Rio Grande Wedding (12 page)

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Authors: Ruth Wind

BOOK: Rio Grande Wedding
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“Right.” Their eyes met “We talked.”
“Tío,” she said, and spoke quickly, excitedly, in Spanish. Alejandro stopped her after a moment, saying, “We must speak English, so our Molly can hear, too.” He looked at Molly. “She told me she spent her money well. Made it last for three meals, and she found a way to get a blanket so she would not be cold at night.” With a gentle smile, he turned to Josefina and added, “I am very proud of you.”
Cathy waved at Molly, and exited. Molly let go of a sigh of relief. “So far, so good.”
Alejandro glanced over his shoulder. “Keep watch while I tell Josefina what we're going to do.”
 
They went shopping at a brightly lit department store when they left the hospital. Alejandro was conscious of the money he was spending, and chose only two pairs of jeans that fit him, and three shirts, all long-sleeved. One had snaps on the pointed pockets, but Molly's amused expression made him hesitate. “Is this not right?”
“If you want it to be. Only old men wear those shirts now, though.”
“Ah.” He grinned and gestured toward the rack. “Then you choose for me. Proper American clothes.”
She flipped through the multicolored cottons on their hangers, using that brisk, decisive gesture women employed.
Clack, clack, clack
as the colors or patterns were dismissed. She pulled one out, a dark shade of blue, and held it up to him, then rejected it.
Clack. Clack, clack.
Another, this one of some soft fabric he didn't know how to name, in a shade of deep turquoise. She held it up and smiled. “They'll really swoon over you in this.”
They? he wondered, smiling as she narrowed her eyes. Or her? He put on the shirt in the men's room before they left, and was pleased at the sudden deepening of the silver in her eyes.
All day, he had been trying to keep his thoughts away from the kiss that had lingered on his nerves for hours afterward, away from the way she had felt in his arms when she wept for her lost husband—ah, so deep a love she'd found!—away from that swift, fierce wish to make love to her.
She did not make it easy. He liked the feel of her hand in his, small and strong. He liked her throaty laughter and the flash of her eyes. As they moved toward the car to go to see her brother, he liked the way her breasts bounced slightly beneath her shirt.
And he was shamed by his desire. What did he have to offer her? In his own country, he had been modestly successful, enough that he had been considering the possibility of marriage when his sister died.
Here, he had nothing. Less than nothing—no home, no family ties, no money or way of procuring it legally. On this bright October day, those facts stung his pride, but also reminded him that he could not allow himself the indulgence of desire.
It was wrong for another reason. She was not ready for a man yet. Not any man who was not her husband. Though he sometimes saw appreciation in her pale eyes, her heart belonged still to her lost husband.
One day Alejandro would repay her extraordinary kindness. He vowed it to himself, a sacred promise. In the meantime, he would do what he could to ease her worry over the trouble she might face over this situation.
As they drove through a settled town neighborhood of small, well-tended houses, her nervousness increased. He saw it in the way she tightened her hands on the steering wheel, leaning forward as if by peering through the windshield hard enough she would be able to tell the future.
“You are worried about your brother, no?”
She glanced at him. “Yes.”
“Tell me what I should know of him.”
“Josh is a good man,” she said. “But we lost our parents in a car accident when he was sixteen, and it affected him badly. He wants to make sure nothing bad ever happens again, and he thinks he can make that happen by controlling everything.”
Alejandro nodded. “I see.”
“That's not all of it.” She took a breath. “Don't ask me where this came from, but he sees it as his sacred duty to scour the country free of ‘aliens.'” She pulled the car up in front of a tiny yellow house with an even smaller square of lawn. Everything about the place was almost painfully meticulous, from the swept walk to the garden hoses rolled up on a caddy. “If he even suspects that we're not really in love, he'll make it his personal quest to deport you.”
He frowned. “Is this wise, then, Molly?”
She turned off the engine, staring at the house for a long moment. “No. It really isn't. But it's the only chance you have.”
A wave of gratitude washed over him, and he bent close, putting a hand on her face. “He will never doubt, not for one moment, that I am in love with you.”
“There he is,” she whispered urgently. “Kiss me like you really mean it.”
That
he could do. He closed the small space between them and cupped her chin, lifting her face to his, and kissed her. In this, he could use his desire. And in his desire, he was not so careful, so restrained as he'd been last night. He coaxed her lips apart with his tongue, and felt a burst of heat when their tongues touched, danced, circled. Her hands came around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair, and then she tilted her head, as if in genuine heat, to urge him closer. Alejandro met the deepening with a shock of pleasure. Their tongues touched, tip to tip, then skittered away, and came back again to slide together, slide apart, meet again.
He felt his breath come more quickly, felt the small, eager leaps of his sex as it wakened, and he told himself it was enough, this kiss looked good enough for her brother.
But she showed no sign of wishing to stop, and Alejandro let himself go entirely, swirling, tasting, plucking. He suckled her lower lip for a brief second and heard her cry out in surprise and pleasure, so he did it again, putting his tongue into it. She softened in reaction, and one breast pressed lightly into his chest.
A rap at the car door made them break apart, but neither turned immediately toward the sound. She gazed up at him, her silvery eyes almost too bright to look upon. With his thumb, he brushed moisture from her lip, still holding her gaze.
Then, as if they could speak without speaking, they turned together toward the man standing outside the car in a khaki sheriff's uniform, hands on his hips.
“For the love of Mike, Molly, get out of there and stop making out like a teenager.”
Molly gave Alejandro a wicked little grin over her shoulder and pushed open her door. Alejandro stepped out on the passenger side, leaning heavily on his cane. The man in uniform planted his lean but sturdy body in the path and glared at him, his gaze flickering with distaste from the top of his head to his feet. “Who is this?”
“Alejandro Sosa.” She paused to let that sink in, then, “He is my fiancé.” Molly joined Alejandro and slid her hand into his. “Alejandro, this is my brother, Josh.”
Alejandro held out his hand, knowing it would be ignored. “How do you do?”
“What the hell is this, Molly?”
“Let's go inside, Josh. I want Lynette to meet him, too, and there's no point in your standing out here yelling at me for all the neighbors to hear.”
Josh glared. at Alejandro. Alejandro had seen the look before, a hundred times, a thousand. It was an expression that said the wearer knew all there was to know of his kind. In most cases, the gaze was one of distaste, and perhaps a little fear. But in Molly's brother's eyes, Alejandro glimpsed a much more dangerous emotion than distaste. It was hate.
Alejandro lifted his chin and let the pride of five hundred years of culture fill him. In him ran the blood of the Aztecs and the conquistadores, who had done as much damage as good, but had been first even on this land under their feet. What his education had given him—pride in his language and his people—could not be stolen by the evil eye of a man who was afraid.
“Please,” Molly said again, more urgently.
Abruptly, Josh gave up his aggressive stance and spun toward the house. Molly looked up at Alejandro, and he glimpsed the worry in her face. He held out his hand, smiling wryly. “He will not hurt you.”
“Not intentionally,” Molly said bleakly, but she accepted his hand and they walked to the house.
 
