San Antonio's Finest Eligibles Page 2

  Following are the details regarding your match.

  Initials: D.J.M.

  Residence: Evergreen, Texas

  Age: 35

  Field of work: Ranching

  Harry sighed dreamily. With her eyes closed, it was quite easy to dream of a man who toiled in his ranch diligently during the day and eager to come home to his loving wife – that would be her! – in the evenings. She couldn’t picture his face just yet, but that didn’t matter. She had never been the type to care much about looks anyway. Even if her future husband turned out to be hideous in appearance, Harry was sure she would still fall in love with him as long as he had a good heart and proved to be a loving husband to her.

  Enclosed is your flight’s itinerary and with everything already paid for by your match. Please be reminded that you are to make a decision as to whether or not to push through with the agreed marriage in 24 hours. We encourage you to review the terms and conditions of our contract prior to confirming your acceptance or rejection of the proposal.

  If you have any concerns or questions, we are at your disposal.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Charlotte Carmichaels

  As Harry curled up to sleep on her narrow creaking bed, her mind drifted towards the future, which now held such promise when once it only meant an endless dreary routine. Absently, she cast a look around her apartment, with its ancient furniture and even more ancient appliances, all of which she had inherited from the tenant before her. If she and her future husband lived in a room just like this, it wouldn’t be so bad. At least then she would have someone to share her life with.

  That was all, Harry thought wistfully, she ever really wanted. For once in her life, she just wanted to feel like she belonged to someone – and that someone would want to belong to her, too.

  Chapter Two

  Not everyone was happy with Harry’s dream, as was proven when she went to work on her last day at Sweet Life, a mid-sized real estate agency that occupied the entire second floor of an old, ugly building downtown.

  Every morning, Harry’s heart would be heavy as she headed to work, knowing that the day would be the same as the one before – and the hundreds of days before it. She knew exactly what would happen at 8:02 (taking the garbage out), at 1:15 (eating her homemade sandwich for a late lunch) and at 5:23 (locking up as the last one to leave the office).

  But this morning was different. This morning would be the last time she’d see what should have been her second home (Harry had worked at the Sweet Life for eight years) but had always felt like a prison. Today would be the last time she would feel claustrophobic by the ever-busy crowds – people who all had places to go. Everyone had a place to go but her.

  This morning was the last of its kind, and Harry was so happy and excited just thinking of what the next day would bring that she had been unable to stop smiling. Or at least until Walter Chapman, her boss, asked her to come to work tomorrow – a Saturday – for “emergency” reasons.

  When Harry gently reminded him she was due to leave tomorrow, the large blustery man immediately blew his top.

  “You can’t just resign!” Walter was looking at her like she had just grown two horns. A man in his fifties and on his way to his fifth divorce, the real estate agency owner completely relied on Harry’s niceness to take over all the unpleasant tasks that came with the business.

  Harry’s official designation was that of an administrative assistant, but she was really more like a general dogsbody, assigned to run everyone’s errands, which included cleaning Walter’s office daily, taking multiple trips to Starbucks, and even picking up the girls’ laundry. All the agents in his agency were females. Walter liked to call them “my beautiful girls” and since their bonuses tended to be a lot larger when they allowed him the occasional cop, his beautiful girls didn’t seem to mind.

  Walter’s raised voice had the girls outside his office looking at them through the un-tinted windows, some even peeking through the open doorway with shameless curiosity.

  Harry tried to explain once more. “Sir—-”

  “No! I don’t want to hear a word again!” Walter really did not want to. For one horrible moment, he had imagined what his company would be like without Harry to smooth things over, and it was not good. Damn ungrateful girl, Walter thought. Didn’t she know how lucky she was to be working at his agency even if she was no good to look at and hadn’t even finished college?

  Harry said sadly, “I’m sorry, sir, but I must leave tomorrow.”

  “You will NOT leave,” Walter bellowed, “and that’s FINAL!” Sheer rage had him throwing the sheaf of papers he was holding at Harry, which hit her smack in the face.

