Temporary Husband

by Day Leclaire

  “Jake—”

  Dark color emphasized the high arch of his cheekbones. “Don’t fight me. Not now.”

  “We can’t.” The objection sounded reluctant even to her own ears. “Laura and the boys are waiting.”

  “Let ‘em wait.”

  “They might come back.”

  “I’ll lock the door.” He cupped her softness, his eyes a molten gold. “They’ll get the message when we don’t answer.”

  She struggled to think, to put words into a coherent whole. “You don’t know Laura,” she managed to say. “She’s tenacious.”

  “We’ll hang up the Do Not Disturb sign. She’s no fool. She’ll understand.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Forget Laura,” he demanded, passion adding a husky edge to his voice. “I have something more interesting in mind.”

  With that, his mouth closed over hers and all thought ended. Desire blossomed with stunning speed, returning more swiftly than before, burning higher and with greater ferocity. How was it possible to feel so at one with a man she’d only known for a few short hours?

  “I’ve never seen a more perfectly made woman.” His heated breath mingled with hers. “If it weren’t for those kids, our time together would be downright perfect.”

  With those few heartfelt words he destroyed all her illusions, proving beyond a doubt how wrong she’d been about their relationship. Having a bucket of ice-cold water tipped over her head couldn’t have sliced through her sensuous haze any more thoroughly. The air escaped her lungs in a harsh gasp. “Say you don’t mean that,” she whispered, distressed beyond measure.

  It took him a minute to hear the misery in her voice, to realize she was no longer an active participant in their lovemaking. His muscles tensed as he fought to control his desire. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back, a rush of cool air filling the chasm between them.

  “What?”

  “Your comment about the children…Say you didn’t mean it.”

  “You want me to lie?” he questioned sharply. “You want me to say that I’m thrilled to be saddled with a wife and two kids I’d never planned on having? Sorry. I’m not putting a pretty face on an ugly truth. I want you. No question about that. But I’d have been a whole hell of a lot happier if there weren’t any strings attached.”

  She jerked free of his hold and swept up her blouse. “Everything comes at a price,” she informed him tautly, dressing with more speed than grace.

  “I’m well aware of that.” A wealth of meaning lay buried in his retort, a history she could only guess at. “But you didn’t tell me the cost until it was too late for a refund.”

  “Or you’d never have made the purchase?” she asked, bracing herself, as though in anticipation of a blow.

  He didn’t answer. Crossing the room, he picked up a canvas tote and his Stetson. “You ready to leave? Looks like we’re done here.”

  She didn’t bother arguing. Grabbing her overnight bag and purse, she nodded. “I’m ready,” she said, following him to the door. “Though you haven’t told me where we’re going yet.”

  He paused. “Texas, as your friend so accurately guessed. Chesterfield, Texas, to be precise. I own a spread there.”

  She stared in wonder. “A ranch.” It was almost too good to be true. “What a wonderful place to raise children.”

  His face darkened, his eyes deepening to a tarnished bronze. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I was raised in the city.” He yanked the door open, then hesitated, tossing the words over his shoulder. “Fair warning, wife. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to make this marriage as comfortable for you as possible. But don’t expect me to give you what I don’t have.”

  “You mean love?” she dared to ask.

  “Love’s an illusion,” he retorted coldly. Then his voice dropped, turning gritty with tension. “Funny thing, illusions. No matter how hard you work at it, you can’t believe them into existence. Try it and you’ll end up with a world of hurt.”

  And with that, he walked out the door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THEY FLEW TO TEXAS on a large, commercial carrier, switching to a private puddle-jumper for the flight to Chesterfield. Jake had a pickup waiting for them at the tiny landing strip.

  “Everybody in the front cab,” he instructed, before glancing at Wynne. “It’ll be a tight fit. But it’s safer than putting the boys in the back with the luggage.” He dumped their three small suitcases in the bed of the truck. “You didn’t bring much with you.”

  She shrugged, her attention focused on Chick. He still had trouble riding in cars, and she wasn’t certain how he’d take to the pickup. “I thought it would be easier to travel light. The rest of our belongings are packed and ready to be shipped once I supply the moving company with an address.”

  “You can phone them as soon as we get to the house,” he said as he opened the passenger door. “Come on boys, shake a leg.”

  She held her breath, waiting to see what Chick would do. To her relief, he clambered inside without hesitation. Apparently the truck didn’t rouse the same frightening memories as a car.

  Jake turned to face her, lifting an eyebrow in question. “What’s the matter?” he asked in an undertone.

  She looked at him, startled. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Depends on how distracted I am. Is there something wrong with Chick?”

  She shrugged. “Cars don’t always agree with him,” she explained quietly. “They…upset him.”

  Jake didn’t appear surprised by her comment. “No problem. I don’t own a car.” He helped her into the cab. “And, since the pickup doesn’t cause the same reaction, I’ll let you drive it while you’re here.”

  She poked her head out of the window. “But, what about you?”

  “I have an old rust-bucket that I can use in the meantime. Or there’s always my horse.” With that he circled the truck and climbed behind the steering wheel. “Everybody ready? Seat belts fastened?”

