Page 33 of Fairy Tale Husband

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not in love with her.”

Jake turned his back on Peter and poured himself a drink. It took a quick swig and several minutes of intense concentration to throw off a cool and adamant, “No.”

“And she’s thrilled to be living in that pigsty you call a house? She’ll even clean it for you?”

Jake shrugged. “I gather her previous accommodations weren’t as spacious.” He thought of her labor-roughened hands. “Nor is she afraid of hard work.”

“And she’s not bad looking?”

Hair the color of moonlight, skin as pure and soft as virgin wool, eyes as serene as a forest glade. “She’s beautiful,” Jake admitted roughly.

“I want her.”

“What!”

“After your divorce, Iwant her. She sounds like a dream come true.”

“Go to hell, Bryant,” Jake snapped, and turned to stare out the window.

Wynne shook hands for the umpteenth time, introducing herself and the boys to yet another resident of Chesterfield. “This has to be the friendliest town in the whole world,” she marveled as she pushed her cart down the aisle.

“Kinda crowded,” Buster observed, dodging another shopper.

“I guess they didn’t feel like driving all the way into Two Forks any more than we did.”

“How come everyone wants to shake hands with us? Nobody ever did that when we went shopping in Maryland.”

“I guess that’s the way people do things in Texas.” She paused by the local bulletin board and studied the various announcements. “There’s a charity craft fair next weekend. Iwonder if Jake’s donated anything. Maybe I can bake a cake if he hasn’t.”

Chick tugged on her arm and Buster said, “Chick wants you to bake cookies instead of cake. That way we can help fix ’em.”

“Help eat them, you mean,” she said with a laugh. “Well, grab a couple bags of chocolate chips and walnuts. They’re on that bottom shelf over there. In fact, grab several. Thanksgiving is just around the corner and that means lots of baking. Just remember cleaning the house comes first, okay? Ipromised Jake. Cookies are a solid second.”

Jake tried to ignore the annoying buzz of Peter’s unending string of questions and stared moodily out the office window. Gradually he focused on the pickup parked across the street—afamiliar-looking sleek, black, mud-spattered pickup. He frowned, suddenly realizing just why it looked so familiar. Damn it all! That sleek, black mud-splattered pickup washis.

“Hell and damnation,” he swore. “She lied to me. That blasted woman promised she’d go to Two Forks and it was all a lie. I’m going to strangle her. Iswear I will.”

“What? What’s she done?” Peter demanded.

“She’s here. In town.”

“So?”

“So, Itold her to go to Two Forks, and she’s deliberately disobeyed me.”

Peter grinned. “I can’t wait to meet this wife of yours. I’m really starting to like her.”

“Go to hell, Bryant.” Jake slapped his Stetson on his head and strode toward the door. “I’ll finish with you later. Right now, I’ve got to find my wife before she gets into trouble. Though knowing her, I’m way too late.”

“Wait a minute. Jake! What about your grandfather’s will? We need to set a court date. Wynne needs to—”

Jake stopped dead in his tracks and stomped back into the office. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not having my wife stand up in open court and tell the whole of Chesterfield about our wedding night.” He refused to turn such a private, soul-altering moment into fodder for Chesterfield’s rumor mill. He couldn’t do that to Wynne or to himself. “You get Judge Graydon and Randolph to agree to a more private get-together. Adinner party or something, where we can all discuss it casual-like.”

“A dinner party,” the lawyer repeated in disbelief. “What’s the plan, have her serve up the main course and say, ‘Oh, by the way, Jake and I did it on our wedding night. Pass the salt and let’s eat.’? Ican just see that.”

Jake scowled. “I won’t allow Wynne to be embarrassed or humiliated in any way, shape, or form. Understand? Can’t the judge just ask how our wedding night went? She can tell him it was great and that’ll be the end of it.”

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