More than a Maid

by Reeni Austin

  Sympathetic, Ramon tilted his head to the side and was about to say something to Isaac when Victor shot Ramon a look of warning and said, "I'll take care of this."

  Instantly, Ramon turned away, rolling his eyes so that only Marcy could see. Then he skulked off down the hall to his office and shut the door as Victor continued to try to calm Isaac down.

  Sensing Victor wanted to take care of Isaac on his own, Marcy went to the kitchen where Patty was bent over, sliding a breakfast casserole into the oven.

  Patty glanced over her shoulder as she stood and closed the oven door. "Good morning, hon."

  "Good morning."

  Waggling her brows, Patty said, "I hear someone has a big day planned for you."

  Marcy walked to the coffee pot and reached overhead for a mug, trying to appear calm. "It's nothing."

  Patty scoffed. "Nothing? That's not how it sounded to me when he came in here a few minutes ago to ask if I had any shoes you could wear." She laughed.

  Marcy's eyes narrowed in confusion as she poured her coffee. "Do you think he has a foot fetish?"

  Shrugging, Patty said, "No, but so what if he did?" She waved a dismissive hand. "I think he's just excited to show you around the ranch. Wants to bring you into his world." She laughed, adding, "On his terms, when the other boys aren't around."

  "Yeah, well, I can smell his world from the back door." Marcy wrinkled her nose. "I didn't wanna be rude but I'm not exactly looking forward to that tour."

  "It's not usually that bad. It was windy yesterday." She gave Marcy's back a gentle pat. "I'm just glad you two love birds made up."

  Marcy sighed. She hadn't told Patty or Cara about her and Ramon's argument, but apparently, it was obvious. "I don't think we fall into the 'love birds' category just yet, Patty. You're getting ahead of us. We only met this week. We may fizzle out—"

  "No you won't." Patty shook her head, smugly. "I've got a sense about these things. And I've thought about you for Ramon since the day I met him."

  "Why? Because we're both single?"

  Patty smirked. "Give me a little more credit than that." She sighed. "No, it's because you're both cut from the same type of cloth. Entrepreneurial. Independent. Opinionated. Ramon needs a woman to stand up to him. Like you."

  Rolling her eyes, and not necessarily in agreement with Patty about those similarities, Marcy said, "I don't know about all that. But even if you're right, aren't opposites supposed to attract?"

  "Not always." Patty went to the sink to wash her hands. "It depends on the person." As she dried her hands with a towel, she glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Like Victor." Patty nudged Marcy gently with her elbow. "I knew he was the one for Cara long before she did. They're more opposite each other, but that's a good thing, for them. Now, when you were with Andrew," her face turned sour, "I knew that would never work out. He was a nice guy, but you were opposites, in a bad way. Not good for each other. I was so relieved when you broke up with him." Then Patty let out a dreamy sigh and scooted closer to Marcy, as though she had a secret. "I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to mention it to Cara. She'll think it's ridiculous."

  "I won't say anything. What is it?"

  Tucking her head down, Patty quietly said, "I'm thinking of starting a business."

  "Okay. A restaurant? Bakery?"

  "No, even better. A matchmaking service." Then Patty gasped. "Oh! But you just gave me the best idea! If they get married I could bake the wedding cake as a free gift! Oh, I better write that down…"

  In disbelief, Marcy watched her pull a small, spiral-bound notepad and pen from her apron pocket, then scribble her new idea. "Wow," Marcy said, hesitant. "Uh… a matchmaking service… I don't know what to say…"

  As she finished writing, Patty said, "I thought about opening a bakery but that's so common. Anyone can follow a recipe." Patty turned to Marcy, beaming. "But not everyone has this rare gift of mine. I need to share it with the world."

  Patty looked so hopeful, Marcy didn't have the heart to tell her she thought it was a bad idea. Instead, Marcy nodded and asked, "The gift of matchmaking?"

  "It's more than that. I just get a sense about people. I always have." Patty glanced out to the foyer to make sure they were still alone, and in a quiet voice, said, "And the best part? If Cara and Victor decide to move here, it'll give me a way to write off all of my travel expenses between here and home. You see, I hope to start with some of those ranch hands."

