Cowboy Seal Daddy

Sure enough, when he entered, she was back on her knees in front of the commode. Her complexion was gray. Her expression when she glanced his way shattered his heart. He could kill the guy who’d knocked her up, only to abandon her.

Wayne went through his cool washcloth routine again, then sat on the floor behind her. Legs spread, he drew her back to lean against him. His every nurturing instinct, that he usually reserved for horses, had him smoothing her hair back from her forehead, wishing her free of pain.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered.

“Sorry.”

She waved off his apology. “It’s not your fault I was stupid enough to have unprotected sex with a married man.”

“I know you well enough—or, at least I think I do—to be sure you wouldn’t have been with him if you hadn’t loved him and not known about the wife.”

“True.”

“I saw you kiss him a few times. You seemed happy.” The sight of her with another guy initially set Wayne on edge. He and Paisley were friends. He wanted the best for her. Without personally vetting her new guy, Wayne couldn’t be sure he was good enough. Clearly, he hadn’t been, which pissed off Wayne even more. “How did you find out he was married?”

“After I told him about our baby, he told me he’d pay to have the problem go away.”

“Bastard!”

“Right? I told him I’d always wanted to be a mom and have a family. I thought the pregnancy was a surprise blessing. That’s when he announced that he and his wife had already been blessed three times, and he wasn’t interested in having another.”

“I assume he’s at least paying child support?”

“He said if I promise not to contact him or try talking to his wife, he’ll cover labor and delivery costs, but that’s it.”

Wayne snorted. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think he gets that choice.”

She began crying softly. “H-he made me feel so dirty. Like I’d done something wrong. I—I loved him, but now? I feel empty inside.”

“No. You did everything right, hon. Even better? In a few months, you’ll have a gorgeous son and all your pig of an ex will have is a child support bill.” It ate him up inside to see her so defeated.

“I don’t want the legal system involved. As much as I’ve been hurt, his wife would be devastated to know David had been fooling around. Never in a million years would I have dated a married man. He’s scum.”

“Agreed. You’re too good for him.”

“But what about you?” She turned to face him. “What in the world were you talking about earlier? Wanting to rent a wife?”

“It was a stupid idea. Sorry I brought it up. I’m especially sorry it upset you enough to make you sick.” He grappled to his feet, then knelt, scooping her into his arms.

“I can walk.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“And it wasn’t your bizarre question that made me sick, but thinking about those nasty gummy worms.”

He walked down the hall to her bedroom and set her on her unmade bed. After slipping off her pink Converse sneakers, getting her comfy by bunching pillows behind her and under her knees, he drew her floral comforter up to her neck. “Better?”

She nodded.

“I grabbed Sprite at the store. Want some on ice?”

“Yes, please.”

He returned to find her asleep.

Not wanting to leave her alone with her door unlocked, he made his steak, then found extreme winter games to watch on ESPN.

By the time he heard stirring from the bedroom, the sun had long since set.

Paisley wandered down the hall. More hair had escaped her ponytail than was in, and her dress looked more like a rumpled prison uniform than her usual classy style. Everything about her kicked Wayne’s protective streak into overdrive.

“Let me help you.” Up from the sofa, he guided her to where he’d been sitting, then plucked a faux fur throw from the back of the sofa to cover her.

“Thanks, but why are you still here?”

“I don’t have a key. What if I’d left you alone and killers or drug dealers strolled inside?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because we have so many of those in our gated community.”

“Hey—anything could happen. My job is all about safekeeping our American way of life.”

Laughing, she said, “Not to detract from your actual military service, but I’ve seen you and your buddies protecting—especially bikini models. Yeah...” She winked. “You all kept them super safe.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I...” The twinkle in her eyes told him she was not only feeling better, but sassy. It made her kooky hair extra adorable. “Did you ever get my beef jerky?”

“I see how it is—you’re just using me for meal delivery?”

“Wayne...” Something about his teasing question served as an instant vibe wrecker. Not a good sign for a guy in serious need of a favor.

