Montana Mail-Order Wife Page 6

  Wade returned to the living room and sank back into his chair. First thing tomorrow, he’d discuss this latest development with Dr. Sinclair and get her advice.

  The screen door slammed, and he felt Rachel’s presence in the room before he looked at her. Rachel—what else could he call her?—stood on the threshold, one slender hip propped against the door frame, an enigma in the flesh. And very appealing flesh, at that.

  He quickly cataloged his scant knowledge of her. She possessed exceptional courage, evidenced by her acceptance of her amnesia without going to pieces. She obviously loved children, demonstrated by her willingness to confront him about Jordan. And an unnamed unhappiness often flickered briefly in the green abysses of her remarkable eyes.

  Everything else—her name, where she came from, her past—was a mystery.

  Suddenly an additional fact about the woman he’d asked to care for his son blindsided him with startling force. She made him feel alive again, for the first time since he had learned of Maggie’s deception.

  “Is Mr. Crutchfield going to pay the claim?” she asked.

  Lost in contemplation, Wade frowned, then remembered he’d introduced his visitor as an adjuster. “He said he’ll turn it over to his supervisor.”

  He grimaced at his lie. There was no insurance policy on the timber that had burned.

  She smiled sympathetically, and her concern made his heart ache. She had problems of her own, but worried about him and his troubles. He hoisted himself to his feet.

  They walked outside, and he shortened his stride to match hers. Her trusting glance as she slipped her arm through his, the warm pressure of her hand and the subtle floral fragrance of her soap filled him with peacefulness. Companionship and a mother for Jordan was all he really wanted, he assured himself. But this Rachel might be some other man’s wife, some other child’s mother.

  He expanded the distance between them until she dropped her hand from his arm. He would have no true peace until he knew who she really was.

  “You must be starving.” Her musical voice blended with the rustle of the breeze and the faint hum of insects.

  During the turmoil Crutchfield had created, Wade had forgotten supper, and learning the woman at his side wasn’t Rachel O’Riley had stolen his appetite. But if he didn’t eat, he’d tip off the observant not-Rachel that something was wrong.

  He nodded toward the firefighters, still lingering over coffee. “Probably not much left after that hungry bunch finished.”

  “I fixed you a plate. Ursula’s keeping it warm in the oven.”

  They approached the wooden table beneath the pines, and he caught sight of Jordan, his eyes round with apprehension, his too-thin face pale in the candlelight. The boy’s obvious fear and unhappiness stabbed him with fresh worry.

  “Hi, Dad.” The boy’s voice quivered.

  Wade scooted onto the bench beside him and Rachel sat across the table, nodding encouragement to Jordan.

  The boy looked at him and stiffened, as if preparing for the worst. “I’m sorry about your timber, Dad. I’ll sell my pony to help pay for the damage.”

  Had his boy always been this terrified of him? Wade’s anger at the boy’s carelessness softened—until he recognized the ghost of the irresponsible Maggie in the boy’s eyes.

  Ursula’s arrival interrupted Wade’s thoughts. “Are you ready for your dinner?”

  “Yes, thanks,” he replied.

  “Ursula,” Rachel said, “how about another piece of pie for Jordan? He could use some fattening up.”

  “But he didn’t finish his supper,” Ursula argued.

  “Please, just bring the pie—and put some ice cream on it,” Rachel told her.

  “Now, Jordan,” Wade began.

  When the already-rigid child tensed, Wade’s exasperation increased. Why couldn’t the boy take his punishment like a man? “Rachel explained how the fire started. You’ve been warned never to play with matches.”

  “I didn’t use—”

  “You know,” Wade said, “that playing with fire in any form is dangerous and strictly forbidden. If it had been later in the dry season, thousands of acres could have burned.”

  Wade hesitated when Rachel’s smooth forehead bunched in a frown, and she telegraphed her disapproval with a faint shake of her head, but he couldn’t allow her to make a wimp of his son.

  “Jordan,” he said, “you’re grounded for the next two weeks. I don’t want you leaving the house unless an adult is with you. Do you understand?”

  The boy nodded, his jaw quivering.

