Whispers of My Skin

by Susana Mohel

  Not happening.

  “I have some conditions too,” I spit out. No matter what, I can’t allow this to be all on his terms. I do have some self-respect left.

  He tries but fails to contain his mocking laughter.

  “I’m listening,” he chuckles with a derisive expression that really riles me. Smug bastard, thinking he holds all the cards.

  “I’ll marry you, but it’ll be a marriage in name only,” I state. “We won’t share a bed and there will be no sex.” If he’s using me to get the ranch, then I won’t allow him to use me in any other way.

  Now he has the nerve to actually laugh in my face.

  “Honey, five minutes ago you were offering yourself up to me on a silver platter. Why on earth would I marry you but not take you to bed?”

  “First, I am not your honey,” I say, in a hard tone. “And... and... second, things have changed. I never intended to marry you, just… just...”

  “Just keep me interested long enough to fix your problems? Use me as a temporary stop-gap solution? That more what you had in mind?”

  Yes, temporary, because that’s all I can offer.

  “Well, yes,” I admit. “It’s not a bad deal, considering you’d get what you’ve always wanted.”

  “And when I’ve served my purpose, you’ll toss me aside? I don’t think so.” He smirks insolently. “That’s not what I want, Tara.”

  “And you think I do?” I raise my eyebrows, challenging him. “If I do agree to marry you, what happens next? I become your faithful little wifey? Then what? Are you going to force me to warm your bed every night?

  “But that’s exactly what you came here offering, isn’t it? I fix your ranch, you let me fuck you—that was pretty much the gist of it as I recall,” he reminds me, raising his voice. I’m mortified in case someone outside the office overhears our sordid conversation.

  “No, Joel,” I clarify. “That was not what I came to offer. I came to do business with you. A business that could be good for both of us.”

  “You came ready to trade your body, to sell yourself like a whore.”

  That may be true, but he’s definitely playing dirty.

  “I was not selling myself,” I yell back in frustration. “I thought, I hoped, that maybe you still wanted me. Like before, when we were younger. Before you left Redlands.”

  He glares at me angrily. “You mean before your father threw me out.”

  “My father thought you were taking advantage of me. He did find us alone together, half-naked after all,” I remind him.

  “We were in love, Tara,” he retorts. “At least I was in love.”

  The last part is said in a low voice. Past tense, I note. Is there nothing left? But I know it’s true, he did love me back then, he made that clear so many times. And, of course, I loved him too, which is the whole reason I’m here now.

  “Joel, I ...”

  He puts up a hand to interrupt me. “Let’s not waste time raking over old coals, it was a long time ago.” He turns and stares out of the window, lost in thought. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. “You know where I stand, I’ve made my position clear. If you really want to make the ranch profitable again, there will be some tough calls to make. And you know I can handle that, it’s why you came to me. But let me spell out a few home truths for you. If I show up as just another temporary ranch hand with some fancy title who’s only going to be there a few months, it’ll be a lot harder to earn folks respect and get them to take me seriously. As your husband though, they’ll have to accept that I’m a permanent fixture with authority to make decisions. But it’s up to you. Take some time to think it through. When you’ve reached a decision, come back and see me. And bring the accounts for the ranch, I’ll need to study them as soon as possible to gauge how serious the situation is. You have a week.”

  If only I could take that time, but I can’t put this off for even a week, not with the bank breathing down my neck, along with my other more personal issues. I need him to start working with me right now.

  “No need to think about my answer. I came here to take you to Redlands, you know that. So I’ll do whatever it takes,” I sigh in resignation.

  “So you really are that desperate,” he states coldly, not bothering to turn and face me. He obviously thinks I’m pathetic, which makes me feel small, insignificant, helpless. An inconsequential blob of nothingness.

  I can’t deny that a tiny part of me had foolishly imagined this might go differently, that Joel would be thrilled to see me, overjoyed at the opportunity to gain what he’d always wanted. I don’t mean the land or the money, but me. I’d secretly hoped that he’d still be in love with me. Stupid, foolish girl.

  I should have realized that he hates what I represent, hates my family, hates how they treated him. I should have realized that he grew away from me years ago, and went on to make a success of his life through sheer hard work and determination.

  The man in front of me is not the Joel I loved—he’s long gone. In his place stands a man hardened by time, who’s only interested in taking advantage of the opportunity I represent, along with the added bonus of rubbing humiliation in my face.

  And what can I do about that? Precisely nothing.

  You think I’m pathetic? Can’t argue with that.

  You think I should just knuckle down and get on with sorting out this mess on my own? Trust me, if I could I would. I’ve tried so hard to cope, but I guess it all boils down to me not having what it takes. I’m not strong enough and I just can’t do it on my own. So, I’ve no choice. Either I hand everything, including me, over to Joel, or I lose Redlands. And then I’d have absolutely nothing.

  I wasn’t raised to cope with any of this. After Daddy died so suddenly, the world as I knew it collapsed like a pack of cards. At first, I turned to my mom and stepdad for help, but now I realize they’re both useless. But then, so am I. My parents raised an utterly useless daughter, that’s the truth of the matter. A girl who is only good at spending money—a talent I excel in. I’m a good for nothing, empty air head.

