Читать книгу Long, Tall Temporary Husband - Anne Ha - Страница 9

Prologue

Taylor tossed her leather suitcase onto the bed, yanked open the zippers and threw back the top. “I hate you, Jake! And I hate this godforsaken ranch!”

She stalked to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. She carried it to the bed and upended it over the suitcase. Nightgowns and lingerie tumbled out.

Dropping the empty drawer onto the bedspread, she stormed back over to the dresser for another drawer. Socks, leggings, cotton tank tops. It all went into the suitcase. The drawer joined the other on the bed.

Jake stood behind her, tension filling his body, a look of disgust on his face. “You’re a spoiled brat, Taylor.”

T-shirts, jeans, blouses, slacks. “Go to hell!”

“And a wimp. Go ahead, run home to your parents. I’m sure they’ll make everything all right. No reason they should stop babying you just because you’re an adult.”

She threw open the closet door. Grabbing a few dresses, she crammed them into the suitcase, hangers and all.

The suitcase was a disaster. Sleeves and hems stuck out over the edge. Everything lay in a crumpled mess, but Taylor didn’t care.

She darted into the bathroom, grabbed her toiletry kit from a drawer in the vanity and jammed handfuls of cosmetics into it. Her eye pencil snapped going into the kit. She hurled the pieces into the trash can.

Jake loomed in the doorway. “One month, Taylor. You lasted one month.” His voice dripped scorn. “Even my mother lasted longer than that.”

She snatched up the toiletry kit and barreled past him into the bedroom. “It wasn’t one month,” she muttered. “It was five weeks. Five of the most horrible weeks of my—”

“Privileged; coddled, self-absorbed life.”

She dropped the toiletry kit onto the pile of rumpled clothes and pounded on the pile with her fists until it was compact enough to get the top closed. The zipper stuck halfway, blocked by a T-shirt. Giving a fluent curse, she ripped the offending item out of the way, tossed it to the ground and finished with the zipper.

She whirled to face him. “You know, if you’d ever stopped working long enough to have a conversation with me, we might have had a chance.”

“We talked plenty.”

“Yeah, right. You talked. Taylor, I need you. Taylor. Oh, God, Taylor. I can’t resist you, Taylor...” She glared at him. “It was always when we were—when we were—”

“Having sex? Well, what do you expect? Our whole relationship is based on physical attraction. Aside from that we have nothing in common.” He laughed bitterly. “I should have known you were off limits the moment I saw you in that three-hundred-dollar swimsuit. How could a rich city slicker like you ever be happy in Montana?”

Taylor slung her purse over her shoulder, grabbed the heavy suitcase and marched out the door. She dragged it to the top of the stairs and tossed it down. It fell end over end, landing with a thud on the floorboards below.

She descended the steps, picked it up and heaved it onto the porch.

Jake’s pickup was parked outside, the keys on the dash as usual. She lurched over to it, dumped her suitcase in the back and got in. “Go muck out some stalls, Jake.”

Anger radiated from him, but he didn’t move to stop her. “Something you’ve never done.”

“I married you, Jake, not your ranch.”

“And you thought I’d do nothing but pamper you? You’re a fool.”

Taylor fired up the truck. Through the open window she said, “Find another wife, Jake. Some empty-headed country girl who’s never been to the big bad city. She’ll be happy here. You can shovel horse manure together.”

“Don’t come back, Taylor. You don’t belong here.”

She fixed him with her most withering glare. “Believe me, Jake. Nothing could ever convince me to set foot on this ranch again.”

Taylor threw the truck into gear and peeled out in a cloud of dust.

She got fifty yards away before she jammed on the brakes, made a reckless three-point turn and sped back to the house. She pulled up in front of Jake, ripped the wedding set from her finger and threw both rings into the dirt at his feet. Then, without a word, she stomped on the gas and roared down the drive.

Back at the house, Jake stared after her. He watched his truck disappear around the bend. Slowly the dust settled until all traces of his wife’s flight had vanished.

She was gone.

Gone. As if she’d never been here. As if the past five weeks were nothing but a childish fantasy, a naive dream. She was gone, and good riddance.

He bent down and lifted her rings off the ground. He blew the dirt off them, rubbed them clean. They were still warm with the heat of her body, and as he slipped them into his pocket an ache settled deep in his chest.

Good riddance? Who was he trying to kid? Depression closed over him. He’d thought they had a future together. He’d lost his heart to her and she’d behaved exactly as he’d feared, abandoning him along with her discarded rings.

With a last look at the empty drive, he turned and headed for the barn. He would lose himself in work, and eventually he would forget her.