  The whole office fell silent.

  Harry’s eyes stung, but she strove not to blink, not wanting to cry. Her cheeks hot with humiliation, she forced herself to kneel down and pick up the papers Walter had thrown at her. Nearly a decade of working for Walter, and he still treated her no better than a stray dog hoping for crumbs, Harry thought sadly. Once, she had foolishly wished that Walter might look upon her as a surrogate daughter. Later, she had only wanted him to just treat her like another human being.

  But it was really not meant to be. This was not where she belonged.

  Getting back to her feet, she quietly handed the documents back to her boss – or ex-boss. “I think it’s better if I leave today instead, sir.”

  The calm dignity in the words pricked his conscience, which Walter did not like at all, causing him to feel defensive and desirous to lash out. “Go then,” he sneered. “I’m well rid of you! You’ve contributed nothing to the company in all the years you’ve been working for me. You’re a mousy little idiot that I only hired out of pity, and this is how you repay me? Get out of here and never come back!”

  The words made it harder for Harry not to cry, but still she strove not to, telling herself that someone like Walter Chapman did not deserve her tears.

  A heavy silence weighed down on everyone at the wake of Harry’s departure, who carried with her a pitiful amount of belongings in a small cardboard box. She had been working the longest for Walter, but it said a lot about his appreciation of her work that she was also the only one who did not have her own desk at the office.

  “Don’t feel sorry for her, you idiots.” Caryn, one of Walter’s girls, snapped. She had never really liked Harry. The girl had seemed to think too highly of herself, which was stupid, considering she lived in the seediest part of the city and only wore ugly clothes to work.

  She waved a piece of paper in the air, making everyone look at her. When she had heard Harry was leaving, Caryn had curiously rummaged through the other woman’s bag, wondering if there was a clue she could pick up about Harry’s next plans.

  “She’s marrying some dirt poor cowboy and helping him with his tiny ranch.” Caryn laughed harshly. “A mail-order bride in this day and age! Is she for real? She’s going to be trafficked and sold to some old perv.”

  “Where did you get that letter?” This came from Elsie, the newest agent at Sweet Life and the only one who hadn’t allowed Walter to enjoy any advances with her.

  “It fell out of her bag.”

  Elsie didn’t believe Caryn, and by the looks on the other girls’ faces, she had a feeling most of them didn’t, too. But what was there to do? She cast an unhappy look at Caryn as the other woman entertained the office with more information about Harry’s flight to Texas.

  Elsie felt terribly guilty, fearing there was truth in Caryn’s words about Harry being a victim of some odious human trafficking ring or a con artist. She had always liked Harry. She had always wanted to befriend the other woman because she seemed so lonely, but Elsie had been so caught up with her own life that she ended up not doing anything at all.

  Her eyes closed as she said a quick prayer. Please keep her safe.

  Impulsively, Elsie searched for Harry on Facebook and was relieved to see that the woman had an account. She frowned when she saw that the last time Harr
y had gone online was months ago, and another wave of guilt washed over her as she saw that Harry only had two old women as friends on Facebook.

  She sent a friend request and prayed to God once more that Harry would be okay.

  OUTSIDE THE BUSTLING airport of Miami, Harry was pulled into a tight hug by Mrs. Crow. “Take care of yourself there.” The words were spoken by the grey-haired widow gruffly. Mrs. Crow was Harry’s landlady and considered the younger woman as her own daughter. “You’ve got the pepper spray I gave you?”

  Harry nodded dutifully. “I’ve it here in my pocket, Mrs. Crow. Thank you for it.”

