Temporary Husband

by Day Leclaire

  Without a word, she swept by. Buster followed in her wake, poking his tongue out at Randolph as he passed. Not to be outdone, Chick stopped and gave the man a swift kick in the shins before darting after his brother.

  Jake’s gaze swept the crowd of shoppers gathered to catch a glimpse of his wife. He wasn’t surprised when few met his eyes. “Just so it’s clear,” he announced in a carrying voice. “I protect my own.”

  “No one doubts that,” came Belle’s dry retort. “But don’t worry about Wynne. She made quite a hit the short time she was here.”

  Jake inclined his head. “Glad to hear it.” Noticing Randolph’s wife for the first time, he tipped his Stetson. “Always a pleasure, Evie.”

  “Damn you, Hondo. Leave her alone or I’ll do some damage of my own,” Randolph snarled, recovering a modicum of his aplomb. “You’ve got a wife now, remember? You don’t need mine.”

  Tears sprang to Evie’s gentle blue eyes and Jake instantly regretted turning his cousin’s rage in her direction. He could handle it—she couldn’t. But then, he hadn’t expected Randolph’s show of mettle. It had been a long time since he’d worked up the backbone to issue such a blatant challenge. Desperation must be riding him hard.

  Jake inclined his head. “For the first time in your life, you’re right, Chesterfield. I do have a wife now.” He glanced over his shoulder at the gracefully swaying bottom disappearing down the sidewalk. “Our conversation can keep. She can’t.”

  With that, he stalked from the store, his swift stride narrowing the gap between him and his troublesome wife. He caught up with her by the truck.

  “What are you doing here, Wynne?” he asked as he helped dump bags of groceries into the bed of the pickup. “I thought I told you to go to Two Forks for supplies.”

  “You did.”

  Her back was to him and a cool breeze stirred the white-blond hair at her nape. A sharp pang of desire twisted his gut in knots. She was so delicate, so vulnerable. And so damned unpredictable. “Then why didn’t you?” he demanded.

  She glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes reflecting her surprise at his vehemence. “It was too far. I didn’t think I could make it.”

  “What do you mean…couldn’t make it?”

  “It’s the three pedals,” Buster offered. “I tried to help, but she’s not very good at it.”

  “Three—” Understanding dawned. “You don’t know how to drive a stick shift?” he questioned ominously.

  “I do…in theory. I’m just not so great at the ‘in practice’ part,” she confessed.

  He swallowed the multitude of retorts that leapt to his tongue. “Get in the truck,” he instructed. “I’ll follow you home.”

  Chick sighed.

  Buster rolled his eyes and groaned. “Uh-oh.”

  Jake glared. “What’s wrong now?”

  “I don’t do reverse,” she explained.

  “You don’t—” He bit off an exclamation. “But you can go forward, correct?”

  She grinned. “Well enough to have gotten us here.”

  “Well enough to get you back home again, too?”

  “I think so.”

  He yanked open the cab door. “Stand on the sidewalk. I’ll back the truck out.”

  Buster tugged on Wynne’s arm. “Uncle Jake sounds funny again,” he whispered. “Like when he was in the store.”

  “I think that means he’s annoyed,” she whispered back.

  “I’m not annoyed.” Jake corrected her grimly. “I’m mad enough to spit nails. Now go stand on that sidewalk like I told you.”

  Silently they did as he asked. Starting the engine with a roar, he spun out of the parking space and left the pickup idling in the middle of the street. “Hop in and start for home,” he called to Wynne. “I’ll be right on your tail.”

  The three climbed into the truck. With an earsplitting grinding of gears, Wynne popped the clutch into first and coughed her way down the road. Jake winced. His mechanic was going to love her. At a transmission a month, Billy Dee would soon be able to afford that Hummer he’d been eyeing. Shaking his head in disgust, Jake climbed into an ancient Jeep and planted his front bumper inches off her back one. The first time she stalled the engine, he almost rear-ended her. After that, he kept a respectable distance between them.

