The Cowboy Seal's Triplets

SAM CAME TO—finally!—and John breathed a sigh of relief. “Helluva a beauty nap you took there, buddy.”

“What can I say? I need my forty winks.” Sam sat up, glanced over at Daisy, whose face looked tragically concerned for Sam. “But I’m doing fine. This sexy, amazing woman has just agreed to—”

“Yeah, yeah.” John helped his friend none too gently to sit up. “You big faker.”

“Faker!” Sam looked outraged, any trace of the fallout he’d had gone for good. “I’m not faking anything!”

“Oh, you’re a faker all right.” John glared at the man whose back he’d had in Afghanistan, and vice versa. “Yelling at the top of your lungs that you want nothing to do with marriage, and the second I turn my back, you go and get—”

“What does your back have to do with anything?” Sam demanded.

“I’d like to know that myself.” Daisy’s concern turned to annoyance. “And what are you doing here, anyway? Last I saw you, you were heading north.”

“I am heading north.” He could barely meet Daisy’s gaze. The truth was, his good sense had evaporated once he’d realized he was an epic dunce for letting her get away. He’d hopped into his truck and followed, not sure why, his heart driving him like a mad man. “You shouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Bridesmaids Creek with Handsome Sam here. The least I can do is offer to fly you back. However, I had no idea that you and Sam—”

“Yep,” Sam said, coming out of his coma ever more strongly by the second. He thumped his chest with pride. “Offer me the cup of congratulations, old buddy, old pal, I’m getting married.”

“So you claimed.”

John glanced at Daisy, but she didn’t deny Sam’s astonishing brag. Everyone knew that Sam was the last man on earth—the very last of any tribe, clan, or nationality—who would ever marry. Daisy gazed at him steadily, not appearing to be preparing to open her sumptuous, delightful lips for any sort of rebuttal, and John’s heart fell to the ground, rolled around in the dust of the parking lot, then gave up the ghost.

“In fact, I’m having a baby,” Sam said cheerfully, and the ghost of John’s heart not only gave up, it poofed into nothingness. He felt cold all over, then hot, then drained. “We’re having a baby.”

“A baby?”

“It appears I’m going to be a father.” Sam shook his head. “An astonishing thing, no?”

“Very.” John raised a brow. “Let me get this straight. Daisy came after me, but you wanted her for yourself, and so you offered to drive her—”

“Just so.” Sam nodded. John glanced to Daisy, who merely shrugged.

He stepped back from his friend, trying to piece all this together. Everyone knew Sam was a trickster beyond compare—if Shakespeare had still been alive, he could have written plays about this wizard of wackiness—but marriage? A baby?

John shook his head. “You two are fibbing through your teeth, but I’m darned if I know why.”

Daisy didn’t say anything, and Sam kept very still, like he was one breath short of hyperventilating again. John sighed. “Are you really this fickle? Or are you trying to make a point? Because I wouldn’t put it past either one of you.”

“What difference does it make to you?” Daisy asked.

“None.” It meant every difference. He’d waited years for Daisy to come to her senses and realize he was the man of her dreams. Then, when she had come to her senses, he’d lost every one of his, apparently. Maybe lust had fried his brain. “Anyway, if you’re content to ride home with my loose-marbled friend here, that’s fine. I just wanted you to know that you could go by plane, too.”

“You couldn’t call to make your generous offer?” Daisy looked at him, and he thought she wasn’t buying his cover story.

“I could have, but it seemed best to inquire in person.” He looked at Sam. “My friend here means a lot to me. I know he was trying to do me a favor by bringing you after me.”

“Really?” Daisy put a hand on a slim hip. “A favor? Does Sam truck women after you often, then?”

“Not at all. Which is why I felt the occasion merited the personal treatment.”

“Well, thank you so much.”

Daisy didn’t sound very grateful. In fact, he thought he’d detected a tiny undertone of snark. He looked at her. “A baby? You two expect me to buy that you’re having a baby?” He cast a gaze at her very flat stomach, with which he was intimately familiar, having spent hours kissing that very toned, very delectable flesh. “Something’s off about this whole story.”

It was indeed off. He’d used condoms with Daisy. She’d been very fine with that, in fact, one might even have said helpful, a foreplay which had stretched his manly capabilities to the max. John practically got stiff thinking about it. “A baby,” he repeated. “I just don’t think you have it in you, old man.”

“What?” Sam squawked, sitting straight up with indignation. “I think I can handle parenthood just fine, thanks.”

John shook his head. There was an alternate reality in here, he knew there was, but these two were thick as thieves about something. He looked at both of them, and then it hit him: his buddy was attempting to paint a bull’s-eye on him with one of his infamous pranks.

Yes, Handsome Sam Barr was trying to pull a fast one.

And the only way to neutralize having a bull’s-eye painted on one’s hindquarters was to pull a faster one.

