Under Her Skin

by Lea Santos

  No more than fifteen minutes later, tires crunched over the gravel drive that wound to the back of the gardener’s cottage, and a big truck came to a stop. The metallic groan of the door opening, then closing, and the uneven ticking of the hot engine revved her heartbeat to full throttle. Moment of truth. Torien could very well tell her to get lost, and that would be that. Or…not. Either way, Iris had to know.

  Today.

  Now.

  Oh, God…what am I thinking?

  She continued methodically weeding the flower bed, determined to act casual despite the fact she couldn’t feel her extremities for the shower of nerve tingles. Her motions were jerky and her chest trembled with every inhale.

  Footsteps approached, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to turn toward Torien with some pathetic “please like me” expression she knew would show on her face like a fresh tattoo. Glancing down, she noticed her pulse thrumming beneath the skin of her wrist. Damn. It had been a long time since a woman affected her like this.

  Please let this work, her mind whispered.

  “Toro!” came a rich, smooth voice behind her. “You here?”

  Startled, Iris shot to her feet and spun, automatically brushing the dirt from her palms. The young woman rounding the corner of the cottage froze, and her jaw dropped.

  Her sculpted shoulders and lats tapered to a honed waistline, making her ripped arm muscles stand out from her body in true bodybuilder fashion. She was shorter than Torien, but the family resemblance couldn’t be denied. Where Torien looked rough-edged and untamed, like a dark wolf, this woman appeared polished and perfect, like a sleek, black Arabian—both beautiful in her own unabashedly perfect way.

  “M-Madeira?” This definitely had to be the little sister who “needed a keeper,” as Torien often muttered while she and Iris worked together in the garden. It only took one look at the confident, loose-limbed way this younger Pacias hottie moved, and Iris didn’t doubt her identity for a second. From her strong jaw and dimpled cheeks, neatly styled sweep of black hair, and overblown sex appeal—yep. Torien had been dead-on about her little sis. Madeira was the kind of flirtatious, irresistible lesbian every mother warned about and every father despised. Iris smiled, thrilled by the unexpected meeting. “Hi.”

  “Madre de Dios.” Madeira’s keys dropped from her palm. She crossed herself quickly, finishing off with a kiss to the index-finger edge of her knuckles. “I didn’t realize prayers could be answered so literally.”

  Laughing at her quick wit and charming melodrama, Iris skirted around the bed of irises she and Torien had planted together and headed toward her unexpected visitor. “You just missed your sister, I’m afraid. She left a few minutes ago.” She indicated the broken contraption near the tool shed. “I think that machine was getting the best of her. You’re welcome to wait.”

  “I…I’m here to pick up some equipo la patrona de Toro said we could borrow,” came the jumbled response. Madeira’s long throat tightened visibly as she swallowed. She gestured toward Iris, the stiff movement of a person in shock. “You—you’re Iris Lujan, no? Standing right here in front of me?”

  “I am.” She inclined her head, her ears radiating with warm embarrassment. Madeira’s stammering, girlish awe was really very sweet. Iris held out her hand. “Very nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, no.” Madeira raised her hands, robbery style, her eyes wide with mock horror. “If I touch you, I will never be able to wash my hand again.”

  Iris’s breath caught. She stilled.

  At that, Madeira winked and burst into an infectious laugh. She reached for Iris’s hand, clasping it between both of hers and shaking it with gusto. “The pleasure is all mine, Señora Lujan, believe me. I could die right now and go to heaven a happy woman. Happier if I could have an hour to brag to my friends first.”

  “Oh, cut it out. Your sister was right about you.” She grinned. “And please, call me Iris. Señora sounds so old—ugh.” Madeira’s gregarious enthusiasm set her immediately at ease. “Torien didn’t mention you’d be stopping by.” Though they hadn’t actually spoken, Iris remembered, after the words had left her lips.

  “Toro didn’t know.” Madeira shrugged, stooping to swipe up her key ring and stuff it into her back pocket. “She’s been busy, working way too hard.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I figured she could use the help loading tools and equipment in the truck.”

  Made sense. “Well, I think she lined it all up over here by the shed.”

  “Sounds like my perfectionist sister,” Madeira said, ruefully.

