow course down her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping them away, just climbed in the truck and drove away.
Irving Peterson was repairing the fence when she arrived, with Connie standing by to offer assistance. As she parked, both turned to wave at her, friendly as always.
“Hi, honey,” Connie called, bending over to pick up some wire cutters and hand them to Irving. “Come to visit the horse, or us?”
“All of you.” Esme smiled. “How are you doing?”
“We’re doin’ fine,” Irving assured, and the two of them exchanged glances. “I guess we can tell you.”
“She probably already knows,” Connie retorted, giving Esme a quick hug. “Why, I bet you thought of it.”
“What did I think of?”
“Yesterday, Mr. Benton called us.”
“Rafael called you?”
“From Houston,” Irving said, with satisfaction. “Our kids don’t even call us from Houston.”
His wife elbowed him. “You’ll make her think we raised ’em bad,” she protested. “The kids call us,” she told Esme. “When they can.”
Esme smiled. “I don’t call my parents as often as I should. So I’m sure you did a great job raising yours. But why did Rafael call?”
“He offered Connie and me jobs,” Irving explained. “Sort of.”
“Really?” He seemed to have a habit of hiring people for unlikely jobs. What did he want the Petersons to do?
“Since you and him are getting married, I figured it had to be okay just to listen,” Irving was saying, and his wife looped her arm through his, apparently to offer moral support. “Never thought I’d be willin’ to listen to a man who lived in Witches Haven.”
“And now we’ll be workin’ there!” Connie chortled, squeezing his arm. “I told the man not to judge, didn’t I?”
“Yes, I remember. That’s wonderful! What will you be doing?”
“Well, his folks will be visiting, and Cody’s little boy—poor thing.” Connie’s face filled with sorrow. “Cody was like those clouds before a storm—shiny and all edged with fire and gold—then dark as death. But her little boy doesn’t have to be like that. I’m glad his grandpa and grandma have him. And Rafael.”
“Anyway, Rafael wanted me to help out with the horses and the yard,” Irving took over for his wife. “And he asked Connie if she’d like to work in the house.” Irving looked a little embarrassed over that, and his wife shook her finger at him.
“I sold worms and catfish bait! I think I can run a vacuum cleaner and duster, old man! And I’m proud that at my age I can still do for myself and others!”
“It’s wonderful,” Esmeralda said sincerely. “I’m really happy for you both.”
“Well there’s somethin’ else,” Irving admitted. “There’s a problem with your horse.”
“Is Domatrix okay?” she asked fearfully.
“She’s fine. We put her up to work on the fence. But Rafael wanted you to move her. Said it made sense if we were there, she should be. And since you’re marrying him …”
It did make sense, and he’d already suggested it to her. The problem was how easily he’d made sure she would take his suggestion. By hiring the Petersons, she didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t move her, her mare would be alone and unwatched. A suggestion became an order just that easily.
“Of course it makes sense,” she assured them. “We’ll make whatever arrangements we need to when he comes home. I’m going out for a while. If I don’t see you when I come back, take care. And congratulations.”
She left them standing there, arms looped around each other, and headed off at an easy trot, wanting to put some distance between
her and the world. She rode up one of the lower hills behind the Petersons, stopping at the point where the cedar cover broke into a small, flat area. There were a couple of flat rocks there that would make perfect places to sit—unless of course there were scorpions or rattlesnakes. She finally decided she’d rather not take a chance and lifted her reins, ready to ride on.
Suddenly Domatrix’s head came up and she twisted her head and looked around. Esmeralda turned too, and caught her breath in surprise as she saw Rafael come cantering up the hill after her, the tall gray gelding’s strides eating up the terrain.
She patted her mare on the neck to steady her and waited until he drew up alongside her for him to tell her why he had come back to Truth a day early.
“I got pictures,” he said, without preamble. “Seems the whole town of Truth has my private phone number.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Kind of scary to be in a town where that happens. Why would you get pictures?”
“Probably because whoever sent them thought I should know that my future wife was burning the town down.”
“Your temporary wife,” she reminded him. He’d said pictures, so there were more than the one Lillie Mae sent her. She wondered if all of them were of Bounty coming on to her or if he had pictures of Marie and she together. Maybe even pictures of her dancing at Tía’s. It was creepy to think someone had followed her around with a camera, though. Even worse if she hadn’t noticed. “Someone sent Lillie Mae a picture,” she added. “For the life of me, I don’t know why some old lady gets all the town dirt first.”
“Your choice of words is dead on,” he muttered. “All the town dirt.”
She bit her lip until it hurt and looked away. “Your choice of words is insulting.”
She thought he might just turn and ride off, but instead he swung off and dropped the reins. “Let’s sit over there and talk, Esme.” He indicated the flat outcropping of rock. “We’re going to have a lot to do tomorrow without anything hanging over our heads.”
“I had decided not to sit there,” she admitted, but got off Domatrix anyway, dropping the reins and hoping the mare remembered her training and wouldn’t wander off. “Scorpions and snakes.”
His Temporary Wife Page 17
