Single Dad's Hostage: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  Roman furrows his eyebrows and slurps another loud sip of milk. “She could borrow my favorite toy.”

  I frown, leaning back and crossing my arms. I nod my head slowly, looking out the window toward her house. “Like a gift,” I say thoughtfully.

  I step out of the general store with a bag full of clinking items and a certainty in my stomach that I’m going to win her back. I drop the things inside the house and go check on Roman. The guys are joking around with him in the garage so I let him stay with them while I make the call I’ve been meaning to make.

  I have to look up Mack “The Mangler” Perry online to find his number after all these years. We were teammates back in high school, but lost touch not long after. He’s a big time lawyer now, and I just have to hope he has time to help.

  “Hello?” comes a deep voice through the earpiece.

  “Mack? This is Reid. Reid Riggins.”

  “No shit! Big Rigg! How the fuck are you?”

  I smirk. “Good, man. I’m good. Look, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t call you for a reason. I need a favor. A big ass favor.”

  “All right,” says Mack. “Did you get tangled up with the law?”

  “Heh. No. Not quite. Do you know anything about real estate law?”

  Thirty minutes later, I’m outside Sandra’s house with the bag I picked up from the general store. She opens the door and sighs when she sees me. She’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top that falls halfway down her thighs. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun and she looks winded, like she was just working out. Or fucking.

  My good intentions melt and I shove past her. “Where is he?”

  “Hey!” she shouts. “You can’t just barge in here!”

  “Like hell I can’t. Where is that fucker? Did he hide his car around back?”

  “Reid!” Sandra shouts as she hurries to keep up with me. “Reid!” she says, getting in front of me and planting her hands on my chest. “He left. Okay? It’s just me. I was just exercising. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” I say slowly. “You didn’t let him touch you, right?”

  Sandra plants a fist on her hip. “What happened is none of your business.” She sighs a little, and seems to force some calm into her voice. “But it wasn’t a date or anything. He had been bugging the crap out of me and I just wanted to get him to give up.”

  I clench my teeth. “You know my grandfather’s will has nothing to do with how I feel about you, right?”

  She flicks her eyebrows upwards. “Is that so?”

  “Hey,” I say. “Nothing about what happened between us is fake. I can’t stop thinking about you, Sandra. You’re constantly on my mind. I see you when I close my eyes at night and you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up.” I frown. “Don’t make me beg.”

  She folds her arms, smiling a little and looking down. “What’s in the bag?” she asks.

  “Roman’s supposed to bring cupcakes for his first day of pre-school. I thought you being a baker and all… and since you still owe me for fixing your car.”

  “I thought going to dinner was the payment.”

  He shrugs. “I decided to charge some interest. Take it up with my accountant.”

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have an accountant.”

  “Sue me for lying then. You can take that up with my lawyer.”

  She grins, picking at the bag I’m holding. “You want me to make cupcakes for him?”

  “I want you to teach me how to do it,” I say.

  She laughs softly, a beautiful smile blossoming on her lips. “You got all this stuff so I would teach you how to make cupcakes?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  I’m covered in so much flour that my eyes sting. Apparently, the mixer is more difficult to use than a fucking dynamometer. I chug a few gulps of the chocolate milk sitting out on the table from when we made the batter and sigh. “Maybe I should just watch you do this,” I say, smirking as I take in an eyeful of Sandra’s full ass while she leans over the counter to stir the frosting.

  “Oh no you won’t,” she scolds. “You’re going to tell Roman you made these for him. It will mean so much for him to know that.”

  I nod slowly. “Okay, okay. You said to just spoon these in--”

  There’s a loud knock at Sandra’s door. I move to see who it is and Sandra follows, trying to outpace me but failing. If that David guy is coming to see her again, I’m going to do something to his face a dentist can’t fix this time.

  I swing the door open and frown when I see Tara. Her eyes are red and puffy and she’s clearly uncomfortable being here. When she sees me, she opens her mouth to say something and snaps it shut, folding her arms and looking away.