  Iris smiled and shook her head. She beckoned Madeira with a cupped hand. “Let me show you.”

  “No way. Forget the equipment.” Madeira scissored her arms. “Do I look crazy? What kind of woman would choose working over being alone with Iris Lujan?”

  Your sister seems to. Disappointment drizzled over Iris, but she forced it away, determined to maintain as light a mood as Madeira seemed to do without effort. “Let’s sit for a minute, then.” She guided Madeira to a bench and they sat. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “I wish I could say the same, but my selfish sister has managed to keep you all to herself. That dog.” Madeira punched one fist into the opposite palm, then flashed her dimpled grin.

  So Torien hadn’t even mentioned her. Iris quirked her mouth to the side, realizing she wasn’t nearly as important to Torien as Torien had become to her. She had known it inside, but hearing it confirmed by Madeira felt like an unexpected slap.

  Madeira settled in, resting one ankle on the opposite knee and extending an arm along the back of the bench. “I knew she had a bad case of woman on the mind, though, even if she chose not to tell me.”

  Iris’s interest perked. “What do you mean?”

  “Something has been muddling Toro’s brain for”—she flashed an adoring smile—“how long have you two known each other?”

  “About two weeks, I guess,” Iris said.

  “I knew it!” Madeira slapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other, then twirled her fingers beside her temple. “That’s just about when Toro started getting stupid in the head. But I would never have guessed it was Iris Lujan making her loco. Not in real life, at least. Unbelievable.”

  “Oh, shush.” Iris pushed on Madeira’s solid shoulder, flattered but not threatened in the way she’d been before, when fans hero-worshiped her. “She’s just working too hard.”

  “Toro always works hard,” Madeira countered. “This is different. Now I know why.”

  This young, vibrant flirt seemed like she could be Iris’s own little sister, her manner gushy, yes, but respectful, too. So different from her proud, reserved hermana, Iris mused, her stomach tightening with a warm tug of desire at the mere thought of Torien.

  Madeira leaned in, lowering her tone secretively. “Did Toro tell you she papered our bedroom walls with your magazine pictures? I was only a kid, but I still remember.”

  Soft surprise blew through Iris, like dry leaves carried on the wind. She arched her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “No, as a matter of fact, she didn’t.”

  “It’s true.” Madeira pantomimed a papered wall. “Covered, floor to ceiling.” She sucked in one side of her cheek. “We have always called Toro the big dreamer, but look where it got her. I guess I can learn a thing or two from my big sister after all.” She squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her hands together in front of her well-toned chest.

  “Shakira. ¡Plegue á Dios! Bring me Shakira, I beg,” Madeira chanted. She peeked through one squinted eyelid at Iris, gauging her response in the manner of a seasoned joker. The eye snapped shut again, her lips twitching with amusement. “Or Jessica Alba, Father, I’m not picky.” Crossing herself again, Madeira opened her eyes, shoulders shaking with her rich chuckle.

  Iris joined her in laughter, then shook her head, studying this younger, smaller, more lighthearted version of Torien. “You and your sister are so different. But I can definitel
y see a family resemblance.”

  Madeira framed her fingers around her face. “Sí, I got the looks and charm, no? And Toro got all the seriousness.”

  “I’m not even touching that one,” Iris said wryly, lifting her palms as if in surrender. “Though I’ll admit, your sister is pretty intense.” She hadn’t meant to let her emotions show, but either she had or Madeira was particularly astute.

  “No. Tell me no. Did that fool sister of mine do something to you, Iris?” Madeira frowned. “Tell me. I will tear her apart, purely on principle.”

  “Don’t do that.” Iris slanted her glance away. “Tori didn’t do anything. She’s a wonderful, kind woman. It’s just…we’re friends, but—” I hoped for more.

  Lame.

  Iris pursed her lips and studied Madeira. If anyone could provide insight into the enigmatic woman who had stolen her thoughts, Madeira could. But Iris would have to lay her heart on the line first. Did she dare? Could she trust Madeira? Something told her she could. Deep breath in…and exhale. “This has to stay between you and me,” she implored.

