Ready for Marriage?

by Beverly Barton; Ann Major Anne Marie Winston

  ‘‘You didn’t see the front end of your truck.’’ Huicho made a grim face. ‘‘The road ahead is like a river.’’

  Vivian’s heart sank. ‘‘Isabela…’’

  Soon they were across the threshold, and it was warm and dry. His children ran and lined up against the far wall, hiding their faces from their guests and giggling. A wealth of candles lit the tiny room. Lupe, his wife, brushed strands of hair out of her eyes and rushed up to greet them.

  She smiled at Vivian and nodded shyly toward Cash. ‘‘I make your special friend something to eat, no?’’

  ‘‘We already ate. Please just show us the guest house,’’ Cash said, ‘‘and we won’t bother you for more.’’

  Vivian stayed with Lupe and the children while Huicho showed Cash the small house behind his own cottage. When the men returned, Cash told Vivian the guest house would do nicely.

  Vivian averted her eyes, and when Lupe insisted on serving them black zapotes, Vivian seized having a snack as an excuse to put off being in a room alone with Cash.

  Black zapotes were a lot like giant prunes, and Lupe had removed their skins and seeds and mashed them in sugar. As always, Vivian found them to be a delicious treat. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about the night ahead.

  After eating more than his share and complimenting Lupe extravagantly, Cash sat down with Huicho. To Vivian’s alarm, the two men began arm wrestling and bolting shots of tequila.

  Vivian begged Cash to quit, but he merely lifted his shot glass and toasted her.

  ‘‘You aren’t used to tequila,’’ she said under her breath.

  He laughed and lifted his shot glass toward her again.

  The more the two men drank, the more they laughed and looked warmly at the women.

  ‘‘If you drink any more, you’ll be as drunk as a skunk,’’ Vivian finally said.

  When Huicho was about to pour Cash still another shot, Cash eyed Vivian, put his hand over the bottle and shook his head.

  ‘‘My woman says no,’’ Cash said, flashing her a grin.

  Huicho nodded, eyeing Vivian with new appreciation. No doubt he was remembering the kiss in the market. Vivian was so mad she wanted to kick Cash.

  Lupe smiled at them shyly and dashed out to the guest house to make it ready for them. A few minutes later when Cash led Vivian inside the little cottage, fresh lilies and hibiscus blossoms graced a rustic table, along with a bottle of tequila for Cash. White towels and dry clothes for both of them had been laid on the double bed draped with mosquito netting.

  A bare bulb hung over the table, but with the electricity out, the flickering candle on the window ledge was their only source of light. A plastic curtain hung in a doorway to give privacy to the bathroom.

  ‘‘Running water!’’ Cash said.

  ‘‘All yours for the night,’’ Lupe said with one of her quick smiles before leaving them.

  ‘‘They’re certainly friendly.’’ Cash shut the door, his eyes burning her face and her body.

  Vivian rushed to the door that led to the courtyard and opened it. ‘‘I work with them every week. Lupe is one of my best students. I’ve taught her to use a sewing machine, and she now teaches others.’’ Vivian paused breathlessly. ‘‘I don’t know what they must be thinking. This door stays open.’’

  ‘‘They think our tank rammed into their wall.’’

  ‘‘Why did you drink so much?’’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘‘Why do you care so much?’’

  ‘‘I think you know.’’

  ‘‘I’m not going to force you—if that’s what you think. Or if that’s what you secretly desire….’’

  ‘‘How dare you suggest—’’

  ‘‘I dare,’’ he growled. ‘‘Why do only you get to accuse me?’’

  Furious, she began to pace, and then so did he, each careful to avoid the other. By American standards the room was bare. There was no television, no books, no magazines.

  When Vivian ripped off her rain poncho, Cash’s dark eyes grew more avid and hot. She realized her wet, clinging huipil and skirt were probably plastered to her breasts and hips, so she grabbed her poncho and held it up between them.

  He laughed. Glancing at her watch impatiently, she realized how early it was.

  ‘‘Calm down,’’ he said.

  ‘‘With you drunk and watching me with those tiger eyes of yours?’’

  ‘‘Hey, I’m not going to pounce you. Not unless you want me to.’’