He got her snack and poured her another Sprite before sitting across from her and muting the TV. He cleared his throat. “So earlier...”

“When you asked me to be your rental wife?” Eyebrows raised, she shook her head.

“I wasn’t going to bring it up again, but since you did, hear me out.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “I haven’t told you—or pretty much anyone besides Logan—but my dad has cancer.”

“Oh no.” She dropped her piece of jerky back into the bag. “Wayne, I’m so sorry. Is he getting treatment?”

“That’s just it—he says he’s too far gone for that. I’ve drilled him for more details, but he refuses to talk about it. He doesn’t even want Mom to know, but I don’t understand how if he’s that sick, she hasn’t noticed. When I try broaching the subject with her, she tells me he seems tired, but is otherwise fine, Which makes no sense considering his doctors gave him...” His voice cracked with emotion, recalling how much time they’d spent together on the family ranch. It was the little things that now meant so much. Fishing together and building a tree house. The time his junior prom date bailed, so his dad took him camping instead, and told him he could be anything he set his mind to. Even when his marriage crashed and burned, his dad had helped stomp out the fire. “They gave him a couple months to live. He says his sole regret is not having grandkids.”

She gasped and covered her mouth, but then hugged her baby bump. “Which is where I come in? You want me to pretend this is your baby? That we’re together, so your father rests in peace?” Her gaze welled. “Wayne—that’s the sweetest thing ever. But I’ve met your parents lots of times. Surely they’d remember you and I are just friendly neighbors?”

“Exactly. Think about it. That’s what makes this whole plan perfect. What could be more natural than two friends falling for each other and having a baby?”

“Wayne—” She released a long, slow exhale. “You know I love you, but not that way.”

“That’s the best part. I feel the same. You’re a great girl, but—”

She frowned. “I’m not your type?”

“I was going to say I’m career military and blow shit up. You, on the other hand, spend your days making the world more beautiful with your design business.” Plus, Wayne’s divorce left him one hundred percent certain he didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to marry again. Give him a bomb over a bombshell of a woman any day. “You’re an amazing soul. Any man would be lucky to have you. But this engagement wouldn’t be real.”

“But what about your mom? She’s not dying. What happens when she wants to spend time with the baby after your dad passes?”

“Great question.” Now Wayne was the one wearing a frown. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought that through.”

“Although... I suppose after he dies, you could tell her the truth?”

“Does that mean you’re at least willing to consider my plan?”

“For you, for your sweet father, of course. But there’s a lot involved. We’d have to really be in sync—not just act like friendly neighbors, but...you know.” Her blush told him her mind had gone straight to the gutter.

Yeah, he did know.

Once upon a time, a couple weeks after moving in, he’d considered asking Paisley on a date, but then he’d been deployed—hell, maybe a better way of looking at it was that six months in Iraq had given him an overdue reality check. He couldn’t put himself through another potential breakup. The pain of loving and losing was too damned intense.

Survival was about keeping his head in the game—not on a woman.

“Thank you.” Wayne was caught off guard by the profound gratitude he felt for her in the moment. “It really is a half-baked plan, but...” He worked past the knot in his throat that hardened every time he thought of a world without his father. “If we successfully pull this off and it brings my dad comfort in the last weeks of his life, it could be worth it.”

“Absolutely.” She wiped silent tears with the backs of her hands.

“This is good.” Damned if his eyes weren’t also stinging from the relief of having her onboard. “Nutty-as-a-drunk-squirrel crazy—but good.”

“For the record, you have to know this could end in disaster.”

“True.” But more likely, his plan would bring his father much-needed peace.

“Just to be clear, I refuse to take money. This would strictly be a humanitarian mission.”

“Deal.” He stood, crossing the short distance between them to shake her hand. Was it his imagination, or was there a spark that had never been there before?

Not cool. Sparks were the last thing he needed from the neighbor he considered one of his best friends.

* * *

“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA. Back up the truck.” In the glorified closet that served as Velvet’s break room, Monica tossed her usual frozen breakfast burrito in the microwave, then slammed the door before setting the time. “Wayne—hotshot, abs-of-steel navy SEAL—wants to rent you and your unborn baby? Sweetie...” She shook her head. “That’s more than a little twisted.”