  “Absolutely.” A distinct gleam of mischief lit Madeira’s eyes. “I love to have secrets to hold over my sister’s head.”

  Iris shored her courage, then gave the abridged version of what had happened the other night in the garden, finishing with, “What do you think?”

  “I think my sister is an idiot.”

  Iris couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t miss a beat.” She sighed. “Is it me?”

  “It’s her,” Madeira assured.

  “Does Torien have a girlfriend? Is that it?”

  “Toro? My all-business sister?” Madeira scoffed. “The woman works from dawn ’til dark and more. She hardly has time to share a beer with her sister, let alone to charm the ladies.”

  “God, she is so frustrating.” Iris pounded her thighs once with her fists.

  “The one and only Iris Lujan has a thing for Toro,” Madeira murmured, mostly to herself, a wry smile on her lips. “Isn’t that just how it goes? I spend time on my looks, my charm, my muscles, and what happens? My grouch of a sister draws the attention of a dream woman like you.”

  Iris hugged her arms around her torso, feeling cared for, special. Torien’s sister just inspired closeness. “I may be interested in Torien, but she isn’t interested in me. Not like that. She says our worlds are too different.”

  “They are, but so what? She hasn’t been herself since she met you, Iris. Trust me, she is interested. She just has trouble letting herself go.” Madeira spat a quick string of Spanish that Iris didn’t quite catch. She’d been able to pick out the words for “stubborn” and “nun,” however, and bit back a grin.

  Madeira patted Iris’s hand. “Let me tell you something about my thick-headed sister, amada. She is a good, honorable woman. The best woman I know. But she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

  “That, I can see.”

  Madeira stared off into the distance as though visualizing the story in her mind. “Our papá died too early. Since then, Toro feels it is up to her to keep the world spinning for all of us. For everyone. She has always been that way. We have two little sisters—”

  “Tori told me about them.” She layered her other hand on top of Madeira’s.

  “Sí, and Mamá. Toro has always taken care of all of us, when I was a girl—even now. I help, of course, but it is really she who holds it all together,” Madeira added, her show of sincere modesty adding a pleasant dimension to her jovial personality. “It was Toro, even before Papá died.” Madeira pressed her lips in a line and shook her head. “Torien does our father proud, but you cannot tell her that. She refuses to give herself a break.”

  “But why?”

  Madeira shrugged. “Just won’t. It’s as if she feels responsible for Papá’s death, though it makes little sense. Or, I don’t know, she feels responsible for living her life exactly opposite of how he did to prove some kind of a point. Papá died in a factory accident. Toro wasn’t even there. But she carries that weight everywhere.” Madeira released a long, exhale through her nose, and her expression told Iris she had been through this with her sister before.

  Her heart swelled. “Torien is a woman of principles. You can’t fault her for that.”

  Madeira gave a grunt of agreement. “Too many principles for her own good, in my opinion. Principles heavy with guilt Toro shouldn’t bear.” She eyed Iris seriously for a minute, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Let me ask you something. What do you want from Toro?”

  “I just—” Iris swallowed. What did she want? Friendship? Romance? Sex? No. More, though admitting it even to herself was a shock. Torien was the kind of woman who made Iris want it all. The kind who made her picture commitments and forever and home, who made her think of family. Maybe even children, like Paloma and Deanne had. Maybe not. All she knew at this point was—she wanted Tori. “I like her. I want to know her. She…makes me feel good about myself.”

  Madeira dialed in, sizing up the situation. “Nothing would please me more than seeing mi hermana happy.” A pause ensued. After a moment, she shifted her position until she faced Iris fully. “Listen, Torien is more than a sister to me, she’s my best friend.”

  “I understand. I can see that.”

  “She deserves a woman like you.”

  Iris swallowed. But did she deserve a woman like Tori? Honorable, kind, caring? Grounded in herself, her work, her place in this world? That was the million-dollar question. She let her gaze flutter to the earth, her throat aching with worry and guilt. Tori’s sister wanted her to be happy, but perhaps Iris wasn’t the kind of woman who could bring joy into Torien’s life. Maybe they should let Torien decide what she wanted. And yet…Iris couldn’t let it go that easily. Some self-protective part of her wanted to pull away, but she forced herself to meet Madeira’s eyes. “What can I do? She won’t listen to me.”