  ‘‘Oh, when will Eusebio return? And how will he know where we are?’’ In despair she plopped onto one edge of the bed.

  ‘‘I wouldn’t count on him for much. It looks like I’m your entertainment center,’’ Cash said, weaving a little as he fell backward beside her, but on the opposite end of the bed.

  She bolted off the bed.

  ‘‘Would you like a soda or something?’’ he said, his tone low and casual. ‘‘I think I saw a case in Huicho’s house.’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘Anything to get me out of here?’’ His face lit with a savage grin.

  ‘‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’’

  ‘‘Okay. Okay. Okay,’’ he said, amused.

  ‘‘This whole situation is impossible,’’ she added.

  ‘‘Not if you change your attitude.’’

  ‘‘This room is too small.’’

  ‘‘Intimate,’’ he countered.

  ‘‘The soda—remember? You were going!’’

  ‘‘Right.’’

  When he stomped out into the pouring rain, she eyed the double bed nervously. She hadn’t even begun to relax before he was back with her soda.

  As if he felt perfectly comfortable—and why wouldn’t he after all he’d drunk—he sat at the table, leaned back in the chair, his long legs sprawling, and poured himself another shot of tequila, which he lifted in a mock salute to her.

  ‘‘Don’t be so insolent.’’ Her forehead crinkling, she backed away from him until her spine hit the window ledge.

  When he lifted his brows and saluted her again, the air between them crackled with electricity.

  ‘‘This isn’t working,’’ she said. ‘‘I can’t do this.’’

  ‘‘Okay.’’

  This whole thing was making her crazy. She was afraid. So afraid. Why? Why was she so scared of being alone with him?

  Pursing her lips, she drank her soda in silence. Behind her the cool rain streamed in unending torrents into the courtyard outside, which was now six inches deep with water. She wished it would stop.

  ‘‘I have to get out of here,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Ever heard the word ‘destiny’?’’

  ‘‘Just be quiet.’’

  Before she was half done with her soda, her cell phone rang. Her purse was sitting on a low table near the door. When they both rushed to get it, they bumped into each other. He grabbed the strap of her purse before she could reach it. Rocking back on his heels, he swept her a courtly bow and held the purse out to her.

  Trembling with rage, at least she told herself it was rage, she snatched it from him. When she couldn’t open it, he grabbed it back and yanked the zipper open for her. She reached inside and retrieved her cell phone.

  ‘‘Isabela?’’ she gasped.

  ‘‘Why are you breathless?’’

  Vivian glared up at Cash, whose tall, wide-shouldered body loomed over her. Her entire body was quivering. ‘‘No reason,’’ she replied.

  ‘‘I’ve been calling you and calling you.’’

  ‘‘Me too.’’

  ‘‘How’s Cash?’’

  A single glance his way, and her heartbeat picked up speed. ‘‘F-fine.’’

  ‘‘You sound funny,’’ Isabela observed.

  Cash smiled.

  She felt a strange heat climbing her limbs until it spread throughout her entire body. ‘‘He’s j-just…just fine.’’

  ‘‘Never better,’’ he drawled, lifting his tequila toward her. ‘‘Tel
l her hello.’’

  ‘‘Where—?’’ Isabela’s voice died.

  ‘‘Oh, Isabela, we broke down. But Eusebio will have things fixed in no time. He’s gone to find a mechanic.’’

  ‘‘Don’t count on it. He’s probably drunk. Where are you?’’

  Vivian eyed Cash again. His beaming face wore an inebriated smile. Through gritted teeth, she said the name of the village.

  ‘‘I’ll send a cab,’’ Isabela said.

  Before Vivian could give her directions, a flash of lightning whitened the room and the cell phone went dead. Frantically, she tried to call Isabela back while Cash stared at her, smiling charmingly. She jabbed at the buttons, but all she could get was that maddening busy signal.

  ‘‘Quit watching me and quit smiling at me,’’ she yelled at Cash, throwing the phone at the bed in frustration.

  ‘‘You’re wet and cold,’’ he said. ‘‘No wonder you’re so grumpy.’’ He stood up.

  ‘‘If I’m grumpy, it’s your fault. And…and stay right where you are.’’

  ‘‘And if I’m in a good mood, whose fault is that?’’ he demanded silkily.

