The Sheikh's Priceless Bride Page 18

  “All right, then,” Alim said, his eyebrows high. “Let’s do it. If that beautiful, headstrong-looking woman turns out to be an American, and you can indeed woo her as your own, then I’ll give you, oh…”

  “I’m ready for this bet,” I said, feeling my blood pressure rise. “Let’s say five million dollars. No more. No less.”

  I watched as the color drained from Alim’s face. But after a chortle, he shot his hand through the air between us, gripping my hand.

  We shook on it, both of us falling into laughter. This was a sealing bond, but it did nothing to affect our friendship. This is how we lived, ricocheting from one bet to the next, forever upping the ante.

  “All right, then. I’d better get to work,” I told him, winking. I watched as the raven-haired woman began to step back into the school, retreating from the chaos. She’d be leaving work soon and I wasn’t prepared to wait another day, not on this path to victory.

  “Good luck, my friend,” Alim said, his eyes gleaming with the orange of the late afternoon. “But remember, you can’t start today,” he reminded me. He eyed my clothes, the swirling robes. “You look like you’ve just come from a royal soiree. Go home and put on some jeans and a T-shirt, for God’s sake. I’m swooning just looking at you.”

  I guffawed, turning down the road as the realization hit me. I would have to wait, just one more day. “Touché, my friend. But remember, if you ever give me a chance, I’m here, waiting for you.”

  “Give it a rest, man,” he sighed, edging his elbow into my side. “I can’t handle it.”

  Chapter 3

  Angie

  I watched the children dart from school for the day, my brain still spinning with news of my mother. It had been a day since I’d spoken to my parents, but even now, the conversation weighed heavily on me.

  My fingers twitched, already wanting to head back into my classroom and dial the familiar number again. Maybe I could even call my mother’s doctor, I considered. I could get the lowdown from the direct source, without my father trying to keep things from me, thinking that that way, he might keep me safe.

  The last of the children scampered from the inner yard, diving into their parents’ cars. I moved toward the front gate, preparing to lock it. After a moment, I realized that a man was poised to the side of the entrance, peering at me.

  The man looked completely different than most of the other parents. Although he wore plain street clothes—a pair of jeans and a button-up—he was clearly one of the more handsome men I’d ever seen in Al-Jarra. With wide-set brown eyes, thick lips, and a chorus of thick, dark hair, his looks alone sent a shiver up my spine. Realizing I was staring, I averted my eyes, knowing I couldn’t be caught checking out the father of one of my students.

  “Hello? Can I help you?” I heard myself ask, my voice suddenly high-pitched. “Are you a parent? I don’t think we’ve met…”

  I trailed off, noticing his hands, strong and dominant. The hair on his chest snuck out from his shirt, adding to his masculine aura. His eyes were now completely focused on me, inhaling me. I felt, in that moment, like I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I never felt that way.

  “Um. I’m sorry,” he said, chuckling slightly. His voice was warm in my ears, something I wanted to cling to. “I just saw you from the road, and I was so curious about you. Somehow, I felt we’d met before.”

  I felt my eyebrows lower on my forehead. This line lacked creativity. I couldn’t link it up in my mind. Why was he spying on me? Why was he walking by—this handsome man, eyeing me like that?

  “Well, I don’t think we have,” I said, swiping my hair behind my ears. “I think I would have remembered. And I haven’t lived here that long, so…”

  “You just moved to Al-Jarra?” he asked, cocking his head to the left. As if he was actually interested. As if this wasn’t just another line.

  “No,” I sighed, my nostrils flared. Why was my heart beating so quickly in my chest? I took a step back, creating more distance between us. “I’ve lived in Al-Jarra almost two years now. But I’ve only just moved to this area. It’s a bit different over here.”

  “Oh, you must have been out east?” he asked, as if the country was big enough to warrant an “out east” expression.

  I nodded, just wanting to give him something. An answer that would be enough for him.

