Cowboy Seal Daddy

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“Promise, everything will be fine. Besides, as soon as Dad... Well, we both know this is only temporary.”

The fact made her beyond sad.

But it was the truth.

Another truth? The more this sham relationship forced the two of them together, the more she saw that maybe Wayne was more of a stand-up guy than she’d always thought. He was handsome and sensitive. Funny. A safe driver. Great for fishing her flip-flops out from under her sofa. But legit husband material? Nope. Not happening. Her baby boy was all the testosterone she could handle.

For his dad, for the sake of their friendship, she had to play this sham marriage through to the tragic end.

“I’ve got an idea.” She set her mug on the table.

“Lay it on me.”

“What if we faked the license? I’m sure we can grab one online, then fill it out, but not file it. For that matter, you could even grab a legit one from the courthouse.”

Eyebrows raised, he asked, “You’d be okay with lying before our friends, my family and God?”

“How upset was your mother?”

“Sobbing. I’ve never heard her like that. But she wasn’t upset about Dad—but us. She was mad at me. I honestly don’t think she has a clue how bad off he is. Which means he’s either doing a miraculous job of hiding it from her, or there’s more to the story. She wouldn’t even talk about him. It was bizarre. But then he got on the phone and sounded happier than I’ve ever heard him. He was a new man. Didn’t even sound sick.”

“Grief affects everyone differently.”

“I suppose.”

“Or, maybe you’re right and he hasn’t told her. I can’t imagine how tough it would be for him to hide something like this, but I suppose if he’s determined it could be done. We won’t know for sure until we get there and see the two of them together.”

Arching his neck, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefingers. “I’m sorry to have dragged you into this. We should probably call it off. I’ll come clean with my parents and—”

“No way. If this news made such a huge improvement in your dad’s entire demeanor, we should at least try. If he makes a full recovery and they figure out our marriage isn’t legit, we’ll deal with it then, but otherwise, for his sake, let’s roll with it.”

“You’re sure?” He held his hand out to her, only not to shake, but hold.

Her pulse quickened at his touch. Her attraction to her neighbor had Paisley unsure of her own name, let alone if this was a good or bad decision. But then he released her and she just as quickly rationalized this was a horrible decision—for her.

For Wayne’s poor, dying dad? It was the only way to go.

Paisley nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”

* * *

THE FRIDAY BEFORE the Easter weekend, after a grueling run and ocean swim, Wayne brushed sand from his base locker, beyond relieved for the weekend and to get off at the highly reasonable hour of 3:00 p.m.

He’d worked it out with his CO to have a week’s leave in conjunction with the Easter holiday. Logan had done the same. The plan was to leave next Thursday, celebrate and help with wedding prep, get married on Saturday, celebrate Easter Sunday, then depart for a brief honeymoon at some nearby swanky ranch/spa that Monica’s mother highly recommended.

Wayne was exhausted just thinking about it all. He hated lying to his parents. But then he remembered the way his father had brightened at the news of the wedding and baby. It had been downright miraculous.

Logan approached, swatting Wayne’s ass with his towel.

“What the hell?” Wayne snapped. He was already on edge from the angry rock one of the younger guys was playing at full blast at the other end of the room.

“Chill, bro. I’m high on life. God, I can’t wait to be married. Monica decided we’ll be living at her place for the time being, but her folks want to buy us a house for a wedding gift. Can you believe it? Am I the luckiest guy on earth, or what?”

“I’m happy for you,” Wayne said. “If you’re sure this is what you want?”

“Of course, it is. I love her, she loves me. Done deal.”

Logan dropped his towel to pull on boxers.

Wayne returned to his locker; he’d brushed and brushed, but there always seemed to be more sand. Story of his life.

“Are you and Baby Momma getting hitched for real?”

“Don’t call her that,” Wayne said with an angry crackle to his tone. “And no. After my last go-round with marriage, I’m never doing it again. We’ll fake the license. I’ll talk with Pastor Jim at the rehearsal—explain about Dad.”

Logan whistled. “That sounds fun.”

“Screw you. It never would have gone this far if you and Monica hadn’t invited yourselves to what would have otherwise been an ordinary weekend.”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Logan slapped his shoulder. “You were drowning in this from the first day you popped the question to your girl.”

“She’s not my girl and you started this whole thing by suggesting I rent a wife.”

Laughing, Logan said, “I didn’t know you’d be stupid enough to actually do it.”

“Yo—how come no one else is invited to your weddings?” Lion wandered up. Big, blond and sometimes scary, Lion had been given his call sign for his tendency to roar when going into battle. Plus, his furrowed brows made him look perma-pissed.