  But I have something more than a pretty empty head. Determination. And I’m willing to do anything for the ranch. For all those I love.

  “When can I see the ranch books?” Joel’s brusque demand interrupts my internal brooding and self-loathing.

  Silently, I reach into my purse for the USB memory stick with all the data I’ve pulled together. Bank statements, employee payroll info, debts incurred, contracts breached, contracts ongoing. Everything I thought might be relevant.

  I reach over and place the USB stick on the polished surface of his desk. He grabs it up and immediately plugs it into his laptop, and gets on with downloading it. At least his interest is piqued.

  “Are you shitting me? You’ve used up your entire overdraft and have no other available finances?” he exclaims.

  I cringe and nod.

  “Wow, things really are bad,” he comments, his attention still focused on the screen in front of him, rubbing his hand along his bristly chin as he concentrates.

  I answer as best I can all his questions about the cattle on the ranch, the condition of the farm machinery, the morale of the workers and so forth.

  “You have an overly large workforce, so the first priority has to be cutting back on staff. How the hell have you been covering the payroll?” Joel’s wasting no time in getting down to the nitty gritty.

  “We started by selling off the Miami apartment, and after that we worked our way through the rest of my father’s property portfolio,” I confide, knowing he’s right about staffing levels. I just never had the confidence to tackle the issue, unsure about who was indispensable and who wasn’t. So I just kept digging to find the money, until we got to where we are now, with all our resources drained. “My mother’s husband handled all the property sales, and when those funds were depleted, he also handled selling the shares my father left me.” Joel nods his head and I take a breath before continuing. “All of the cars and some jewe
lry followed, but now there’s nothing left to sell. As you can see from the spreadsheets, our only income now is from the few remaining contracts, most of which are about to expire and are unlikely to be renewed.”

  “I see you’re no longer into milk production.” Joel comments.

  I sigh before answering, “The drought two years ago hit us pretty hard. Our irrigation system wasn’t up to the task, so we couldn’t fulfill some of our contracts. We got sued, ended up in court, and had to sell the dairy equipment to cover the legal costs.

  “Who’s been responsible for negotiating your contracts?” Joel demands with a scowl.

  “Oscar Lancaster, my mother’s husband.”

  “Well, he’s a pretty shit negotiator,” he comments, studying the small print of the contracts on his screen. “Either this guy has his head full of sawdust, or he’s deliberately trying to mire you in debt. The conditions he agreed to were completely unrealistic, so I doubt anyone could have met them.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yeah, that bad,” he glances at me briefly, before turning his attention back to the screen.

  I sit quietly, my eyes focused on my hands in my lap. I don’t interrupt while he continues to click through all the spreadsheets and data on his laptop.

  Have things gone too far, have I left it too late? I’m too nervous to relax, my biggest fear being he’s going to say there’s no way even he can get us out of this mess.

  I look around the office, taking stock of the simple space. In addition to his desk and a smaller matching table to one side, there’s a shelf with various accounting books, essays on livestock, plus some photos of cattle. No personal pictures, I note. The chair I’m sitting on has a twin by its side, but that’s all there is—there’s not even a coffee maker. The office is simple, austere and practical. While waiting for Joel to reach some sort of a conclusion, I stare out of the window at the majestic sunset tinting the sky orange.

  Finally, Joel’s leather chair creeks as he gets up, but I don’t avert my gaze from the view until he comes and perches on the edge of the desk, arms crossed as he studies me.

  “I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen when I first laid eyes on you,” he states matter of factly. “And now you’ve grown into an even more beautiful woman.”

  I warm at his compliment, thawing from the inside out, beginning the process of healing a part of me I thought beyond repair. My frozen, broken heart.

  He lifts his hand, his knuckles gently caressing my cheek, his gentle touch whispering across my skin.

  “Those blue eyes of yours have always spoken far more than your words, Tara. I can see that you’re afraid, but you have nothing to fear from me.”

  But I can’t help it, I am afraid of him, or at least of what the future holds for us. And the worst thing is, I’ve nobody to blame but myself, since I was the one who came looking for him.

  I close my eyes to try and hide the tears threatening to spill, while his fingertips gently trace my features.

  “Joel ...” I whisper, as my tears escape. And when his arms wrap around me, I allow myself to melt into his embrace until I’m not sure where his body ends and mine begins.

  Right now, just for this moment, here in his office with the sun setting in front of us, we are together once more.

  “Let’s do this right. Let’s get married and work together to get your ranch back on its feet,” he whispers, and my skin tingles when I feel his breath caressing my ear.

  In the midst of the sea of emotions that vibrates within my soul, a smile of triumph draws on my face.

  I won. I’ve convinced him.

  ‘Yes!’ a small voice screams inside my head.

  But the question is, at what price?

  ღ

  I had little choice but to agree to marry Joel.

  It’s not what I planned, but there you go. Life can be such a bitch, can’t it? But at least I manage to minimize the number of times we see each other before the wedding, to reduce the chances of him figuring out my real agenda…

  Calculating on my part, I know.

  But I need to keep my distance.

