The Cowboy's City Girl - An Enemies To Lovers Romance

by Emerson Rose

  I try to remember the pep talk my sister gave me on love and risks, but it’s hard to think about anything when Marcus is in full-control freak mode. He’s so happy, though. Now I better understand the expression love don’t come easy.

  “About that,” I say, beginning my weak attempt to protest, but he’s not having it.

  “No, you agreed to all of this, and I have you back on the hospital’s payroll. We had a deal.”

  “I know, Marcus, and I want to live here, I do. It’s just… I feel like I should keep my place, it’s my home.”

  I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that they were a mistake; his bright green eyes spark with anger and something else… vulnerability.

  “Imani…,” he says in a soft voice. His hands are wrapped around the ends of the chair’s arms, and the pain in his eyes grips my heart like a vice.

  “Why?” I expected him to roar out some ridiculous command or bully me into selling, but his tenderness throws me off balance. There’s no need to prepare for battle after all.

  “I’m scared,” I admit, fiddling with the edge of my sweater in my lap.

  “Look at me Imani… please.” He knows how to play me, I’m nervous about opening up to him, and his rare use of manners eases my nerves.

  “Come here, baby.” I stand and round the desk.” “Sit,” he says, pointing at the desk in front of him and scooting his chair back. I slide onto the desk and lean forward on stiff arms gripping the edge. He scoots closer to rest his palms on my knees, and the scene of our rendezvous on the dining room table last night flickers through my mind.

  “I thought I made my feelings perfectly clear last night. There is no reason to be scared. I love you. In fact, it’s more than that. The way I feel for you is intense, all encompassing. It’s madness, Imani. Now that I’ve found you I cannot, I will not live without you.” His eyes plead for my understanding.

  “That’s a huge responsibility, Marcus. I’m not sure I’ll be able to live up to your expectations; I’ve never done this before. What if I disappoint you? What if you get tired of me? I know you love me; I feel it in everything you say and do, but we haven’t known each other long…”

  “Stop. You feel the same for me, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You could never disappoint me… ever. And it is insulting that you would even think that I would get tired of you.”

  This argument is going nowhere; he’s going to get his way, his home will become mine, and the only place I have to escape will be gone. That is exactly what he’s planning on, complete control.

  And I’m going to give it to him.

  Against my better judgment, I will sell my home of the past six years and move into this ridiculously extravagant house to please him because I love him. I don’t say another word; it’s not necessary. My eyes do the talking for me, and he understands what they’re saying.

  “Much better. I’m going to make you happy, Imani. You may have your doubts but proving others wrong is my specialty. Together we are invincible, nothing can touch us. I promise.

  “That’s a promise you had better keep, Mr. Castillo, or else…”

  No one has ever made me feel so wanted, so cherished, so special, not to mention absurdly turned on. A glimmer of excitement begins to grow in me. We can make this work, can’t we?

  Marcus gathers me from the edge of the desk into his arms and nuzzles his nose into my neck. My mind wanders to that awful place again, the home of my doubts and fears.

  I know life doesn’t come with guarantees and that people change, relationships fall apart every day, but Marcus and I are up against some serious challenges. The average couple will never have to deal with brain tumors, personality changes, tortured pasts, and I have a feeling there are many hurdles I’ve yet to discover.

  His brain scan results are disturbing. He has a very large vascularly involved tumor in his frontal lobe. It’s not new. He’s been living with it for a long time. It never affected him until the accident caused his brain to swell.

  He knows it’s there but he’s in total denial, and that could affect my future, his future, or lack thereof. I can’t think like this; one day at a time is the only way I’m going to make it through. He is fine. I am fine. We are going to be ok. This is my new life mantra. Sometimes optimism is a confusing bitch.

  “You’re doing it again. I will not sit here and allow you to worry about things that are out of our control. I’m fine, you’re fine, we are going to be fine, so stop thinking so damn much.”

  I fucking hate the word fine!