As if on cue, Paisley’s cell buzzed. Her mother. One more problem she’d prefer avoiding. Paisley touched the decline button for the call.

“You can’t keep this up forever. One day, you will have to talk to your mom.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but that day isn’t this day. Now, where were we?”

“You were trying rather unsuccessfully to explain why you’re agreeing to Wayne’s crazy scheme.”

“His dad is dying.” While Monica ate her smelly meal, Paisley struggled not to retch as she relayed pertinent details. “With all of that in mind, how could I turn him down?”

“Gee—did it ever occur to you to just say no?”

“Well, sure, but then he looked so sad, and—”

“The man’s no doubt been trained in psychological warfare. Playing dirty was the only way Logan got me to date him.”

“Let’s be real—Logan’s ass in a pair of jeans worked most of his magic.”

“Language!” Monica scolded. “You’re about to be a mother.”

“And if you for one second pretend you weren’t just as hot for Logan as he was for you, then you’re a liar.”

“All right. What can I say? The guy has it going on. But he also thinks commitment is a four-letter word. Besides, my dad would never approve.”

“Wait—” Eyebrows raised, Paisley leaned across the table. “Are you saying that if Logan proposed and Daddy Conrad actually approved, you might still be together?”

Monica chewed extra fast before swallowing, then said, “I’m not sure how you turned this issue around on me, but it’s not going to work. The matter at hand is the fact that Wayne is using you. Sweetie, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known, but you also have a seriously full plate. You’re a business owner on the verge of becoming a single mom. You have about two free hours a day when you’re not puking your guts out, and I selfishly need you to spend them here.”

Paisley drew her lower lip into her mouth for a nibble.

“Oh God...” Monica fisted her burrito’s plastic wrapper. “You already told him you’d do it.”

Nodding, shaking her head, Paisley settled for a shrug. “What can I say? Rampant pregnancy hormones made me a sucker for his sad, stormy-gray eyes—but it’s all good. We were both up front about this being a platonic, temporary humanitarian gig.”

“Lord... In the immortal words of Cher, ‘Snap out of it!’ This man is not your friend. He’s a neighbor who doesn’t need a simple cup of sugar, but your womb. There’s no way you’ll fool his dad, let alone his mother. The whole plan is ludicrous.”

True. So why does my heart skip a beat every time I think about getting started?

Chapter Three

Over a week later, Paisley dropped the kitchen window’s curtain. The last thing she needed was for Wayne to catch her spying.

Was it her imagination, or had he been to the communal Dumpster more in the past thirty minutes than he had for the past few months? If so, what did his actions mean? Was he also still confused by their last conversation?

She was so deep in thought that when a knock sounded on the front door, she was nearly startled into a premature delivery. A peek through the eyehole landed her face-to-face with the man she’d been practically stalking. Had he caught her?

“Hey. What’s up?” She strove for a breezy, nonstalker tone.

“Not much.” He leaned against her doorjamb. Was he also trying a little too hard to look carefree? “It’s a, um, gorgeous day. Want to stroll the duck pond?”

“I suppose that would be okay. Let me find shoes.”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.”

She hated the awkwardness between them. Before his “proposal,” they’d been chill. Friends. Now? She couldn’t read his vibe, but knew him well enough to recognize it wasn’t normal.

When her shoes didn’t show up in any convenient places, she dropped to her knees to search under the sofa. No luck.

It took a mortifying three times to push and grunt her way back onto her feet. Even then, she wasn’t especially steady.

“Whoa.” Wayne grabbed her arm. “Take it easy.”

“Thanks. I get dizzy if I stand too fast—which seems silly since it takes me forever to stand.”

“I’m in no hurry. The CO had to be home early tonight for his daughter’s choir concert. His wife insisted. But hey, his family drama is my gain.” His crooked grin should have been endearing, but Paisley was mortified by his comment.

“How do you consider something as sweet as a mother wanting her daughter’s father to see their child sing to be drama?”

