His Temporary Wife (22 page)

“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.”

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.”