Under Her Skin Page 3

  If I could freeze the moment, Torien thought.

  Iris patted the step next to her. “Sit with me, Torien.”

  Torien hesitated, and their differences rushed back into stark focus like she should’ve known they would. She glanced toward the terraza for Iris’s boyfriend. “I should not.”

  Iris’s eyes implored Torien, luminous in the moonlight. “Please? I don’t bite. I just…really need to talk to a normal person right now.”

  How could anyone deny her? Pushing away the nagging fear she might be overstepping her boundaries, Torien sat, careful to maintain a respectable distance between them. For the second time in the short moments since Torien had first seen Iris, her dark garden angel, words failed to formulate into anything coherent in her mind.

  Think, Toro.

  She had never been a woman of many words, but this was absurd. She stared at the prospering bed of love-in-a-mist across the path from where they sat and racked her brain for what she should say next.

  Thankfully, the beauty saved her the trouble. She stuck out her hand. “We haven’t properly met. I’m Iris Lujan.”

  Torien stared at Iris’s soft palm, dismayed by the thought of dirtying it, yet thrilled by the prospect of touching her all the same. She finally slid her hand against Iris’s. “I…I know who you are. I am Torien Pacias.”

  “I know who you are, too.”

  To Torien’s relief, Iris didn’t seem to mind her callused, soil-covered palm. Instead, she smiled, though her eyes remained troubled. “What are you doing out here so late?”

  Torien gestured to the freshly turned soil. “Planting bulbs. They prefer the cool of night to the burning sun.” Truthfully, Torien had been spending so much time with her volunteer gardening project in el barrio, she had not arrived at Moreno’s until late afternoon, just before she had seen Iris that first time on the terraza. But that was a detail she didn’t wish to share. Torien could feel Iris’s thoughtful gaze on the side of her face.

  “I saw the roses you cut this afternoon.”

  Iris paused, and Torien wanted to deny she had seen Iris, too. Stared at her. Ignored her friendly wave.

  “They were beautiful,” Iris added.

  “Gracias. Hybrid tea roses.” She paused, swallowing thickly. “I still had…much work to do, when I saw you there.” Torien motioned to the terraza. It was all she could manage as an apology.

  “That’s okay,” Iris said. “I shouldn’t have spied on you.”

  She pointed toward the big house, hoping to turn the conversation back to Iris’s unexpected presence in the garden. “Did you and your boyfriend fight, señora?”

  “Boyfriend? Antoine?” Iris reeled back, looking horrified. “Please. The twit is not my boyfriend.”

  “Forgive me. I assumed…”

  “I don’t…date men, Torien. Only women. When I do date, that is.”

  This pleased Torien more than it should have. “But you are troubled.” It was more of an observation than a question. “¿Por qué?”

  Iris sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have nothing but time.” She shrugged, even though truthfully her time seemed in short supply lately. “Ask the bulbs.”

  Iris chuckled, but ended with a groan. Then she just sat, absentmindedly twirling a simple silver ring she wore on the middle finger of her right hand. Round and round and round. Staring off into the distance, her words low and monotone, she asked, “Do you ever wonder if you’re on the right track in life?”

  Not quite sure what answer the vague question demanded, Torien waited. If Iris was anything like Torien’s little sisters, she would fill any silences with words. The gamble paid off.

  Iris quickly added, “I mean, you’re a gardener, and you seem like you love what you do.”

  “Sí.” Torien cast Iris a sidelong glance. “It’s a good job.”

  “Don’t you ever experience moments of self-doubt?”

  Iris ignored the long strands of her hair that the soft breeze carried over her cheek, but Torien was struck with the overwhelming urge to brush it back. She refrained, but the effort distracted her.

  “Have you ever worried that you aren’t living the life you were meant to live?” Iris added.

  Torien had not expected deep questions such as these. She knew she would rather be home in México, if that was what Iris meant. But she also knew it was impossible. “Everyone has those types of doubts, señora. It is part of being humano, no?”