  Ten minutes later they reached the driveway to Lost Trail. It took three tries for her to find the right gear and keep the engine running long enough to make the turn. Jake released a gusty sigh. He had a horrible feeling this was only the beginning of his tribulations with his adorable wife. Unfortunately he had a tough time working up any real irritation with her—especially after her spirited defense of him in the general store.

  Dusty emerged from the barn to greet them as they pulled into the yard. He eyed Wynne and the children with trepidation. “That her?” he questioned, poking his head in the open window of the Jeep. “Where’d the kids come from? Don’t remember you sayin’ anything about kids.”

  “I told you my wife packed a few surprises. They’re just one of them. Come on and I’ll introduce you.”

  Dusty held up his hands and started backing toward the barn. “That’s not necessary. Any ol’ time will do. Next week. Next month. How ‘bout while they’re packing to leave?”

  Jake shook his head. “Not a chance. You’ll meet them now. That way you can keep an eye on the kids while I teach Wynne how to drive a stick.”

  “I’m no baby-sitter,” Dusty protested.

  “Yeah? Well, you’re not much of a foreman, either. But I don’t see that that’s ever stopped you from collecting the wages of one. Now shut your yap and come on.” A sudden thought occurred and he swiveled to glare a warning. “And don’t spit on her.”

  Wynne turned her attention from the endless expanse of pastureland flying by the truck window and glanced at Jake. “I appreciate your teaching me to drive the truck.”

  “You should have told me you’d never driven a standard transmission before.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t notice it was standard until we were ready to go shopping.”

  “Once you did notice, you should have waited until I returned. You could have caused an accident.”

  Silence descended again and she twirled her wedding band around her finger, scrambling for something else to say. “The people of Chesterfield are really nice,” she volunteered. “Belle sure does have a busy store. I guess that’s why you wanted me to go to Two Forks, right? Because it isn’t as crowded there?”

  “Wrong. Belle’s place was so packed because word spread that a Mrs. Jake Hondo had wandered in to do her shopping. They were all curious to meet the woman brave enough to take me on.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I wanted you to go to Two Forks to avoid all those nice, curious people. In particular, I’d hoped to avoid Randolph.”

  She blinked. “Oh. Well, except for him, Chesterfield’s an awfully friendly town. I probably met just about everyone. What a wonderful place to celebrate the holidays.” She slanted him another look. “I wonder why Randolph took such a dislike to me.”

  “I believe he explained that.”

  “Then he wasn’t lying about the inheritance?”

  “No.”

  Another thought occurred to her. “You must have been standing there a long time to have heard all that.”

  “Long enough.”

  “Jake—”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Although he denies the relationship, Randolph’s my cousin—a distant cousin, but a cousin nonetheless. Is that what you wanted to know?”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Why what?”

  “Why does he deny the relationship?”

  “Because my father, Weston Chesterfield the third, wasn’t married to my mother. Ours is an accidental connection, not a legitimate one and he resents it like hell. I may carry the blood of a Chesterfield, but I’m not one according to the law.”

  “But that’s not the only reason he resents you,” she guessed
.

  “No. His anger intensified when my grandfather left his ranch to me—with one small condition, that is.”

  “Marriage?”

  “You got it.”

  “And if you hadn’t married?”

  “The ranch would have gone to Randolph.”

  “But why would your grandfather add such an odd provision?” she asked. “Why force you to marry?”

  “Because he was a meddling old fool who wanted great-grandchildren.”

  “But—”

  “This discussion is over.” He spun onto a gravel shoulder beneath a huge cottonwood tree and switched off the ignition. Open ranch land stretched in all directions. “It’s your turn to drive.”

  Wisely abandoning her previous line of questioning, she asked, “Where are we?”

  “Close to the north end of my property. No one ever comes this way except my men, and they’re several clips west of here working my grandfather’s spread. We should have this stretch of road all to ourselves.”