  “So, you live around here?” I asked him, unsure of why I wanted to dig our conversation in deeper. Something about his eyes, sparkling.

  “A bit further into the city, actually,” he said, taking a step toward me. He was still so focused on me, making heavy eye contact. “I was just on a walk with a friend, who’s since taken his leave. Just daydreaming. Wandering.”

  “The kind of thing you do if you don’t have a job?” I said, chuckling slightly.

  “It’s true. I’m playing hooky today,” he told me.

  “That’s not the kind of thing I can get away with,” I said, hearing warmth grow in my voice.

  “As a teacher, I would think not. A whole classroom of people relying on you. A fearless leader.”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “You know, I hate being so forward like this,” the man said, stepping even closer, “but your beauty drew me over here. And now, it’s your smile, your laugh, that’s preventing me from leaving. I must ask. What is your name?”

  The color of his words felt suddenly off. This felt far too forward.

  I shook my head slightly, feeling wary of giving him any details about my life. I had just moved to the area, and didn’t know it well. Perhaps he was a crook, eager to take me for all I was worth. I shifted my weight, knowing that so long as I remained at the school, I’d be safe. I just had to knock him off the scent.

  “Listen, I don’t know you—” I said, chuckling slightly at his good try.

  “But we can change that,” he returned. “Almost instantly. If we just give one another our names.”

  “I just don’t know what good it would do,” I said, finding my smile stretching wider. “We’re going to be strangers for the rest of our lives.”

  “Not if I can help it,” he said, his thick eyebrows rising high on his forehead.

  Suddenly, I heard my name from behind—far back at the entrance of the school. Somehow, I had followed this stranger as far as the road. I knocked my foot back, leaping slightly, as if he were a hot oven I’d accidentally touched.

  “I’d better be getting back to work,” I told him. “Although it’s been terribly interesting.”

  “Terribly interesting. I’ll take that,” he said, bringing his hand to his forehead in a kind of salute. “Lord knows I’ve had worse.”

  “Good luck out there,” I told him, twirling back toward the door. My heart hammered with the intrigue of the moment. I felt his eyes still on me, taking in my body—something I almost never considered, since I hadn’t dated in almost two years. I shivered with a sudden burst of longing.

  But then, I found myself at the door of the school, face-to-face with Rita Ratchet, another American teacher at the school. She eyed me suspiciously, crossing her arms over her chest. Almost twenty years older than me, she often had opinions about my movements, my decisions. Unsolicited advice poured out of her mouth like a waterfall.

  “What were you doing with that young man down there?” she asked me, her voice stern and Midwestern. She was from Minnesota, not far from my South Dakotan home.

  “Oh, it was just some creepy guy walking past,” I told her, my stomach feeling squeezed. “He told me I was beautiful, and I told him to keep walking.”

  “Then why are you blushing?” she asked me, her left eyebrow twitching.

  “It’s hot outside, Rita,” I told her, stepping past her and into the air-conditioned hallway. I felt beads of sweat drip down my back, racing to my waistband. “It has nothing to do with that guy.”

  I followed Rita to her office, where we began to lay out the plans for the upcoming school play. But even as we arr
anged the list of songs, the dialogue, ensuring none of it was too technical or overtly American, my brain still stung with thoughts of the stranger. He had left the strangest impression with me. So much so that minutes later, after Rita asked me a question, I stared at her for several moments, trying to remember what she’d said.

  “You’re a space cadet today,” she told me, scoffing slightly. “Maybe we should take it easy the rest of the day. So you can get over your new love.”

  “There’s no love to worry about, Rita,” I sighed, frustration brimming. “Trust me. I have enough on my plate to worry about some guy creeping around here. As good as it is to be called beautiful.”

  Rita’s lips pressed into a firm line. “You heard from your mother again?”

  “Yesterday,” I whispered, watching as Rita’s fingers busied themselves with the papers, the folders. They worked quickly, sliding the papers together in a smooth stack.

