“There’s an easy solution, Sherry.”
“There’s no solution, Wyatt. They’re coming here to meet my fiancé. I don’t have one! They will force me to go back to New Orleans, even though I don’t want to. And they definitely can’t find out about the parlor house. That would make it all worse.”
“Well…” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling, drawing her attention. “I could be your fiancé. Hell, we can even pretend to be married.”
Stunned by his offer, she just stared at him. “What?”
“You could stay at the ranch, and we could pretend to be married,” he repeated himself, then smiled that devastating smile, “for as long as they are here. They’ll go back to New Orleans happy, none the wiser that it’s all a ruse. And you can stay here in Serenity if that’s what you want to do.”
Gratitude filled her and something more, something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—define. “You would do that for me?”
“I would. In a heartbeat.” Then he turned serious. “When are they coming?”
She consulted the letter. “They’ll be here in two days.”
“Perfect. Just enough time to get everything set up. We can go over to your house right now and pack up your things.” He rose from his seat and held out his hand.
Still reeling from the fact that he would do this for her, Sheridan simply nodded, then took his hand and allowed him to help her rise.
“My wagon is just up over there.” He pointed toward the Marshal’s office.
Wyatt placed her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her from the town square. He helped her into her seat, then climbed onto his own. Picking up the reins, he glanced in her direction, happy she was no longer frowning. Even better, the tears that had made her eyes shine seemed to have disappeared as well.
“Are you ready?”
She gave a quick nod but didn’t speak. It was just as well. She appeared a little stunned, which was fine. He was still a little stunned, too. What made him offer to be her pretend husband? He couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t would be the better word, answer the question. He just knew he didn’t want her to leave Serenity. He rather enjoyed seeing her, spending time with her. He convinced himself that he was helping her out just as he would any other friend.
He brought the wagon to a halt in front of the parlor house, jumped from his seat, then ran around to her side and helped her down. Several horses stood lined up at the hitching post. A few of them snorted, but otherwise, didn’t seem bothered by either the wagon or them. “I’ll help you pack.”
“There really isn’t much.” She led him up the porch steps then stopped in front of the door.
“I’ll help you anyway.”
Sheridan gave him a slight nod then opened the door. “If you insist.”
The parlor was empty, but he could hear moans coming from the upper floor. She stiffened beside him, and color highlighted her cheeks. She said nothing though as she led him upstairs to her room, her footsteps quick, like she couldn’t wait toget inside, away from the moans and groans and occasional laughter.
He wasn’t quite sure what he expected—perhaps crimson and gold and heavy, dark furniture—but it wasn’t this comfortable, homey room filled with flowers, delicate furnishings, bright sunlight, and all the creature comforts. There was even a patchwork quilt on the bed, the colors vibrant despite its obvious age. Someone had worked hard on it. Josie? Or had Josie bought it from Tresia?
He watched her pull an old valise from the bottom of the armoire in the corner and open it on top of the beautiful quilt. “Do you have another bag?”
She nodded quickly, then rummaged around the bottom of the armoire again, retrieving a soft-sided leather suitcase. She put that on the bed, too.
“What’s going on?” Mrs. Gallagher stood in the open doorway, huffing and puffing from her climb up the stairs. She twisted her hands in her apron.
“I’m going to stay at Stone Creek for a little while,” Sheridan admitted, even as she pulled some fancy silk and lace undergarments from a drawer, folded them neatly and placed them into the open valise.
“I see. An’ what are ya doin’ that for?” The woman stepped into the room, her gaze falling on him and remaining there. There was a sparkle in Mrs. Gallagher’s eyes, but he couldn’t fathom if it was a good thing or not.
“Odette and Aunt Estelle are coming here.” Sheridan explained matter-of-factly, though he could hear the tension in her voice.
“Josie’s mother?” Mrs. Gallagher’s face lost all color, not even her cheeks remained red.
“They want to take me back to New Orleans, whether I want to go or not. Wyatt is helping me.” Sheridan looked at him withwhat he thought was gratitude. And maybe something more. “We’re going to tell them we’re married.”
“Oh. Well then.” The color returned to Mrs. Gallagher’s cheeks and a big smile lit her face. “Let me help you.”
Seeing that Sheridan and Mrs. Gallagher had packing her clothing under control, Wyatt wandered over to the dressing table. Surely, she’d want her personal things. He fingered the embossing on the back of the brush, and closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her gently pulling the bristles through her long, blonde hair. The vision in his head had his body reacting in ways that surprised him. He took a deep breath in order to control that reaction. It wouldn’t do for her to see him ‘excited.’