  “Can I come in?” she asks quietly. Almost meekly. Totally unlike her.

  “Uh, yeah, maybe you should just head out for a little, Reid? We can finish--”

  “I want my fucking cupcakes,” I growl.

  Both Tara and Sandra give me slightly amused looks and shake their heads before walking toward the living room. They can be amused all they like, but the truth is Tara is as good as poison if you ask me. I’ll be damned if I leave her alone with my Sandra. I take a spot on the loveseat directly across from them, leaning forward and templing my fingers. Tara looks at me uncertainly and then back to Sandra.

  Sandra shrugs. “You know how he is. It’s not like I can make him leave.”

  “Damn right,” I murmur.

  Both women snap their heads to glare at me, but they’ve both learned better than to try testing my stubbornness.

  Tara takes a deep breath, turning her attention back to Sandra. “Mark left me. There’s some… some fucking floosie at Red’s he was flirting with last week. I didn’t think anything of it and then I found panties in our bed yesterday. When I confronted him he just got pissed at me for “acting like I was his mom’” and he dumped me. He just left.” She looks pleadingly at Sandra, as if hoping for some explanation that will change what happened.

  Sandra looks like she’s battling an urge to do what she should do, which is to tell Tara she got what she deserves and to fuck off. Instead though, she puts a sympathetic hand on Tara’s arm and sighs. “I know this isn’t going to be what you want to hear right now, but at least you found out. It could have gone on for who knows how long without you knowing. You could have been married to him, even. And if he was willing to cheat with some girl from the bar, he would have found someone else to cheat with eventually. So, as much as it hurts, it’s better that you found out.”

  I try not to smile with satisfaction when I see how Sandra’s words make Tara squirm. Without realizing it, Sandra just explained to Tara that the way she cheated on me was far worse than what just happened to her. From the white in Tara’s face, she didn’t miss it.

  “Yeah. Better that I find out,” says Tara. Her voice is thin and without force though, like she doesn’t believe the words. “I’m sorry, too. I should have told you what Mark was planning with your bakery.”

  Sandra nods. “Hey, don’t worry about all that right now.”

  “I’m worried about it,” I say.

  The look Sandra gives me could punch a hole through a glacier, but I meet her eyes and continue. “I am. And I won’t apologize for being more worried about you losing your bakery than I am about Tara getting a taste of her own medicine. Hell, maybe it’ll be good for her. That’s my advice. Take a big, deep breath and remember how this feels Tara. Maybe then you’ll think twice next time you want to betray someone’s trust.”

  Tara gets up, fresh tears rolling from her eyes and storms out of the house. Sandra stands, but Tara is already out the door before she can go after her. “Really, Reid? That was really what you said to someone who just got cheated on?”

  “She’s no good for you,” I say. “She treated you like shit and she’ll do it again. You know her as well as I do. Tara is real good at putting on a sad show when she wants sympathy. Once she’s got it, she’ll go
right back to the way she was. She’s like a fucking pigeon. Keep giving her crumbs and she’ll keep coming back, but she won’t think twice about shitting on you or your car.”

  “Shitting on... what?” asks Sandra.

  I sigh. “You know what I mean. Point is, Tara is a shitty person.”

  “Do you know something about her bathroom habits I should know?” Sandra asks. The hint of a smile flickering across her lips.

  I grin back. “Yeah, now that you mention it. Keep clear around 3:00 P.M.”

  “Okay, that’s disgusting,” Sandra complains. She looks back to the kitchen and bites her lip thoughtfully. “Let’s finish these cupcakes, but you’re still an asshole for how you handled that.”

  I stand. “Guilty as charged and unrepentant.”