  “I have to run some errands in town tomorrow,” Wade continued, struck by an idea that would keep Jordan out of trouble and Rachel at Wade’s side in case Crutchfield returned. “You and Rachel will come with me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jordan looked pleased, which surprised Wade. He’d viewed the order as punishment.

  “Will you come?” he asked Rachel.

  She nodded, her expression puzzled. Wade didn’t blame her. He suddenly felt as if he’d lost control of the situation.

  “Have you met Leo?” Wade asked, purposely changing subjects. Leo, Ursula’s husband, had worked for Wade’s father, and now, as ranch foreman, was the only hand who didn’t sleep and eat in the bunkhouse beyond the barn.

  Rachel nodded. “He had supper with us.”

  Wade stifled his reservations about neglecting the ranch for another morning. Leo had handled things fine the days Wade had spent at the hospital.

  “Leo can take care of things here while we’re in Libby,” Wade said.

  “And Jordan can show me the town,” Rachel added.

  Wade’s gut lurched at Rachel’s soft, maternal smile as she observed his son, and he grimaced inwardly at the irony of his situation. He had selected Rachel O’Riley because her letters, while warm and friendly, had failed to strike an emotional chord. If the real Rachel had appeared, their agreement probably would have been a genial but soulless one.

  The baffling woman across from him was another matter entirely. She had reawakened long-slumbering emotions and stimulated others he hadn’t known existed. How could such a woman not have someone who loved her, not have children of her own somewhere? Any minute now, another vehicle might roar up the drive, carrying a man to claim the woman whose name Wade didn’t know.

  He had to keep his distance. He hadn’t wanted to love again, anyway. Loving meant heartache. He’d had his fill of heartache with Maggie. And this Rachel, or not-Rachel, was certain to leave as soon as she discovered who she really was or her forgotten family came searching for her.

  “I’ll give you some money to buy clothes tomorrow,” Wade said gruffly. “You lost everything but what you were wearing when the train derailed.”

  She was smiling at Jordan’s excitement, but when she turned, a hint of uncertainty undulated briefly across her face. “Thank you.”

  Jordan began naming the stores she should visit, and Ursula returned with the food. Jordan dug into his dessert with gusto. Wade, realizing with a jolt of surprise his own appetite had returned, cut into his steak. Rachel, her feet propped on the bench, hugged her knees and studied the stars visible through the pine boughs while he finished his meal.

  This contentment and harmony were what he’d longed for, what had been missing since long before Maggie’s death. He’d hoped Rachel’s presence would restore it, and it had.

  Except Rachel wasn’t Rachel, and neither he nor Jordan should become accustomed or attached to her. Inevitably, she would leave them lonely and discontented, just as Maggie had.

  “We’re going into Libby tomorrow, Ursula,” Rachel announced when the housekeeper brought Wade’s dessert, “all three of us.”

  “Jordan, too?” The old woman’s jaw dropped. When she clamped it shut, tears clouded her eyes. “Saints be praised,” she muttered, and returned to the kitchen.

  Wade set down his fork. Ursula had better keep praying. He would need all the help he could get.

  RACHEL WAITED by the pic
kup in front of the house, enjoying the first morning since her accident without accompanying aches and pains.

  Avoiding her gaze, Wade approached. “You ready to go?”

  His chilly tone doused her like ice water, and she frowned. If Wade was looking forward to their outing, he kept his anticipation well hidden. She scanned his face, whose rugged planes and angles she was beginning to know by heart, hoping for some sign of what was bothering him. He’d been acting moody and distant ever since the claims adjuster’s visit last night.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered.

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  She shaded her eyes and gazed through the dappled morning sunlight toward the barn. “Saying goodbye to his pony.”

  “We’re only going to Libby, not around the world. I’ll fetch him.” He sauntered toward the barn, his tooled boots kicking up dust in the road and clouds in her heart.

  Last night he had done as she’d asked and made time for Jordan in his schedule. She should have been happy, but she wasn’t, because at the same time, he had shut her out, erecting an invisible barricade around himself as solid as bricks and mortar.