  ‘‘Not mine! You’re drunk!’’

  ‘‘Maybe a warm shower would make you feel better?’’

  With you out here drinking tequila? Not in a million years.

  ‘‘I could ask Huicho if there’s a phone in the village,’’ Cash said in a reasonable, helpful tone that maddened her all the more.

  ‘‘There is, but with our rotten luck, it’s out.’’

  ‘‘I’ll check and see anyway.’’

  ‘‘Great!’’

  ‘‘Anything to get rid of me?’’ He smiled.

  She glared.

  ‘‘Take a shower while I’m gone. And don’t use up all the hot water.’’

  ‘‘What makes you so sure there is any?’’

  ‘‘Ah…the delights of sharing authentic Mexico with you. This could be fun you know—if you’d loosen up.’’

  Too much fun. She clasped her arms around herself. ‘‘Go.’’

  ‘‘If you’re too chicken to shower, why don’t you just get into bed?’’

  ‘‘Bed?’’ Her mouse voice was back. Nevertheless, the word bed hung heavily between them.

  ‘‘And what will you do? Strip for me? Like you did before? And then hop in too? Nothing would surprise me from you.’’

  He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘‘Nothing is what I’ll do. Understand? I won’t do a damn thing. I like you and respect you. I don’t want to hurt Isabela any more than you do. I’m not some oversexed maniac, you know.’’

  ‘‘I can’t forget how you ripped off that sheet.’’

  ‘‘I was being gallant. I won’t force you—ever.’’ Furious, he dove through the open doorway. Boots sloshing in the deep water, he vanished into the roaring storm.

  Good! She was glad he was mad.

  But no sooner was he gone than a gust of wind blew the candle out and she was all alone in the dark. Instantly she wished him back.

  For a while she sat in the dark and listened to the storm, but that only increased her agitation. She didn’t remember where the matches were or if there were any, and without him to distract her she became aware of the buzzing of mosquitoes and the incessant pouring of the rain on the tiles outside.

  In the courtyard she heard racing footsteps. Then a girl laughed shyly, and a boy said something tender—young lovers taking shelter under an eave. Vivian felt a strange twinge in the area near her heart…and longed for Cash.

  The couple’s gentle voices were followed by increasingly torrid kisses and then by more animalistic pantings and ardent caresses. A shutter began to bang in the rhythm of lovemaking. Vivian thought of Cash and began to ache.

  Hardly knowing what she did, her hand ran down her throat over her breast. With a shivery sigh she closed her eyes and imagined Cash touching her. Then her hand traced lower, to her stomach and then still lower, to her hip, and finally between her legs. The shutter banged harder. Only when she moaned did she come to her senses and jerk her hand away. She bit her knuckles and tried not to listen to the lovers, tried not to want a man who could never be hers.

  Finally she remembered she did have matches—in her purse. Stumbling across the room, she dug them out. Still shaking, she relit the candle and leaned against the wall.

  When Cash still didn’t return, she took the fresh clothes and towels and the burning candle into the bathroom and stripped. To her surprise, the water from the nozzle felt warm and delicious against her naked skin. Lathering her hair, she reveled in the soft suds running down over her body. She was covered in soap when her phone rang again.

  Then the ringing stopped abruptly. She started when she heard a low, male voice say, ‘‘Isabela.’’ When she strained closer to the curtain to hear what else he said, something wet and slimy skittered across her bare toe.

  She looked down into huge, liquid, equally-terrified, black eyes—reptilian eyes. Jumping, she screamed and screamed.

  ‘‘Cash! It’s going to bite me! It’s—’’

  The thing hopped as frantically as she, bouncing into her leg. She grabbed the shower curtain and ripped it off. The next thing she knew she was out of the shower and Cash was in the bathroom, his arms wrapped around her sudsy body. She was naked, wet and slippery, and soon his jeans and white shirt were soaked. She climbed him anyway, wrapping her legs around his waist and hanging on for dear life.

  ‘‘What the hell.’’ Then he looked down and grinned at the tiny monster. ‘‘Shh. It’s just a little toad. Nothing to be afraid of, darling,’’ he said gently.

  Darling. The word registered even though she wished it hadn’t.

