by Leigh Morgan
And she’d left. Again.
Flossie met him at Rhia’s door. “You’ve no business going through that girl’s things, Ramsey Macleod.”
“That girl is my wife, and we’re past the point of annulment. She’s stuck with me.” Ram answered.
“Don’t you be doing anything rash young man. That path will lead to no good.”
“Is she still wearing my ring, Flossie?” Ram asked quietly.
“Aye. She’s working Ramsey, not running away.”
“She’s doing both. That woman won’t trust her heart.” Ram said as he waved the journal for Flossie to see. “Tell her if she ever wants to see this again she better stop running and get her butt home.”
“Why do you always have to be so hard-headed, Macleod?”
Ram made his way over to Flossie. “I love you, you old witch.” He said kissing the top of her head gently so he didn’t dislodge her carefully knotted French twist. “Just give her the note Flossie. Please.”
Ram smiled at the small woman’s grunt, which he took to mean she’d do it. He made a show of looking at his watch. “She’s got seventy-two hours. Oh, and by the way, I’ve hired a cleaning service and a cook. The service will be here three times a week, so I’d better not hear that you’re cleaning in between. The cook will take direction from David so David won’t have to do all the shopping and prep work anymore.”
Sputtered invectives in Welsh were his only reply.
“Before you give yourself a heart attack, or me a lecture on wasting my fortune and your need to be ‘useful’, keep in mind running interference between me and one stubborn little professor is going to be a full time job. Besides, if you give me any crap I’ll cut off your supply of popcorn.” Ram smiled, his mood improved substantially at the thought that he finally had a legitimate excuse to get Floss and David some help.
Floss just growled at him.
“She’s got kids, Flossie. Just think of it. You’ll have a whole new generation of young people to boss around. Now, that’s got to be better than dusting.”
Floss found her first smile. Ram was sure it was taking all her fortitude not to rub her hands together at the mere thought of the schemes she’d cook up.
Heaven help us all, he thought.
...
“He said what?”
Rhia didn’t mean to shout, not at Flossie anyway, but she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Rhia was pacing in Pentla’s study, looking for her journal. She thought she left it in the night stand by the side of her bed, but it wasn’t there. It didn’t appear to be in the study either.
“He can’t do that.” She said, more to herself than to Flossie.
“You married the man, and a wise decision it was too. You’d see that if you just sat down and thought the thing through.”
Flossie sat on the couch holding a small piece of paper in one hand while she ate chocolate covered nuts with the other. Rhia had yet to see Flossie eat anything but popcorn and sweets, it was probably all the preservatives keeping the small woman alive.
“He can’t sell my house!” This time she did scream and meant to. Flossie popped another nut in her mouth, but otherwise didn’t respond to Rhia’s irritation.
“Ramsey left here with two certified copies of your marriage certificate. And, I can tell you from experience, that boy rarely does anything he can’t get away with one way or another.” Flossie smiled. Ramsey’s plan to get Rhia home was working.
“You’re running out of time dear.” Flossie said, handing Rhia Ram’s dated note. “He was giving you three days, and you’ve already lost two.”
Rhia frowned down at Flossie, who was looking at her with innocent black eyes. Why did she feel like she’d just been duped by an old lady and a devious green-eyed rock star?
...
Ram had the locks changed and the ‘For Sale’ sign up in the front yard before he moved his things into Rhia’s house. It took some doing, but he’d finally convinced the realtor that he wanted the sign and was willing to pay her a daily fee for it, but he didn’t really want the house sold.
It was ‘highly irregular’ according to the woman. A few thousand dollars and his bad-boy grin took care of any ‘irregularities’, for the time being.
Ram cleaned out the mess in the garage and repainted it. He also put in a new garage door, complete with keypad so that anyone who was able to get through this way before would be effectively shut out now.
The cherry red minivan he found in the garage didn’t surprise him. Rhia seemed like a minivan kind of woman to him. He found the keys in a crystal bowl next to the microwave in the kitchen, right where anyone with the ability to jimmy a window would look. Washington Heights was a nice neighborhood, but as far as Ram could tell it wasn’t Mayberry. He told himself it was a good thing he was here making sure Rhia’s home didn’t get broken into. It would have been pitifully easy. Hell, he’d done it in under sixty seconds. He had more skills than the average thug, but still, the woman needed some danger awareness training.
The minivan didn’t surprise Ram, but the Triumph Bonneville America in jet black sure did. It was a fine motorcycle. Ram had test ridden one when they first came out and loved it. The thing had plenty of power and the acceleration was fantastic, but he was a big man and he’d opted for the more powerful Rocket III. He also owned a handful of Harleys, a Victory and a ‘47 Indian Chief, which was his favorite.
Well someone in the Wainwright household liked motorcycles. Ram doubted it was his wife, but at least he’d have something in common with one of her kids.
Ram was in the middle of giving the minivan an oil change when the door bell rang. He was full of spilled oil and the paint he’d used on the garage walls, but he was having a great time doing the household tasks he’d helped his dad do as a kid, but never had to do now.