  “How do you know when I’m worrying anyway?”

  “I just do. If I tell you, I’ll lose my secret power. Why would I want to do that?

  “Well, you’d be much more relaxed if you weren’t worrying about me worrying.”

  “Shush. I don’t need to relax, and I am perfectly capable of worrying for the both of us. I just want you happy; that is all I want for the rest of my life is to see you happy in every way.”

  I am his world, his reason for existence. I hold his heart in my hands just as much as he holds mine. I’m beginning to take comfort in the knowing that we share the responsibility and the vulnerability of our ability to crush or nurture each other’s hearts.

  He’s the captain of the ship, and I’m the helmsman. We’re headed into an uncharted, unpredictable ocean. But he believes we can weather any storm, as long as we do it together.

  “I want that for you, too, Marcus, and I’ll let you do all the worrying from here on out, as much as I can. Sometimes it’s uncontrollable, but I promise to do my best.”

  “That’s my girl. I knew you would see it my way,” he says, pulling my ponytail playfully, but there’s also a hint of business in his tone. Even when he’s playing there’s some semblance of seriousness to what he says.

  “So, I have a lot of work to catch up on and since I have recently discovered it’s impossible to keep my eyes off of you when I try to do it…”

  “Say no more. I’ll find something to occupy my time.”

  “But before you go, I wanted to talk to you about planning a get-together for your friends and family here at our house. We can announce our plans, and I can win them all over with my charm.”

  “Charm, huh?” I say laughing, like really laughing not just a little chuckle or a giggle. I am all-out laughing. Marcus pulls away from me on his lap and gives me a look of mock shock.

  “I do believe you are laughing at my ability to charm people, Miss Jefferson.” “Uh… yeah… I haven’t seen you work your magic on anyone yet. But the thought of it is hilarious! People you meet end up shaking in their boots before you walk away. Maybe you’re mistaking charm with something else?”

  “You don’t think I can be charming? How do you think I became so successful? I know how to act in public, how to lure people into my web.”

  He cradles my face in his hands and kisses me so completely, so thoroughly, I feel as if he’s put a spell on me. There’s no hope for my family and friends; he will have them following him around like the Pied Piper in no time.

  “See? I’m pretty convincing, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but I’d rather you not kiss everyone at our party like that to charm them.” “Only you, my love, only you. Off with you, start calling your family and friends.”

  I don’t like being nudged away but I know we can’t be joined at the hip all the time… can we? Do I want to be?

  I pad through the house to my room so I can admire the billion-and-one roses there and notice my dress from last night hanging where it was yesterday in a clear plastic bag; it’s been cleaned. My shoes are on the floor under the dress, and my lingerie is folded neatly on my bed. Living here is weird. It’s like there are little invisible fairies that swoop in undetected and complete tasks that I’ve always done for myself. Having a staff at my beck and call is one of a million things that I’ll have to adjust to living with Marcus.

  I put the dress and shoes in my closet and the lin
gerie in the dresser and pull out my phone. I check my calendar to see when we might have a get-together. Maybe if I don’t make the plans, he’ll forget about it? Humph, yeah, right. If I don’t do it, he will. Hell, he can run dozens of restaurants and clubs from his hospital bed hours after coming out of a coma. A little dinner party is child’s play for him, and planning is not my forte.

  That’s when I get an idea. It makes me nervous, my mom always warned me that curiosity killed the cat. I’ll just have to make sure I’m a smart cat.

  Thirty-One

  It took a couple of hours to call everyone. Mom was hesitant, she knows something’s up. It must be mother’s intuition, but she agreed to tell dad about the dinner party.

  Lana responded with her usual game of twenty questions. I did the best I could without actually telling her I was moving in with Marcus. She was ruthless and annoying, but I love her for caring.

  The other girls were just excited to come to Marcus’s house and meet my mystery man. My last call went unanswered. I left a message and crossed my fingers that she would hear it.