  ‘‘Get him out of here!’’ Vivian shrieked, wrapping her legs around him even more tightly. ‘‘Get me out of here!’’

  Carrying her, Cash stomped out of the shower dripping puddles all over the tile floor. Finally, she let go of him and ran naked to the bed, leaving Cash to return and deal with the odious reptile.

  She wrapped herself in the sarape that had been thrown over the bed. ‘‘Did you kill it yet?’’

  ‘‘I can’t get him,’’ he said when he came out of the bathroom. ‘‘You scared him too badly. He’s hiding under a wooden slat and won’t come out. And I don’t blame him.’’

  ‘‘Don’t you dare take his side. What will I do? I can’t go back in there if he’s there.’’

  Cash was clipping the shower curtain back onto the rod. ‘‘Then stay put!’’

  ‘‘But I’ve got soap all over me.’’

  ‘‘He won’t hurt you, you know. He’s cute.’’

  ‘‘Cute?’’

  ‘‘Come look at him.’’

  She tiptoed closer. ‘‘I’m not so good with reptiles.’’

  He laughed. ‘‘A toad is an amphibian—not a reptile.’’

  Who cared what the monster was? Clutching the serape tighter, she raced past him back to the bathroom. Yanking the curtain shut, she summoned her courage and searched for the toad. He was curled into a little ball and almost completely hidden under the wooden slat. He was a tiny, big-eyed little thing. He did look terrified of her.

  Not that she was about to sympathize with a reptile or an amphibian, or whatever the horrible thing was.

  She stuck the tip of her toe onto the first wooden slat. When he didn’t jump her, she edged more deeply into the cubicle and turned on the shower. With a sigh, she finished rinsing her hair and her body in the warm downpour before the hot water ran out. After drying herself off, she ventured out of the bathroom swaddled in towels.

  ‘‘Hey—did you leave me a towel?’’

  ‘‘One.’’

  ‘‘You were right about the phone,’’ he said. ‘‘The lines are down. Mind if I shower?’’

  Even though she did, she shook her head. ‘‘But you were right about the hot water. I used it all.’’

  He gave her a look that softened the expression on his
dark face even though his eyes grew brilliant. ‘‘Maybe you did us both a favor.’’

  When Cash took his icy shower, yelping most dramatically at the water’s temperature, she got into bed. Even though he was behind the curtain, she could see the dark silhouette of his big body. Again her hand drifted over her body, and it was too easy to imagine him touching her. She yanked her hand above the sheets and stared miserably.

  She shouldn’t have taken the candle in there, she realized. She shouldn’t watch him now…but she couldn’t stop herself.

  The water was turned off and he emerged, his narrow hips wrapped in the diminutive white towel she’d left him. Shivering, she pulled the sheets up to her throat. His bronzed, muscular, goose-bump-covered body raised gooseflesh on her and left her slightly breathless.

  The wind rose and beat against the roof. Anticipation made her tremble and then go taut. When he stopped and stared down at her body outlined by the sheets, her pulse beat in her throat.

  Dios. Soon he would get into bed. And then—

  But he didn’t approach the bed. Instead, he pivoted and went back into the bathroom, where he blew out the candle. She gripped the sheets breathlessly above her breasts until he emerged. He moved about. Fabric rustled. What was he doing?

  Closing her eyes, she lay there waiting, wondering, and feeling so hot she was afraid she’d burn up.

  To her surprise, she heard a sound at the door.

  ‘‘I’ll be back later,’’ he whispered softly.

  She sat up, not caring that the sheets fell from her body. ‘‘Where are you going?’’

  ‘‘You don’t want me here. That much is clear. Go to sleep.’’

  ‘‘But…but you’re wrong,’’ she said.

  Not that he heard her. He was already out the door, sloshing noisily through the deep water again and quickly disappearing in the darkness. When all sounds of him vanished, she’d never felt so alone. She wanted him back.

  She wanted him.

  Wind and rain slashed the trees. Even so, there were jungle sounds—shouts, shrieks, screeches, howls, hoots. She imagined reptiles—huge snakes, their thick coils luridly colored.

  For what seemed like hours, she lay in the bed awake, tossing and turning, listening for his footsteps outside.