  “No one to run into?” she teased.

  He didn’t deny it. “It’ll be a hell of a lot safer teaching you here than on the road into Chesterfield, that’s for sure.”

  “Trying to mitigate damages?” she asked wryly.

  “Somebody better. My insurance coverage only goes so far. You ready?”

  To her surprise, instead of exiting the vehicle, he slid over until they were joined hip to thigh. In the next instant, he’d pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms.

  “I’m not complaining, you understand,” she said, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “But I thought you were going to teach me to drive a stick shift.”

  “I am.”

  She grinned. “I might find it a little difficult learning while sitting like this.”

  “Fat lot you know. I think this is a perfect learning position.”

  “But I can’t reach the clutch from here.” She stuck out her foot to demonstrate.

  “You don’t need to reach it. You already know where all the various parts are. It’s how they work together that you need to learn.”

  She swallowed. “We’re still talking about driving, right?” she asked in a husky voice.

  He lifted a sooty eyebrow. “What else would we be talking about?”

  She had no intention of answering that one. “Maybe we should get started,” she murmured.

  “Fine. Let’s talk about first gear.” He settled her more comfortably on his lap, his warm breath caressing her mouth. “First gear is where you start off. It’s sort of like…well…like a first kiss.”

  “A kiss.”

  “A first kiss,” he said, correcting her.

  She tilted her head to one side and frowned. “There’s a difference?”

  “You better believe it. If you’re smart and want to keep everything running smoothly, you ease into a first kiss, slow and gentle. Like this.” His mouth brushed hers, lingering, probing.

  Her eyes drifted closed. “Slow and gentle,” she managed to repeat.

  “That’s right. If you begin with a light, easy touch, you’ll slip right into gear without any resistance.” His tongue eased past her lips, caressing the softness inside. “See?”

  She moaned. “I think so. Maybe we better make sure. Why don’t you show me again?”

  He didn’t need any further prompting, but gave her a thorough grounding in the complexities of first gear. “I think we’re moving toward second,” he murmured after several minutes.

  “How do you know?”

  “The closer you get, the more the engine hums. When it starts to strain, it’s a warning that first isn’t getting the job done. Then you drop into the next gear.”

  “Second, right?” She tilted back her head, giving him access to the hollow at the base of her neck.

  “Right.” His mouth followed the length of her throat. “Now if first is a kiss, second is a touch.” His hand slid from her shoulder downward. “It’s just a tease, really. A prelude to more exciting things to come.”

  She shivered beneath his playful fingers. “Does it last long?”

  “Depends on where you are.” He fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. “And what sort of impediments are in your way. If your progress is interrupted, you might even have to go back to first.”

  “And if there aren’t any?” The edges of her shirt fell open. “Impediments, I mean?”

  He stroked his index finger along the line of her bra. “You hit the gas to get things moving faster. When the engine starts to strain again, then you push for third.”

  It was an effort to breathe. “What’s third like?”

  “Third is a bolder caress.”

  She licked her lips. “How bold?”

  He unhooked the front of her bra and parted the silky cups. “This bold.” He demonstrated and her breath stopped completely. “You’re picking up speed, moving faster down the road. The tempo accelerates with third.”

  “I remember.” She shuddered beneath his touch, burying her face in his shoulder. “But I never went past third. I was afraid to go any faster.”

  “Then we’ll shift into fourth together.” He turned her so she faced him, her knees hugging his hips, his corded thigh muscles like taut ropes beneath her bottom. “Fourth is all the way, sweetpea. There’s no turning back. It’s a hard, fast ride with the engine wide open. It feels great. And for a while you think it’s right where you should be. Where you belong.”

  His hands had slipped to places better suited to the velvet darkness of a moonlit night. The breath sobbed from her lungs. Even as she surged toward some unobtainable peak, she knew she’d never reach it. Not here. Not now. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “It’s not enough!”

