Read Online Husband for Hire by Susan Wiggs - Free Book Online Page A

idle curiosity, he leafed through the papers and brochures Mrs. Duckworth had handed him. They were in a manila folder labeled Twyla’s Ten-Year Reunion.
    The ladies had left no fantasy unfulfilled. They’d booked seats on a commuter flight from Casper to Jackson and rented a sport utility vehicle for the weekend of the reunion. The accommodations, according to the brochure, were unbelievably deluxe—a handcrafted fishing lodge called the Laughing Water Lodge on the banks ofthe river, with two bedrooms, a spa and sauna. It was adjacent to a riding stable on the outskirts of Hell Creek and it belonged to a wealthy Jackson developer who used it as a model home to entice world-weary Californians and rich Texans to put down roots in the area. “Your Wild West Wonderland,” the ad copy proclaimed, with a photo of a guy in a cowboy hat toting a bucket of feed across a pristine paddock.
    Rob tossed the brochure on the table. He didn’t mind an occasional ride on horseback, but he’d never found barn chores particularly fulfilling.
    When Mrs. Duckworth had handed him the folder, she’d fixed him with the steely stare perfected by all third-grade teachers. “You have to understand, young man—this has to be wonderful for Twyla.”
    In case he lacked ideas, she and Mrs. Spinelli had included a laundry list of things he was supposed to do to make Twyla McCabe feel special. She needed a gift—a corsage or even an item of jewelry. He was supposed to dance with her. Take her on a picnic, ride horses with her. They suggested a candlelight dinner, a walk in the moonlight, a glass of wine on the hearth rug in front of the fireplace, breakfast in bed.
    “We’ve done our part,” Mrs. Spinelli said. “You have to do yours. No man has made her feel special in years. It’s up to you.”
    No pressure there, Rob thought wryly.
    He reached out to pull the drape shut against the flickering neon light. Through the slates of the blinds, he saw a pickup truck with running lights and chrome detailing drive by, probably headed for Roadkill Grill down the street. With one last glance at the phone, he grabbed his key and went outside. It was too late to call Lauren,anyway. He might as well join the guys for a beer at the town’s only watering hole.
    “Hey, Doc.” Chance Cartwright waved at him from the thick plank bar when he walked in. Chance poured a beer from a pitcher and handed it to Rob. “Are we having fun yet?”
    “You guys tell me.”
    “Hey,” said Rex Trowbridge, grinning crookedly, “we raised a fortune for the ranch today. Now it’s time to raise some hell.”
    Someone punched in a vintage tune on the jukebox. Jerry Jeff Walker’s voice filled the barroom, and the guys got busy thumping one another on the back and teasing one another about the auction. Rob hadn’t paid much attention to the other deals that had been cut, but it didn’t surprise him to learn that not all the bidding was done out of a sense of fun and philanthropy. Russ Hall was stuck being a daddy for a weekend. Cody Davis was being dragged back to his hometown to be the grand master of a parade, and another poor sucker had to serve as some widow woman’s ranch hand.
    “So how about you?” Stanley Fish, the reporter, pulled up a barstool. “Let’s talk about your hot date.” Studying Rob’s expression, he added, “Off the record, pal. I’m just being nosy.”
    “What I want to know is why you weren’t up there on that stage today.”
    “Hey, I’m doing my part. This article will be great publicity for the ranch. Donations’ll come rolling in when they see all you fine young men doing your civic duty.” Stan took a sip of his beer. “So spill.”
    Rob took a deep breath. “I’m supposed to take some woman to her high school reunion.”
    Stan rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding.”
    “I wish I was.”
    “Jeez, why don’t you just spend an evening watching paint dry? It’d be more interesting.”
    “No shit.” Rob drank more beer,