The Fake Husband

“That’s right.” And she would not offer to carpool with them.

So, of course, Rhys did. “I would be glad to drive her to school along with Andrew. As soon as I figure out how to get there, of course.”

His rueful tone tempted her to smile, and Jacquie had the sensation of clinging by her fingernails to the edge of a crumbling cliff. “Thanks, but I like to drive her myself. We get a chance to talk.”

“Which can be a blessing, or a curse.” He was silent for a moment. “Then if you can’t come for a lesson and I can’t drive your daughter to school for you, I’ll have to go the direct route. Will you have dinner with me next week? Say, Friday night?”

He might as well have punched her in the stomach—her reaction was pretty much the same. “Why?”

“For old times’ sake?”

“Our old times aren’t something to celebrate, Rhys.”

“Why not?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“You were married, remember? What we were…what we did…was adultery.”

“Olivia and I were separated, Jacquie. More than halfway to a divorce.”

“Until you went back to her. End of story.” She was breathing as if she’d run a five-minute mile. “I have to go, Rhys. Good night.”

“Wait, Jacquie—”

But she hung up on him. She knew too well the power of his voice, its effect on her will and her good intentions. If ever a girl had been talked into a man’s bed, it was young Jacquie Lennon.

Erin banged the door against the chair. “Mom? What’s going on? What in the world are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Jacquie moved the chair and opened the door herself.

“Did you talk about lessons? When do I start?”

“We didn’t set a time, Erin.”

“Mom! Why not?”

“Because there’s more to my life than your whims and fantasies,” Jacquie snapped, unfairly, she knew. “Like earning a living to keep a roof over our heads and food in the horses’ mouths. Riding lessons with overpriced, big-ego trainers are just not at the top of my list right now, okay? I’m going to bed. Good night.”

She aimed a kiss at Erin’s head and did an about-face, heading for her bedroom. Behind a closed door, she drove her fists into her pillow until her hands were too heavy to lift, her arms too weak to try. But she’d killed the fear. For now, anyway.

THE EXTENT TO WHICH Rhys’s arrival would disrupt her life became obvious when Jacquie arrived at her parents’ house for lunch on Sunday.

“Hey, sweetie.” While putting the lid back on a steaming pot of green beans, her mother tilted her cheek up for a kiss. “Where’s Erin?”

“She saw Daddy outside and went to talk to him.”

“She’s Grandpa’s girl. How was your week?”

“Same as usual.” And if that wasn’t a lie, what would be? “How about you? You got your hair cut? I really like it.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” Becky Lennon gave a self-conscious pat to her short blond hair, then smoothed her hands over her plump hips. “I bought this dress, too. I had to get out of the house for a little while. Your daddy was underfoot most of the time.”

“I bet you put him to work.”

“What choice did I have? I can’t have him bothering me all day long.” She bent to the oven and pulled out two trays of golden biscuits. “He put up those shelves I’ve been needing in the sewing room and then installed a new shower door in you girls’ bathroom.” Neither Jacquie nor her sister Alicia had lived at home for ten years, but that was still their bathroom. “Jimmy came over on Friday and the two of them moved the furniture out of the living and dining rooms, gave the carpet a good shampooing.”

“Which is a nice way of saying you let him come over to give his wife the day off.” As farmers, neither her brother nor her dad knew what to do with themselves when confined to the house by ice and snow.

Her mother winked. “Sandy did the same for me yesterday—had your dad come over and help Jimmy put together the furniture for the nursery. We look out for each other.”

“She’s due next month, right?”

“February tenth is her due date, but the doctor says he thinks she’ll go early, from the size of the baby. Though in my experience, most first babies are late. Except Erin was early, wasn’t she?”

“Ten days.”

Becky nodded as she poured creamed corn into a serving bowl. “That’s why I didn’t get to be with you for the delivery.”

Jacquie winced at the unspoken reproof. Erin had been born in Oklahoma, far from family, with only her mother and a midwife to welcome her into the world.

In the front of the house, a door slammed. “That’ll be them, coming in from church. Alicia said she’d ride with Jimmy and Sandy. I’d better get this meal on the table.”

“What can I do?”

“You carry the vegetables into the dining room while I get the chicken.” Becky Lennon organized her Sunday dinners with the efficiency of a marine drill sergeant. In moments, the whole of Jacquie’s family was seated around the table.

As soon as her grandpa had given thanks for the food and the melting snow, Erin started talking. “Grandma, guess what? I’m getting riding lessons this week with Rhys Lewellyn. Is that amazing, or what?”

“That’s nice, honey.” In the middle of serving herself a slice of chicken, Jacquie’s mother looked across at Erin. “Lewellyn? Isn’t that…?” Her frowning gaze moved to Jacquie.

“That’s right.” Jacquie spoke over the gallop of her heartbeat. “I trained with him in New York. He’s just moved down here with his horses, and Erin’s dying to get his help with her riding.”

“More than just training,” Alicia said. “As I recall, you had a huge crush on Rhys Lewellyn. Every phone call was about how handsome he was, how he smiled—”

“You’re exaggerating,” Jacquie said, though her impulse was to scream Shut up! “I liked him a lot. He’s a good teacher.”

“And gorgeous?” Alicia prompted.

“Okay, yes. Still is, for that matter.” She hoped her appraisal came across as casual.

Erin’s eyes were round with surprise. “Mom? You and Mr. Lewellyn went out together?”

“No.” They’d never gone on dates because he’d been married. “No, Erin, we didn’t go out together. I was young, he was attractive and older and paid attention to me because I rode well. End of story.” More or less.

“Except that the next thing we knew, you’d moved halfway across the country, married Mark Archer and were having a baby.” Alicia shook her head. “You always were crazy, but that year had to be one of the craziest.”

When Jacquie glanced across the table, her mother’s frown hadn’t eased. So much about that time in her life had gone unexplained, she wouldn’t be surprised if Becky Lennon’s suspicions were easily aroused.

Damn you, Rhys. Damn you for showing up to ruin my life yet again.