His Pretend Wife

“I didn’t do anything.” Abby refused to accept any responsibility for Jack’s life.

That might open up a set of emotions she’d tried to deny since the first day she met him. From that day on, she’d been bombarded by feelings that threatened to disrupt her ordinary, orderly life. But wasn’t change the reason she’d moved back to Henderson? Feeling restless and generally dissatisfied with her life, she’d hoped Seth was the answer.

Seth was safe.

Jack was the unknown.

“You sent out the alarm,” Drew pointed out, a question in his eyes when her silence lengthened. “No one else knew Jack was missing.”

She had known. In some secret part of her, Abby was aware of Jack’s every move. She knew when he arrived at work and when he left—to the minute. She dreaded and craved each new encounter. God! How had she let herself get drawn in by his brooding good looks and the masculine taunt in his bitter blue eyes? Today, she’d glimpsed a flash of vulnerability in Jack Slade—something she’d never expected to see beneath the tough exterior.

Abby wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed before a medic gave the order, “Okay, let’s get him out of here.”

A new urgency gripped her.

The rescue squad had set up flares to light the way back down; the mountain looked on fire. The paramedics bundled Jack onto a stretcher. Since the helicopter had landed in the nearby field, a couple of men had to carry him down the steep mountain path, a slow tedious process.

Following in their wake, Abby felt Jack getting further away from her, breaking that small but very real connection she’d felt earlier when they were alone and he’d asked directly for her help. Then the others had arrived.

He didn’t need her.

Falling back, she breathed easier. Someone else would look after Jack Slade. Not Abby. He was terribly hurt, perhaps critically, but there was nothing she could do for him. Thank goodness, there were professionals on hand who knew how to deal with his life-threatening trauma.

Despite all the rationalizing, she wanted to cry when the men loaded the stretcher bearing Jack onto the helicopter feet first. They’d wrapped him in a blanket and splinted his left arm. No one had dared touch his left leg, except to gently wrap the brutally torn flesh in sterile gauze.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, Abby took a step. “Someone should go with him,” she said to one of the medics climbing on board.

The man glanced back at her. “There’s room for one more, but only the immediate family is allowed.”

“Please, wait.” Abby swallowed hard.

She had no personal connection to Jack. They weren’t even friends, and she preferred it that way. Nevertheless, she’d made a promise—one she found impossible to break or ignore. He’d asked her to save his leg, and she’d agreed.

He was counting on her.

How could she ignore that?

Faced with that grave responsibility, a small lie hovered on her lips. She couldn’t let Jack go alone. He was unconscious. Who would look after him?

Though it was the last thing Abby wanted to do, some deep instinct compelled her to claim an attachment to Jack Slade with the words, “I’m his wife.”

Chapter Two

His wife.

Abby pursed her lips, regretting the impulse the moment the words spilled from her mouth. However, once spoken, she couldn’t take the false statement back. With a few rash ill-considered words uttered in desperation, she’d claimed Jack Slade. How could she? In any case, she had little time to reconsider or come up with an alternative plan.

Preparing for liftoff, the pilot turned on the motor. The engine’s roar drowned out all thought. The helicopter blades spun, circling in a wide arc, churning up a thick white cloud of snow. Abby felt swallowed up in it. A few ice crystals struck her face.

She’d blocked out her brother’s presence.

Drew tried to stop her. He’d obviously heard her claim that she was Jack’s wife. He grabbed her arm, raising his voice above the motor. “Abby, this is insane. What are you doing? You can’t just pretend you’re married to Jack.”

“He’s unconscious.” Abby pulled free and took another step closer to the waiting helicopter. “He can’t go alone, not in his condition. How will he cope when he gets to the hospital? Someone has to go with him.”

“But not you. Jack means nothing to you.”

Abby squared her shoulders. “That’s not the point. He needs someone. There is no one else.”

Drew’s mouth tightened with disapproval. He searched her eyes for a long moment before releasing her. “All right, but God help you when Seth finds out.”

She shook her head. More than anything in the world, Abby wanted to feel truly connected to some place. Someone. Perhaps that someone was Seth Powers. And yet, she found herself saying, “Seth doesn’t own me.”

Drew said dryly, “Try telling him that.”

With a shiver of acknowledgment, Abby turned away from the warning in Drew’s eyes. When the paramedic reached down to give her a hand, she climbed on board the helicopter then quickly found a seat.

The sharp scent of antiseptic stung her eyes. A paramedic inserted an intravenous into the back of Jack’s hand, while asking, “How was he when you found him?”

“He said he was cold.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“Yes, he did.”

The man nodded, he was middle-aged with a kind face and thick eyebrows that shadowed his eyes. “That’s a good sign.”

“Jack will be okay?” She needed some reassurance, something to hang on to.

“We’re doing all we can. The thing is to get him to a hospital where the doctors can deal with his injuries. The nearest medical center is a good distance. So, hang on.”

“Yes, of course.” Fastening her seat belt, Abby took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

With the weight of her promise heavy on her conscience, she glanced at Jack. He lay still as death, and she prayed that he would live, that he would be whole.

She reached for his hand. “Hang on, Jack.”

Jack would never have asked for her help if he weren’t desperate. She’d seen it in his eyes.

From the moment they’d met, he’d seemed unapproachable, his hard eyes challenging her and a cynical edge creeping into his smile when he greeted her with a few terse words. He’d asked to see Drew. Abby hadn’t been able to see past his black leather jacket and motorcycle, but her brother had greeted Jack like an old friend. They’d met in prison—which did little to improve Abby’s opinion.

At the time, Jack had seemed so alien to all that was familiar. Since then, she’d never been able to shake that feeling of impending chaos. He threatened her secure world, adding to her concerns for her brother who was trying to rebuild his life after serving time in prison for violating federal safety code regulations.

Abby frowned, recalling that tumultuous time.

At the trial, Drew had pleaded innocent to the charge. However, he’d admitted to repairing a faulty gas tank valve instead of replacing it with a new one. That one error in judgment had caused an explosion at the family-operated migrant campground. Thankfully, no lives were lost, but the list of serious injuries and property damage was long. A jury had found Drew guilty, and the judge had thrown the book at him. Sentenced to five years in prison, Drew’s punishment hadn’t ended there. Everyone had turned their backs on him, his family had closed down their extensive farming and logging interests and left Henderson. Only Abby had remained loyal.

Three months ago, she’d come back to Henderson when Drew was released. Determined to atone for his mistakes, he’d reopened the sawmill and Abby had joined him. She’d invested both her time and money in the effort. Thus, she hadn’t been pleased when Jack Slade—an ex-con—turned up at the sawmill looking for a job. He was part of Drew’s past, a threat to the future.