“Agreed.” Monk was next in the complaint line. His name came from his preference to hole up with his Bible during leave as opposed to hitting bars. He kept his hair buzzed so short that no one remembered the shade other than buzz-black. “Friends don’t let friends hit an open bar alone.”

“Since when do you even drink?” Logan asked Monk.

“I drink plenty—only, since I stick with fine wines, none of you beer guzzlers ever see it.”

The room erupted in laughs.

Wayne slammed his locker door, escaping the crowd to let Logan handle the mess he’d created.

Outside in the blazing sun, he gulped fresh air.

The worst part of this whole thing was that the more he was around Paisley, the more he enjoyed her company. She was a good woman. Sweet and funny. Cute and yet still somehow sexy. She was the kind of total package that if he had been looking, he might be interested in catching. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t. He had his career to consider. His dying father. His mother.

Plus, he’d already tried marriage once and it was a complete failure.

In his truck, he didn’t just drive to his apartment complex, but to Paisley. For some odd reason, he craved being with her. Getting to know her. He wasn’t typically a touchy-feely guy, but for once, considering what he was going through with his dad, he’d go with it.

With her.

Chapter Five (#ub3821314-c271-5fae-bcf3-c6cbac9742b7)

“Wayne.” Paisley stood at the partially open door wearing a voluminous pink sundress. With her hair in pigtails, she probably looked twelve—not counting her baby bump. “You’re the last person I expected to see. What happened to you calling first before popping in?”

“What kind of welcome is that for your fiancé?”

“Ha-ha. Look, it’s really not—”

He brushed past her to pace her living room. He was so large that his constant motion cramped the already tight space. “I was thinking...”

“Yes?” She closed the door, then collapsed onto the sofa.

“It occurred to me...”

That you should call before barging in on a woman who is wearing her fave grunge wear?

“You and I are pretending to be engaged. We leave next week for our wedding, yet have never been on a date. Wanna go?”

“Now?” She fingered her dress that was more of a nightgown. “I’m not exactly...”

“You look adorable. Let’s go.” He took her hands, tugging her from the sofa. “There are a couple of things you need to go along with that perfect wedding gown we’ve still got to find you.”

“What else do I need?” Was it wrong that even though she felt perfectly stable she didn’t want to let go of his hands?

“It’s a surprise.” Sadly, he released her to fish under the chair. “Go ahead and put these on.” He set her sandals in front of her to step into. How did he always seem to know right where to find them? The brush of his fingertips against her ankles made her happy she’d shaved last night in the tub. His touch made her a little dizzy. A little too excited to go anywhere he wanted. A little less determined than she should have been to guard her battered heart. “You’ll also need a nice, thick pair of socks.”

“Why?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He grinned.

She wanted to keep a straight face. She wanted to not get suckered by his lone dimple or strong white teeth or perfectly sun-kissed tan. But she couldn’t. Her lips curved into a matching grin, and then she succumbed to the excitement of her first happy surprise in a long, long time.

It wasn’t until she sat beside Wayne in his truck, stealing a glance at his chiseled profile and dashing cowboy hat and strong forearms gripping the wheel, that it occurred to her the last time she’d fallen for a guy, she’d ended up pregnant and alone.

Before she went and did something idiotic like falling for her fake fiancé, maybe it was time she told him to turn around? To take her home. Where she’d be safely tucked away from his mesmerizing slow grin and the sexy scent of Irish Spring. Most of all, she needed to guard her heart from the way he made her feel.

Protected. Sheltered. Needed.

Emotional ambrosia for a woman in her condition.

A ticking bomb preordained to explode the moment he no longer had a practical use for her in his life.

* * *

IN A MILLION YEARS, Wayne never could’ve envisioned himself easing a sock up a pregnant woman’s silky calf, but here he was, literally kneeling at Paisley’s feet in the center of Boot Bonanza. “Above all, when picking a new pair of boots, you should opt for comfort. All these flashy designs look nice in the store, but when you’re twenty miles down a box canyon, searching for a lost calf, trust me, comfort’s gonna win every time.”

Paisley cocked her head, eyeing him funny.

“I’m serious.”

“I know. And it means the world to me that you want my feet well protected, but let’s think this through. I’m an interior designer who lives in San Diego and will soon have a bouncing baby boy. When do you think I’ll find time to traipse through box canyons?”

“You know what I mean. And since when is it wrong for a guy to want to look out for you?”

“Never. Thank you. Just sayin’ that the majority of shoes in my closet were chosen for form over function.”

“That may well be, but on my watch, I think you should be in more stable footwear. Those sandals you wear are totally unsuitable for a woman in your condition. Did you know 35 percent of women reported falling at least two or more times during pregnancy?”