Wilde for You. Dawn Atkins
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Anna tugged downward on her son’s shirt so his head popped out.
“Peekaboo!” he shrieked.
“Peekaboo, sweetie,” she said halfheartedly.
“Sure I will,” Tuck insisted. “When I’m ready.”
“When the moon is blue and my aunt’s an acrobat.”
“When I find the right woman.”
“You wouldn’t know the right woman if she had your name tattooed in a heart on her butt.”
“You said butt, Mommy. Umm.”
“Special occasion,” Anna said.
Forest leaned down to drop his damp cargo next to Anna to be dressed. “Don’t be so hard on him, Anna. Women as great as you don’t grow on trees.” Forest kissed his wife and their eyes met with warmth.
They were good together. They’d married young—nineteen—and Tuck had feared Forest was scrambling to find something stable after their parents’ divorce, but Anna turned out to be perfect for him. In fact, Tucker hoped one day to have the kind of relationship Forest had with his wife—an easy affection, mutual respect and lots of laughter, all built on a bedrock of love.
Except Tucker wanted a woman more like himself than Anna was like Forest. Someone more cooperative, more of a partner, who wouldn’t argue every issue into the ground like Anna did with Forest.
Once he was back in Phoenix and got his career on track at Western Sun, Tucker would look for someone. He’d be ready then.
“So, now what are you going to do?” Anna said to Tuck. “Tell the principal that you got a divorce?”
“Tell him it was a mistake, I guess. But why would I lie like that? I’ll seem creepy, crazy or lame.”
“What you need is a substitute wife,” Forest said, putting the freshly dressed Stewart on his shoulders and galloping around the sofa while Stewart shrieked with laughter.
“Sure. I’ll just call ‘Rent-a-Wife.’”
“You can’t afford that,” Forest said, lowering Stewart onto the sofa and lifting Steven up for his turn. “Hookers are pricey and housekeepers have skills. Maybe get one of those inflatable women. Prop her in a chair, backlight her and throw your voice like Norman Bates in Psycho.”
“That’s grotesque,” Anna said. “And don’t get the boys so riled up before bed.”
Forest shortened Steven’s turn and lowered him to the floor. “Go get books for Uncle Tuck,” he said. The twins scampered off, squealing.
“On the other hand, I could say my wife is away taking care of a sick relative…in Australia maybe?” Tucker said.
“Or she could have a job where she travels a lot,” Anna mused. “Like in sales. Or maybe with the airlines.”
“A stewardess?” Forest asked, sitting beside Anna. “That’d be hot.”
“That’s flight attendant, not stewardess, you sexist pig,” Anna said. “And let’s make her a pilot. More impressive.”
“That could work—faking a wife, I mean,” Forest said. “Hey, you could borrow my old wedding band.”
“Your old wedding band?”
“We thought he lost it down the sink,” Anna said, elbowing her husband, who grimaced in pretend pain. “So we bought a new one. Then I found it behind the bathroom sink faucet. If Mr. Fidget here wouldn’t take off his ring every time he washes his hands.”
“You want me to get a rash? I don’t need a ring to feel married,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m yours forever.”
“Read to us, Unca Tuck! Read to us!” Steven shouted, dragging a book bigger than he was along the carpet. Stewart hopped beside him—a one-man cheering squad.
“Go play for a few minutes, guys,” Anna said. “Your mommy and daddy have to straighten Uncle Tuck out.”
“Uh-oh,” Stewart said, staring at Tuck with round eyes. “Were you berry bad?”
“Kinda bad,” he said.
“You have to make good chooses, Unca Tuck,” he said somberly. After a sympathetic once-over, the boys turned and galloped off, happy with the extra playtime.
“So, you think I can fake a wife? Except I told Harvey she’d be at the opening-of-school potluck.”
“So get someone to stand in,” Anna said. “You pissed Julie off, but maybe someone else?”
“Someone else named Julie?”
“Or someone who’d pretend to be her…” Forest said slowly. “I’ve got it.” He leaned across the couch to pick up a framed photo from the end table and turned it toward them. It was a shot of Tucker with his arm around Anna on the terrace of the Del Coronado near San Diego, where they’d all gone for vacation last year.
“You’d be perfect,” Forest said to Anna. “You know Tuck and you want the best for him.”
“No,” Tucker said. “That would be crazy.”
“Not necessarily,” Anna said. “I could go to the potluck and impress everyone.”
“Too much of an imposition,” Tucker said, trying to head her off. “You live miles away. There will be more than a potluck to attend, I’m sure.”
“But if I were a pilot, I’d have the excuse of working out of town a lot.” She tapped her finger on her lip, looking Tuck over. “You want to make a good impression, don’t you? You don’t want to sound like an idiot or a letch, right? Or like you’re hiding a sordid past?”
“Of course not.”
“Because that’s how you’ll sound if you tell the truth now.”
“But still…”
“And you can pay us back baby-sitting the twins while Forest and I go away for a weekend or two.”
“Thanks for the offer, Anna, but it’s too complicated.”
“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” Anna said. “I have an acting background, you know. I was great as Emily in Our Town at the community college. Everyone said I had talent.”
Forest snorted. Anna slugged him and he said, “Ouch.”
“I’m sure you’re very talented, Anna, but—”
“Pretending to be married would be good for you, Tuck,” Forest said, leveling him a look. “It’ll keep you out of equipment closets with passing women.” Forest had been completely