  It was Suzy’s turn to hug her. “You are crazy to do this,” Suzy moaned. A former B actress and recovering alcoholic, Suzy tended to be melodramatic even though it had been a good three decades since she last starred in any film. “What if no one comes to fetch you and you try going to your destination alone? I have nightmares of you being picked up by a serial killer. And please don’t hire a car! Because you could up taking a wrong turn and—-”

  “Shut up, Susan,” Mrs. Crow growled to her sister, but she felt herself going pale at the words. “I almost want to lock you up, but I know how stubborn you are. You might end up jumping out of the window if I did.”

  Suzy pinched Harry’s cheeks, painfully enough to make Harry squeak. “And don’t forget what I told you – if anything seems fishy, anything at all, come back to us, okay? You can live with us in the meantime.”

  “Please don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine. Nothing’s going to happen. I checked the agency and it has an A-rating from the BBB—-”

  Mrs. Crow groaned. “Harry! Please tell me that’s not your only reference? BBB also ended up giving an A to a terrorist organization. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” No, actually, she didn’t, which was why it was a good thing Harry had managed to stop herself from telling the older woman the A-rating from BBB had been her only reference.

  But really, she didn’t care if the entire thing looked suspicious. All she knew was that her heart was telling her it was the right thing to do.

  Mrs. Crow grumbled, “I just don’t understand why you can’t date him first. That’s what normal people do.”

  “What if he ends up stealing all your money?” Suzy demanded anxiously. “He’s just a rancher. What if all he can give you are, I dunno, tomatoes and horse shit?”

  Harry was saved from replying when she heard her flight being called. “I’ll miss you two.” It hit her then. She really was leaving, and who knew when she would see the two again? Impulsively, Harry hugged Mrs. Crow and Suzy one last time. “Thank you for all the help you’ve given me over the years,” she whispered shakily.

  By the time Harry disappeared into the airport’s departure hall, both women were doing their best to sniff back tears.

  “She’s never really fit in here,” Suzy murmured. “We’ve always known that. Maybe it was better she got to leave before she lost the stars in her eyes.”

  “I suppose so.” Mrs. Crow was not the type to pray, but for the sake of Hilary White, she found herself doing so. If there was anyone in the world who deserved a happily-ever-after, then it was that young woman.

  Chapter Three

  Devon had no problems spotting his fiancée. Her long dark hair was brushed neatly back, and the serious expression on her heart-shaped face tempted him to do something, not to make her smile but to make her moan and reveal her secret passionate self, the one Devon was sure even she didn’t know about.

  Her red dress was modest, if not a little old, and hinting of womanly curves. The dress made him think of her as Little Red Riding Hood, which he supposed made him the Big Bad Wolf. The thought almost had him frowning. He was expecting too much from Hilary White, and he reminded himself that having read the reports given to him by the agency did not really mean he knew her inside and out.

  In today’s day and age, it would be a miracle if his soon-to-be-bride was indeed as innocent as she appeared on paper and in real life.

  His fiancée started noticing him when he was about a dozen feet away from her. She had a very expressive face. She was doing her best to hide her anxiety from him but failed miserably at it.

  Was she not pleased to have him as a husband? The possibility should have been insulting, but it only served to intrigue Devon. When he finally stood a few inches before her, Devon watched the woman visibly take a deep breath, as if preparing herself. She opened her mouth – then closed it a second later, as if unable to find the words to speak.

  It almost made him smile. They continued to gaze at each other, his fiancée clearly overwhelmed. Taking pity on her, Devon took off the Stetson from his head and asked, “Ms. White?”

  The Southern drawl of the man’s voice was unmistakable. Harry knew it came with the territory, but silly her, she still found herself overwhelmed by how...Texan he was. Dear Lord, he was so...Texan.

  The man was tanned and fit, just like all the photos of Texan men that Google showed her. The way his shirt defined his muscular frame made Harry swallow. It spoke of a strength both quiet and deep, one honed from back-breaking work than hours spent inside a gym.

  Slowly, she made herself meet his gaze, which required Harry to look way, way up. She didn’t even reach his shoulders, and this made her feel a lot smaller.