  I was a little surprised that everyone was available on such short notice. I didn’t check with Marcus about the date but I’m pretty sure he would rearrange his entire life to host this party. And now I’m standing in the kitchen with my fingers crossed that Maria will know what to do and who to call for the actual dinner part of the party.

  “You should ask Mr. Castillo, Miss Imani. He sometimes has us prepare for parties, but he might want Chef to come from Dominus again. Like last night...” She places extra emphasis on those last three words, looking at me with concern.

  I feel guilty that she may have cleaned up the mess of glass and flowers in the dining room last night.

  “I’m sorry about the mess last night, Maria. It was my fault. I had too much to drink and I got a little… carried away.”

  “You OK, Miss? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She thinks we fought, and she thinks he hurt me.

  “No, no, Maria, it wasn’t like that at all.” I can’t very well tell her that I was so overcome with passion that I walked the dining room table like a runway, destroying everything in my path to fuck her boss at the end of it.

  “Oh, okay, good. It’s not my business, I just wanted to make sure you’re ok,” she says in her thick Spanish accent.

  She doesn’t believe a single word I’ve said, but I can’t do anything about that. Everyone is going to have to see for themselves that he has changed. He’s a different man now, and he loves me.

  “I’ll check with him then. Thank you, Maria.” Mr. Black enters the kitchen, catching the end of our conversation.

  “Everything OK, Imani?” he asks without making contact while he pours a cup of coffee.

  I wonder what he does all day when he’s not driving for Marcus. And I wonder if he’s pissed that I’ve taken over that job temporarily.

  From his tone, I suspect that he believes Marcus and I fought last night as well.

  “Yes, of course, fine, Mr. Black. How about you?”

  “Good.” He’s a man of few words, but his expression says it all. He’s concerned, irritated, and curious.

  “Well, that’s good to hear. Hey, good news! You can have your driving job back soon. I’m going back to work at the hospital next week,” I announce.

  Both of them gape momentarily before quickly regaining their composure. Mr. Black is first. “So, you won’t be working for Mr. Castillo anymore?” he asks.

  “No, he doesn’t really need professional care. He’s pretty good with those crutches and, as I’m sure you know, fiercely independent.”

  Should I tell them I’m trading the nursing gig for the girlfriend gig? Maybe Marcus wants to be the one to tell his staff? Fuck it, I’m telling them. Maria’s already worried, and Mr. Black is so smug. Screw him.

  “I’m not leaving, though. I’m just not going to be his nurse anymore. Marcus has asked me to move in, to live with him.” Ha, how ya like that Mr. Black?

  “Oh my God, my Jesus, and Holy Mother Mary! My prayers are answered!” Maria says, making the sign of the cross over her body.

  Mr. Black, however, remains void of all expression. Maria’s enthusiasm surprises me. I wonder what exactly her prayers were.

  “Well, welcome, Miss Jefferson. There’s no going back now,” Mr. Black says. He’s so cryptic. What is this, the Hotel California? You can check out but you can never leave?

  He’s just trying to rattle me, isn’t he? Yes, of course he is. He doesn’t like me. He’s made that apparent on more than one occasion.

  “Thank you, Mr. Black,” I say, smiling sweetly. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his comment bothers me. But it is, and I’m worrying.

  If Marcus were here I’d be in big trouble; he’s supposed to be worrying for both of us.

  Maybe I should tell him? Honesty is the best policy, right?

  Maybe not, after the way he went off on Mr. Black when he accidentally walked in on us the other day. I think I’ll be cautious.

  “I’m going to take a walk outside in the garden. It’s such a beautiful day, and I haven’t had the chance to explore outside yet.”

  “Yes, yes, Miss, you want me to ask Mr. Castillo about your dinner for you?” Maria asks.

  “No, that’s ok. I’ll ask him about it later. He said he had work to do. I’d hate to bother him.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” she says, and Mr. Black gives one quick nod.

  In the foyer, I grab my coat from the closet. I haven’t been further than the driveway or the front yard and I am excited to get outside for a while.

