Single Dad's Hostage: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  The ring is just temporary, and I’ll need to send out for a stone, but it’ll do for now. Besides, her parents are expecting to see a ring. Sandra will understand the need for a little bit of rushing. I can get her something more permanent in a few weeks. I look down at the simple ring in my hands. I can hardly believe I’m doing this.

  On one hand, I honestly don’t know if Sandra was really accepting my proposal last night or just lost to her pleasure. Everyone in town may think just because I’m strong that I’m stupid, but I’m not. I know she might have just been into the moment. But damn it, I want to marry her. I know it in my heart. In my soul. I want it. I don’t care if that’s stupid or foolish of me. Whether she meant it or not last night, I’m going to find out for sure today.

  Once I get Roman out of bed, we head over to Sandra’s place. I freeze in my tracks as soon as we step outside. Mark’s truck is parked out front. When we reach the front door, I hear voices from inside. Mark’s voice. Shit.

  I let myself and Roman in.

  “...just thought you should know,” says Mark, turning to leave.

  When he turns sideways, I see Sandra’s face for the first time. Her red, tear-stained face.

  I stop Mark with a raised finger and a warning look. I turn to Roman, controlling my voice as much as I can. “Can you run back to the house and grab daddy’s jacket, Bud? I forgot it.”

  “Sure!” says Roman.

  He scurries outside and I advance on Mark. I grip his dress shirt and pin him to the wall. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

  Mark looks down his nose at me, somehow managing to look like he thinks he’s superior even when I could break his teeth and there’s nothing he could do about it. “I just told her the truth, big brother.”

  I let him go, feeling a stabbing pain in my chest. “Get out,” I say to him.

  “I was already leaving, asshole. Enjoy.”

  The door slams behind him and I’m left facing Sandra, who’s eyes are brimming with tears. “You can get out too,” she says, voice thick with emotion.

  “Sandra…”

  “Leave!” she screams, throwing a vase towards me. It narrowly misses my head and smashes against the wall.

  I step outside, fingering the ring in my pocket and finding Roman hustling toward me, breathless and hoisting my jacket over his head like some kind of prize. “Come on, Bud. Miss Sandra isn’t feeling well. We gotta let her rest.”

  His face falls and he steps in beside me. “Should we get her some soup?”

  “Nah, Bud. I don’t think she wants company right now.”

  “What about Alfred and Collette?” asks Roman.

  “I’m going to pay them a visit and let them know how she’s feeling. I’ll call Lyla and drop you off at her place. Okay?”

  “Okay,” says Roman.

  An hour later I’m knocking on the door of the bed and breakfast Alfred and Collette rented out for themselves. Alfred opens the door. He’s already dressed sharply with a velvety robe and some strange, puffy scarf draped around his neck and tucked inside the robe.

  “Reid! So good to see you,” he says, reaching out and shaking my hand while clasping my forearm with his other hand, like we’re old buds.

  I’m wearing the goofy getup of his kind. A dress shirt, dress pants, hair slicked to the side. I feel like a dressed up monkey, but whether Sandra wants me in her life or not, it’s worth it for her. I’ll play whatever game I have to. I’ll embarrass myself as much as I have to. I just don’t want her to get hurt, and I know how much her parents opinion of her matters, even if she won’t admit it to herself.

  “I came by to let you know that my dear Sandra isn’t feeling up to snuff today.”

  Alfred makes a face, nodding and clapping my shoulder. “Well, women these days don’t have the constitutions they used to.”

  I force a smile. “I imagine not. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you may not want to pay her a visit until the coast is clear.” I glance over my shoulder and make a show of looking discreet. “It’s like World War III over there. Wouldn’t want to muck up the Italian leather on your shoes, right?”

  Alfred leans conspiratorially close, chuckling and nudging me. “Certainly not! You’ll let me know when we can pay another visit though, won’t you? Collette was charmed by you and that boy of yours. She has been talking about you two all day.”

