His Temporary Wife by Leslie P. García Page B

“Marie
     gave me directions. Guess she decided you’d figure it out when you saw me.”
    “I’ll have to talk to her. So, what brought you here?” He indicated the thick growth
     on banks sloping down to an unseen body of water.
    Without answering immediately, she carefully walked over the rough terrain until she
     could see what the growth and distance hid.
    “Y’all call that a river?” she asked, sarcastically.
    “We all weren’t born long side the Rio Grande,” Rafael retorted, moving up behind
     her to look down at the small stream gurgling over small stones. “Although, actually,
     I guess we both were.”
    That surprised her. Esme turned a little, careful not to catch a heel and fall on
     her behind again. “Really? You? I didn’t know the Bentons were ever there.”
    “They—we—have been there. But I was born there. I’m adopted.”
    She turned to face him then, surprised. “So Cody …”
    “Was my little sister,” he answered. “Period.”
    “Okay.” She fell silent, not knowing where she wanted the conversation to go. He didn’t
     say anything else for a while, just stared out over the landscape. Then he sighed
     and waved a hand at the truck.
    “Luc, Chief, in, boys.”
    The dogs, apparently somewhere nearby, materialized out of the undergrowth and jumped
     easily up into the bed of the pickup. Those were the rambunctious mutts who’d threatened
     her?
    “Nice,” she muttered. “They listen remarkably well when they’re not knocking someone
     off their feet.”
    “I didn’t see you coming,” he explained. “Again … I’ll speak to Marie. I’m sorry about
     your dress.”
    “What’s wrong with my dress?” she demanded, smoothing her hands over the sides and
     glancing down at the front.
    His eyes followed the path of her hands and something sparked in his dark eyes. Something
     hot and enticing. Not to be encouraged, she reminded herself. This was the man who’d
     offered to “buy” her.
    “You … um … sat down hard enough the dirt kind of … clung.” He started out searching
     carefully for words, then suddenly shrugged and flashed her a grin. “You’ve got a
     nice print of your ass on the back of your skirt.”
    “Shoot!” She ran her hands over the unseen print, feeling the dampness and grit. “It’s
     probably wrecked.”
    “I’ll replace it. The dogs …”
    She couldn’t let him blame the dogs; she’d fallen before they arrived. She suddenly
     wished one of her promises to herself back in Rose Creek hadn’t been to be as honest
     as possible. Taking advantage of any situation had been a strength of hers up until
     a few short months ago.
    “They didn’t knock me down. I’d already tripped and fallen.”
    “Still. You must have come here to find me. Did Lillie Mae have anything to do with
     this?”
    “Lillie Mae!” She shook her head slightly. “Cantankerous old woman. Yet from everything
     I’ve heard, she’s like the town conscience or something.”
    “Something,” he agreed, smiling again. “She can make or break you here in Truth.”
    “Why did you tell me to go see her? She took my head off for being stupid enough to
     need advice. She knew I was a counselor. Did you know that?”
    “Everyone in Truth knows that. Didn’t you say you came here from a small town?”
    “Yes, but …”
    “Everyone knows. But I figured she’d at least assure you I’m not some depraved sex
     fiend trying to buy you for a summer of … whatever depraved sex fiends do.”
    She looked around at the deserted surroundings. She didn’t feel threatened, not at
     all. But she didn’t want to sit on a tailgate in the middle of nowhere in a dirty
     dress and discuss Rafael Benton’s insane job offer. Before she could say that, though,
     his phone rang.
    He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the number, and declined it. “Not important,”
     he explained. “Look, Esmeralda, let me show you something. Then maybe we can go back
     to the house and