  Iris sat in silence for a moment, seeming to consider the words. “Even you, Torien? You don’t seem doubtful. What would you be if you didn’t garden?”

  “I would be without money,” she teased, hoping to ease some of the anguish on Iris’s face.

  To Torien’s pleasure, Iris’s features softened. “You know what I mean. What do you dream about?”

  This time, Torien knew exactly what Iris asked. Sure, she wished she could bring her mamá and baby sisters here to live as a family, or better yet, go to them. She wished the Americanos she had encountered in this country would not avert their eyes when she passed, as if her mere existence in their world was unwelcome. But not all of them acted this way, and so many other people had far greater problems than hers. People she knew, cared for.

  Torien raised her unwavering gaze. “I live in a comfortable house and have clothes on my back, food on my table. I am able to see to the needs of mi familia. A humble woman should be satisfied with such blessings, no?”

  Iris blinked, looking startled. “Is your family here?”

  “Some of them.”

  “Oh.” She traced the contours of Torien’s face with her lovely green eyes, her throat moving on a slow swallow. “How many children do you have?”

  Surprise pulled a short laugh from inside Torien. If Iris thought she had time to date, let alone find a woman and raise a family, she had no concept of Torien’s life. “No, you misunderstand. I am speaking of mi mamá y mis hermanas. I am not married.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I just assumed…” Iris didn’t finish the thought.

  “Like you, I also only date women,” Torien added in a shy tone. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell Iris, but…there it was. The heat of embarrassment rose up her neck.

  Iris smiled. “So, who is here with you? Your sisters?”

  Torien nodded. “Just one. Madeira. She is twenty-four, but acts more like eighteen.”

  Iris laughed softly.

  “My younger sisters live back home with my mamá.”

  “How many sisters?”

  Torien angled a playful look of reproach in Iris’s direction. “We are supposed to be talking about you.”

  “I’m just curious. If you don’t want to talk about your family—”

  “No, I—” Torien released a breath. If Iris wanted to hear about her familia, she would happily tell her. The thought of her two mischief-making hermanitas, mirror images of one another, brought a smile. “Two more. Raquel and Reina. They are mellizas, no? Twins?”

  Iris nodded. “Identical?”

  “Yes. Special little girls, but malcriado—how do you say?”

  “Spoiled rotten?”

  “Exactly.”

  Iris waved away the words. “Oh, now, everybody says that about their little sisters. I bet I’d adore them. All of them.”

  “You would,” Torien admitted. Everyone adored the twins, and women especially were easily sucked in by Madeira’s flirtatious charm. Homesickness jabbed Torien. She tried to deflect the blade, but here in the moonlight, a stab of pure longing pierced her soul.

  The hardest thing she had ever done was leave her mother and sisters and set off with Madeira for los Estados Unidos. But they had been unable to earn enough money in their small town and had left to honor their father, who would have done the same thing had he lived long enough for the opportunity to present itself. They were not uneducated people, the Pacias sisters. There just were no jobs. As the eldest daughter, Torien took it as her duty to maintain the family
, and she knew she’d have a better chance of it here.

  She had dragged her charming, fun-seeking hermanita along, knowing they could do more for the family together than apart. Besides—her lips twitched with tired amusement—Madeira needed a keeper even more than the twins, and Torien hadn’t wanted to saddle Mamá with the extra responsibility. Little mosquito. She’d dated her way through their hometown, leaving a backlog of women fighting over her and Torien trying her best to sweep up the debris. Madeira had been only too happy to escape.

  Torien shook her head.

  “What are you thinking about?” Iris asked.

  “Home,” she replied simply.

  “And that makes you sad?”

  Torien paused. “It’s hard to be away from loved ones.”

  “Now, that,” Iris said, “I completely understand.”

  Shake it off, Toro. Madeira was forever telling Torien to “lighten up,” while Torien always got after Madeira about “getting serious.”

  They complemented each other.