  I smile. “I’ll let you know as soon as it’s safe. ”

  I just wish I knew when it would be safe.

  35

  Sandra

  Jennifer and Lauren are over, doing their best to comfort me. To be honest though, the Cheetos and ice cream are doing a much better job of it than they are.

  “You don’t think the Cheetos kind of, I don’t know, clash with the ice cream?” asks Lauren.

  “No,” I say, popping a big, fat, puffy cheeto into my mouth and following it with a spoon of Rocky Road ice cream. Rocky Road. How appropriate. Except the road I’m on is more like a cliff. And I’ve already driven over the edge.

  “Men are assholes,” says Jennifer.

  “Obviously,” agrees Lauren.

  “And Reid Riggins is the king of them,” I add. “But what am I supposed to do if he comes back?”

  “You gouge the eyes and kick for the crotch,” says Lauren simply.

  Jennifer and I laugh.

  “He’s not a sexual predator,” I say. “He’s just a selfish, cold-hearted, manipulative asshole.”

  “Jeez, don’t hold anything back,” says Jennifer. “Is he really that bad? I mean, I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but did you ask him if that was why he proposed? You know, the whole contract thing?”

  “Of course it was,” snaps Lauren. “He just shows up and gives her the sex of her life and tricks her into agreeing to his proposal while using his magic penis to persuade her.”

  The anger she manages to infuse into such a ridiculous statement makes Jennifer and I laugh again.

  “It was pretty magical,” I say, smirking.

  “Stop it!” says Lauren. “You’re letting his penis distract you from what’s important here.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, licking my spoon. Trying to convince myself to hate Reid Riggins is both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world, because as soon as my hatred for him reaches a boiling point, it somehow shifts effortlessly into sexual frustration, and all I want to do is dig my fingernails into his back and… well, not do anything that will help the problem at hand.

  “You know what it is,” says Lauren. “You need to move on. Let him see you with some other guy to get him jealous and show him what an idiot he was for trying to play you.”

  “That sounds just as manipulative as what he did,” says Jennifer.

  Lauren gives her a dry look. “That’s kinda the point.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “The last thing I want right now is to get involved in another relationship.”

  Lauren sighs, moving behind me and massaging me like she’s my coach or something. “Young Sandra, where did I go so wrong in training you?”

  “I’m a few years older than you…”

  “Shut up,” snaps Lauren. “The point is you still have so much to learn. This isn’t about what you want. This is about teaching him a lesson. Guys like him are used to getting away with crap like this. They just wave their big, sexy penises around and everyone acts like nothing happened.”

  “Uh,” says Jennifer, covering a grin with her hand.

  I laugh. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.”

  “It basically does,” snaps Lauren. “So we’re going to teach him a lesson.”

  Jennifer narrows her eyes at Lauren. “You seem really, really motivated to get back at Reid. Did he do something to you like, I don’t know, did he strangle your puppy when you were a kid or something?”

  Lauren crosses her arms. “He hurt my friend. I mean, once we get him back and justice has been served and an appropriate mourning peri
od has passed, he’ll be on the market again, too.”

  “Lauren!” says Jennifer, slapping her arm.

  “No,” I say. “It’s okay. He is on the market, as far as I’m concerned. You can have him. I really couldn’t care less about Reid Riggins and his stupid magic penis. I’m totally over him.”

  I spend the new few days trying to come to terms with the emotional whip lash I’ve been through. Just when it seemed like everything was finally going my way, it was snatched away from me. First the bakery, then Reid. Now I feel like I’ve just been going through the motions, waiting for the day to come when my shop gets demolished. And the whole time I’ve had to deal with David Cumberfield’s never-ending phone calls. He hasn’t stopped begging to speak with me since he arrived, so I finally agreed to let him come say what he had to say just to get him to back off.

