knowledge of what she had done—or more precisely hadn’t done—convinced him otherwise.
Wishing he no longer found her thick mane of chocolate-brown hair and wide-set sable eyes so alluring, he stepped closer still. Deliberately invading her personal space, he let his gaze drift over the elegant features of her face, lingering on her slightly upturned nose, the prominent cheekbones and lushness of her lips.
Body hardening, he demanded, “Then why did you concoct such a harebrained plan with my mother?” If that was indeed the case. He still found it hard to believe that his mother had played matchmaker.
Adelaide blinked at him and furrowed her brow. “Why do you care where the twins and I live while the addition is being built on my home?”
Her innocence was real enough to be believed...had he not been the recipient of her heart-rending, soul-crushing antics. He knew, better than anyone, what she was like deep down. Reeling him in, and promising one thing, then actually delivering on another...
Luckily, his broken heart had mended.
“Even if it is technically on your mother’s property,” Adelaide continued irritably.
It was his turn to do a double take. He studied the riotous blush of pink on her pretty face. “You think I’m ticked off about you and your kids moving into the bunkhouse on the Circle H?”
Adelaide lounged against the opposite post. She folded her arms in front of her, the action plumping her newly voluptuous breasts even more. She regarded him with contempt. “Aren’t you?”
He wouldn’t lie. “I think it’s a bad idea.” One of the worst, actually.
Her lower lip thrust out in the way that always made him want to haul her into his arms and kiss her. “Why?”
He remained on his side of the small covered porch with effort. Getting emotionally entangled with this woman again would not serve either of them. “I don’t want to see my mother taken advantage of by your family again.” The first time had been bad enough.
Adelaide sent him a withering glare. “I’m not my father.”
She was right about that. In some respects, she was worse. Paul Smythe’s actions had been aimed at the bank account. Adelaide’s targeted...the heart.
He pulled a folded envelope from a back pocket of his jeans. Still holding her turbulent gaze, he handed it over. “I would have believed that if I hadn’t seen this,” he told her gruffly.
Adelaide stared at the logo on the outside of the folded business letter, announcing the information was from the Texas Metro Detective Agency. Farther down, it was addressed to Wyatt Lockhart, regarding background information on Adelaide Smythe.
The color drained from her face. He watched her shiver, although the temperature was mild for the last day of January. She stared up at him in disbelief. “You actually had me investigated?”
She’d given him no choice. “The minute I heard my mother had invited you-all to stay at her place indefinitely. And you made her Jenny and Jake’s godmother and ‘honorary grandmother.’”
Adelaide looked like she wanted to kick him in the shin. “You really are unbelievable,” she sputtered.
Refusing to allow her indignation to sway him from the facts, he countered harshly, “Don’t you want to know what I found out?”
Recovering, she handed him the report, said with cool disdain, “Well, obviously you’re dying to tell me, so far be it from me to stop you.”
If she wanted to play dumb, he could draw it out mercilessly, too. “Remember Vegas?” The most wildly romantic and absolutely soul-crushing time of their teenage courtship?
Her spine turned as stiff and unyielding as her mood. “I’d rather not.”
He agreed with her there. Their hasty elopement hadn’t turned out the way he’d envisioned. Her, either, judging from the blotchy red and white hue of her skin.
“It wasn’t just the wedding night you had trouble following through on,” he told her sarcastically, still not sure this wasn’t some kind of ruse cooked up by her, long ago, left to wreak havoc on him now. Seeing he had her complete attention, he continued, “You had a little difficulty with the paperwork, too.”
For a moment, she seemed not to even breathe. She regarded him warily. “What are you talking about?” she bit out finally.
His worst nightmare come true, obviously. “We’re still married.”
A whisper of fear threaded through Adelaide. What Wyatt was suggesting was even worse than the thought that he might have somehow discovered the disturbing messages she’d been getting through her social media accounts. Messages that were also tied to her past, although in a different venue.
This was dangerous territory. “Stop clowning around.”
Scowling, he stood with his hands on his hips. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
No, he most certainly did not. A fact that unsettled her even more than the person pretending to be her MIA father. “Look, I don’t know who you talked to, Wyatt, but I signed everything and paid the lawyer the wedding chapel recommended before I left Nevada.”
His jaw took on a don’t-mess-with-me tilt. He stepped close enough she could almost touch the rough stubble lining his impossibly masculine jaw. “Then why isn’t there any record of the dissolution of our marriage?” he demanded gruffly.
Deciding being close enough to kiss was a terrible idea, Adelaide backed up. “I don’t know. Maybe you hired an incompetent private investigator.”
“And maybe the annulment was never filed,” Wyatt bit out. “Which is why I’ve asked Gannon Montgomery to meet us here in five minutes.”
The former Fort Worth attorney, now married and living in Laramie, had handled lots of clients with family money, fame and fortune, including a case involving the former Dallas quarterback’s son.
Adelaide should have known that her ex would revert to a legal solution to a very personal problem that, had they both been reasonable, would not have required any outside intervention.
“Fine,” she huffed, ready to call in her own ace attorney. She whipped out her cell phone. “You want lawyers involved? I’m calling mine, too.”
Luckily, it was the very end of the work day, and Claire McCabe was still in her office. She agreed to come right over. So by the time Adelaide had brewed a pot of coffee, Claire McCabe and Gannon Montgomery had both arrived.
Big and handsome, Gannon was a few years older than she and Wyatt. Claire was in her midfifties. She had two adopted children, and was the go-to attorney in the area for families who had children in extraordinary ways. Adelaide had always found Claire sympathetic and kind, and today, to her relief, she seemed to have extra helpings of both ready to dish out.
“So where are the twins?”
