Anne Ha - Long, Tall Temporary Husband

Turning on her heel, Taylor checked on her other customers, then took Jake his coffee.

He hadn’t touched the menu, but she pulled out her order pad anyway. “What do you want?”

Jake took a sip of his coffee. “I need fifteen minutes of your time. Maybe half an hour.”

Enough time to sign the papers, she guessed. “What do you want that’s on the menu? I recommend the pancakes.” After all, this was the Pancake Hut.

“Hear me out, Taylor.”

“Okay, pancakes it is. Short or tall?”

“Tall. Come on. For old times’ sake.”

“Real or fake?”

“Excuse me?”

“Syrup. Real or fake?”

“Real.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Hash browns, bacon and toast with that?”

“You’re just going to ignore me, aren’t you?”

“Orange juice?”

He sighed. “Sure, Taylor. Bring me whatever you want. But I’m not going away until we talk.”

Another smile. “I’ll be right back with your juice.”

She fled for the kitchen.

One of the other waitresses stood at the service counter refilling the coffeemaker. Candy was a bleach-blonde in her late thirties who chewed gum incessantly. She pointed at Jake with her chin. “Who’s the dish?”

i This wasn’t what she needed. Taylor filled a glass of orange juice and tried for an offhand tone. “Him? Just someone I used to know.”

“He’s cute.” Candy craned her head to see across the room. “Is the O.J. for him? I’ll take it over.”

Candy plucked the glass from her startled fingers and swished away, hips swinging.

“Order up,” Sleazy Steve growled.

Taylor put her mind back on her waitressing, but the next time Candy crossed her path Taylor said, “He’s married.” She wasn’t trying to be possessive—even if she had felt a strange spark of jealousy—just warning her co-worker away from disappointment.

“The dish? I didn’t see a ring.”

“Trust me. He’s married.”

Candy snapped her gum, her expression changing to a mix of anger and pity. All traces of her interest in Jake were gone. “So it’s like that, huh? Probably told you he was leaving her, but never did. And he expects you to pine away for him and jump back into his bed whenever he gets in the mood. The skunk. Want me to go pour hot coffee in his lap?”

Taylor almost laughed. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh. Right.”

“He’s married to me, Candy.”

Candy’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“We’re married.”

Candy snapped her gum again. “Then why in the world are you living alone and working in this dump? Take him back, girl!”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s too late for that.”

Sleazy Steve dropped two plates on the service shelf. “Order up, Candy,” he barked.

Candy ignored him. “It’s never too late, hon.”

“We don’t like each other.”

“Yeah,” Candy said. “Which is why he’s staring at you like he wants to have you for breakfast.”

He was? Taylor’s heart rate sped up at the news but she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. Jake wasn’t here to try to get her back, and she had to remember that.

The cook banged his spatula on the stainless steel counter. “Order up!”

Candy slowly turned and fixed Sleazy Steve with a scorching glare. She popped her gum. “Go suck an egg, Stevie. This is important.”

Taylor wanted to burst out laughing, but she knew she’d get fired if she did. Only Candy, for some incomprehensible reason, could get away with such behavior. “Jake doesn’t like me, Candy.”

“Huh! What’s not to like? You’re a total sweet-heart.”

“Thanks, but Jake—”

“Jake’s gonna get an earful,” Candy declared.

“Don’t,” Taylor said, but Candy wasn’t listening. She took the plates of food from the service shelf and sashayed off.

Taylor stood glued to the floor as Candy dropped her two plates in front of a couple of customers and approached Jake’s booth. She couldn’t hear what Candy said, but from the way the woman stood with her hands on her hips, she guessed it wasn’t friendly.

A minute later Candy came back over.

“What did he say?” Taylor demanded.

Candy shrugged. “Nothing much. I told him you were a great girl and he’d been a fool to leave you. He told me, very politely, that it was none of my business.” She popped her gum. “Not exactly the type to unburden his soul to a total stranger, is he?”

“No.” That was an understatement. Jake was a typical cowboy—stoic and silent when it came to matters of the heart. Even when that matter of the heart was a marriage gone bad.

“He wants to talk with you.”

“I know.”

“He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but it sounds important.”

“I’m sure it is, but I’m not interested.”

Candy chewed her gum. “Talk to the man, Taylor.”

She started to say, “I’m too busy,” but Candy cut her off.

“I’ll cover your section,” the other woman said.

Taylor glanced around the busy restaurant. “Thanks, Candy, but—”

“No buts. The guy’s your husband. At least go hear what he has to say.”

“Steve’s going to kill me if I take an early break.”

“I’ll handle it.”

As if on cue, Sleazy Steve slammed a plate of pancakes down on the service counter. It was Jake’s order.

“Take it over,” Candy said. “I’ll bring you something in a minute. Eggs and toast okay?”

Resigned to her fate, Taylor reached for the order. “Sure, Candy. And thanks. I think.”