Inside, the usual chaos greeted them. Toys were strewn in no particular trail through the living room—trucks, plastic blocks, doll clothes.
Josh cursed as he made his way through the minefield. “Lynette!” he roared, “make these kids pick up their stuff!”
Lynette came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Don't be such a grouch, honey!” Only then did she spy Molly and Alejandro, who hung back a little. Her eyes widened.
Molly knew she had to hit exactly the right notes in front of her friend. They had been best friends since kindergarten. For a while last night, she had even considered telling Lynette the truth, but realized in time that the confession would put Lynette in a difficult position. So, although it pained her to lie to her friend, Molly intended to convince Lynette she was besotted.
To that end, she looked up at Alejandro and smiled, and tugged his hand. “This is my best friend, Lynette, Alejandro.”
Josh snorted. “They're engaged,” he said in a nasty singsong.
“What?” Lynette's face was a study in bewilderment. First shock, then a sliding glance to Alejandro, which turned her expression to one of consideration, then a glance at her husband, before she looked back to Molly with amazement.
“Oh my God,” she finally said, and sailed—through some uncanny mother instinct—over the toys and into Molly's arms. “How wonderful!” she screeched, her arms a vise.
Then, in one of the gestures that had made her Molly's best friend for all of life, she turned to Alejandro and hugged him, too. “Welcome to the family!” she cried. “I'm amazed, but I'm so happy for you! I think I have some champagne somewhere. Come in the kitchen and let's have a toast.”
She led the way, and shooed the children out of the kitchen. “Go pick up your toys, guys, and you can come back and take a peek at your new uncle.”
Both children dropped their mouths. “New uncle?”
“Yep, right there in front of you.” She shooed them with her fingers. “Go pick up the toys first. Pronto, pronto.” She glanced up and gave Alejandro an abashed expression. “Sorry! I wasn't making fun of you, I promise. I mean, you are Mexican, aren't you? Oh, I'm only making this worse!”
Alejandro laughed, that low, sexy sound, and shook his head. “It would be a mean man who was offended with you.”
“Thank you. Sit down.” She swept the children's dishes from the table.
Through it all, Molly kept her attention on her brother. He flung himself against the counter, arms crossed, and waited for everything to settle, his eyes hard on Molly. “No way,” he said at last. “This is just bull—”
“Josh,” Lynette warned.
“Bullcrap,” he said instead. “I don't believe this is some big love match, Molly Sheffield. How long have you known him?”
Alejandro spoke. “It has not been long, it is true. But time is sometimes not needed.”
“How long?”
Molly looked at Alejandro, urging him silently to field this one. She had no idea when he'd arrived at Wiley Farms. He acknowledged her urgency with a nod. “I came here only three weeks ago.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Molly, I want to talk to you. Alone.”
Alejandro half rose, but Molly shook her head silently. She'd known how hard this part would be, and with Josh in his current temper, she didn't particularly want to subject Alejandro to any more of his raving.
Josh strode into his bedroom and closed the door. In a low, tight voice, he said, “What the hell do you think you're doing, Moll?”
As calmly as possible, Molly replied, “I knew this wouldn't be easy for you.”
“You're damned right.” He paced toward the window, then back. “How could you?”
“How could I what? Fall in love? It happens all the time.”
“He's a friggin' alien! I can't believe you have anything in common enough to fall in love.” He licked his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing. “I knew there was something wrong that night you bought me a steak at the café. Like you had a guilty conscience.”
“Come on, Josh. I've done it a hundred times. It gives me pleasure to help you sometimes. I don't have to have an ulterior motive.”
“Not always. But you were weird that night. Asking about the kid—I suppose it's the little girl they found on Wiley's land.”
She nodded. A knot of discomfort made her stomach ache. She didn't like to lie, and it seemed she'd done little else the past few days.
But was lying to save someone's life really a sin? In this case, she felt justified, though her brother would certainly disagree. The thought made her utter a swift prayer: God, please never let him find out the truth!

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