  "Oh geez." Marcy's chest went weak. "It wouldn't take much to get some of those guys matched up. Just post their pictures online, and voila."

  Patty grimaced at her. "No, there's much more to it."

  "Well, you're the expert, I guess." Or, at least, you think you are, Marcy thought.

  Patty was about to elaborate, but closed her mouth and turned her attention to the oven when Cara entered the kitchen.

  "Good morning," Marcy said. "Feeling better today?"

  Cara took a seat at the kitchen island. "Haven't thrown up yet, so yeah."

  "Good." Marcy cleared her throat, then plainly stated, "I have a date with Ramon today."

  Nodding, Cara gave her a glum look. "All right. Whatever." Then she changed the subject. "So, what's for breakfast, Mom?"

  * * *

  At three-thirty that afternoon, Marcy sat on her bed, ready for her date with Ramon. Shoe shopping. Dinner. Then… he would give her a nighttime tour of his smelly ranch?

  She put her hands over her eyes and fell back on the bed, laughing. What a ridiculous list of "date" events.

  Maybe Ramon wasn't used to dating. Or maybe it wasn't really a "date," even though they agreed to call it that. But whatever sort of "event" it was, the thought of it made Marcy's palms sweat and her heart race like lightning.

  Was there really a future for her here? On a ranch? With a guy like Ramon?

  It was unspoken, but she and Ramon were both too logical to talk about the future. But the future was all she could think about. She had lived in Newark her entire life, and now she was considering moving to Texas for a rancher she'd known for a mere handful of days?

  If it didn't work out, she could go back home and forget all about him, couldn't she? Aside from the occasional mentions of "Victor's youngest brother" from Cara or Patty, she would have no reason to think about him again.

  To move… or not to move… either idea was terrifying.

  She could just spend tonight and the next few weeks living in the moment. Just having fun. So what if she thought of him constantly? Or loved the way his arm wrapped around her in the middle of the night? Or if she lit up like a firecracker when she heard the roar of his truck in the driveway and knew he'd come home for the day?

  Oh geez. That ridiculously huge truck. How would she get up into that thing? A trampoline? A catapult?

  Marcy sat up straight and looked down at her three-inch wedges—the only shoes she packed that were casual enough to go with the shorts and T-shirt she wore. That's what I get for trying to pack light, she thought. But she couldn't stop smiling at the idea of Ramon taking her shopping.

  At twenty minutes till four, Marcy heard someone rush up the stairs and close the bathroom door, then turn on the shower.

  A shiver passed through her. She just knew it was Ramon, getting ready to take her out. Naked and soapy by now…

  Her thoughts were interrupted by small feet running upstairs, then dashing in a straight path to Ramon's room where she heard Isaac yell, "Wuh-moan!"

  Marcy stood and walked to the door to open it, then said, "Hey Isaac."

  Isaac quickly ran to her, his eyes wide and scared. "Wheh's Wuh-moan?"

  "I think he's in the shower, sweetie. What's wrong? Where's Mommy?"

  Isaac used his whole body to exhale a labored breath, but he didn't answer.

  Marcy stepped back and invited him into her room, leaving the door open in case someone was looking for him. "Come here. Let's talk about what's bothering you." She took a seat on her bed, g
rateful for the distraction.

  Isaac climbed up the bed and sat beside her. "I'm afwaid about the bouncy house and…"

  Marcy nodded along, listening as Isaac frantically told her about all the things he wanted at his party next week. Apparently, he had a lot of friends coming and they all had different requests. Some told him to get Batman to come to the party. Others wanted the Avengers or Sponge Bob. And Isaac was stressing out, trying to get Mommy and Victor to comply with these requests. Then they reminded him that Ramon was the one who promised to make the party, "goodest," as Isaac put it, by renting inflatable bounce houses for his friends to jump in.

  When Isaac finally stopped, Marcy was about to reply when she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, then a shirtless, dripping wet Ramon rushing into her room with a towel wrapped around his waist. Making her forget what she was about to say.

  "Hey," Ramon said as he stopped in front of Isaac. "What's goin' on? You sound upset."