“I was teasing. Logan says the CO’s wife gets bent out of shape if he’s so much as a minute late—kinda like how he goes off on us.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Where were her stupid sandals?

“Why are you so testy?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You fake proposed to me, the clock’s ticking on us becoming a convincing couple by Easter weekend, yet I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Sorry. Work’s been hell on a stick.” He fished her sandal out from under the kitchen table, then asked, “I am curious, though. What kinds of plans have you dreamed up?”

“After all this bickering, I’m no longer in the mood to tell you. Besides...” she rubbed her burning chest “...now I have wicked indigestion.”

He landed her sandal on the coffee table. “What can I do to help? Need medicine?”

“I wish, but I’m doing an all-natural pregnancy.” She rubbed her throat, too, then winced. “It’s really bad.”

“There has to be something you can do?”

She nodded before dropping to the sofa. “But it would take too much effort.”

“Name it. Whatever it is, I’ll get it done.”

“Thanks—if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, I need a tablespoon of honey dissolved into a cup of warm milk.”

“Those exact measurements?” As if she’d sent him on a life-or-death mission, he was already halfway to the kitchen.

“Close is fine.”

“Got it.”

While he banged pots, Paisley warred with her conscience. She had to admit, having Wayne around more often wouldn’t be a terrible thing. On the flip side, as a soon-to-be single mom, she needed to learn to be independent. Leaning on Wayne, only to lose him when he no longer needed her, would do her or her baby no good.

Eyes closed, she willed her heart rate to slow.

What was wrong with her?

Being around Wayne had never caused this sort of indescribable, system-wide panic. They were friends. Why was she now concerned if he was judging her for not having done the dishes or wiped down her stove? Did rough-and-tough guys like him even look at stuff like that? Cerebral Dr. Dirtbag had, but his opinion no longer mattered.

“Almost done,” Wayne called out.

“Thanks.”

A few minutes longer than it had taken her to nibble what little remained of her fingernails, he handed her a steaming mug. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, resulting in still more confusion. Butterflies flapped up a storm in her tummy. That was new. “Careful. It’s hot.”

“Bless you.” The soothing liquid proved perfect. After a few sips, she could have purred with relief.

“Well?” Instead of resuming his seat opposite her, he perched beside her on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

She worried her lower lip. “I’m one hundred percent ready to help, but I do have reservations.”

“Shoot.”

Did he have to sit close enough for his radiant heat to warm her chilly toes? It was distracting her from sharing concerns—of which there were plenty!

“Okay...” She licked her lips. “First, I think we should let your mom in on our secret.”

“Out of the question.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her dearly, but she’s incapable of keeping a secret. For Dad to genuinely believe I’m going to be a father, I’m sorry, but Mom also should believe. We’ll break the news to her after Dad passes.”

“What if I have the baby before then?”

“I’ll consider myself blessed.” He sighed. Scratched his forehead. “There’s no delicate way to say this, so I’ll blurt it out. Dad is dying. He may have a couple months, but according to his doctors, we’re only looking at weeks.”

Paisley caught herself holding her breath. “That’s so sad.”

“Agreed. And look, I know this whole idea is FUBAR, but—”

Nose wrinkled, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Military slang that shouldn’t be used in the presence of ladies. Basically, it just means our pretending to be married is about as screwed up as anything we could ever do, but for the sake of my dad, we’re only talking about maintaining this act for sixty days—ninety tops. When are you due?”

“Eighty-eight days.” She hugged her baby bump. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but if your father should pass before then, I think news of this charade would be easier on your mom. If I have my baby and she grows attached to him, believing he’s her grandson, that could hurt her more.”

“True. It’s a potential minefield all the way around. But I’m looking at risk versus reward. I can’t stomach the thought of Dad passing with regrets.”

“Have you ever thought to consider that this news might be so agreeable to your father that it actually helps him recover? Miracles might be rare with his kind of disease, but I’m sure they do happen. What are we going to do if he’s so thrilled with our sham marriage that he goes into remission?”

