His Temporary Wife

by Leslie P. García

  She looked surprised. “You didn’t like it?” she asked, disbelief in her voice. “That song is my best—”

  “That song is the one she’d sing to Doug Harper whenever he came around. The one he used to help draw attention to himself when he decided he could sing.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  “So … could you give up everything? I mean, you wouldn’t have to give up riding …”

  “My aunt probably won’t let me sing if she knows you don’t want me to,” she muttered. “Look, I’m not sure I want to give up Tía. My whole reason for coming to Truth was to get to know her. And to be honest, if I take this … gig … it’s to help her.”

  He frowned, not missing the slight emphasis on the gig word, nor the stubborn set of her chin when she refused to stop seeing her aunt. “This whole job is about family,” he reminded her curtly. “I’m trying to save mine. You don’t have to sacrifice yours. But you do have to put me first once we’re married, in front of the public, at least.”

  He went to his desk and opened the drawer again, pulling out a single sheet of paper with the BER logo. He felt uncomfortable asking her for her personal information, and if she asked, he’d have to admit he’d run a background check on her. He’d hired an employee once with few references and a couple of questionable incidents in his past. The company’s personnel director had tried to override him, but ultimately, he’d used his position to insist. Doug Harper had come on board, and a month or so later, he himself had introduced the country singer wannabe to his sister. To Cody. Never again.

  “I’d need you to fill this out. I’m going to handle the job application outside the company, but I need to check references and be sure there aren’t any criminal complaints.”

  He’d expected some sharp remark about lack of trust. Or about the damned experience she kept bringing up constantly.

  Instead she took the paper, glanced at it, and looked at him. “Got a pen?” she asked.

  Chapter Ten

  Esme walked around the screened back porch with its comfortable furnishings and bright flower arrangements, admiring the artwork on the walls. She didn’t recognize the artist’s name, but the paintings were beautiful. She lingered in front of one depicting an old gray mare knee deep in bluebonnets, a scene she’d seen from time to time over the years. She thought Cody might have chosen it, because it seemed too dainty for Rafael, in spite of his usual good nature.

  He’d gotten a call from his parents just as they were leaving to go eat, and told her he’d be down in a few minutes. Maybe he was right about them being able to keep a safe distance from each other. He seemed to be interrupted by business fairly often.

  She heard the door open, but Marie came across the room, her heels clicking loudly on the tiles. In spite of herself, Esme couldn’t help but compliment the shoes: tall, elegant heels in a popular taupe color. “Really pretty shoes, Marie,” she offered. Didn’t all the advice books say to make friends with your husband’s secretary? That thought almost made her snort, which probably wouldn’t have helped patch things up with the woman. But even if she wound up married, he wouldn’t be her husband, just her boss.

  “Thank you,” Marie said, pleased. “I came to see if you wanted something to drink while you waited for Rafael.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Marie nodded. “Okay. I’m in the library downstairs if you need me. Through the living room and back at the end of the hall.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Are you going down to Laredo with Rafa?”

  “No.” Esme shook her head. “Well, I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned it.”

  “Hmm. Well, he’s had this trip planned for weeks,” the assistant volunteered, walking over to arrange the throw cushions on the wicker sofa. “You should ask him to take you.”

  “I’m from there. It wouldn’t be a pleasure trip,” Esme assured her.

  Marie smiled. “All the more reason. He’s from there, too. Look at the time you’d have alone together. To talk. Or whatever.”

  “Maybe he’ll ask. We’re going out to eat.”

  “He probably won’t,” she disagreed. “He’s always loved to drive off somewhere alone. I guess you’ll be trying to change those habits.” She gave another smile, this one clearly forced. “Besides, he’s used to making plans and not changing them. He won’t think to ask you himself.”

  She made another slight adjustment to a coffee table book on birds sitting on a glass table, then nodded again. “Have a nice evening.”