“You know,” John said, “as I recall, Vegas is only a couple hours from here. Probably quite doable as a wedding destination in one day, considering how you like to apply your boot to the pedal.”

Sam nodded vigorously. “We should be able to make it by nightfall for a romantic destination.”

John looked at Daisy. “I wish you two well.”

Daisy nodded, but she seemed uncertain. “Thank you.”

“All right, then.” Taking a deep breath, John got into the double cab, seating himself behind Sam and Daisy, and belted himself in with a grin.

Chapter Four

“What are you doing?” Daisy turned to meet John’s mischievous gaze.

“I’m riding with you to Vegas.” He put his hands behind his head, looking very comfortable and even pleased with himself.

Daisy frowned. “Why?”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “I can’t let my buddy get married without a best man. And I am the best man. You may not know this about Sam and me, but we’ve seen some very dark days. Together, we survived.”

Daisy glanced at Sam. He shrugged, and she thought she saw a little what-can-we-do? in his expressive eyes.

“We are best friends,” Sam said.

Daisy turned to stare out the window. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t mind if he tags along?” Sam asked.

“Hey! I prefer to think of myself less as a tagalonger and more as part of the wedding party.”

Daisy didn’t turn to look at John to sanction this silly statement. She was well aware he was taking Sam’s role of being a trickster, but she wasn’t going to be the one to cry “uncle.” If these two wanted to play chicken, it was probably a game they’d played before. “I don’t care one bit.”

Sam turned to glare at John. “You can’t cause any trouble.”

“Me?” John feigned surprise and innocence. “I never cause trouble.”

“Never cause trouble,” Sam muttered under his breath, starting the truck, and Daisy wondered how this situation was going to end up by nightfall. John appeared determined to call Sam’s bluff, so there was a great possibility that Sam might find himself at the altar saying “I do,” something he’d always proclaimed he would never do.

Until today.

This was terrible. With John sitting in the backseat goading his friend on, Sam might not feel as if he could bow out. Sam had just been trying to bring John to his senses—but like other plans in Bridesmaids Creek had been known to go, this one appeared to have taken a turn for the worse.

I don’t even need anyone to marry me.

With the two men dug in for the long haul, apparently, Daisy decided she might as well take a nap. Pretend to take one, anyway—as if she could ignore John’s long, lean body in the backseat. She could feel his gaze on her, studying her. Waiting to see if she’d crack.

The man really believed she was so hung up on him that he could haul out of town without saying goodbye—then show back up in her life and throw the equivalent of a cold, wet water balloon to explode her plans.

Ass.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin, did you say something?” Sam asked, clearly intending to play the This Is Chicken and I’m Not Gonna Lose scenario to its incongruous end. “It sounded like you said ass.”

Daisy shook her head, kept her eyes closed. “I didn’t say ass.”

“I thought I heard her say ass,” John said, putting his two cents in from the backseat.

“Guys, leave me out of the rooster-like posturing, please,” she said, and they had the nerve to guffaw.

“Daisy, lady, you’re far too much for my gentle friend to handle,” John said.

“And yet he’s handling me just fine,” Daisy said, and that shut John up for the space of five blissful minutes.

Of course, John had to start fielding calls on his cell phone. From the backseat, she could hear him gossiping about today’s wedding plans. He told everyone who called that she and Sam were running off—which of course brought on a flurry of phone calls, all of which John seemed pleased to discuss in laborious detail. Daisy’s nerves were stretched tight, and Sam looked positively unlike himself.

Handsome Sam had turned into a shadow of his former devil-may-care self.

Daisy was relieved when Sam finally pulled up in Vegas. He’d found a quaint little chapel, a white incongruous place that didn’t shout Elvis.

“I’ll take the groom in and tidy him up,” John said jovially, and Daisy snapped, “Fine.”

“Ooh, bridal nerves,” John whispered to Sam, but he made sure his whisper carried. “I think she’s got ’em bad!”

She was going to clock John Lopez Mathison a good one if he didn’t take his annoying self far from her. A delicate, elderly woman approached. “You must be the bride.”

“Not today,” Daisy said. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars if you sneak me out of here and keep those two hunky cowboys I came in with busy long enough for me to get to the nearest airport.”

* * *

KNOWING THE FIRST place Sam and John would look for her was Bridesmaids Creek or Branch Winters’s place in Montana, Daisy took herself somewhere she knew she was totally safe. She went to New York, waited a day for her father to overnight her passport, and flew out to Australia, where Robert Donovan had recently purchased properties. It was a great excuse to check out the real estate, which made her father happy, but most of all, it gave Daisy time to think through her situation.

For a girl who loved riding fast on her motorcycle, her life had become way too fast-paced. She was going to be a mother. It was time to sit and think, figure out what she was going to do. Here she was completely safe from the game-playing duo of John and Sam.