  He pulls up to my house around six, and I greet him wearing the most conservative clothing I could find. He gets out of his Jaguar with a cocky smirk on his face. His clothes, as usual, are without a crease or wrinkle. His hair is perfectly in place. And, as usual, he looks ridiculous. I don’t know what I ever saw in him, other than an opportunity to please my parents.

  David takes two steps toward me and then freezes, looking to his right. Before I can say a word, I follow David’s gaze and notice Reid storming toward us. He’s not wearing a shirt, and my memory flashes with involuntary images of the last time I was with him, when he took me on the bed. My core clenches just at the thought of him, heating with need. I try to push it all out of my head, but fail. My traitorous body responds to him like no other guy, and there seems to be nothing I can do to stop it.

  “This guy again?” asks David. “You really should build a fence, dear.”

  Reid throws a greasy rag over his shoulder and advances on David, making the height and weight advantage he has over David all the more apparent. “You get back in your fancy fucking Jaguar and leave. If you so much as lay a hand on my fiancée, I’ll fucking break you.”

  “Fiancée?” asks David with a smile of disbelief. “Is he serious?” he asks me.

  Does Reid really think we’re engaged? Even after I called him on his bullshit and the way he was using me. He really thinks I’m going to marry him? It was ridiculous in the first place, even before I caught him in his lie. “No,” I say. “He’s not serious. He’s delusional.”

  Reid looks to me with an expression of genuine pain. I wince at the sight of it, not wanting to see. He can’t really be serious about all this. But if he’s not, why is he fighting it so hard? Because I’m his only ticket to saving his precious garage. That’s all I am to him. Like some big, potentially pregnant lottery prize.

  “I am serious,” he says.

  “Then you’re dumber than you look,” I snap. “Come on, David. Let’s go inside.”

  David takes a hesitant look toward Reid and then tries to hide his fear, walking toward me a little too fast for dignity. Reid just watches, fists balled at his side and eyes blazing like they could start a fire. I swallow hard and the door closes behind us, leaving Reid outside and me trapped inside with David Slimeball Cumberfield.

  Why did I say that? I didn’t mean it. As angry as I am at Reid, I hate that I just called him dumb. It feels low and dirty. I want to go back and apologize, but David is standing between the door and me.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I won’t let that oaf ruin our night,” says David as he tries to worm his thin arms around me.

  I do a little backwards, sidestepping dance to avoid his touch and spin towards the kitchen, laughing awkwardly to mask my discomfort. “You thirsty?”

  “Sandra. Let’s talk about us. I’m glad you’ve given me another chance to--”

  There’s a knock on the door. A loud, heavy, angry knock that tells me without a doubt who it is. I sigh, bracing myself as I move for the door.

  “Don’t, it’s just--” starts David.

  I ignore him, yanking the door open. “What?” I ask.

  Reid is standing in the doorway, still shirtless. Still gorgeous. Except now he’s holding something metallic and oily. “Cum fields. Looks like you’ve got some car trouble.”

  “You touched my Jag? You put your filthy, fucking--”

  “Yeah, I touched it,” says Reid. “I guess I have a bad habit of touching things that don’t belong to me.”

  This time his eyes lock on mine.

  “Oh well,” he says. “You may want to get it checked out, dick breath,” he adds to David, tossing the part in a high arc over his shoulder.

  David lunges forward, realizing exactly where the part is going to fall. There’s a dull thud as the heavy metal gear bounces off the hood of David’s Jaguar, leaving a large dent and a spot of chipped paint.

  “You’re paying for the repairs,” shouts David.

  “Bill me,” says Reid. “Maybe you should go ahead and bill me for the dental work too. Looks like you got the last one fixed, so let’s keep your dentist busy.”

  “The dental--”

  Reid’s arm snaps out faster than my eyes can track. David’s head pops back and then he goes stiff, tilting backwards until momentum drags him down like a felled tree. He thumps into the grass, blinking hard and struggling to get back on his feet.