  She crammed her hands in her pockets and scuffed her sneaker in the dirt, forming mindless circles that matched her spinning thoughts. Wade’s behavior shouldn’t surprise her. From the first, he’d stressed that he wasn’t interested in emotional involvement. All he wanted was a mother for his kid. But when he’d changed his approach with Jordan, she’d hoped he might warm to her as well. Instead, while his manner remained polite, its temperature had cooled.

  When Wade had walked into the kitchen earlier this morning, he’d all but ignored Jordan and greeted her with a nod so reserved and rigid, she’d wondered if she’d unknowingly offended him.

  Or maybe she had imagined his rebuff. The unsettling dream that had jerked her awake in a sweat at dawn had muddled her senses until she couldn’t think straight. Fleeting memories of a man who had called her Jennifer still haunted her. Reminding herself that dreams weren’t supposed to make sense hadn’t eased her anxiety.

  She jumped like a high-strung cat when a small hand grasped hers. Beside her, Jordan hopped from one foot to the other in anticipation. “All set, Rachel?”

  “You bet.” The boy’s brilliant smile banished memories of her disturbing dream. She knelt in the dust by the truck to meet him eye-to-eye. “And I’m counting on you.”

  “Me?” His chest swelled with pride. “What for?”

  She leaned closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m a total greenhorn. You’ll have to help me find my way around town and introduce me to people.”

  He lowered his eyebrows in a worried frown. “There’s lots I don’t know, either.”

  “Just ask your dad. He’ll tell you. Then you can teach me.”

  “Yeah.” Jordan’s grin widened and he threw his arms around her neck in a hug. “This is gonna be fun.”

  She returned his spontaneous gesture with a quick, fierce pressure before he broke away and ran toward the house.

  “I forgot my allowance money,” he called over his shoulder.

  She pushed to her feet and swiveled toward the truck, only to run smack into Wade, who had come up behind her.

  At the contact, she jerked away, but his arms closed instinctively, drawing her tight against the soft denim of his shirtfront, filling her nostrils with his distinctive, provocative scent. His hands circled her waist, lifting her against him.

  His thighs, hard and sinewy beneath jeans that fit like a second skin, molded against her legs. Although the unintentional embrace lasted only seconds, time moved with slow, sparkling clarity. When he dropped his arms and pulled away, she felt bereft.

  His glance met hers briefly, and although she couldn’t be certain, she thought she glimpsed her own need reflected in his eyes. At his unhurried, self-deprecating smile, desire cascaded through her with shuddering intensity, weakening her knees and sucking the air from her lungs. Attraction arced between them like heat lightning between clouds. She hadn’t imagined it. He had to have felt it, too.

  Whatever his reaction, Wade obviously intended to ignore it. He circled the truck and climbed behind the wheel. “Let’s go.”

  He started the engine as Jordan burst from the house. Rachel opened the passenger door, the boy scampered in beside his father and she followed.

  “Libby, here we come.” Wade put the truck in gear and took off down the tree-lined drive toward the highway.

  Constrained by his seat belt, Jordan still managed to bounce on the seat, radiating happiness with every bump.

  In the intimacy of the cab, with a catchy countryand-western song on the radio, Rachel leaned back and closed her eyes, pretending they were a real family. With time, maybe they could be. She glanced over Jordan’s unruly hair at Wade. Something intangible hovered in the air between her and the boy’s handsome father, an inclination, born not only of desire but of kindred spirits. From the first time she’d seen Wade, she’d felt drawn in some inexplicable manner, as if she’d been waiting for him all her life.

  She tapped her foot to the snappy tune, pleased by prospects and possibilities. She had time and proximity on her side. Sooner or later Wade had to feel the same pull and acknowledge it.

  Without warning, Wade slammed on the brakes. Jordan yelped with surprise, and the sudden stop threw her forward against her seat belt. Lost in thought, she’d paid no attention to the road ahead, where a swirling cloud of dust partially concealed a vehicle in front of the truck.

  Wade swore softly under his breath.

  “Bummer,” Jordan groaned beside her, and slid as low as his safety restraint allowed.