  His eyes were a blazing shade of blue, cold and hard like sapphires. His face was intimidatingly handsome. He looked like a movie star, and it made her feel very plain.

  Was this man truly going to be her husband?

  “Are you Hilary White, ma’am?”

  The ‘ma’am’ caught Harry by surprise. Forcing herself to speak, she asked awkwardly, “A-are you D.J.M.?”

  The words made him pause for a second. Devon had forgotten that Charlotte’s agency, while disclosing to him Hilary White’s full details, had withheld most of his information from his match. He nodded at the question, saying solemnly, “I believe I am, ma’am. My full name is Devon James Montgomery.”

  He offered his hand, and again he felt the rare urge to smile as Hilary White solemnly took his hand to shake it. She was such a serious, quiet little thing, the complete opposite of the overly confident women he tended to meet.

  “I’m Hilary, but most people call me Harry.”

  Devon asked bluntly, “Why?”

  Harry felt herself flushing. It was the first time she felt self-conscious about the name she had grown up with. “Kids at the orphanage thought I was a boy at the start and after that, the name stuck.” She waited for him to ask about her years in the orphanage, but he didn’t, and so she added nervously, “You can call me anything you like though.”

  “Then I’ll call you mine.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  Devon smiled. “That was a joke, ma’am.”

  “I k-know.”

  Did she, he mused. Because it sure looked like she had never heard one in person, truth be told. Glancing down at her luggage, he asked, “Do you have other cases?”

  “No.”

  Devon looked at Hilary, marveling at the way she wasn’t talking his ears off a mile a minute like most other women. He was not a talkative man himself, finding most people’s useless chatter boring and a waste of time. But there was something restful about Hilary’s quiet nature that made him want to know her more.

  Ah, well. Time enough for that later, Devon thought. Hilary appeared embarrassed after his question, and this he regretted. He changed the subject, asking, “Shall we go then?”

  Before she could speak, Devon was already moving to take the handles of her cases and offering her his hand. Gulping, Harry took it and as his fingers clasped hers, the warmth and strength of his touch made her swallow. He made her feel delightfully feminine and cherished.

  Around them, people were busy taking photos and whispering. It was not something Devon consciously noticed since he was used to it, the Montgomerys having been part of Texas’ high society since the early 19th centu
ry. What surprised and amused him, however, was that his companion appeared to be equally oblivious, busy as she was drinking in the sights around her.

  When they reached his large dusty truck, he subtly studied her face, waiting for her reaction.

  But all Hilary did was smile. And when they were inside his truck and he started driving, that was when she told him with shy pride, “I took a five-hour lesson on using a stick shift before I left.”

  “Is that so?” Devon was unsure of what to say to that. Maybe she thought they didn’t have cars here that were automatic?

  “I know that Texas is big so I was thinking, sometimes, you might be too tired to drive and I think some farming or ranching equipment that have to be driven are, umm, manual, so I thought you might need me to relieve you for a few hours.” Harry waited for Devon to say something, but when he didn’t, her shoulders drooped a little. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  “I think it’s a great idea.” He had a hard time fighting his smile as he spoke. Well, well, what do you know, he thought to himself in satisfaction. He had ordered himself a bride, hoping only for someone who’d take over the social side of his life, and instead he had hit the jackpot. Beside him was no doubt the sweetest woman on earth, and she did not even know who he was.

  Harry flashed him a look of relief. “I’m glad. I really don’t know much about life in a ranch. I tried to research about it but the stuff online is pretty vague. So I’m afraid you’d need to teach me for a while, but I promise you, I’m a quick learner and a hard worker.” She paused then looked at him, another shy smile curving on her rosebud lips.

  For the first time in Devon’s life, he found himself enchanted with a mere smile.

  “I believe this is something that’s tantamount to a serious vow in this part of the world.” She took a deep breath. “I swear to stand by your side, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, and – with or without the air-conditioning working.” Harry was not the type to make jokes, but she wanted her new life to be different – one where she was free from all inhibitions.