Her Secret Husband (Secrets of Eden 4)

Turning on her heel, she rushed out of the post office and back out onto the street.

* * *

Heath was not surprised to wake up alone, but it still irritated him. He wandered through the quiet house and realized at last that her car was not in the driveway. It wasn’t hard to figure out that last night’s tryst had not sat well with her. As with most things, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

They had been on the same page in the moment. It had been hot. More erotic than he ever dared imagine. They fell back to sleep in each other’s arms. He’d dozed off cautiously optimistic that he might get some morning lovin’ as well. That, obviously, had not panned out, but again, he was not surprised.

Frankly, he was more surprised they’d had sex to begin with. He dangled the bait but never expected her to bite. His plan had always been to push their hot-button issue, make her uncomfortable and get her to finally file for divorce. He never anticipated rubbing clay all over her body and having steamy shower sex in the middle of the night. That was the stuff of his hottest fantasies.

Of course, he’d also never thought she would cave so quickly to the pressure and order the divorce paperwork the same day he demanded it. He expected spending weeks, even months wearing her down. She had already held out eleven years. Then the papers arrived with such speed that he almost didn’t believe it. He’d wanted movement, one way or another, so he figured he should sign them before she changed her mind again.

Sleeping with her a few hours later was an unanticipated complication.

Heath glanced over at the table where he’d left the papers. They were gone. He frowned. Maybe she wanted this divorce more than he’d thought. He’d obviously given her the push she needed to make it happen, and she’d run straight to the post office with her prize.

He opted not to dwell on any of it. He signed, so he couldn’t complain if she did the same. What was done was done. Besides, that’s not why he was here anyway. Heath had come to the farm, first and foremost, to take care of things while Ken recovered. Dealing with Julianne and their divorce was a secondary task.

Returning to his room, he got dressed in some old jeans, a long-sleeved flannel shirt and his work boots. When he was ready he opted to head out to the fields in search of Owen, the farm’s only full-time employee. It didn’t take long. He just had to hop on one of the four-wheelers and follow the sound of the chain saw. They were in the final stretch leading up to Christmas-tree season, so it was prep time.

He found Owen in the west fields. The northern part of the property was too heavily sloped for people to pick and cut their own trees. The trees on that side were harvested and provided to the local tree lots and hardware stores for sale. Not everyone enjoyed a trek through the cold to find the perfect tree, although Heath couldn’t fathom why. The tree lots didn’t have Molly’s hot chocolate or sleigh rides with carols and Christmas lights. No atmosphere at all.

Most of the pick-and-cut trees were on the west side of the property. The western fields were on flat, easy terrain and they were closest to the shop and the bagging station. He found Owen cutting low branches off the trees and tying bright red ribbons on the branches.

At any one time on the farm there were trees in half a dozen states of growth, from foot-tall saplings to fifteen-year-old giants that would be put in local shopping centers and town squares. At around eight years with proper trimming, a tree was perfect for the average home; full, about six to seven feet tall and sturdy enough to hold heavier ornaments. The red ribbons signified to their customers that the tree was ready for harvest.

“Morning, Owen.”

The older man looked up from his work and gave a wave. He put down the chain saw and slipped off one glove to shake Heath’s hand. “Morning there, Heat

h. Are you joining me today?”

“I am. It looks like we’re prepping trees.”

“That we are.” Owen lifted his Patriots ball cap and smoothed his thinning gray hair beneath it before fitting it back on his head. “I’ve got another chain saw for you on the back of my ATV. Did you bring your work gloves and some protective gear?”

Heath whipped a pair of gloves out of his back pocket and smiled. He had his goggles and ear protection in the tool chest bolted to the back of the four-wheeler. “It hasn’t been so long that I’d forget the essentials.”

“I don’t know,” Owen laughed. “Not a lot of need for work gloves in fancy Manhattan offices.”

“Some days, I could use the ear protection.”

Owen smiled and handed over the chain saw to Heath. “I’m working my way west. Most of this field to the right will be ready for Christmas. Back toward the house still needs a year or two more to grow. You still know how to tell which ones are ready for cutting?”

He did. When he was too young to use the chainsaw, he was out in the fields tying ribbons and shaping trees with hedge clippers. “I’ve got it, Owen.”

Heath went off into the opposite direction Owen was working so they covered more territory. With his headset and goggles in place, he cranked up the chain saw and started making his way through the trees. It was therapeutic to do some physical work. He didn’t really get the chance to get dirty anymore. He’d long ago lost the calluses on his hands. His clothes never smelled of pine or had stains from tree sap. It was nice to get back to the work he knew.

There was nothing but the buzz of the saw, the cold sting of the air, the sharp scent of pine and the crunch of dirt and twigs under his boots. He lost himself in the rhythm of his work. It gave him a much-needed outlet as well. He was able to channel some of his aggression and irritation at Julianne through the power tool.

His mind kept going back to their encounter and the look on her face when she’d asked him to keep their relationship a secret. Like it had ever been anything but a secret. Did she think that once they had sex he would dash out of the house and run screaming through the trees that he’d slept with her at last? Part of him had felt like that after finally achieving such an important milestone in their marriage, but given he’d signed the divorce papers only a few hours before that, it didn’t seem appropriate.

It irritated him that she wouldn’t just admit the truth. She would go through the whole song and dance of excuses for her behavior but refused to just say out loud that she was embarrassed to be with him. She wanted him, but she didn’t want anyone to know it.

Up until that moment in the shower, he’d thought perhaps that wasn’t an issue for them anymore. She might not want people to know they eloped as teenagers, but now? Julianne had been quick to point out earlier in the night just how “successful” he was. He had his regrets in life, but she was right. He wasn’t exactly a bad catch. He was a slippery one, as some women had discovered, but not a bad one.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for her. What did she want from him? And why did he even care?

He was over her. Over. And he had been for quite some time. He’d told Nolan he didn’t love her anymore and that was true. There was an attraction there, but it was a biological impulse he couldn’t rid himself of. The sex didn’t change anything. They were simply settling a long overdue score between them.