  I’m afraid of being alone with him.

  Not because I’m afraid of him, but of my reaction to him.

  I’m so weak where he’s concerned. I’m conflicted because he’s made it clear he won’t settle for a relationship in name only, insisting this has to be a fully consummated marriage. And as much as I long for him, no matter that my body aches out for him, my head must overrule my heart.

  Fact—he doesn’t love me anymore.

  Fact—I’m going to end up with a broken heart if I let myself fall for him all over again.

  Fact—it can only be sex between us, nothing more.

  It won’t matter anyway, with what my future holds…

  We meet for our first appointment at the bank, to sign the papers granting him full access to all the Redlands accounts.

  Before we go in, Joel takes me by surprise when he softly kisses me, and I gasp as a bolt of lightning shoots right through to my core. Joel smirks at my response to just a light touch of his lips on mine. That’s how it always used to be between us, but neither of us is what we once were. I’m certainly not the unburdened young girl I once was. I’ve had to harden up to get through all the shit life has thrown at me.

  And yet, when he takes my hand, I still feel his gentle touch everywhere. He’s already invading my soul, shaking up everything I thought I knew. Joel is a powerful force to be reckoned with, so how on earth am I going to keep him at arm’s length to protect my heart?

  “Smile, honey,” he whispers. “We’re getting married, don’t forget.” As if I could. But how am I going to cope when I become his wife?

  After signing the papers at the bank, we head to the lawyer’s office next for Joel to be legitimized as a representative of my interests, enabling him to negotiate loans and contracts for Redlands.

  Which, incidentally, didn’t make my stepfather or my mother any too happy when I informed them about the new order of things. My mother was horrified in particular about my engagement to Joel. But I stood my ground. No one can dispute the fact that he has the necessary experience to run Redlands. They had their chance to help, but they just kept screwing up and making things worse. They’re shocked because they’re not used to me standing up to them, but I point out that I’m legally within my rights since my father left everything to me in his will. I spell it out to them.

  My ranch.

  My decisions.

  Arranging the formal announcement of my engagement to Joel was, to say the least, a pitched battle with my mother, and although there were no guns involved, I’d almost say what transpired was worse.

  Eventually, once my mother realized she wasn’t going to change my mind about Joel, she reluctantly offered to host a formal engagement dinner at her house, although she couldn’t help herself, she still had to act like a total bitch by issuing orders about what he should wear.

  “I’m assuming you don’t have a decent suit, so I suppose I could get my husband’s tailor to prepare something, although of course, it can’t be custom-made at such short notice. But it’d certainly be better than having you show up in your muddy cowboy boots and threadbare old jeans,” she announced disdainfully, not bothering to conceal the fact that she didn’t consider him a worthy son-in-law for her precious daughter. Tough luck, Mom. Get used to it.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am,” Joel replied calmly, despite her attitude. “I’ll be sure to take care of my attire.”

  I wasn’t sure of Mom and Oscar’s motives in hosting the dinner at their house, when the neutral territory of a restaurant would surely have been better, especially as they invited a select group of their ‘close friends’. Perhaps they were hoping to make Joel feel out of place and inadequate, to embarrass me and prove that he wasn’t our equal in a social setting. But as most of their ‘friends’ were shallow, materialistic and narcissistic, I couldn’t have cared less about wh
at any of them thought. At least the occasion would serve to bring everyone up to speed regarding the new status quo at Redlands. Under new management. Someone who thankfully knows what they’re doing.

  When the day of the dreaded dinner arrives, I dutifully put on a beautiful silk turquoise dress to look the part, but everything feels unreal, as if I’m living in an episode of Gossip Girl, San Antonio edition.

  As we stand in the formal lounge area clutching our pre-dinner drinks, Felix Jones, one of Oscar’s supercilious friends, approaches us.

  “Do remind me, what exactly is it that you do you do for a living? Aren’t you some sort of a cowboy, I believe Oscar mentioned?” Felix comments disparagingly, smirking at Oscar as he joins our little group. Just like my stepfather, this guy is sneering at Joel for his humble roots. But who cares about any of that, because when it comes down to honest values, the man whose arm is possessively circling my waist has much to teach them.

  Before answering, Joel pulls himself up to his full height, towering over everyone. And I’m proud of the way my man—yes, for tonight at least, he is most definitely my man—refuses to be intimidated.

  “Actually, I’ve been the manager of the Dale Ranch in Bastrop County for the past three years,” he states calmly. “But I’m finishing there next week, because I’m taking over the management of Redlands, my fiancée’s property.”

  “Oh, how convenient,” Felix sneers. “That’s what I’d call a good marriage, very fortuitous for you.”

  “If, by fortuitous, you mean taking on a ranch teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, thanks to the previous appalling mismanagement then yes, very convenient.” Joel glares directly at Oscar, who at least has the grace to look away. “Thankfully, my extensive experience in ranch management means I’m fully aware of the challenges we face and I’m not afraid of tackling them head on.”

  As he finishes speaking, he casually takes a sip of his whisky, while raising one eyebrow challengingly at Oscar. But he just looks away and then moves on with his slimy friend, mumbling something about needing to mingle with the other guests.