Must-Have Husband

facial hair.
    “Connie,” Linda cautioned. “What are you doing?”
    She looked down with a start to see she’d very nearly touched him. “I, uh…” She drew her fist to her mouth, faking a cough. “Was just warming my fingers by the lantern.”
    Linda gave her a suspicious look. “Sure you were.” She surveyed his face, addressing her sister. “He is pretty cute. You’ve got to admit it.”
    “Yes. If only he weren’t” — Connie lowered her voice — “suicidal.”
    “So maybe he was down on his luck?”
    “That’s a pretty drastic way out. And you know it.”
    A devious smile spread across Linda’s lips. “I wonder if he’d consider coming to Napa?”
    “ What? ”
    “I mean, just for a rest. You know, to recoup from his” — she eyed the coil of rope nearby — “dreadful ordeal.”
    “Are you out of your mind? We can’t take a strange man back to Napa.”
    “He’d couldn’t be any stranger than Walt. Or…? What was the name of the guy before?
    “Jake.”
    “That one was a nutcase. Whoohoo. Real Looney Tunes.”
    Connie heaved a breath. “We don’t even know who this guy is.”
    “Maybe we should check his pants? Look for ID?”
    Both girls eagerly sprang forward.
    “I’ll check,” Linda said, kneeling beside him and angling her hand over his jeans.
    “You’re married!” Connie elbowed in. “Let me do it.”
    Linda lifted an eyebrow and sat back on her haunches. “Well, go on. Don’t be shy about it,” she said as Connie wiggled her fingers into the man’s right front pocket. “Go for the gold.”
    “Stop it. I think I just found a” —s he extracted a thin leather billfold — “wallet.”
    Linda snatched it away.
    “Hey!”
    Before she could stop her, Linda was scanning through a row of credit cards. “Aha!” she said, withdrawing a driver’s license. “We have before us one Adam McCormack, but apparently,” she said, flipping through an assortment of billfold photos, “he goes by Mac.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “It’s who all these women have autographed their photos to.”
    Connie twisted her lips, thinking it was no wonder. When this guy was in his right mind, he was probably quite a catch.
    “Well, well…” Linda baited. “Will you look at her . And what a cutie too. I’ll bet this one was his favorite,” she said, thumping her finger against one picture in particular.
    Connie raised her brow, and Linda turned the billfold in her direction. The worn color photo was of the most adorable yellow lab and a little boy, roughly ten years old. “Aw. Do you think that’s him? I mean, Mac? As a kid?”
    “I’m guessing, yeah.” Linda closed the wallet and handed it to Connie. “Kind of sentimental. Keeping a photo of his first dog. Don’t you think?”
    Connie’s heart softened, thinking this man couldn’t be all bad. Life must have been awfully hard on him to push him so far over the edge.
    Mac’s eyelids fluttered, and she shoved the wallet back in his pocket. He reached up and grabbed her wrist before she could withdraw her hand.
    “Well, hey,” he said groggily.
    Connie felt her face flame “Um. Hello,” she offered weakly. “I was just checking your…credentials.”
    “That makes sense.” He smiled warmly. “Wouldn’t want to tag the wrong body.”
    She felt herself flush brighter. “No.”
    She tried to pull her arm away, but he held her fast with a quizzical look. “Am I dead yet?”
    “Of course no—”
    “Yes!” Linda yelped with enthusiasm.
    Mac raised his head to peer at her.
    Connie set her jaw and glanced at Linda before shooting Mac an apologetic look. “Will you excuse us one second?”
    She motioned her sister to the far side of the tent, then hissed in a whisper, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
    “What? Dead could work.” Her cheeks took on a rosy glow. “We could tell him Napa is heaven.”
    Connie gasped. “I can’t believe you said that.”
    “It’s just a little lie.”
    “You really have flipped your lid.”
    “Think about it, Connie. He could come home with us, be there for Grandpa’s birthday.”
    “As what?”
    “Your betrothed, of course. That way, you wouldn’t have to ruin the party with your news. We could play this little game to get you through it, then—”
    “Absolutely not. You’re talking crazy.”
    “We could get him help,” her sister tempted. “Secure the best psychiatric care money can buy.”
    She fumed at Linda’s ludicrous suggestion.