  “And?”

  “It’s not looking good,” I said, my fingers moving to my cheeks and rubbing at the skin. “It’s making me crazy.”

  “If you need me to call a substitute in for the next few days…”

  “No, no,” I sighed. “If anything, these kids are the reason I get through every day. They give me a purpose and a reason to think about anything else.”

  “Maybe you should get out there and date someone, just to get your mind off of it,” Rita said, giving me a shrug.

  “I’m not sure anything will help,” I told her.

  “Maybe not creepy men from the street,” she said.

  “Maybe not anyone,” I said. “Maybe I’m not cut out for dating. Especially when I’m just biding my time until I can go back home. Return to my mom.”

  “If you’re not happy here…”

  “No, no. I am,” I murmured, realizing I’d misspoken. “I’m able to send money to my mother. I’m willing to do anything for that. Seriously. This is what I want.”

  “It doesn’t sound like any kind of life,” Rita murmured. She snapped the light off in the classroom, casting shadows across our faces. Somewhere down the hall, we heard another teacher sharpening pencil after pencil. I could picture the shavings, filtering off to the carpet below.

  “It’s just what I have to do right now,” I said, mostly to myself. “It’s just what I have to do.”

  The walk back to my apartment that night felt long. My legs and back were aching with fatigue as I dropped my shoulders forward and paced across the sidewalk. I kept my eyes from the passersby, not wanting to see any opinions of me etched into their expressions. Not that I was often seen. Not that I was often acknowledged.

  In almost every sense, I was an invisible woman, living an invisible life in the middle of a desert. On the days I was allowed to embark out by myself, darting toward the sea, I felt the ocean winds blast across my face and inhaled the salty air. On those days, I remembered who I was, or who I had been.

  And then, I returned to the nothingness of my little life. The life I led, trying to sustain my mother’s. Trying to keep her with us for as long as I could.

  Chapter 4

  Rami

  “How did it go last night?” Alim asked me. We were perched at a cafe, our cappuccinos cooling off in front of us. The foam had strung along Alim’s mustache, making him look like a teenager sipping coffee for the first time.

  “She’s a guarded one, that American,” I said, considering the woman I’d met at the entrance of the school. She’d followed me out onto the sidewalk, interested, yet filled with secrets. “I think I would have gotten somewhere with her if she hadn’t been called back into the school.”

  “Ah, that’s a tragedy,” Alim said, snickering slightly.

  “Don’t think I’m going to give up on her,” I told him. “Seriously. I think I’ve got her on a line. It’s just going to be a slow fishing expedition.”

  “Not exactly hanging on your every word, like most women in Al-Jarra? That’s shocking,” Alim said, his eyes glittering. “It’s almost as if my theory is already proving itself.”

  “I don’t think this woman would have followed me even if I’d been Prince Charming himself. Like I said, she wasn’t having any of my nonsense.”

  “I told you. American women can smell it from three miles away. They proved it on one of those nature channels.”

  “I forgot you got really into those nature channels that year you didn’t get any dates,” I told him, snickering.

  “Ha-ha,” he pretended to laugh.

  “It’s true. But all women can smell it from at least two miles away.” The barista danced forward with her own opinion, her eyes sparkling. “Including women in Al-Jarra. They just might be a little enticed by all that money flowing from your robes.”

  “Finally, someone on my side!” Alim said, smacking his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

  “It isn’t just my charm, then?” I asked, flashing a perfect, cocky smile. I winked at the barista, grinning as she blushed. “Ah. That’s what I thought.”

  “You’re going to need more than that,” the barista said, twirling back. “A few more tricks up your sleeve, as the Americans say.”

  After finishing our coffee, Alim and I wandered down the road, killing time after lunch. Alim told me about the screenplay he was writing—an action flick that would almost certainly never be picked up. He considered himself the “artistic” one of our friendship, and forever tried to persuade me that that was indeed the case. How hard he worked. The colorful language he could use, when he tried.