She put a hand on her stomach as she looked out over the Sydney skyline. John had never suspected the baby was his—which had annoyed the heck out of her, but they’d been completely faithful about using condoms, so she guessed she could understand why he might assume the baby was Sam’s.

Then again, he was still an ass. She might have been wild, but she’d never been promiscuous, and John knew that. Part of her wondered if Sam would tell him the truth—but one never knew with Sam. He marched to the beat of his own unseen drummer, one that played a tune no one could predict.

It would all work out. She had to believe that. To think otherwise would mean giving up on the BC magic—something she would never do. Her father owned buildings around the world; she could live anywhere she liked. But Bridesmaids Creek was home.

And that’s where her baby would be born.

She just needed to let the smoke clear. Once John and Sam cooled their jets, she’d return.

It was time to make up for her part in the problems in BC—and she’d never been a girl to back down from what she knew had to be done.

She couldn’t wait to get started.

* * *

“THAT’S THE FUNNIEST story I ever heard!” Sheriff Dennis slapped his thigh, causing the biggest frown he could muster to crease John’s face. Cosette Lafleur and Jane Chatham didn’t appear to be any less amused by the tale of Daisy ditching both him and Sam at the altar, so this was just one more BC legend John was going to have to live down.

He didn’t mind admitting that he didn’t understand Daisy. He prided himself on being able to catch anything that moved on the planet—anything. He’d been an excellent sniper—hence Squint, short for Squint-Eye—he’d been proud to protect his fellow countrymen. He had no trouble bagging any kind of game, and horseshoes and hand grenades were right up his tree of fun.

But the sexy brunette with the key to his soul—she confounded him. Eluded him, and stunned him. He’d had every intention of making her go all the way up to the altar with Sam, for the sheer pleasure of watching her back out at the last second.

Oh, she’d backed out big-time. They were lucky she hadn’t taken the truck and stranded them in Sin City.

One day he’d have to thank her for not doing that. He couldn’t really have blamed her if she had.

The worst part was nobody knew where she’d gone—or if they did, they sure as heck weren’t telling. John sent a sour look to his booth mates at The Wedding Diner.

“One of you has to know something. She couldn’t have just disappeared.”

The three haphazard matchmakers shook their collective heads in the negative.

“You won’t find her, wherever she went,” Cosette said. “Robert’s got ventures all around the world. Last I heard, he’d bought up something in Shanghai.” She frowned. “Or maybe it was Bangkok.”

John tipped his hat back. “It’s all my fault, anyway. If she wants peace and quiet, she should get all she wants.”

“Your fault?” Dennis asked.

“Yeah. I pushed her.” He sighed. “Sam’s mad as the dickens at me, too. He said I was being a louse, and that he was doing his very best to get me moving.”

“To be fair, Daisy never gave you a whole lot of encouragement until lately.”

“I wish I could use that as an excuse, but I can’t.” Since she’d seduced him in Montana—or had he seduced her?—it had all happened so fast and seemed so beneficially organic.

“It’s funny how we used to call her the Diva of Destruction.” Sheriff Dennis laughed. “That seems a long time ago now.”

Daisy was still a diva to him—the Diva of Delights. They couldn’t understand how mad he was about her, had been from the moment he’d laid eyes on her zooming around on her motorcycle.

“Patience has never been a virtue of mine.”

They laughed. “Nor ours,” Cosette said.

“In the meantime,” Jane said, “you can be our fall guy. Just until Daisy gets back. She will come back one day, you know.”

“Fall guy?” He perked up. This sounded distinctly dangerous. One didn’t sign up to be a fall guy in Bridesmaids Creek willy-nilly. This crew could think up some wingdingers.

Jane nodded. “We need you to find out whose baby Daisy is having. We must be prepared.”

The blood left John’s head. “Whose baby?” He couldn’t bear thinking about it. “I thought they were just making up that tale.”

The ladies looked at him, concerned. “Daisy’s really expecting,” Jane said.

He sat dumbfounded, shell-shocked.

After a moment, Jane sighed and went on. “Well, it’s clear Daisy thinks she’s going to do this all on her own. She’s just that kind of independent woman. Goodness knows she doesn’t need a man for financial reasons.” Jane shook her head. “If that’s not your baby—”

“I’m afraid not.” His ears were ringing, to go with the light-headedness assailing him. He couldn’t bear to think of Daisy even kissing another man, much less having a baby! “Do you have anything stronger than tea, Jane?”

The three gentle folk looked at him with grave concern.

“I keep some whiskey in the back for after hours,” Jane whispered. “On occasion, our close-knit group likes to sit in one of the circular booths and enjoy a small tipple.”

“I could use a small tipple.” John couldn’t imagine Daisy being held in another man’s arms. Oh, Sam had tried to make him jealous, but no one was jealous of Handsome Sam.