  “That’s when you shift into fifth.” He pulled her tight against him so every move he made, every breath he took was echoed by her own body. “Fifth is that final release. Fifth takes you to the end of the road.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, his scent filling her nostrils, his breath hot against her ear, his taste sweetening her tongue. She was afraid to move, afraid to break the connection pulsing between them. “And after fifth?” Her words were labored, her voice nearly inaudible.

  “There’s nowhere else to go after that and only one possible option.”

  “What option?”

  His mouth sought hers, his tongue breaching her lips in a soft, gentle caress. “You can throw it into reverse and start all over again.”

  “Oh, yes!” The words escaped on a sigh. “Take me for another ride.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Jake came out of the truck in one fluid motion. Dusty, Buster and Chick stood in a row, all three scuffing dirt with their toes and avoiding his eyes. “I-just passed Mad Dog burning up the field a mile north of here. How did he get out?”

  No one said a word.

  “My prize stallion is in the same pasture as my prize bull and you three have nothing to say? What do you suppose the odds are that one or both of my animals will end up as hamburger meat on tonight’s dinner table?” He glared from one set of guilty features to the next, sexual frustration erupting into anger. “Well? Who’s gonna start talkin’ first?”

  Dusty cleared his throat. “Guess that’s me. It was…ah…it was an accident.”

  Jake’s eyebrows arched skyward. “Mad Dog escaped out of a padlocked stall by accident? How’d he manage that, sprout wings?”

  Wynne climbed from the truck and joined Jake. “Buster? You were asked a question. What happened?”

  Buster raised tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry, Uncle Jake. I just wanted to show Chick how to ride a horse.”

  The color bleached from Jake’s face and he fought to keep his knees from buckling. “You let that horse out? You?”

  Buster nodded miserably. “I saw where the key was hanging and thought I’d see if your horse would let me ride him. He was real sweet. He followed me outside just like a puppy dog.”

  “That…that puppy dog is the meanest son of a
b—gun on this ranch. If he didn’t sire such prize-winning offspring, I’d put a quick end to his sorry existence. You could have been—” He closed his eyes, fighting not to think about the “could-have-beens.”

  Chick released a hiccuping sob and launched himself at Jake’s knees, nearly toppling him.

  “It was my fault, boss,” Dusty muttered. “When I saw the kid with Mad Dog, I sort of lost it. I started hollerin’ and that crazy hoss rolled back his eyes and kicked up his heels. I gotta confess, though. The kid has real good reflexes. He rolled clear of Mad Dog’s shenanigans, grabbed his little brother by the scruff of the neck and skedaddled onto the porch.”

  Jake’s hands balled into fists. “I thought I asked you to watch them, Dusty. You call this watching them?”

  “I only turned my back for a minute. I swear. Was showin’ them around, ‘splaining how stuff works and the next thing I know, they took off on me.”

  “Oh, Buster,” Wynne said with a sigh. “You know better than to disappear without telling the person in charge where you’re going. You also know better than to touch someone else’s property without permission.”

  “And if he didn’t before, he’s sure going to learn now,” Jake stated in no uncertain terms. He stabbed a finger first at Buster and then at Chick. “Both of you. Get to the barn and wait for me.”

  “What are you going to do to them?” Wynne asked apprehensively.

  “We’re going to have a man-to-man talk. And if they’re lucky they’ll be able to sit down sometime next week.” He didn’t wait for a response, but turned to Dusty. “As for you…If you want to keep your job, not to mention your hide, you’ll round up the men and go corral that horse.”

  “Yessir, boss. I’ll get right on it,” he said and raced toward the Jeep as fast as his stubby legs would take him.

  “Jake?”

  Wynne touched his arm and he deliberately kept his back to her. If he looked at her, he’d never be able to discipline the boys. One glimpse of her huge, pleading eyes and all his good intentions would melt like ice beneath a noonday sun. “What is it?”

  “Make sure they understand what they did wrong. Otherwise they’ll never learn.”