Free Temporary Husband by Day Leclaire Page A

I’m their guardian. At least they were left to me in Tracy’s will. Unfortunately Mrs. Marsh—that’s their other aunt—is doing everything in her power to gain custody of them. So, I married you to prevent her from succeeding. Okay?”
    She never learned if he thought it was okay or not. Another knock sounded at the door and Wynne flung it wide before Jake could gather breath to protest. To her relief, Laura had joined the boys.
    “About time,” she groused, stepping into the room, a decidedly grumpy expression marring an otherwise pretty face. “The minute I turned my back, these two took off. Though how they found your room is beyond
    me.”
    “We asked the front desk,” Buster explained. “They wouldn’t tell us till I pinched Chick and he started hollerin’.”
    Chick sniffled in response, rubbing an apparently sore arm.
    Jake took a step in their direction. “Would someone tell me what the hell—” Four sets of outraged eyes nailed him on the spot and he made a quick adjustment to his vocabulary. “What the…the heck-fire is going on?”
    Laura gave Jake one long, horrified look before spinning to confront Wynne. “Please. Tell me this isn’t your husband. He’s not, is he?”
    “Of course he’s my husband.” Wynne frowned. “Why?”
    “Oh, no. This will never do.”
    “Finally,” Jake said in satisfaction, folding his arms across his chest. “Someone who agrees with me.”
    “Why won’t he do?” Wynne questioned. She stared at the man she’d married, searching for any visible flaws she might have overlooked the night before. As far as she could tell, there were none. He was as perfect now as he’d been when she’d first laid eyes on him.
    “He’s a Texan!” Laura stated as though that were explanation enough. “I’d know that accent anywhere.”
    “Now wait just a damn—darn minute,” Jake growled, clearly insulted. “What’s wrong with Texans?”
    “Good question. What is wrong with Texans?” Wynne asked.
    “What’s wrong with them?” Laura grasped her friend’s arm and hustled her to one side of the room. “Have you lost your mind?” she questioned in a distressed voice. “You can’t throw a rope around a Texan and expect to lasso anything other than trouble.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Wynne said with a laugh. “Jake won’t give me a minute’s trouble. He’s here to help.”
    Jake stared at her in disbelief before informing her grimly, “Trust me, wife. The minute we’re alone I intend to give you a sh—truckload of trouble. You lied to me. And I don’t take kindly to lies.”
    “I didn’t lie,” she protested.
    “Then you did some mighty fancy two-steppin’ around the truth. In my book that’s as good as a lie.”
    She sighed. “I just omitted one tiny detail.”
    “That detail being that your inheritance comes with arms, legs and a whole lot of aggravation in between. Why didn’t you ‘fess up last night?” He nailed her with a hard glare. “I’ll tell you why. Because if you had, you knew I’d walk away. Hell, I’d probably have run.”
    Laura groaned. “You are in way over your head here,” she warned.
    “Everything will work out,” Wynne insisted, glancing pointedly at the boys. She offered a bracing smile in the hopes of easing their worried expressions. “Jake and I just need to talk this through—alone and in private.”
    Laura gave a little snort. “A fat lot of good that’ll do. You don’t talk things over with Texans. They bark and you start jumping or suffer the consequences. I should know. I’m sorry to say I was married to one.” She fixed Jake with a sour look. “Fortunately for my mental health it was brief. Very brief.”
    “Ah, jeez,” Jake muttered in disgust.
    “Just look at him,” Laura continued as though he hadn’t opened his mouth. “In case you failed to notice, this is one tough hombre. He’s more outlaw than savior. Why, I’ll bet the man eats nails for breakfast, shoe leather for dinner