  Isaac threw his hands up in the air and offered an annoyed sigh. "Okay…"

  Ramon sat down next to Isaac and put his hand on his back, listening attentively. Isaac spoke so fast, Marcy was sure Ramon wouldn't understand most of it.

  But when Isaac finished, Ramon calmly said, "Is it your birthday," he pointed at Isaac, "or your friends' birthday?"

  Isaac drew a hand to his chest and said, "My buhthday."

  Ramon nodded. "That's right. And what do you want at your party?"

  Isaac shrugged. "Cake?"

  Ramon huffed a loud breath out of the side of his mouth. "Come on. You want more than that."

  Isaac thought for a little while, then said, "My fwends. My pwesents. My—"

  "Race car?" Ramon said.

  Isaac gasped. "My wace caw!" Then he looked around the room, his eyes lighting up more each second.

  Ramon laughed. "Did you really forget about that? It's all you've talked about for weeks." Then Ramon put his arm around Isaac's shoulders and drew him close. "Don't worry about your friends. Everyone's gonna have a great time, I promise. All you need to do is show up, eat cake, and drive your race car. You let me take care of everything else."

  Isaac let out a slow sigh of relief. "Okay." Then he jumped off the bed and said, "Bye!" as he ran down the hall.

  Ramon laughed and called, "You're welcome," after him.

  Marcy chuckled. "What's gotten into him today? I've never seen him like this before."

  "He's goin' through a lot. Kinda confused about his Mommy getting married. I told Victor they need to talk to him, but…" Elbows against his knees, Ramon hunched forward, staring off at the wall. After a little while, he took a deep breath and looked at Marcy. The corners of his mouth slowly turned up. "You look really pretty."

  Marcy blushed and thought, I love him. But she laughed inside, quickly dismissing that random thought. It was certainly a mere knee-jerk response to his sweet interaction with Isaac… then telling her she was pretty… and of course, it didn't hurt that he sat before her in nothing but a towel with tiny drops of water floating down his chiseled torso.

  She let out a slow breath and weakly uttered, "Thank you."

  Ramon's eyes locked on hers. His only movement was the rise and fall of his chest.

  Marcy wondered for a moment if he'd changed his mind about leaving the house and they could just spend their evening in the bedroom.

  But then he inhaled deeply and stood, tightening the towel around his waist. "S'pose I gotta get dressed now. See you in a few."

  Marcy watched him walk away. Then she stared at the empty doorway, in a stupor.

  Hopefully whatever she was feeling was temporary… hopefully…

  CHAPTER 13

  At exactly four o'clock, Ramon knocked on Marcy's door, wearing shorts and a plain black T-shirt. They greeted each other with a simple, "Hey," then she picked up her purse and they walked side by side down the hall.

  Mmm. His heart swelled a little more every time he saw her. Pretty lady. She looked good when he first laid eyes on her, but how had he not noticed then how special she was? The way her lips crinkled when she smiled. Tiny little freckles on her cheeks. Supple body, begging for his touch…

  But Ramon knew better than to pay her too many compliments so quickly. No doubt he'd accidentally call her "fat" again and that'd be the end of all hope.

  As Ramon followed her down the stairs, he inhaled deeply to try to even out his erratic heartbeat. Her sweet scent filled his senses. It was either perfume or shampoo. Maybe both. Whatever it was, it intensified his urge to rip her clothes off. But it wasn't time for that right now.

  When they walked out the front door, Marcy started to take a left, past all the cars parked outside, but Ramon said, "Hey, wait."

  "Hmm?" she asked over her shoulder.

  "We're taking this." He clicked a button on his keychain, and his Mercedes beeped.

  Taken aback, Marcy asked, "This is yours? I assumed we were taking your truck."

  Ramon shook his head. "Nah. I use this when I'm not working. The truck's a gas hog."

  Marcy's eyes widened, scanning the little black car. She quickly opened her door before he could open it for her.

  Maybe she's one of those modern women who doesn't like a man to hold the door open, he thought, and made a mental note of it.

  Soon, they were both fastening their seat belts as Ramon started the ignition. Pressing the accelerator, he said, "It's nice that you'd still wanna go out with me, even if you thought we were taking the truck. I can tell you hate it."