  The dirt settled to reveal the sleek lines of a bright red pickup. Its door swung open, and a tall, slender young woman with a mane of thick, black, wind-tossed hair stepped out and ambled toward them with swaying hips.

  The flawlessness of her makeup, the high polish of her cordovan boots, the impeccable cut of her jeans and the obvious quality of her fringed leather jacket over her red silk shirt made Rachel feel like a bag lady in her grubby sneakers and well-worn clothes.

  The woman ignored Wade and Jordan and headed straight for Rachel’s side of the truck.

  Rachel rolled down her window and gazed into eyes that glittered like pale blue ice.

  “I’m Sue Ann Swenson, Wade’s neighbor.” The woman thrust her well-manicured hand with its jungle-red nail polish through the window. “You must be the new baby-sitter the whole county’s buzzing about.”

  Chapter Six

  Sue Ann’s handshake was limp and cold, as frosty as her voice and the glint in her eyes.

  Rachel glanced at Wade, waiting for him to correct the baby-sitter label, but he stared silently through the windshield and gripped the wheel until his knuckles whitened. His attractive neighbor’s arrival had obviously agitated him, but he gave no hint why.

  “I’m Rachel O’Riley.” Rachel withdrew her hand quickly and smiled at the woman with more confidence than she felt.

  Rachel wondered why Wade didn’t explain her status as wife-to-be to his neighbor. Had he changed his mind about their marriage? The prospect, even though their arrangement had been purely business, flooded her with unexpected sadness. More likely, she reminded herself, he was honoring his promise not to talk about their marriage until she was ready.

  She glanced back at Wade, who sat silent, fuming like an awakening volcano and ignoring them both.

  “Hi, Jordan. Hello, Wade.” Sue Ann finally acknowledged the truck’s other occupants.

  “G’morning, Sue Ann.” Wade’s even tone gave no clue to his feelings. He nodded toward her pickup. “You’re raising sand a little early this morning.”

  “You should know,” Sue Ann said with a laugh heavy with innuendo. “You’re the expert on sandraising in these parts.”

  Wade poked Jordan lightly with his elbow, and the boy piped up with a polite but unenthusiastic, “Hello, Miss Swenson.”

  “Ursu
la’s up at the house,” Wade said.

  “I didn’t come to see Ursula, Wade. I came to see you.”

  Wade heaved a sigh. “What for?”

  “To invite you to the barn dance at our place Saturday night.”

  This time, Wade faced Sue Ann, and his stoic look grew almost friendly. “That’s mighty neighborly. Rachel and I will be happy to come.”

  At his mention of Rachel, surprise, shadowed by something darker, flashed across Sue Ann’s artfully made up face. “Supper’s at six o’clock, the dance at eight. And Wade—” she pressed closer to Rachel, practically nose-to-nose, her smile a challenge “—remember to save some dances for me.”

  Sue Ann stepped back from the cab, and Wade pressed on the gas, expertly avoiding her vehicle as his truck sped down the drive.

  Jordan breathed a sigh of relief and sat up straighter. “At least this time, she couldn’t reach me to pinch my cheek and call me ‘son.’”

  “Jordan, that’s enough,” Wade said. “You show respect for your elders.”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy slumped again.

  Flustered by the undercurrents that had flowed between Wade and his neighbor, Rachel held her tongue. Sue Ann obviously had her sights set on her handsome neighbor, but Wade had seemed more irritated than interested. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted Sue Ann to see him with Rachel? But that didn’t make sense. After all, Wade intended to marry her.

  Or did he?

  Trying to read his puzzling behavior was giving her a headache. If Wade had decided against marrying her, he’d have ample opportunity to tell her when they returned from Libby and Jordan was out of earshot. Until then, she’d try not to worry about how such a decision would affect her.

  Jordan’s sudden question forced the issue. “Dad, is Rachel really my baby-sitter?”

  Rachel tensed, waiting for Wade’s answer.

  A tiny muscle twitched at the base of Wade’s jaw, and he kept his eyes on the highway they’d just turned onto. “Rachel was in a train wreck, son. The accident made her lose her memory, and she’s staying with us until she’s better.”

  And after that? she longed to ask, but feared his answer.