  “We’re set, Uncle Jake,” Buster said. “Where’s your ranch? Chick wants to know.”

  “Not far. It’ll take about a half hour to get there.”

  The time passed quickly, the boys watching every move Jake made with avid interest. Two minutes from the airport, the questions began—questions he answered simply and directly. Despite his annoyance over having acquired a ready-made family, he had been kindness itself to the boys on the flight—holding Chick’s hand and listening to Buster’s endless running commentary with amazing patience.

  Clearly the boys had developed a severe case of hero worship—which worried her. Although Jake was eminently suited to such a role, he wouldn’t be in their lives for long. She sighed. She’d taken great pains to explain that their new uncle was only a temporary addition to their family. But she wasn’t convinced they’d believed her. And why should they, when she didn’t believe it herself?

  Twenty minutes later, they passed through a small town. “This is Chesterfield,” Jake volunteered with notable reluctance.

  Wynne looked around eagerly, deciding the town had an abundance of character. It was small, but attractive, all the shops freshly whitewashed and accented with either shutters or awnings or flower boxes. A clapboard livery with tall barnlike doors was sandwiched between an old-fashioned barber shop and a contemporary boutique. Across the street a general store with a two-story nineteenth-century facade stood cheek and jowl with a brand-new stucco bank. Most incongruous of all, a modern brick and glass structure housing a law firm sat opposite an outdoor market selling everything from flowers and produce to Mexican blankets and straw baskets.

  It was unlike any place she’d ever seen. Horses were hitched in parking spaces alongside cars. A huge bronze statue commemorating the Texas Rangers had been planted in the middle of the road. And an honest-to-goodness saloon with real swinging doors graced one end of town. It even had a cowboy lounging outside in a rocker. Best of all the L
one Star flag snapped proudly above the small courthouse.

  “This is Chesterfield?” she questioned in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Avoid it,” Jake retorted with a sharp edge. “There’s a sizable town about forty minutes south of the ranch called Two Forks. It has everything you need—lots of malls and movie houses and such. You can go there whenever you get an itch to explore.”

  She twisted in her seat to catch a final glimpse of Chesterfield as it disappeared from view. “But why would I want to go to Two Forks when I could come here instead?”

  “Because I said so.”

  And that apparently ended the discussion. She frowned. He’d have to get over these autocratic ways of his and soon. She’d been remarkably tolerant, knowing that by marrying her he’d taken on far more than he’d planned. Still…That didn’t mean that she’d jump every time he barked a command, or obey without question or comment.

  “Is that it?” Buster asked just then. He leaned forward, staring out the windshield. “Is that your ranch?”

  “Yeah. That’s it. Welcome to Lost Trail Ranch.” Jake spared Wynne a quick, cryptic glance. “I know it needs some repairs—”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” she exclaimed.

  “Look, Chick. There’s a barn and everything,” Buster said, pointing. “You have horses, Uncle Jake? And cows and pigs?”

  “No pigs. It’s a ranch, not a farm. But there’s plenty of cows and horses.”

  He turned down a long dirt driveway that divided an endless expanse of pastureland and parked outside the ranch house. The boys tumbled from the truck and scampered up the sagging porch steps while Jake unloaded the suitcases. Wynne followed behind, bemused by her good fortune.

  She’d married a man with a house. How lucky could she get? They’d be living in a real two-story, multi-room residence instead of a cramped apartment. She fought to control the surge of tears stinging her eyes.

  “It even has an upstairs!” Buster informed his brother. “Come on.” He grabbed Chick’s hand and disappeared into the cavernous interior.

  Jake stepped across the threshold, then glanced her way. His set jaw and rigid stance spoke more loudly than words—he didn’t like having her here. With a tiny sigh, she entered the house and looked around. The glaring afternoon sunlight followed them through the open doorway, cruelly accentuating the scarred pine floor and peeling wallpaper. Cobwebs trailed from the ceiling corners in ghostly tendrils and dust lay like a dingy gray blanket on every conceivable surface. Even the furniture was secondhand, mismatched and faded from use.

  The house reminded her of a woman who, tired and careworn after years of hard living, had given up the effort.

  “Look…” he said in an undertone. “I know it’s run-down—”

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, seeing only the possibilities. “It just needs some tender loving care to give it new life.”

  “It’s a dump. I just moved back in and haven’t had a chance—”

  “Look at the size of the rooms. Compared to where we were living, it’s a palace.” She tilted her head. “And those ceilings…They’re so high.”

  “I know you’re upset,” Jake began.

  “Where’s the kitchen?”

  He pointed to the right. “But it’s only for a short time.”

  “You’ve got plenty of food supplies,” she said, checking the cupboards. “Rags?”

  “Through that far door. In the mudroom.” He stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking around in distaste. “I can hire some people to come out and help clean up a little.”

  “You even have a washer and dryer! I can’t believe it.” She practically danced across the kitchen floor. “And is that a fire-burning stove? I’ve never seen one before. How does it work?”

  “Wood-burning,” he said, correcting her. “It’s a wood-burning stove and I’d rather you not fool with it. I’ll get a microwave in here and you can cook with that.”

