Page 41 of Fairy Tale Husband

“Not likely. But I trust you impressed on him the importance of keeping his mouth shut around my wife.”

“I did, and I sincerely doubt he’ll start any trouble. Ithink the incident at Belle’s was a sufficient deterrent. He won’t be interested in a repeat performance.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

“So, that just leaves Wynne. Iassume you’ve talked to her? She knows what to expect?”

“I’ll deal with that end of things, you worry about the legalities.”

“Fine.” There was a significant pause. “I’m curious to meet her, considering the impression she’s made around here. People in town have been talking about little else. Seems everyone has a story involving her.”

“Involving her how?” Jake demanded.

“You know. Her contributions to charity, how she visits the shut-ins, the way she cares for her nephews, her nonstop defense of you.” Peter chuckled. “Anyone who speaks ill of her husband better watch out. She lets them have it with both barrels.”

“Does she?” Jake murmured, grinning.

“Sure does. When the time comes, you’ll have to fight off her suitors with a stick.”

“When the time comes?” Jake’s brows drew together, his grin dying a rapid death. “What time? And what suitors? What the hell are you talking about?”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Peter admitted, “Randolph’s continued to spread the rumor around town that your marriage is a pretense. That as soon as the judge gives his final approval, you’ll divorce her. Though in all honesty, it’s not much of a rumor, is it?”

“The length of my marriage is nobody’s business but mine.”

“And Wynne’s,” Peter retorted coolly. “Anyway, every bachelor within sixty miles who’s exchanged so much as a word with her, is hot to cozy up to the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Hondo. They all think she’d make the perfect wife. Iprobably would, too, if I’d ever met her.”

Jake’s hand closed into a white-knuckle fist. The soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Hondo? Ex-Mrs. Hondo? “You so much as look at her funny,” he snarled, “and not only will you be my ex-lawyer, you’ll also be my ex-friend carrying around a handful of ex-teeth.”

He banged down the phone and thrust back his chair. Damn Peter for stirring up such disturbing images. The problem was, he was probably right. Most men would consider Wynne the answer to their dreams, kids and all. If she’d come to Chesterfield looking for a husband, instead of to the Montagues’ ball, she’d have had potential husbands lined up and begging for her hand. And they wouldn’t have been interested in any temporary arrangement, either. They’d have been every bit as intent as Wynne on having a happily-ever-after marriage.

Unable to contain his restlessness, Jake wandered through his grandfather’s ranch house, picking up the occasional knickknack before setting it back in place. As reluctant as he was to admit it, he loved the ranch almost as much as he’d loved his grandfather. But it was a love mixed with anger and resentment, stirring to life demons better left undisturbed. Chesterfield Ranch represented all he’d been denied as a child. Hell, he’d never stepped foot inside the house proper until he was practically an adult. And then, when it was far too late, he’d been offered itall.

It was a beautiful place, he reluctantly conceded, one that cried out for a family. His grandfather had often said it would never be a true home without the ring of youthful voices bouncing off its high, sweeping ceilings. For the first time, Jake understood what that meant.

The house seemed to be holding its breath, its walls achingly empty of the plethora of childish artwork it needed to accent the knotty juniper trim. The air smelled stale and unused without the scent of cookies baking in the kitchen or the light tantalizing fragrance of a woman’s perfume. He glanced around. The rooms were too neat. No cookbooks left in an open pile on the table, no toys scattered haphazardly across the carpet, no woman’s accessories cluttering the bathroom. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture how it would react to Wynne and theboys.

He found the image all too appealing.

With a muttered exclamation, he returned to the office and snatched his Stetson off the hat rack. Not only was he a fool, but he was also the grandson of a fool. If he didn’t get out of here right now, he’d do something stupid. Like pack up Wynne and the boys and turn this house into the home it was meant tobe.

“Wynne? You there?” Jake yanked off his muddy boots, something he’d never have done until a week ago, and opened the door to the kitchen. “Elf?”

“Look out, Jake!” he heard her panicked shout. “Don’t come in.”

“Why not?” Already in the room, he stared at Wynne in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing on the counter?”

Buster peeked down from the top of the refrigerator. “Hey there, Uncle Jake.”

He stared from one to the other. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

A cupboard door swung open and from his curled-up perch on the shelf, Chick pointed toward a splash of sunlight on the floor.

Jake turned to look and jumped back, cutting loose with a blistering expletive.

“I did try to warn you,” Wynne said meekly.

“Next time forget all the ‘look out’ and ‘don’t come in’ stuff and just scream, ‘snake.’ Trust me, I’ll get the message.” He stared at the reptile coiled on the floor and let out a long, low whistle. “That has got to be the biggest damn—darn rattler I’ve ever seen in my life.”

---