But he hadn’t thought through the fact that Daisy might be with child by another man.

“We’re wondering if Branch Winters did more than reroute Daisy’s brain,” Dennis said, and cold and hot swamped John in nauseating waves. “Something happened up there, something big.”

“He changed her,” Cosette said. “We’re wondering if perhaps Daisy might have fallen for—”

“I can’t,” John said. He leaned back in the booth, and when Jane put the “tipple” in front of him in a sweetly painted tea cup to disguise its contents from the other patrons, John knocked it back without hesitation.

“Easy there, sailor,” Dennis said. “It’ll be closing time soon. I’ll take you to my place and we’ll cauterize your brain for a bit. Or maybe Phillipe’s place for some yoga. I’m really getting into that yoga crap Phillipe’s got going on, Cosette. Do you do it?”

“I do, and I’m getting so flexible! Who would have ever thought my husband would become a yogi of sorts?” Cosette looked pleased, and John noticed that she didn’t refer to Phillipe as her ex-husband. Maybe matters were looking up for them. He sure hoped so.

“I’ll pass on the yoga.” After their divorce, Phillipe had moved into a small house, and outfitted it with hanging beads and floor cushions for the yoga practice he’d started. It looked like a regular hangout for hippies, which had caught them all off guard because Phillipe and Cosette were anything but the hippie type.

Cosette picked up the delicate floral teapot and poured some more amber liquid into his cup. “You look like you could use another smidge of whiskey.”

“And all this time I thought you sat in this booth and drank tea.” John shook his head.

“We do!” Jane glanced at her friends. “But on occasion, like right now, something with a little oomph is required. Now, if you’re feeling fortified, let’s get back to the topic at hand, which is Daisy.”

He froze up again. “I can’t be the fall guy. I can’t even think about it.” He swallowed hard. “Anyway, isn’t it her business who the father of her child might be?”

“Maybe,” Dennis said, “unless the father lives in Montana or something.”

Crap. He could see where they were going with this. Daisy Donovan might just have allowed herself, in a moment of heartbreak and confusion, to be seduced. The cold chills he’d suffered a moment ago came back with a vengeance, despite the whiskey he’d quaffed out of the eggshell-thin teacup.

She might not ever return to Bridesmaids Creek.

“I suppose you’re absolutely certain, one hundred percent sure that the baby couldn’t possibly be yours...not that we’re trying to pry?” Jane asked gently.

He read between those lines. “Oh, you’re dying to pry, but I know you mean well.” He took a long, deep breath. “I suppose the way things work in BC, I can’t entirely count out the remote, infinitesimal poss—”

“I knew it!” Cosette clapped her hands.

Jane beamed. She made another pour out of the teapot for the entire table, making sure John’s went clean to the rim of his cup. “This calls for a celebration!”

“Now wait,” John said. “I was going to say that Daisy’s baby being mine would be something on the order of a miraculous—”

They all looked at him, their faces gleaming as his words drifted away. Each of them looked so pleased he couldn’t bear to let them down.

“You have to understand, you’d be better off looking for another bachelor,” John said. “I’m not your man.”

“He may be right,” Jane said thoughtfully. “I don’t know that I’m feeling it.”

Dennis wore the same suddenly thoughtful look. “And then there’s the matter of Sam. I still can’t figure out how he got into this.”

John didn’t want to hear about Handsome Sam. “Trust me, my buddy was just trying to help me get to the altar. It was all an elaborate sham to coax me there.”

“Most men don’t offer to marry a woman who’s having a child that isn’t theirs.” Cosette grew pensive now, too. “I mean, you’re not.”

His throat got a bit tight. “I haven’t really thought about—”

“The thing about Sam,” Dennis said, “is that he really is an ultimate bachelor with a golden heart. Someone should hook him.”

John shook his head. “You’ll never catch Sam.”

“But he was taking her to Vegas,” Jane said. “That gives me pause about this bachelor song he sings.”

A little doubt crept into John. “Sam’s just up to his usual tricks. We all suffer from it. And love him for it, too,” he said truthfully.

“Well,” Cosette said brightly, “I suppose it doesn’t matter whether you’re in love with Daisy. She’s not here, and who knows when she’ll come home after the shock she’s suffered.”

“Wait a minute.” John’s brain whirred like a pinwheel. Which fallacy should he start with—that he was in love with Daisy, or that she might never return? This was BC: she had to return. “I’m not in love with Daisy.”

The second the words left his mouth, causing glints of mirth and knowing to shine in his friends’ eyes, John knew—just as they knew—that he was head over heels, gone-and-not-coming-back, certifiably in love with Daisy Donovan.

“Oh, crap,” he said, and they high-fived each other, and then him, for good measure.

This was a problem. He was now squarely in BC’s sights, and the worst part was, he had no clue where Daisy was, and if that was his child she was carrying.

Holy smoke.

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