Ram answered the door in his paint splattered jeans, ancient Thin Lizzy t-shirt and three days worth of beard covering his face.
A distinguished looking forty-something man, impeccably dressed in a designer suit, subtly striped tie and perfectly polished wing-tips, stood at the door. Ram looked behind the man at the shiny black Lexus in the drive.
“Can I help you?” Ram asked, not offering to let the man in.
“You can let me in and ask my wife to meet me in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have rung the bell except my key doesn’t seem to work.” Mr. G.Q. said trying to push open the screen door.
Ram held it closed with his hand. The gesture looked almost nonchalant. Almost. “And who is it I’m supposed to ask to meet you in my kitchen.”
The guy was calm, which was more than Ram was capable of at the moment. He looked Ram up and down and clearly found him wanting.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to talk to Rhia right now.”
“Yea, you and me both.” Ram said under his breath. He hadn’t counted on meeting ‘the ex’ quite this way. Not that Ram had given much thought to meeting William Wainwright at all.
“What?” Wainwright was more perplexed than angry, but Ram could fix that in a hell of a hurry. The pretty boy looked at his Rolex and Ram got the silent message. This was an important man with more important things to do than converse with a t-shirt clad handyman.
“Will you please just ask my wife to come to the door. I need to talk to her and I’m late for a deposition.”
Wainwright was tapping his wing-tips. Not so patient after all are you asshole.
“Just so we’re clear, what’s your wife’s full name?” Ram asked casually as his hand gripped the screen door harder.
“This is ridiculous.”
Ram just raised a brow. “Humor me pal.”
“Fine. Her full name is Rhiannon Elizabeth Wainwright.”
At that precise moment a taxi pulled into the drive behind Wainwright’s Lexus and out climbed one angry looking wife. Ram had never seen a more welcome sight. Rhia looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. Neither had he, not much at any rate. Ram wanted to sweep her into h
is arms and kiss her senseless. Then he was going to turn her over his knee and lecture her for not trusting him and leaving again before she gave him a chance to explain.
“Goddamn it Rhia. What the hell is going on? Why are you selling the house? My keys don’t work. And this...this...man-
Wainwright was gesturing wildly at Ram, who silently quirked a brow.
“- wouldn’t let me into my own house. I repeat, what the hell is happening here?”
Ram was out the door and almost on Wainwright when Rhia’s voice hit him. “Don’t, Ram. Please. That’s not going to help anything.” She pushed a dark golden curl behind her ear and Ram could see the lines of exhaustion on her face. He banked his need to wring Wainwright’s neck; he could always do that later when Rhia wasn’t looking.
“Let’s go in the house gentlemen. As much as I’d like to scream at you both, I don’t have the energy or the inclination to do it in front of my neighbors.” Rhia pushed past them, making her way into her house.
She eyed the ‘For Sale’ sign and shot Ram a murderous glance. He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes were locked on William. It was still her house, for the moment, and that meant there was still her beer in the refrigerator. She’d been up for two days and all she wanted to do was pass out in her own bed.
Unfortunately, there was too much testosterone in her suddenly too small house for sleep.
The men followed her into the kitchen. Rhia crossed to the refrigerator and found it stocked not only with groceries and beer, but with her favorite white wine and three bottles of the outrageously expensive champagne Ram loved.
Rhia bypassed the wine and went straight for a bottle of beer. She opened it and downed half of it in one long swallow while leaning against the counter. She’d placed herself about as far away from William as she could get and still remain in the kitchen. The last time they were in this room together he’d intimated he wanted to come home again. She hadn’t wanted any part of that then, and she sure didn’t now.
Ram walked past her, grabbed a beer for himself and leaned against the counter next to her. Neither of them offered William anything. Ram clinked his bottle against hers, but Rhia noticed he didn’t drink from it.
William sat at his usual spot at the head of the kitchen table. “Since when do you drink in the middle of the day, Rhia? I haven’t seen you drink beer since college. And what are you wearing? For Christ’s sake, what the hell is wrong with you?” William asked, eyeing her clothes with obvious distaste.
Rhia looked down at her tight jeans, slightly rumpled spandex and cotton sweater that was cut lower than anything she’d owned when she was married to William, and her calf high boots with lipstick heels. Aside from a few wrinkles she knew the clothes flattered her. If William didn’t like the way she dressed that was too damn bad. She liked it, and as far as she was concerned that was all that mattered.
Rhia shrugged and finished her beer.
“Goddamn it Rhia, answer me.” William said.
Wainwright’s tone had the veins in Ram’s arms visibly pulsing. He set his untouched beer on the counter and counted to ten in French. He didn’t want to break the man’s jaw unless he was sure Rhia would thank him for it. He was on thin enough ice without pissing her off any more, at least until it was absolutely necessary.
“Watch your tone or you’ll wish you had.” Ram glared at the man silently wishing he’d open his mouth again. Rhia must have felt his tension because she put a hand on his arm where it was crossed tightly across his chest.
Then she kissed his cheek and Ram knew everything was going to be okay. He let himself relax, but didn’t take his eyes off Wainwright.
