His Only Wife. Cathy McDavid

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His Only Wife - Cathy  McDavid

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have no idea.” Grandma Rose peered through the door-way leading into the living room.

      At the sound of the front door opening, Aubrey hastily retied her knee-length robe, which suddenly felt tissue-paper-thin, then plucked her tousled hair. “Somebody’s here.” She’d forgotten what it was like living in a small town. Friends and neighbors frequently stopped by without phoning first and doorbells were for strangers.

      “Morning,” Gage called from the living room. “Anybody home?”

      Aubrey dropped back into her chair.

      “We’re in the kitchen,” Grandma Rose called back, obviously delighted at the prospect of a visitor. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

      Gage stopped in the doorway, smiling broadly. Rather than his cowboy hat, he wore a baseball cap, which he removed as he entered the room and bent down between the two women to plant a kiss on Grandma Rose’s cheek. “Mom already fed me. But I’ll take a cup of coffee if there’s extra.”

      Grandma Rose tittered like a schoolgirl. “Why, of course there’s extra.”

      He leaned toward Aubrey. She shied, momentarily alarmed he intended to kiss her cheek, too. But he just winked.

      “Stay put,” he said. “I’ll get my own.”

      Aubrey had every intention of staying put. Silly, she supposed. Gage had seen her wearing far less than pajamas and a thin robe during their marriage. Heck, the outfit she wore yesterday exposed more bare skin than this one. Her fingers gravitated toward the hem of the robe. The movement must have caught his eye, for he looked down, and his smile widened.

      Damn him.

      Her first instinct was to lower her head. She resisted and met his gaze head-on.

      Like the previous day, heat crept up her neck, all the way to the tips of her ears. Still she stared. “Clean mugs are in the cupboard to the right of the sink,” she said.

      “What brings you by this morning?” Grandma Rose asked. “And don’t tell me it’s the smell of brewing coffee.”

      She appeared oblivious to Aubrey’s discomfort. The Rain-trees had always been friendly with her grandparents. Fortunately, Aubrey’s and Gage’s impulsive and short-lived marriage hadn’t affected that friendship. Given the two families’ long-standing history together, Gage was probably a frequent visitor to her grandmother’s house.

      “I’m here to start work on the handicap renovations.”

      “What?” Aubrey and her grandmother said in unison.

      “You did advertise for a handyman?” Gage peered at them from over the brim of his mug, then took a sip of coffee. “I saw the notice posted on the bulletin board outside of Cutter’s.”

      There were two markets, if one could call them markets, in Blue Ridge. Cutter’s was the larger of the two, not much more than a convenience store with a modest produce bin, while the town’s one and only gas pump could be found at the Stop and Go.

      “I did,” Grandma Rose exclaimed. “But surely you can’t be answering the ad. When in the world would you have time, what with working at the ranch and all?”

      Gage propped a hip on the edge of the counter in a casual stance that somehow managed to be sexy, too.

      “Well, it’s not just me. We’re splitting the job between all of us in the volunteer fire department. I’m building the wheelchair ramp for the front porch. Gus will change out your round doorknobs for lever ones, and Mike’s installing a grab bar in your bathtub. Anything else you need, Kenny Junior will handle.”

      “Gage is the captain.” Grandma Rose beamed. “He was promoted after Bob Stintson and his wife moved to Show Low.”

      “Really?” So, Aubrey thought, he had stuck with firefighting. No surprise. Gage always had a sense of adventure. He was the one who suggested they elope, after all.

      “You know we’re raising money for some new equipment.” Gage directed his statement at Grandma Rose. “We figured this would be a good chance to build the fund and help out a loyal contributor at the same time.”

      “Why, I’m….” She placed a hand at her throat. “I’m just thrilled. Thank you, Gage. Thank all the boys for me. Now you swear this won’t be an inconvenience? I heard from Martha Payne yesterday your father has suffered another gout attack.”

      “He’s not so bad. I think he’ll be up and around in a couple of days. Hannah can handle things for one morning,” Gage said, referring to his younger sister.

      Aubrey thought she noticed a bit of tension in the lines around Gage’s mouth. She remembered Mr. Raintree as being a somewhat hard and inflexible man, on par with her own father. She and Gage always shared that commonality. If Mr. Raintree was laid up, he probably depended on Gage and Hannah to run the ranch. The work was constant and difficult, she knew firsthand from her brief residence there.

      “Are you sure?” her grandmother asked. “I don’t want to be the cause of any…discord.”

      “Forget it.” He dismissed her worries with a casual shrug. “I’d be here helping even if you hadn’t advertised for a handyman.”

      Aubrey believed him. Gage adored her grandmother, and she him. But, as Aubrey watched their exchange, she couldn’t help feeling something was amiss in the Raintree family.

      “Dad’s just being his usual grumpy self,” Gage went on.

      Her grandmother nodded in understanding. “Gout is no picnic.”

      “Probably less painful than a broken hip.” He shifted his weight to his other foot, looking quite at home and in no hurry to start the renovations.

      “It’s been tough going so far,” Grandma Rose said, smiling, “but I expect to improve rapidly now that my granddaughter is here. I couldn’t ask for a better nurse.”

      Gage toasted Aubrey with his coffee. “Here’s to granddaughters.”

      Bringing her mug to her lips, she drained the last bit of coffee. “Grandma, we should probably get a move on.”

      Her grandmother’s appointment wasn’t until early afternoon, but Aubrey wanted Gage out of the house. The three of them sitting around the kitchen having a friendly chat reminded her too much of days gone by.

      “Where you headed?” he asked, not taking the hint and not moving an inch.

      “Physical therapy,” Grandma Rose told him.

      “Sounds like fun.”

      “It’s hard work,” Aubrey corrected him.

      “I don’t doubt it.” Unfazed by her brusque tone, Gage polished off his coffee, rinsed out his mug and placed it in the dishwasher. “And speaking of hard work, I should get cracking.”

      Aubrey blew out a huge sigh when she heard the front door shut behind him. How long, she wondered, would it take to build the wheelchair ramp? More importantly, how long until

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