Her Secret Husband. Andrea Laurence

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       Two

      He’d laid his cards out on the table. This would end, and soon. After several minutes spent in silence, waiting for her to respond to his declaration, Heath finally gave up. “Good night, Jules,” he said, pushing up from his seat.

      With Ken’s attack, he understood if she couldn’t deal with this tonight, but he wasn’t waiting forever for her. He’d already wasted too much time on Julianne. He picked his bag up off the floor, and carried it down the hall and up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

      The guest room was directly across the hall from Julianne’s room and next to the bathroom they would share. He could count on one hand how many times he’d slept in the big house over the years. It just wasn’t where he was drawn to. The big house was beautiful and historic, filled with antiques and cherished knickknacks. Most anyone would be happy to stay here, but Heath always felt like a bull in a china shop when he was in the house.

      As kids, the bunkhouse was the ideal boy zone. They could be rowdy because the furniture was sturdy but old, there were no breakable antiques and downstairs was all wood flooring, so they could spill and not stain the carpet. There was a big television, video games, a foosball table and an inexhaustible supply of soda and other snacks to fuel growing boys. Things had changed over the years, but being there with his brothers again would make it feel just the same.

      Tonight, he made an exception and would stay in the big house for Julianne’s sake, but it would be a mistake for her to confuse his gesture as weakness where she was concerned. Any love he had for her had fizzled away when she’d slammed her dorm room door in his face.

      For years, he’d been as patient as he could stand to be. He knew now that he had been too nice. He’d given her too much space and let her get too contented. There was no incentive for her to act. That was going to change. He had no intention of being easy on her while they were here. Whatever it took, no matter how hard he had to push her out of her comfort zone, he would leave this farm a happily divorced man. Heath knew he shouldn’t enjoy watching Julianne squirm, especially tonight, but he did.

      Eleven years of marriage without his wife in his bed could do that to a guy.

      He opened the door to the guest room and put his bag down on the white eyelet bedspread. The room was intricately decorated, like the rest of the house, with antique furniture, busy floral wallpaper, lacy curtains and shelves filled with books and framed pictures. As he kicked out of his Prada loafers, he noticed a portrait on the wall in a carved, wooden frame.

      It was of Julianne. One of her elementary school pictures, although he couldn’t be sure what year. Her golden hair was pulled up into a ponytail, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She was wearing a pink plaid romper with a white turtleneck underneath it. She looked just as he remembered her.

      He had fallen in love with Julianne Eden the first time he’d seen her. They were in Mrs. Henderson’s fourth-grade class together. The cheerful blonde with the curly pigtails and the bright smile had sat right next to him. Whenever he forgot his pencil, she would loan him one of hers. They were pink and smelled like strawberries, but he didn’t care. He left his pencil at home on purpose just so he could talk to her.

      He’d fabricated childish plans to marry Julianne one day. It seemed like a pipe dream at the time, but one day on the playground, she kissed him—his very first kiss—and he knew that she was meant to be his. He’d even made her a Valentine’s Day card to tell her how he felt.

      He never gave her the card. The weekend before their class party, his parents were killed in a car accident. Heath had been in the car at the time, but his injuries, while serious, had not been fatal. When he was finally discharged from the hospital, both he and his brother, Xander, had found themselves in the care of Family Services. The next thing he knew, they were living at the Christmas-tree farm on the edge of town and the beautiful golden-haired girl of his dreams was supposed to be his “sister.”

      He had outright rejected that idea right away. They might live in the same home, but not once in twenty years had he ever referred to her as “sis” or “my sister.” She was Jules, usually; Julianne when he was speaking about her to the uninitiated.

      He’d given up the dream of ever marrying his childhood love soon after coming to the Garden of Eden. Julianne never kissed him on the playground again. They were friends, but that was all. It wasn’t until they were seniors in high school and the only kids left on the farm that things started to change between them. The trip to Europe had been the tipping point. Unfortunately, it hadn’t tipped in his favor for long.

      That seemed to be Julianne’s M.O. Since they’d broken up, she had dated, but from what he could tell, never seriously and never for long. None of the brothers had ever met a boyfriend. She never brought one home to the farm. Danny had come the furthest, moving in with Julianne. She didn’t really let any man get close, but Heath wasn’t certain what was the cause and what was the effect. Did their marriage fail because she didn’t do relationships, or did her relationships fail because she was married?

      He had unpacked a few things and was halfway undressed when he heard a soft tap at his door. “Come in,” he called out.

      Julianne opened the door and stuck her head in. She started to speak, and then stopped, her gaze dropping from his face to his bare chest. He tried not to move, fighting the urge to puff up his chest and suck in his stomach. He liked to think he looked pretty good without all that, but it was such a reflex. He jogged the High Line every morning and lifted weights. As a child, he was always the smaller, scrappier of the boys, but no longer. He might be the shortest, at six feet, but he could take any of his brothers and look good doing it.

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