  In her heart, Torien knew she belonged in México, where she was just another person, rather than a “foreigner.” She missed that feeling of being…simply another thread in the quilt of humanity. Though she liked it here, liked the life she was building, Torien wasn’t sure she would ever feel as invisibly comfortable in the United States as she had back home. Even those called “Mexican Americans” were often people Torien did not recognize, people who might physically resemble her, but nothing more. There were cultural similarities, sí. But where it truly counted, the Mexican Americans were American.

  She was Mexicana.

  She did not begrudge the differences, but wouldn’t deny their existence either. Torien slid a quick glance at Iris, an excellent example of the difference. Iris was a Mexican American, for sure, but clearly belonging to a world outside Torien’s experience. One might as well compare a carrot with a rose. They both grew in the earth, but beyond that…well, even her charming little sister wouldn’t get very far by bringing a beautiful woman a bouquet of…carrots.

  The image lightened her thoughts, and Torien shoved aside the melancholy. Iris hadn’t asked her to share the gazebo step in glum silence with her face long like a mule’s. She picked up the string of their conversation easily. “I miss them. Raquel and Reina are easy to love. Beautiful girls, but teenagers now, no? That time is always difficult.”

  Iris nodded, then stared up at the moon. She smoothed her palms up and down her arms as though chilled. “I don’t have siblings. Though my two best friends are like sisters.” Her voice sounded distant, as if her thoughts were miles away. “Still, it’s probably not the same as a real sister. Or a twin.”

  “There is nothing so close as a twin,” Torien said. Except a lover, if you find the right one. Her stomach flipped, and she forced herself to follow Iris’s gaze, noting a thin wisp of clouds waltzing with la luna. The insanity of this moment struck her. Was she really sitting beneath the stars talking with none other than world-famous Iris Lujan? It hardly seemed possible. Torien inhaled the familiar earthy smells of the garden to prove she was not dreaming, and with them came the spice of Iris’s perfume, the incomparable feminine sweetness of her skin. This moment was real. And one of the best, most surreal, in Torien’s life.

  Iris pulled her long, slim legs up close to her body and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her cheek on her knees and studied Torien for long moments. Just when Torien began to squirm beneath her stare, Iris lifted her head and reached over to squeeze Torien’s arm. “You’re a different sort of woman than I’m used to.”

  Torien’s stomach contracted with desire from the simple touch of Iris’s warm hand. “We only just met. How can you know?”

  “Trust me, I know.” Iris’s eyes darkened, looking once again sad. “You’re sitting here talking to me, aren’t you? About family. Normal things. Everything and nothing, all at the same time.”

  An appropriate response eluded Torien, so she said nothing.

  With a decisive breath, Iris stood.

  Regret seized Torien. She wasn’t ready for Iris to leave. Time had stilled while they conversed, and Torien’s mind had calmed. She didn’t want to let go of the feeling, but angels kept their own schedules, she supposed. She stood, too, and faced Iris. For some inexplicable reason, it pleased her that Iris’s eyes were on an equal level with her own.

  “Thank you for…listening to me.” Iris tucked her lush hair behind her ears and looked rather chagrined. “Sometimes I get so caught up in things I feel…ungrounded. I really needed someone to pull me back to earth.”

  Torien lifted her arms and let them fall to her sides, feeling helpless. “But I did nothing, señora, except talk about mi familia.”

  “Well, it has been the best part of my night. Thank you.” Iris tilted her head to one side. “Can you do me one small favor?”

  Eat broken glass? Rope the moon? Sell my soul? Standing there in the fertile garden, drunk on moonlight and Iris’s presence, Torien knew she’d do whatever Iris asked. “Of course. Anything.”

  “Call me Iris. When you call me señora, it makes me feel so…separated, if you know what I mean.” Her eyes shadowed. “I’ve had enough separation in my life already.”

  Torien understood only too well. “With pleasure…Iris.”

  Iris smiled. “I like the way you say it. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Buenas noches.”

  Iris looked as if she were waiting for Torien to say more, but no words came. Finally, she added, “I’ll be staying here for six weeks. I’m on vacation.”

  Torien nodded, paused…unsure what the proper response would be. “Enjoy it,” she said, wishing her words had more meaning, more depth.

