Page 28 of Fairy Tale Husband

Jake didn’t appear surprised by her comment. “No problem. Idon’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, showing amazing patience while holding Chick’s hand and listening to Buster’s endless running commentary.

Clearly the boys had developed a severe case of hero worship. It worried her. Although Jake took naturally to the 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, with all the shops freshly whitewashed and accented with either shutters or awnings or flower boxes. Aclapboard 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, amodern 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 stood placidly, hitched in parking spaces alongside cars. Ahuge bronze statue commemorating the Texas Rangers held a place of honor 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 Lone 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.”

His implacable tone ended the discussion. She frowned. He’d have to get over his autocratic ways and soon. She’d been remarkably tolerant, considering he’d taken on far more than he’d planned when he’d married her. Still, that didn’t mean 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 dividing 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 hereyes.

“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 and 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 appeared secondhand, mismatched and faded fromuse.

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

“Look,” he began 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. Ijust 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 craned her neck. “And those ceilings! They’re so high.”

“I know you’re upset,” Jake began.

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