  “Stay down,” says Reid.

  “Asshole!” I shout. “You can’t just punch everyone who shows interest in me. You think I’m impressed? Well I’m not. You’re just making an idiot out of yourself. And you’re setting a bad example for your son.”

  “Roman’s asleep,” says Reid.

  I shake my head, kneeling to help David up. “Why don’t you just go home,” I say.

  Reid doesn’t budge. He only stands there, looking like ten times the man David is and ten times more sexy than anybody has a right to look. Saying no to him feels like telling the sun not to rise in the morning or the tides not to come in. He’s an inevitability. As I look at him, I can feel that so powerfully in my chest I know it has to be true. Reid Riggins is a force. His will is inexhaustible and so long as he sets his sights on me, I have no hope to resist forever. All I can do is delay. Delay the inevitable.

  But that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Delay, because what he did hurt, and I’m not ready to forgive him yet. “Screw you, Reid. Screw you and your stupid muscles and perfect face. And screw that magical cock of--” I slap a hand to my mouth, feeling like all the blood in my body just rushed up to my head.

  David is looking at me like I just grew antlers, and Reid looks like he’s trying his hardest to hold back the smirk creeping across his face.

  “That came out wrong,” I say, mustering as much dignity as I can. “Don’t!” I snap, jabbing a finger toward Reid. “Don’t you dare smile.”

  Reid puts his hands up innocently, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Come on,” I say to David, dragging him inside.

  David looks uncomfortable after the door closes behind us again. He’s dabbing at his lip checking to see if it’s bleeding. “I think I need to leave, Sandra. You clearly need to sort your priorities out. And my face hurts.”

  “No,” I say. “You stay here. I don’t care if you just sit on the couch and watch TV. But I’m not letting him think he won. If you leave, he wins. Do you understand?”

  David shakes his head. “I’m not about to let you use me like some chess piece, Sandra. This is unbelievable. He just assaulted me. Again.” He turns to reach for the door and I grab his arm, stopping him.

  “David. If you go out there, Reid will probably kick your ass. More.”

  David flinches a little at that, sniffing and straightening his shirt. “He could try.” David makes a show of yawning dramatically and stretching. “But I could catch a nap before I head home. And I should probably ice my lip. So he’ll have to wait.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket for David, who stretches out on my couch and starts fiddling with his phone. It’s not five minu
tes before he’s out like a light, snoring loud enough that I’m afraid Reid might hear from next door.

  I lean against the countertop and sigh. I should be putting all my energy and attention into saving my bakery. Easier said than done, though. It’s not as if I can magically raise the money to pay for it. And I’m not about to go begging to my parents for it, either. I can’t fight the contract I signed like an idiot. I can’t fight the city. The more I think about it the more it seems like the only thing I can do is accept it and prepare to move on.

  As much as it seems like the only option, I’m not wired that way. I’ve spent too long struggling against the current, now it has become second nature. I may not know how I’m going to stop him, but I know one thing, Mark Riggins isn’t going to get my bakery. I worked too hard for it, and no one is taking it away.

  36

  Reid

  Roman slurps the milk from his spoon noisily and then crunches into his Fruit Loops. I watch him as I stab at my eggs, feeling no real desire to eat. I stayed up most of the night because I couldn’t sleep knowing he was in there with her. David Cum Fields. The fucker.

  “Hey Bud, I have a question.”

  “Okay,” says Roman cheerily. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt. Milk has dribbled all over his chest and his small pot belly.

  “If you liked a girl, wou--”

  “How much?” asks Roman.

  “How much what?” I ask.

  “How much do I like her.”

  “Oh. You like her a lot. A whole lot.”

  “Hmmmm. I’d tell her.”

  “I wasn’t done with my question,” I say dryly.

  “Okay.”

  I take a deep breath. “If you liked a girl, a whole lot, what would you do if she didn’t seem to like you as much as you like her?”