  “I think you couldn’t pay someone enough to make such a stupid movie,” I’d told him, watching as the red sprung up on his cheeks.

  “You’re going to be proven wrong in the best way,” he’d replied, waggling his finger. “Just wait.”

  Alim and I parted ways a little after 4. Heading to my car, I drew out a pair of jeans, a nice button-up, and changed into them in a nearby bar. Before darting away, I took a shot of tequila, enjoying the wave of confidence that rushed through me. After giving the bartender a ten-dollar tip, I walked down the street with swagger, knocking my shoulders back before arriving once more at the entrance of the elementary school.

  Sure enough, the raven-haired woman waited at the front gate, helping the kids as they got ready to leave. I watched her crouch down, buttoning up a girl’s jacket. She winked at another, squeezing his nose. There was a warmth to each of her gestures that verged on maternal.

  I hung back for a while, peering at my phone and peeking up from time to time. Just after the last student scrambled into the back of his parents’ jeep, I moved up the sidewalk. With a lurch, I watched her eyes find me and then fall away from me. She recognized me, but she wasn’t terribly pleased about it.

  “Hi!” I said to her, my voice deep and warm. “I wondered if you’d be out here again today.”

  She looked at me incredulously. “I work here, don’t I?” she asked, sounding almost sassy. There was a wall between us. One I’d have to break down.

  “I guess that’s right, although I don’t know much more,” I said, trying to butter her up. “You’re a secretive one, it seems.”

  “I don’t know what else you’d want me to share with you,” she said, her nostrils flared. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll be—”

  “Going out with me? No, no,” I said, waving my hand side to side. “Of course not. I just have this curious mind. I know there’s something to you, something different than most of the women around here. And I just—”

  “That’s the oldest trick in the book, isn’t it?” the woman said, giving me a wry smile. “Telling me I’m different. That I mean more to you than others, because there’s just another layer to me. Another dimension.” Her eyes gleamed, showing her intellect.

  Not for the first time, I felt a genuine wave of curiosity for her. But I couldn’t give into it, knowing that the minute I started feeling “into” her, I’d lose the game. It was now a game between me and her, and between me and
Alim. I had to juggle both.

  “Come on, now. Just tell me what your name is,” I said, my voice earnest. I wanted to make her think I was losing my mind. I wanted to give her the idea of more power, without actually relinquishing it.

  She moved toward me, ever so slightly. Behind her, I could see an older woman watching us, only half-concealed by the door.

  “My name’s Angie,” she finally told me, sounding begrudging.

  “Angie.” I nodded, giving her a soft smile. “That’s a pretty name.”

  “You’d have said that no matter what I told you,” she returned, giving me a bemused look. “So, I’ve done it. I’ve given you my name. Now, it’s your turn.”

  “I’m Rami,” I said, reaching for her hand and shaking it. “It’s nice to meet someone from abroad. And especially nice to welcome you to the area, since you said you’re new here.”

  “Sure. Yes.” She drew her hand back, swiping it through her dark hair. For a moment, her smile sparkled, before she forced it away. “I’d better be getting back inside.”

  “Why don’t you let me show you around sometime?” I heard myself ask her, leaning closer. “When prying eyes aren’t watching us so closely?”

  “Show me around where?” she asked me.

  “Around my city. I’ve lived here all my life,” I told her. “And if you’re new, then there’s nobody better to show you…”

  “I’m not so sure,” she said, waving her hand. “Although, I mean, thank you for the offer. It’s obviously very kind of you, thinking of it. No matter your real reason.”

  Suddenly, she swung back toward the school ground and swiftly walked away. I felt smacked across the face, failing yet again at a thing I’d felt was my specialty: flirting.

  Somewhere behind me, I heard a bright, familiar laugh. Rushing around, I watched as Alim pulled up in his car, his eyes burning with glee.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, my face growing sour.