  Rafael didn’t come down for another five or six minutes, so Esme kept running the pros and cons of asking to go to Laredo with him. Her only argument against was that she wouldn’t get to spend any time with Domatrix. The pros were the four or five hours alone with him. He’d be forced to talk.

  He might expect her to talk, too. That wouldn’t matter. She’d told him about Toby, the most important part of her past. She really didn’t have to discuss any of her other life experiences with him.

  “Have you fainted from lack of food yet?” Rafael had changed into a knit shirt and slacks, and she looked down at her T-shirt and jeans with a frown.

  “I should have gone home to change.”

  “You look fine.” He smiled. “Did you know that the Truth city council voted unanimously to name T-shirts and jeans Truth’s official clothing?”

  “You’re kidding me. We couldn’t even wear jeans at school unless we were taking field trips to a farm.”

  “Well, here, they’re welcome everywhere. Although there was an amendment; jeans cannot ‘ride low enough to expose objectionable parts of the buttocks to public display.’”

  “You are kidding me, right?” she insisted as he escorted her outside.

  “No, really. That’s the official language. Marc and I were there because the council had a complaint about Witches Haven, and Cody was out of town. When we heard that, we cracked up. He finally got escorted outside to wait for me. Now and then I get a picture of somebody’s butt labeled ‘Code Violation.’”

  She laughed. “Small towns are something else, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah, but generally the people are as good as they come.”

  “Did you grow up in a city? After your parents adopted you?” They paused by the trucks.

  “Houston, yeah. Crazy big city. There’s a lot there, but I always wanted to leave. Coming here has been like coming home, even though I had never lived here.”

  He opened the door to her truck. “Meet me at Rosita’s? I thought we might as well take our own vehicles so you wouldn’t have to drive back so late.”

  “Okay. I’ll just run home and change.”

  “You look fine,” he repeated. “You might not make it back if you go home. Hey, let’s stop at Elrod’s Western. They’re a block away from the restaurant.”

  “I’ve seen them from Tía’s. But—”

  “I did say I’d cover expenses,” he reminded her. “Our dinners out to attract attention should be covered expenses.”

  “We can argue about that later, if it comes up again.” Esme jerked her door open and climbed in. “An hour?”

  “Don’t be late, though. I’m starving. If I get through at the bank first, I’ll save you a place.”

  In the end, with only an hour, she decided to do just what Rafael had suggested, except that she paid for the filmy, off the shoulder dress she changed into at the store. “Thanks,” she called to the middle-aged woman at the cash register. “I didn’t want to have to go home and come back!”

  The woman dismissed the gesture. “No problem. See you around, honey.”

  She had parked across the street at Tía’s, and walked over to drop off her T-shirt. Two pick-ups and a delivery truck dotted the parking lot. Even for a weeknight, business was bad. She went back to the restaurant, hoping customers would come later on. She hated to see what the financial worries were doing to her aunt.

  Rafael’s empty truck was at the last space on the corner of the block, so he’d a
pparently beaten her. She walked in and looked around, almost deafened momentarily from the clamor around her. The rough paneled walls sported all kinds of memorabilia ranging from high school and pro sports uniforms to hundreds of pictures of actors and faded movie posters. A high wood counter ran most of the length of the structure, separating it into two eating areas. Well-worn saddles straddled the counter, some of them looking as if they might belong in museums rather than this noisy place.

  The food smelled wonderful, though. It took her a minute to find Rafael, who had claimed a booth at the back of the second room, and waded through diners heading to the salad bar to meet her.

  “Thought you might have stood me up,” he greeted her, taking her arm to guide her to their place. “Beautiful change, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” She slid into the booth, and watched as he did the same. A very young waitress hurried up, introduced herself as Jenny, and provided them with water, menus, and silverware, promising to come back for their orders soon.

  “So, Esme,” Rafael said, leaning forward so he could be heard without raising his voice. “You gave me your application. Have you had any second thoughts? Are you ready to accept my job offer?”