  "I don't hate it. I just can't imagine how I'd get up into the passenger seat. Would I jump from a trampoline?"

  Ramon laughed. "No. I told you. It has steps. You'd be fine."

  Usually, a woman who didn't like his truck was a woman he had no use for. But there was something special about Marcy. It was like she understood him in ways no one else ever had. And it seemed like a cruel joke that she may only be in his life for a little while longer.

  "Okay," he said as they headed down the driveway. "I'll give you one last chance to pick the restaurant."

  "No. I meant what I said last night. Just take me to one of your favorite places. Show me who you really are."

  "All right." He'd given her the chance. If she wanted to know who he really was, he'd show her. And if they realized they were incompatible as a result, it'd make saying goodbye to her a whole lot easier. He decided right then—after they went shoe shopping—to take her to Floyd's Grill, a place he used to frequent a couple of times a month before Victor and the rest of the clan moved in.

  Ramon said, "I was thinking we'd go to a sporting goods store at the mall to get those shoes."

  Marcy shot him a sideways glance as she fished something from her purse. "I thought you told me I didn't need boots. Isn't that what they sell at sporting goods stores?"

  "You don't. Just some comfortable sneakers that'll clean easy if you get 'em dirty. Like, maybe hiking shoes or something."

  Marcy gulped. "I have never owned anything like that in my entire life. Can't they be pretty, at least?"

  Ramon laughed. "They don't have to be ugly, but they can't be high-heeled. You'll fall and hurt yourself."

  "Every pair of boots I've ever owned has been high-heeled."

  "I'm sure they have. That's why I mentioned it."

  "Well, you're the boss." She paused, then added, "But don't let it go to your head." Marcy dropped her purse to the floor and relaxed in her seat.

  Ramon smiled. He liked it when she called him, "boss."

  Marcy said, "Do you think it'll take that long to find shoes?"

  "I don't know. Why?"

  "Just wondered why you wanted to do this so early, at four. You gonna treat me to an early bird special?"

  Ramon chuckled, "Nah," even though he knew the place where they were going actually did offer an early bird special. "Thought we'd need some extra time before dinner in case you got all prissy and high-fallootin' with your shoes, or—"

  Erupting in
laughter, Marcy said, "Oh my God. Did you really just use, 'high-fallootin' in a sentence with a straight face?"

  Ramon raised a brow at her as he shifted gears. "Yeah. I use 'high fallootin', 'dag nabbit,' 'darn tootin'.' You know, 'cause I'm a classy guy and stuff."

  Marcy placed her hand on her stomach for a moment and groaned, like she was equally amused and nauseated. "I'm surprised this car wasn't too high-fallootin' for your tastes."

  "Why? It's not that fancy. Simple four door sedan."

  "Yeah, but you could've bought something less expensive."

  "You mean, something country? Redneck?"

  "Don't put words in my mouth." Marcy leaned back against her seat, meeting Ramon's eyes when he glanced her way. "It's a high-end foreign car. That's all I meant."

  Ramon chuckled. "Well, I'm a foreign guy. Born in Mexico. And I got a good deal on the car 'cause I know a guy."

  When they arrived at the mall, Ramon parked outside the sporting goods store, and Marcy immediately turned her gaze to the department store beside it.

  As Ramon parked the car, he said, "You really wanna go there instead, don't you?"

  She shrugged. "I got a little extra money right now and I love a good clearance rack." She shyly bit her lip, adding, "And I'm sure they have shoes."

  Ramon looked in her pretty green eyes… and caved. "All right. I'll park over there." Lord, how many times over the years had he come shopping with other women here at this mall? He loathed shopping as a date. It was one of about five hundred reasons why he'd abandoned the entire concept of dating long ago. And now he found himself here again. Hopefully it wouldn't be so bad with Marcy.

  So much for showing her who I really am, he thought. Then he decided to say, "For the record, I hate this store." There. At least he'd tried.

  "I'm sure you do."

  A few minutes later they walked together through the glass doors into the department store. This time, she let him hold the door open as she rushed inside, entering through the men's department.

  Ramon was already looking around for the shoe section, intent on getting this over with, when Marcy stopped him.