“It’s for your family. You’ll have a better chance of convincing Sinclair to stay if she’s not tripping over her mother-in-law. Besides, I like the little apartment. It’s cozy. It also gets the first rays of sun in the morning.”
“If you change your mind, move back into the main part of the house. I mean it, Mom. You’re a part of this family and this effort to send Stark packing.”
She patted me on the cheek. “You’re a good son, Wyatt.”
16
Sinclair
I turned up the drive and approached the Jones house. There was a time when I thought I’d be the matriarch of this home one day. I’d imagined being in Wyatt’s arms at night, making babies and watching the children play in the yard during the day, while he worked the ranch. It had been a schoolgirl fantasy.
Today, as I stopped my car, I wondered, for the umpteenth time, what I was doing. This couldn’t be a good idea. I understood the pros of what Wyatt and I were planning. When I told my parents about this crazy idea, they were surprised, but even they saw the merits.
“We’re a tight-knit community, and we all need to support each other. I suppose as childhood friends, it makes sense that you and Wyatt would marry,” my mother said. “Just be sure, Sinclair. It’s a big favor you’d be doing for him.”
“And the other farmers. They’d have an advocate in the mayor’s office. Something they don’t feel they have now.”
“Just don’t let him take advantage of you,” my father said. I looked out the window where Alyssa was playing outside and thought, if they only knew.
The other challenge of this ridiculous scheme was the fact that despite my attempts to remain neutral, I was hopelessly attracted to Wyatt and he seemed to feel the same about me. Every time I saw him, my hormones went on alert. All my girly bits came alive and it was all I could do not to jump him.
But attraction wasn’t love, and that made this plan very dangerous, not just to me and my heart, but to Alyssa as well. I’d have to walk a tightrope to keep her from being hurt.
I parked my car and pulled my suitcase from the back seat. I had a couple of other boxes, mostly of books and a few things to make Alyssa feel at home. Since this was temporary, I didn’t feel the need to bring more than a few necessities.
Wyatt was on the porch before I made it to the steps. He looked at me and then toward the car.
“Where’s Alyssa?”
“I left her at my parents’ house. I wanted to get settled first before upending her routine. She’s excited because of the horses, but it’s still a change.”
He nodded and reached for my bag. “Well, welcome home.” He held the door for me to walk in.
His mother greeted me with a hug. “Welcome home, Sinclair. You're a saint for helping us.”
“I’m happy to do it, Mrs. Jones.”
“Oh, please call me Peggy.” She looked behind me. “Where’s your daughter?” I had a moment to realize that Peggy was technically Alyssa’s grandmother. My deception felt even worse.
“She’s with my parents. I wanted to get settled first. She’ll be there until after the wedding.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Newlyweds need a honeymoon and since you won’t be going on one, a little time alone won’t hurt. I’ll be in the apartment, so I won’t be in your way.” Peggy chatted on like this was a real marriage. I thought we agreed that we’d tell our families it was fake. Then again, she thanked me for helping them, so she had to know.
“With Stark breathing down our necks and a ranch to run, there’s no time for a honeymoon,” Wyatt said. “At least that’s the cover story.”
“So, she does know this isn’t a real marriage?” I asked, wanting to be sure.
“Oh yes, but I’m happy and grateful that it’s happening. You’re a mother-in-law’s dream catch for her son!” Peggy beamed at Wyatt. I could see she was happy to have him home and proud of the man he’d become.
“Don’t you have something to do, Mom?” Wyatt blushed and it was adorable.
“Yes. The library is having a movie night. Double feature. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to the movies.”
“Enjoy Mrs…ah…Peggy.”
“You too, honey.” She gave Wyatt a knowing look and he rolled his eyes.
When the door shut behind her, he said, “Let me show you your room.” He led the way up the stairs, which creaked like an old farmhouse should. The landing at the top was wide with a little chair and table on which fresh flowers sat. I wonder if that’s just for me or if it’s something Mrs. Jones…ah…Peggy does regularly.