  “Oh, Jake. This is wonderful. A little soap and elbow grease and you won’t recognize the place.”

  “I didn’t marry you because I wanted a maid,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.

  Her smile didn’t dim. “I know why you married me.” She threw her arms around his neck. “A clean house will be my way of saying thank-you. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect home.”

  He muttered something beneath his breath and wrestled free of her stranglehold. Grasping her hands in his, he held her at a safe distance. “You don’t need to put on an act for me. I know what this place looks like. It’s a wonder you haven’t turned tail and run.” His mouth tightened. “But then, where would you go?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. But fortunately that’s not a problem.” She gazed up at him with eyes as clear and vivid as spring grass, and a face as open and innocent as a newborn. “You couldn’t have given me anything nicer than this.”

  Feeling like a total heel, he released her and stepped back. “I’m going out,” he informed her gruffly.

  “Okay. When will you return?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well…While you’re gone I’ll just run into town for supplies.”

  “No!” His hands balled into fists as he fought for control. “I mean, you can get supplies at the supermarket in Two Forks. When you get to the end of the driveway, turn left.”

  “Right.”

  “No, left. Got it? Left.”

  She grinned. “Gotcha.”

  He thrust a hand through his hair. “I’ll hire some people to clean the house. And I’ll pick up dinner at the local takeout. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

  It was the least he could do, considering his duplicity. A tight knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Why was he doing this? Why drop her in a house that should have been condemned years ago when he could put her up in a place worthy of a queen? He knew why. If he took her anywhere else, it would give her false hope. It would suggest a permanence he could never allow. Didn’t she understand? He wasn’t the marrying kind. Eventually he’d let her down. He’d shatter every hope and dream she’d ever possessed. And he couldn’t bear to look into those huge, limpid eyes of hers when he destroyed that final illusion. No. Once she’d been mired in this hellhole for a while, she’d be desperate to leave.

  And maybe one or two of those dreams would remain intact when she did.

  “Why don’t you look the place over and make a list of what you need?” His voice grated like steel wool on rust. “If you hit a snag, Dusty can help out. He should be around here someplace.”

  “Dusty?”

  “My foreman. Big hat, little guy. Spits a lot. You can’t miss him.”

  She grinned. “He sounds like quite a character.”

  “Yeah. He’s a character, all right.” Unable to help himself, he swept her into his arms and kissed her with unmistakable desperation. “You shouldn’t have married me,” he muttered when he finally released her. “You’ll live to regret it. I guarantee.”

  “The only regrets I’ll have is when it’s time to leave.”

  He closed his eyes. “But you will leave,” he told her in an inflexible voice.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He hardened himself against the wistful plea tugging at the chip of stone that had once passed for his heart. “No. You don’t,” he said and walked out the door.

  “Uh-oh,” Wynne murmured as she gripped the steering wheel and stared at her feet.

  “What’s wrong?” Buster demanded.

  Chick pointed at the pedals on the floor.

  Buster frowned. “There’s three.” He eyed his aunt, a concerned expression creeping across his face. “You know how to drive a three-pedal car?”

  She sighed. “’Fraid not.”

  “That’s okay. I watched how Uncle Jake did it. And Dad’s car had an extra petal, too.” He stabbed a finger toward the first one. “That there makes it go. The middle makes it stop. And you push in that last one when you mov
e this stick.” He yanked on the gear shift to demonstrate.

  “I had that much figured out.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “Maybe we should wait until Jake gets back. I don’t think I can make it all the way into Two Forks on my own.”

  “I don’t wanna go to Two Forks, anyway,” Buster retorted. “And neither does Chick. Let’s go to that other town. The one with the cowboy statue. We like that town.”

  “Me, too,” Wynne confessed.

  “It’s not far. You can do it.”

  Chick nodded enthusiastically.

  “Okay,” she said with as much optimism as she could scrape together. “Here goes.”

  She pushed in the clutch and turned the key, giving the engine some gas. It roared to life. But the second she lifted her foot off the clutch the car lurched to a stop and stalled.

  “You gotta push hard on the gas and let that other one out real slow,” Buster instructed.

  Wynne shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure about this.”

  Chick patted her on the shoulder, his big blue eyes mirroring his absolute faith in her ability. With a sigh, she tried again and managed to keep the truck going long enough to turn it in a wide half circle. Engine screaming, they bounced down the dirt driveway.

  “Move the stick!” shouted Buster.

  Pushing in the clutch, she jerked the stick into a new setting. The pickup bucked angrily and stalled yet again, rolling to a halt at the end of the driveway.

  “You’re…ah…you’re getting better,” Buster lied unconvincingly.

  “But not good enough to risk going all the way to Two Forks, right?” she said dryly.

  “No way.”

  Chick shook his head emphatically.

  “I guess that narrows our choices down to one. Chesterfield. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Buster confirmed.

  Restarting the engine, she ground her way into first and turned to the right. Four stalls later, they reached the outskirts of town. The pickup jerked to a stop in front of the outdoor market and, deciding she’d pushed her luck as far as it would go, she coasted into a parking spot.