  “Yes,” she said, without hesitation, memories of her aunt’s hysteria still vivid.

  “And when you answered that you were available immediately, you meant that?”

  She laughed. “Yes, but I don’t see a justice of the peace or preacher anywhere around. Tonight may be a little too immediate.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He reached across the table, catching her hand. “Esmeralda, will you marry me?”

  • • •

  The words shouldn’t have surprised her. Her breath shouldn’t have caught in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak. Then she reminded herself that it was just a job offer, a formality. He’d caught her off guard, but shouldn’t have. He’d made it clear earlier that he wanted the marriage to look real.

  “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” she managed, just as Jenny returned carrying the drinks.

  “OMG! OMG! How romantic!” Jenny squealed, almost dropping Esmeralda’s tea. “Folks, they just got engaged!”

  Diners looked their way and clapped or called out congratulations.

  “This is worse than those birthday songs when friends out you at a restaurant,” Rafael murmured and Esme nodded, unwilling to admit she’d never had a birthday surrounded by friends.

  She found herself feeling even more uncomfortable when diners would spontaneously get up and come over to kiss her cheek and shake Rafael’s hand. By the fifth or sixth well-wisher, apprehension over the whole affair had begun building again. When their food arrived, she wondered if she’d be able to eat it at all, as constricted as her chest felt.

  “What’s wrong?” Rafael whispered as soon as Jenny scampered away. “You look pale. Or as if something hurts.”

  “This hurts,” she mouthed, keeping her voice as low as she could so no one could hear. “This is the biggest lie I’ve ever told. I can’t—”

  “Did I hear someone’s gone and gotten engaged?” Lillie Mae appeared suddenly at their table, wearing yet another fringed shirt, and jeans that sparkled with rhinestones. “Well, congratulations!” Both Rafael and Esme stood, and Lillie Mae hugged Rafael first, kissing him on the cheek, then turning to embrace her.

  “You did good,” the matriarch announced in her ear, but loudly enough that everyone in the room could undoubtedly hear her words. “Got yourself a king of a man, and you’re doing a good thing.”

  Lillie Mae knew about the lie and didn’t care. She sounded as sincere as if the wedding would be one between childhood lovers, and her stamp of approval made Esme feel a little better.

  “So, did you bring Babe?” Rafael asked, when Lillie Mae waved them back into their seats.

  “No, not this time. I’m here in my pickup truck, since Hondo didn’t mind drivin’ it tonight.” She patted Rafael on the shoulder. “You treat this woman right. Treat her like she’s doing you a huge favor, marrying you.”

  Was Lillie Mae about to ruin everything? Rafael looked concerned, too, Esme thought, and placed his hand over hers.

  “’Cause the truth is … when someone marries an ugly ol’ dog like you, well that’s a testament to love and it’s one Texas-sized favor to boot!” And then she broke into her distinctive laughter, and suddenly everyone around them was laughing, too.

  “See y’all. Let me know when you have a date set.” And she turned and left, hugging and patting her way to her seat in the front room.

  “She’s something else.” Rafael grinned. “But you passed the first test with flying colors, Esme. Lillie loves you!”

  “Hmm.” Esme couldn’t really answer, because the first bite of the restaurant’s famed enchiladas reminded her that she was starving. They concentrated on the food and for a long time, neither spoke.

  Rafael finished first. “Could you come over to Witches Haven on Friday? We have some plans we need to put into place.”

  “Why not tomorrow?” she asked, draining her iced tea and waving the glass at Jenny, who came rushing over with a pitcher.

  “I’m not going to be here. I—”

  “That’s true. You’re going to Laredo.”

  He nodded, but didn’t invite her. She shifted in her seat, remembering Marie’s observation about how valuable their time together could be in implementing his plan. She tapped her foot restlessly on the floor, waiting for him to invite her. He did just propose marriage, even if it was make-believe. But when he merely sat there and continued to eat, she gave up. “I’d like to go, if it’s all right.”