Eyebrows furrowed, Wayne asked, “I fail to see how this is a problem? That would be awesome.”

“Not if the whole reason for his recovery is an eight-pound bundle of joy who isn’t his grandson.”

“Oh.” His shoulders sagged. “I see what you mean. But hey—that’s a long shot. I promise, if something like that happens, I’ll take the heat. You won’t even have to be there when I come clean.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay...”

“Does that mean you’ll still do it?”

“I already said I would.” Monica would lecture her till the end of time about the recklessness and irresponsibility of this plan, but since when had her fun-loving business partner and best friend become the morality police?

“You’re awesome.” Wayne stood, only to then kneel beside her, squeezing her in an awkward, but not entirely awful, hug. “You won’t regret this. I’ll map out the whole thing. Oh—and we’ll need wedding pics.”

“What?” Her indigestion roared back.

“Relax. You can help me find a suitable thrift shop gown.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it would be to find one my current size?”

“No worries...” Rocking back on his heels, his slow sideways grin disarmed her. “We’ll grab a dress in a style you like, then chop it off midway down. It’ll be perfect for a few head-only selfies.”

Paisley groaned.

Why had Wayne ruined his temporary charm by being an idiot?

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER, Paisley found herself not buying part of a dress, but on her way to a bakery. Being next to him in the cab of his truck was too close for rational thought. Besides looking extra hot in his cowboy hat and Ray-Ban Aviators, he smelled too good—like the beach and a great deli. Had he recently eaten? She wouldn’t mind eating. “Do we really need a wedding cake? Seems like overkill.”

“Yeah. We’ll have that classic wedding shot where we’re shoving cake in each other’s mouths.”

“Mmm... Sounds romantic.”

“You know what I mean. Lion—one of my teammates—recommended the place where we’re headed, but then his wedding got canceled—long story. They specialize in fake cakes. Super cheap, but totally legit looking.”

Her only comment was to raise her eyebrows, then shake her head. She turned her gaze from him to the scenery outside her window.

“Tell me you don’t love a bargain.”

“Of course, I do, but this—Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He made a left. “God, I hate when women pull this crap.”

“I’m not pulling anything.”

“The hell you’re not. You’re pissed about something, but won’t say it. Instead, you’re taking the passive aggressive approach which—”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Am—” Her cell rang. Rather than continue their argument, she answered. “Hey.”

“Are you alone?” Even though the phone wasn’t on speaker, Monica’s voice rang through loud and clear.

“No.”

“Still stuck with the pretend fiancé?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, well, sorry. But I have a major crisis and need your advice.”

“Is something wrong at the shop? Or with a client?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Logan called. He wants to meet for coffee. He doesn’t even drink coffee, but knows I love that cute place on the corner that has the great patio and garden.”

“How is this a bad?”

“Because I don’t know what to say. Or wear. The last time we were together, we both said some harsh things, and—”

Paisley sighed. “Monica, talk to him. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I end up sleeping with him and falling hard all over again? Worse—we break up again.”

“Point of fact—I’m pretty sure you never fully let go of him, and second, how many times have I heard you brag about his superhero bedroom talents?”

Paisley glanced at Wayne and saw him smirking.

“Of course, I’m over him. I hate him. And his stupid dimples. And the way he fills out that pair of designer jeans I bought him, but he claims to—”

“Monica, I have to go. I’m going to be sick.” Paisley ended the call.

* * *

“DO I NEED to pull over?” Wayne asked, worrying equal amounts for his leather upholstery and her.

“Nope. I’m fine. But Monica’s constant whining about Logan pisses me off. How can she not see how great they are together? What even happened to break them up?”

“No clue. Although Logan did mention something about having talked with her dad.” He pulled into the bakery’s crowded lot. The white brick structure featured pink-and-white-striped awnings. The Cake Place was written over the entry in hot pink neon script. “Think this place sells doughnuts?”

“Maybe?” In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never seen her so snippy. Especially with her best friend.

“Please tell me what’s got you in a mood.”

“It’s lame.”

Progress? At least she was admitting there was a problem.