  It’s not too cold today, chilly but bearable. I have on a knee-length dress with a sweater of the same length and brown riding boots when I set out on my spur of the moment walk.

  I wrap my scarf around my neck twice and step out into the brisk fall air. I choose a path on my left that leads around a stone tower to the back of the house.

  Even in the fall the gardens are stunning. I crunch through the amber and yellow leaves with the wind whipping my hair back away from my face.

  The smell of a fireplace burning mixed with the salty ocean air is one of my favorites. I’m sure it’s Marcus’s. It wouldn’t surprise me if that thing burns a hole through the ozone someday.

  When I look out past artfully sculpted shrubs toward the cold ocean water, a vision of Marcus sinking into a freezing river trapped inside his car with his dead companion floating next to him flashes through my mind.

  I shiver the terrible thought away and sit on a bench at the center of the garden.

  Marcus has recently been through a traumatic event. How does he breeze through the death of a friend, a coma, a brain tumor, and a broken leg?

  There couldn’t be a worse time for him to get seriously involved with someone. He may need me right now, but when he’s through the PTSD and back to himself, will he feel differently?

  I know my own experience took years of therapy and I’ll never completely get over it, but I am able to look back and see it as my past. I’ve dealt with it and I’ve moved on in a healthy way.

  Does Marcus need therapy? Would he accept it if he did? Will he still love me when he knows exactly what happened to me? He knows I was kidnapped and abused, but not to what extent. He doesn’t know about the plastic surgeries or the extensive inpatient therapy I’ve been through.

  Enough, this line of thinking is getting me nowhere fast. I need to finish my walk. I stand and take one step when I feel his eyes on me. I turn and find Marcus standing at an upstairs window looking down at me.

  He’s dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with a lavender shirt open at the collar. If his brow weren’t so furrowed and his mouth set in a straight line, I’d say he was swoon-worthy. He’s watching me worry. I’m caught again. Shit.

  I smile and give him a little wave, but it has no effect on his expression, so I turn and head in the opposite direction away from the house, away from him.

  I’m i
n trouble and I know it.

  In the distance, I catch sight of a wrought iron gate surrounded by heavy stone that matches the house. It’s located on the end of a garden path with a plain stone wall mirroring it on the opposite end.

  The iron has been fashioned into a circle of flowers on the top half of the gate with the bottom being solid metal. It’s unique and beautiful. I can imagine vines and flowers covering it in the summer.

  I make my way toward the gate with thoughts of summer garden parties and bonfires on the beach that’s further out on the property. I wonder if Marcus ever entertains out here. It must be amazing when everything is in full bloom. If he hasn’t, we should. We… it’s so weird to think of us as a couple living here together.

  I step up to the gate ready to explore and nearly jump out of my skin when Marcus appears on the other side. I scream, and he calmly opens the gate for me.

  “Shit, Marcus, you fucking scared me!” I jump up and down, trying to shake the adrenaline rush from my arms and hands. He reaches for me, and I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight, only slightly hampered by his crutches.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you from the house. You were worrying again. I thought we had that all handled.”

  I keep my face pressed into his chest and pound my tiny fists against it.

  “You had this all handled. I am doing the best I can, which obviously is not very good.”

  “Shush. Tell me what you are worrying about so I can do it for you,” he says, stroking my hair.

  “Marcus, there are some things you just can’t do for me. I have my own worries and I have to deal with them by myself.”

  “You looked forlorn. I won’t stand by and see you like that. It kills me to see you so troubled, especially since I know it has a lot to do with me.”

  It has everything to do with him, but I don’t tell him that.

  “I understand that you want to protect me from everything, but that’s just not possible or realistic. And if you want to know one of the things I was thinking about, I’ll tell you. I think you need to see a therapist about your accident. That was a very traumatic event in your life. And Megan’s death, I think you should talk to somebody about it.” I bite my lip and wait while he continues to stare over my head toward the water.