  He put the potato he’d been about to eat down and looked at her in surprise. “Well, I usually don’t take anyone.”

  She smiled. “But I’m your fiancée.”

  He sighed. “I’m doomed, aren’t I? Never a free minute again in my life?”

  “In your life for eight weeks,” she reminded him. “In August, when it’s a hundred thirteen in the shade, you can go by yourself.”

  “It’s June, and it’s a hundred nine. I can go by myself.”

  She leaned across the table and placed her palm on his cheek. “But why would you want to?”

  “Look, the thing is …”

  An idea occurred to her, not a good idea since she shouldn’t have her hand on his cheek. Their relationship was hands-off. She jerked her hand back, hoping it looked more like outrage than sudden wariness about the physical hunger burning inside her when she watched him.

  “Headed to Boys Town?” she crooned sweetly.

  Mention of the infamous zone of prostitution in Nuevo Laredo made him widen his eyes and straighten in his chair. “No!” He shook his head.

  She stretched her leg and her foot bumped his.

  “Look, you can go.”

  “Why don’t you want me to?” she asked curiously.

  He didn’t answer at first, just finished his food and pushed his plate away as Jenny came hurrying up.

  “Drinks? Coffee? Desert?” she asked breathlessly.

  Esme felt sorry for the young woman. The place was still packed, the noise level rising and falling as people received their orders and began eating, or newcomers went around greeting friends and then sat down and tried to talk over the other conversations going on around them. Surprisingly, no one here seemed glued to a phone, and everyone knew everyone. She’d seldom eaten at the one diner in Rose Creek, preferring the short drive into San Antonio, but she liked the hominess all around her.

  “I don’t want anything, thank you,” Esme told her, and watched as she gave the bill to Rafael.

  “I’ll pay at the register,” he told her, and grinned at Jenny as someone in the front yelled her name impatiently. “Save you a trip.”

  She nodded at him and headed toward the annoyed party almost at a run.

  “I do not know how people survive waiting tables,” Esme murmured. “I did it once and the tips were fine, but I quit a week a
nd a half after I started.” He put a tip on the table and they stood.

  “Thanks, Jenny,” they both chorused as she rushed past en route to somewhere else.

  “Have a great night,” she called, not stopping. “Oh, and congratulations again!”

  Getting to the cash register seemed to take forever. Rafael knew almost everyone, and introduced her to diners she didn’t know. She thought Rose Creek residents were close to each other, but clearly Truth could outdo them without a second thought. She waited while he paid, then they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Daylight was dimming, but hadn’t gone, and looking across the street at the trio of bars with their lights already on seemed a little strange.

  “Something wrong?” Rafael asked behind her.

  “You could get a beer in Rose Creek, but we didn’t have three bars that opened before the sun went down. About the closest it got was Bob’s Garage, where folks would go to drink and watch sports together. I guess I’m just amazed three bars can survive here.”

  “Couldn’t without the tourist trade, and it’s way down.”

  “It’s just the dude ranches around here, right? I really don’t know the Hill Country very well.”

  “Mainly the dude ranches. There are also golf courses, lakes, exotic game ranches—which are mostly pay-to-hunt—and a few well-known restaurants, although most of those are a little farther north. I hear the roads around here are popular for motorcycle clubs.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Where are you parked, Esmeralda? I’ll walk you to your truck.”

  “No, don’t bother. I’m going to Tía’s for a bit.”

  “Are you going to sing?” he asked.

  “Probably not.” She thought he looked relieved, even though she hadn’t agreed not to. At least she wouldn’t sing “Cowboy Casanova.” Maybe no Underwood at all—surely that would be safe. He had come in the night she sang “Ode to Billie Joe” and hadn’t seemed upset. “Are you telling me not to?”

  “I don’t have a say in whether you do or don’t,” he answered, shrugging. “Yet.”