  “Oye.” Madeira whipped a glance over her shoulder, then bestowed a devious, conspiratorial look. “When will she be back?”

  “I don’t know.” All at once, a sense of urgency quickened Iris’s pulse. “Soon.”

  Madeira laid a hand on Iris’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “Then listen quickly, so I can go before she finds out I was here.” She knocked on her temple with her knuckles. “I am smart as well as gorgeous”—she winked, stripping the arrogance from the statement—“and I think I have an idea.”

  *

  Lost in somber thoughts about Iris, Torien wouldn’t have even raised her eyes from her fence-building task, but the increase in galvanized chatter caught her attention. She smeared sweat from her forehead with the crook of her elbow and followed their gazes, noting with mild interest the red Mercedes sports car that had purred to a stop at the north curb of the Círculo de Esperanza worksite. Standing slowly, she brushed her palms against the denim covering her thighs. It wasn’t every day a car such as this came into their neighborhood.

  “¿Qué pasó, Toro?” Madeira appeared beside her.

  Torien hiked one shoulder. “Yo no sé.”

  They moved closer just in time to see Iris emerge from the driver’s seat, all loveliness and softness—pure class. Torien stumbled to a stop, as did most of the other laborers. But after a single, silent, shock-riddled moment, the group erupted in pandemonium and excitement. Everyone moved about except Torien, who could not. Around her, exclamations in Spanish and English ensued, while she stood there feeling like Iris had parked that sleek red roadster directly on her chest.

  “¡Dios mío!”

  “Iris Lujan está aquí!”

  “¿Te quieres casar conmigo, Iris?”

  That one snagged Torien’s attention. She frowned at the diminutive man, Rubén, who had blurted the spontaneous, passion-laced marriage proposal. Torien’s fists clenched as possessiveness flooded her veins, choking out everything except her blazing desire to protect Iris. To claim her and challenge anyone—man or woman—to come between them. Effusiveness in the fa
ce of fame was to be expected, but when it related to Iris, Rubén’s gushing bothered Torien more than she dared to admit. Why should it, Toro? You told her no.

  The muscle in her jaw convulsed. She’d had to tell Iris no. It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice. Hopelessness and helplessness welled up inside her, quickly fermenting to bitter resignation. Her lot in life had never bothered her before; she couldn’t succumb to that useless way of thinking now.

  As foreman of the worksite, however, she knew she should greet Iris. She forced her feet to move forward…one step, then another…though it took conscious and continual effort. Iris wore loose, tattered jeans, a tight white tank, and red sneakers. Her hair hung loose, face bare of makeup. Not a fancy look, but damn, Iris wore it like royalty. Her rare beauty and poise eclipsed everything around her.

  Torien’s gaze scraped over Iris’s long, lean back as she approached her from behind. Iris was busy graciously greeting the workers, laughing and shaking hands, speaking in endearingly rudimentary Spanish. As if sensing Torien’s presence like a prickle on her spine, Iris turned.

  “Hi.” The lone, breathy word washed over Torien in a wave of heat and longing. Intimate. The depth in those light green eyes said so much more than the single word of greeting. Iris had been cordial to the group. With Torien, there was so much more. She could feel it, could see it in Iris’s vulnerable expression. She moistened her lips with a flick of her sweet, pink tongue, waiting for Torien to respond.

  “Hi.” Torien’s heart thudded once, like the blow of a sledgehammer.

  The breeze carried a strand of Iris’s hair across her lips, and she brushed it away absentmindedly. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since…”

  “Fine. Busy.” Torien knew exactly how long it had been. Days that dragged on like lifetimes. “What are you doing here?”

  As though they sensed the privacy of the exchange, the workers backed off. Torien swallowed past a tight throat, absorbing Iris with her eyes, drinking in the scent of her. She had not realized how accustomed to Iris’s presence she had become. How a single intoxicating breath of Iris’s sweet skin could both calm her and drive her wild. A yearning to reach for Iris overwhelmed Torien, and she stepped back to prevent her hands from giving in to the dangerous urge. She could not. Not in front of the workers, or her sister.