Jake watched his wife cross the room, a plate of food in her strong, slender hands. He’d always enjoyed watching her—the unconscious rhythm of her steps, the sway of her hips, the way she carried her head high and proud.

She put the plate down in front of him and then, to his surprise, slid onto the opposite bench.

He watched as she settled herself, her back straight against the cushion. She didn’t look happy to be there.

“Hello, Taylor,” he said.

“Jake.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

She shrugged. “No problem.”

Jake glanced down at his plate, then up at Taylor. He didn’t pick up his fork. A lot was riding on the next half hour. The future of the Cassidy Ranch was in his hands, and in hers.

Taylor looked so different from how she had the summer before. Her expression was wary and uncertain, not at all like the composed, self-possessed woman he’d married. She was too thin, and her skin had a pallor to it, instead of the healthy glow of before.

For a moment he felt almost sorry for her. If the past five months had been hard on him, they’d obviously been harder on her. He’d only lost his heart. She’d lost her whole life-style—the clothes, the fast cars, the parties.

As soon as his mind formed the thought, his pity vanished.

Taylor glared at him from across the table. “How did you find me?”

“I called your father a couple of days ago.” He paused, then added, “I didn’t know, Taylor.” He wondered whether that would make any difference to her. He’d spent the past five months assuming she was living her carefree life in Boston, never imagining the truth.

Hell, he was still her husband. He still had responsibilities toward her that wouldn’t end until the divorce papers were signed.

Divorce papers. Despite his dislike of Taylor’s behavior on the ranch last summer, despite their differences, the thought of signing divorce papers still left him with a hollow feeling in his gut. Since the day she’d stormed off the ranch, he’d been waiting for the papers to show up in the mail, dreading the moment. But they never had.

After talking to her father, though, he thought he knew the reason. Taylor probably hadn’t had the time or the money to find an attorney to file the papers. A nasty job in a dirty restaurant wouldn’t leave her a lot of extra money. Certainly not as much spare cash as she’d used to have.

He planned to use that to his advantage.

“Tell me why you’re here, Jake.”

He took a deep breath. “I need your help.” God, but he hated having to ask her for a favor. He’d much rather have her in his debt than the other way around.

“My help?” Was that a note of surprise he detected? Surprise that he would throw away his pride enough to ask her for a favor?

“Yes,” he answered. There was nothing for it. He made himself say the words. “I need your help to buy a piece of land.”

She blinked. “Jake, I don’t exactly have a lot of spare cash right now.”

“I don’t need your money, Taylor.” This was the crux of it. Even if she still had access to her trust fund and her allowance, it wouldn’t help him at all. Jake had more than enough cash to buy the land he wanted. He just didn’t have...his wife. “I don’t need your money,” he repeated. “I need you.”

I need you. Such a simple phrase, but so devastating to say. All his life he’d done his best to avoid it. And after she’d left he’d sworn he wouldn’t ever say those three words to anyone, wouldn’t ever let himself feel those emotions. But here he was, saying them to none other than Taylor Cassidy.

She leaned back in her chair, a look of disbelief on her face. She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. A rich chocolate brown, it had grown out from the short, stylish cut she’d worn before, now curving just below her jaw.

He liked it. It wasn’t so polished and perfect. And he wanted to sink his hands into that extra hair, to feel it sliding through his fingers.

Even now he fought the urge to reach across the table to feel it, to see if it was still as soft as he remembered. They’d used to be husband and wife, free to touch or caress each other when the mood struck. Now there was a wall between them.

In five months of living alone he’d finally gotten used to not having her around. But being so close to her again threw that all to the wind. He was right back to where he’d been last summer, wanting her so much he couldn’t think straight.

Jake took a moment to calm his senses. He had to be rational today. Totally unlike the man who’d fallen for Taylor like a ton of bricks last summer. His future was on the line; he couldn’t let his past mess it up.

“You need me to do what?” Taylor asked.

“I need you to be my wife again.”

She stared at him long and hard. “Forget it.” She started to slide out of the booth.

“Taylor, sit down. It wouldn’t be real. I just need you to pretend to be my wife. For a week.”

Taylor stayed in her seat. Jake suspected it was because the blond waitress showed up just then with a glass of milk and a plate of eggs and toast, rather than because he’d asked her to.

She picked up her fork. “Let me know when you regain your sanity, okay?”

Jake opened his mouth to explain his predicament, but Taylor held up her hand for silence. He kept his mouth shut while she ate. Jake took a bite of his pancakes. They were surprisingly good, so he ate while he waited for Taylor.

Finally she finished and took a sip of her milk. “I can’t tell you how tired I am of breakfast food.”

Was she just going to ignore his request? “Taylor...”

She straightened. “Right. Back to business.” Shaking her head, she said, “Let me get this straight. You want me—your wife—to pretend to be your wife?”

“Yes. Pretend to be my loving, affectionate, definitely-not-estranged wife.”

“I’m a waitress, Jake. Not an actress.”

“I know it’ll be a challenge, but I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll pay you.”