Читать книгу The Fake Husband - Lynnette Kent - Страница 10

THEY ARGUED for an hour, over cold coffee, until Rhys finally conceded that he wouldn’t say anything for now. He would wait to see what happened in the first weeks of school.

A month’s reprieve, at best. Jacquie counted herself lucky that he’d agreed to even that much. He could have insisted on his parental rights, and she doubted she could have stopped him. Rhys Lewellyn usually got what he wanted. Sitting across the table from him, watching him smile, studying his face and his hands and remembering…

No. She wouldn’t put herself through the torture. That part of her life—their time together—must stay completely in the past. For sanity’s sake.

One step outside the restaurant’s front door, the vicious whip of a cold wind sent her staggering backward. Rhys stood just behind her, and for a second they were pressed together, back to front, his hands gripping her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. Like a shower of sparks, awareness drenched her from head to toe.

She moved away as fast as possible and turned to face him. “Call me,” she instructed, with as much distance as she could put into her voice, “if something happens. Erin might not say anything.”

“Andrew’s not likely to confide in me, of all people. But we’ll see. You can only take one jump at a time.”

Instead of standing where he was, Rhys moved with her into the parking lot. To her frustration, he appeared prepared to walk her all the way to her own driver’s seat.

“Some of these jumps are water hazards,” Jacquie grumbled, “with a stone wall before and a hill with a drop-off behind.” She stopped at the tailgate of her truck. Cars had parked on either side of her, and she didn’t intend to be confined in such a close space with this man. “I’m too old for that kind of ride.”

His gaze moved beyond her, assessing the situation. He must have agreed with her, because he took a step back. “If you need to get in touch, I’m usually at the farm. Except for tomorrow—the rest of my horses are flying into the Raleigh airport about noon and I’ll be driving them down.”

“Imperator doesn’t fly?”

“Not if given a choice.” He smiled, for the first time that evening, and her stupid heart fluttered in response. “We try to keep his flights to a minimum, because he gets so rattled that it can take weeks to settle him down to work. And we came here to work.”

“So first we have a snowstorm, and now you’re in the middle of a personal disaster. You must be thrilled with this decision.”

Rhys looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable in the dark. “It’s not all bad,” he said quietly. “Good night.”

He stood by the back of the truck until she got the engine started, then gave her a brief salute and went to the other side of the parking lot for his own vehicle. Jacquie wondered if he always drove a truck, or if he still indulged himself with the wickedly fast sports cars he’d owned fourteen years ago. She couldn’t quite visualize the great Rhys Lewellyn at the wheel of a minivan with a car seat in back.

Or maybe she could, she realized as she headed home. The image of Rhys carrying a toddler in his arms made a very appealing picture.

And that was very bad news, indeed.

JACQUIE FOUND that she couldn’t just sit down over Saturday lunch and chat with Erin as if nothing important had happened. She had become so caught in a web of lies, she feared she might blurt out the truth without thinking about it.

“Let’s go for a ride,” she suggested, instead. “We’ll load up Mirage and Nina, drive over to Rourke Park and spend a few hours on the trails.” The land for the riding preserve ran along one side of Fairfield Farm, but Rhys had said he wouldn’t be home this morning and most of the afternoon. No danger there.

Erin glanced out the window. “Mom, it’s looking kinda gray. We might get caught in the rain.”

“No way. Maybe it’ll snow a little. Riding in the snow is fun, right?”

“Snow means temperatures around thirty-two degrees. That’s cold, Mom.”

“Oh, come on. It’s the weekend. Let’s live a little.”

“Okay. I guess.” After giving her a puzzled look, Erin addressed her tuna sandwich. “I hope I can find my gloves.”

She did find her warm riding gloves, and by the time the horses stood in the trailer and Hurry had been locked in the house, she’d found her enthusiasm, too. They sang with the Christmas carols still loaded in the CD player as they drove, ending with “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

“My favorite carol.” Erin sighed happily when they’d finished. “I remember watching you decorate a really tall tree with bows and hearing you sing that song.”

“You remember that? You were only two when I did the tree with the bows.” Discounted ribbon had been all she could afford that year. “That tree was about four feet high. You must have been on the floor looking up.”

“Seemed really tall to me. And I remember getting a fashion doll with a fancy red dress and shoes.”

“Which you promptly took off.” Not the name-brand doll, of course, but an inexpensive version. “That poor woman never wore clothes again.”

“After a while, her head got lost.”

Jacquie grinned. “You were playing doctor, I think.”

“That’s one way to cure a headache.”

They laughed together, and Jacquie tried to take a mental photograph to save against the time to come.

The wind was brisk and cold, the sky heavy with clouds as they unloaded the horses. Jacquie shivered as she swung into the saddle on Nina’s back. “Cold leather against your rear end. What a great feeling.”