“What are you doing here William?” She asked, her tone resigned.
“This is my house.”
“Not any longer. It hasn’t been your house for nine months. I distinctly remember your promise to have everything you wanted out of here before I got back.”
“You’re early.” William snapped. “And the locks have been changed.”
“Why are you here William?” Rhia asked again, feeling the beginning of a dull headache behind her eyes.
“I had something to tell you, it doesn’t matter now.” He waved his reason for coming away. “Then I saw the for sale sign and I wanted to know why you were selling our house.”
“It’s my house now William. I can sell it if I want to. If you’ve come to give me an offer, do it. If not, I’m really tired. We can talk some other time.”
“Where will you live? What about our children? Do they know you plan to sell their home out from under them?” William demanded.
Rhia shot Ram a warning glance. He ignored it.
“She’ll be living with me.” Ram smiled at Wainwright and nothing about it was friendly.
“And who the hell are you?” Wainwright was standing now.
“Her husband.”
That stopped William cold. Rhia watched her ex-husband’s shocked expression as he dismissed Ram and focused on her. “Tell me he’s kidding Rhia.” He croaked.
She held up her left hand, showing William her wedding rings. “He’s not kidding.”
Rhia watched William size Ram up with barely veiled contempt. “This was the best you could do?” William sneered at Ram, then dismissed him entirely. “Is this your mid-life crisis? I didn’t say anything when you bought that motorcycle and signed up for riding classes. I didn’t blink when you took up fencing. But this?”
William raked a hand through his hair messing up his perfectly coiffed head. “The man has tattoos. He’s wearing earrings. In both ears.” William was pacing now. “For Christ’s-sake Rhia, he’s a good decade younger than you. He must be good in bed, because so far he hasn’t been able to string more than four words together.”
Rhia pushed away from the counter and had her six foot-two ex-husband by the lapels of his jacket before Ram unwound himself from the counter. He’d been insulted by experts. Wainwright’s rambling didn’t bother Ram personally at all, but he didn’t like the way Rhia seemed to be stressing it. She looked ready to kill. It was a side of her Ram hadn’t seen before, so he leaned back against the counter and watched the show.
His little pixie was shaking Wainwright and shouting. Ram watched Wainwright’s every move. If the man lifted a finger against her he’d have more than a broken jaw to worry about. Ram smiled. Rhia was holding her own.
“How dare you. Ramsey is twice the husband you were. Not only can he string more than four words together...but people pay millions...yes millions...every day to hear him sing the words he writes. He’s smarter than most of the people I know, University faculty and the members of your firm included.” Rhia let William go, but she wasn’t done spitting at him.
She had him backed up against the far wall. Ram had never seen such anger. And it was in his defense. No one had ever come to his defense like Rhia, and she wasn’t finished.
“Just for the record, Ramsey isn’t good in bed. He’s fantastic. Amazing. Electrifying even. This is no mid-life crisis, William. This is an up-grade. Earring, tattoos and all.”
Rhia geared down and took a step back. “Don’t ever insult the man I love again. I won’t stand for it and Ram doesn’t deserve it. He’s a good man and our children are going to be happy to have him in their lives. He’ll never replace or supersede you, but if they give him a chance he’s got a lot to add to both their lives.”
She wasn’t shouting any longer and she looked more sad than angry Ram thought, but she still had steel in her tone. “I don’t want to have this conversation again, William. Ever.”
William Wainwright raised his left hand and straightened his tie. Rhia saw him tremble and she knew she shook his cool facade. She’d never gotten in William’s face about anything when they were married, she’d simply gone with the flow. She probably just shocked the hell out of him.
His hand stilled on his tie and Rhia’s world got very still.
“When William?” Rhia asked nodding toward his hand on his ti
e. She watched unmoved as William flushed.
“June ninth.” William answered tonelessly.
“Candy?”
William nodded.
Rhia threw back her head and laughed. William married his bleach-blond, surgically enhanced, secretary less than a week after she left for Wales and he had the audacity to lecture her on her choice of life mates. What would their children think? Yea right.
“Get out William. I’ll talk to you later about the kids, but I’d appreciate being the one to tell them about my marriage. I assume they already know about yours.”
William nodded again and left without another word.
Ram watched Rhia wilt the second Wainwright was out the door. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her, uncertain of his reception but needing to give comfort. She didn’t push him away, so Ram pushed his luck and raised her chin with one hand and softly kissed the tip of her nose.
“I didn’t get everything that just happened, but there are three words you said I’ll never forget.” He said, smiling into Rhia’s wounded eyes.
“Let me see if I can get it right.” He teased, remembering every word verbatim. “Fantastic. Amazing. Electrifying. Yea, I really like that one. ‘Electrifying’.”
She hit him.
Ram laughed and scooped his wife up in his arms. She weighed even less than she did when he left Ponty. He was going to have to fatten her up.
“Let’s get you into bed, Rí. After you’ve slept you can give me hell.” He smiled down at her moving both eyebrows up and down.