Weekend Wife Read Online Free Page A

something out of a Charles Dickens novel. He tried to envision himself introducing her to Connstarr’s owner. Sir, I’d like you to meet my wife, Olive Twist....
    And Roxanne. He was sure she’d die laughing.
    What the hell. At this point he didn’t give a rat’s rear end. She was better than nothing. And who could tell, maybe she’d clean up nicely.
    Although Tyler had little experience with the plight of the homeless, his heart melted at the sight of this plucky little thing standing her ground against the loser with the gold tooth. His dislike for this guy was instant and profound.
    “Hey!” Ty called, smiling broadly at the little vagabond whose eyes were filled with terror. “I saw your sign and wondered if, uh, you weren’t already taken—” he nodded politely at the loser “—if I could offer you a job.”
    “No!” she cried hastily, and then, looking confused at her reply, amended, “I mean, no, I’m not already taken.”
    “Great. Why don’t you come with me now and you can get started?” Ty watched her look back and forth between the two men, as though trying to figure out which was the lesser of two evils. Her hands shook as they gripped her tattered piece of cardboard. He had to admire her caution, after all, he was a stranger, too.
    “What kind of work?” she asked suspiciously as she looked him over from head to toe.
    “Oh, uh, well, it’s a long story, actually.” He fumbled for words that wouldn’t scare her off. She was probably his last chance, and he didn’t want to frighten her away by seeming too desperate. “But it’s a good job, with good pay, and I can offer you a room and meals.” Noting how her eyes kept darting fearfully to the gold-toothed loser, he added, “Nothing you don’t want to do.” He shot a meaningful glance in the loser’s direction.
    The loser grew impatient. “Hey, now! I think I was here before y’all.” His eyes narrowed at Ty.
    “So you were,” Ty admitted genially. “I guess we’ll have to go with what the lady wants.” Please want me, please want me, he silently pleaded in his head. Yes, he admitted forlornly to himself, Roxanne had reduced him to a pathetic, groveling wreck.
    “No!” The loser was through fooling around. “She goes with me. I found her, she’s mine.”
    At this point the little waif, quaking in her boots, moved behind Ty for protection. She seemed so frail and helpless, Ty felt a sudden urge to protect her against this scumbag.
    “I’m afraid not, buddy,” he said, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-two height. “She not some piece of meat that you can claim just because you saw her first.”
    The loser’s eyes narrowed. “Says who?”
    “Says me,” Ty said fiercely, and took a threatening step toward him. He didn’t want to get into some kind of barroom brawl with this idiot right here on the edge of the freeway, but if that’s what it took, let the party begin. He figured he didn’t have anything to lose.
    “Who the hell are you?”
    Ty rolled his eyes. For crying out loud, what difference did that make? “I’m your worst nightmare,” he bluffed, borrowing some line out of an action movie. “So, go ahead. Make my day.” He flexed his fists threateningly and glanced behind him at the little waif. She was laughing. Some gratitude, he fumed, and turned back to the loser.
    “If you don’t have any further business to conduct here, feel free to take off,” Ty encouraged, his jaw set with grim determination.
    Put out that he’d wasted part of a precious afternoon on this lost cause, the loser went ballistic with a string of hair-singeing curses. When he’d finished telling them both where they could go and what they could do when they got there, he finally spun on his heel and stalked off toward his waiting car.
    Tyler heard an audible sigh of relief come from over his shoulder. He turned around to find her right behind him, pale and shaking like a leaf.
    “Thank you so much,” the waif said,