  “I’m glad I finally met you, Torien.” Iris hesitated, but before Torien knew what had happened, Iris leaned forward and touched her soft lips to Torien’s cheek. A brief kiss of gratitude, she supposed, before Iris turned and hurried away in that ethereal red dress and bare feet.

  Torien stood there for long moments, the skin on her cheek tingling, dread twirling with awareness in her middle. Iris’s words rang in her mind:

  See you around.

  I’m glad I finally met you.

  I’ll be here for six weeks.

  Señora Moreno had warned Torien there would be many famous people in and out of her home. The boss had left no doubt in Torien’s mind that the hired help were expected to keep to their own business. Torien agreed it was the wise choice all the way around, and never gave it much thought. Frankly, there were no famous people she desired to spend time with…until now. Watching Iris’s retreating form, so luscious and vulnerable in the moonlight, Torien wished their differences were not so stark, their situation not so unfavorable. Six whole weeks in her intoxicating presence? Would Torien have the strength of will and presence of mind to resist her?

  Did she really want to?

  Think of your obligations, Toro.

  Pressing her lips together, Torien resigned herself to the fact that spending time with Iris wouldn’t pay the bills, whereas working for Moreno would. She knew the toll her responsibilities would take on the family if she lost this job over a ridiculous infatuation with an untouchable woman. Torien laughed derisively to herself. Untouchable was an understatement. Like catching sunlight with a butterfly net.

  Just as well.

  She was only dreaming big again.

  Firm in her decision, Torien returned to her knees by the turned garden soil. If Iris sought her out again, Torien had no choice but to avoid her.

  *

  Torien could not decide if it was dismay or relief that washed over her when she arrived at the estate several days later and found Iris sitting cross-legged on the bench in front of the small reflective pond. She had thought of her constantly since their unlikely midnight meeting, and seeing her now, caressed by the long, gold fingers of afternoon light, stole Torien’s breath. The magazine images truly didn’t do the living, breathing w
oman justice. It wasn’t just Iris’s obvious photogenic qualities, it was the life that pulsed from her, the honesty. The almost pensive vulnerability—something Torien never expected to see.

  Iris glanced up from the book she had been reading and smiled. “You do keep strange hours. Hi.”

  Remember yourself. She didn’t want to repeat patterns she’d learned. Patterns that disgusted her. Responsibility—that was her saving grace. Feeling out of step, Torien took her time maneuvering the paper bag of supplies she picked up at the nursery to her other hip. The crackling of the thick brown paper mirrored the rattle of her nerves. She had replayed their conversation repeatedly, revising her own words, her reactions to Iris. Recreating herself into the confident, sophisticated woman she wished she could be. Now here she sat, and Torien could think of nothing to say.

  Typical.

  Torien smoothed her free hand through her hair slowly, grappling for her bearings. “Hello, again. I am surprised to see you here.”

  A tiny line bisected Iris’s smooth, regal forehead. “I’m staying here, remember?”

  “I meant, here in the garden.”

  “Ah.” Iris looked around, serenity on her face. “I like it. It’s peaceful. I definitely need some peace on this vacation.”

  Nodding, Torien stared at Iris for a moment longer. Then, not knowing what else to do, and hoping to give her this peace she craved, Torien turned and carried the purchases into the cool, dim potter’s cottage. She placed fertilizer and a few new tools into the cabinets, then yanked her T-shirt over her head, meaning to change into one of the sleeveless button-up shirts she favored while working. The simple roughness of the cotton T-shirt brushing her flesh felt sensual, and she cursed in a rough whisper. It wasn’t the shirt razing Torien’s senses, it was Iris. The admission settled like river rock in her gut. She’d be a damned fool if she let Iris get any further under her skin.

  With a sigh, she braced her palms wide on the slatted wood counter top and hung her head. Why had Iris come into Torien’s space again? To complicate her life? Iris’s presence put her entre la espada y la pared—between the sword and the wall. Torien could not afford to anger Moreno, a formidable woman, by bothering guests of the estate. Yet she could not bear to send Iris away.