  37

  Sandra

  I’m leaving the general store when I notice a sign outside the Francis’ farmhouse. “Strawberry Picking Palooza, NEXT WEEK”. I read the words over and over again, feeling like an idea is on the verge of exploding in my head. It all comes to me at once. The Francis’ have been doing this event for years now, and it brings in tourists from all over the state. Thousands upon thousands of tourists who want to come get a taste of the small town, rural life and who want some of the biggest and juiciest strawberry’s you can find.

  I have an idea, and I have absolutely no idea if it’s going to be enough, but it’s an idea, and I don’t have any time to waste.

  I meet Jennifer and Lauren at the bakery ten minutes later, and they are both still rubbing the sleep from their eyes when they arrive.

  “You’re going to give us extra time off for this, right?” asks Lauren as she stumbles in, eyes squinted against the light.

  “Don’t be ungrateful,” Jennifer says quietly.

  I motion for them to sit at one of the round tables for customers and sit across from them. I clasp my hands in front of me and bite my lip, looking for the right way to approach this.

  “Oh no,” says Lauren. “That is a lot like the look you got when you thought it’d be ‘super fun’ to spend a hundred hours decorating the bakery for Christmas.”

  “This is totally different,” I say.

  “It’s not just me, right?” Lauren asks Jennifer. “You’re scared too, aren’t you?”

  “A little,” admits Jennifer.

  “Guyyys, come on. Just hear me out.”

  Lauren reaches to grab Jennifer in a tight hug, pressing Jennifer’s startled face into her boobs.

  “Let me go,” says Jennifer, voice muffled by Lauren’s busty embrace.

  “Did you just bite my boob?” asks Lauren, letting Jennifer go suddenly.

  Jennifer’s face reddens. “I wasn’t--I just--”

  “Annnyway,” I say. “I know how we’re going to save the bakery. We’re going to set up a tent by the Francis’ farm to sell everything people need for strawberry shortcake next week. Think about it. Fresh strawberries. Fresh shortcake. Freshly made whipped cream.”

  “I just thought about it and gained two pounds,” says Lauren. “Oh, and an ulcer. Am I too young to get ulcers?” she asks no one in particular.

  “Probably,” Jennifer answers helpfully.

  “So you want to set up a tent,” says Lauren slowly. “But you keep saying the word ‘fresh’. Last time I checked, the Francis’ farm is about ten minutes from here. Are we going to be driving like crazy people to bring freshly baked shortbread from the bakery to the farm?”

  “No,” I say, my smile widening. “We’re going to bring our ovens to the farm!”

  They both groan.

  A man in a fancy suit is leaving Reid’s house when I come home. My first thought when I see the expensive clothes is that my parents are over, but the man is far too young, and when I pull into my driveway, I see he’s a large man with fiery red hair and a thick beard. Definitely not my father. But what the hell is Reid doing talking to a guy like that?

  I’m considering going over to his house and asking when a Bentley pulls into my driveway. The black bodywork of the car is polished to a mirror sheen, and the chrome is dazzling in the midday sun. Alfred and Collette step out of the car, looking toward me. I realize if Reid sees and decides to come out right now, he’s going to step out of his house looking like a mechanic. He’ll be wearing jeans and either no shirt, or a dirty one. He’ll probably even have grease smeared on his body. Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit!

  I try to walk back to my house with as much calm and dignity as I can manage, all the while hating that my parents still have the power to make me go through so much trouble to impress them. I can’t believe I’m bending over backwards to maintain this ridiculous little lie I should never have begun. Not for the first time, I consider just calling the whole thing off and telling them the truth. But now the possibility of saving my bakery has me wanting to wait just a little longer. That, and the distant hope that I could be pregnant.

  I shove all the doubts into the back of my head and force a smile. “Where have you guys been?”

  “Well, your fiancé was kind enough to come by and warn us about the issue you were having,” says my father. Even now, he’s craning his neck to look past me toward the house, probably hoping to spot Reid or Roman. “It has been a while and we just thought we’d come make sure you were okay.”

  “Reid’s not here,” I say pointedly.

  As if he is literally the god of bad timing, Reid freaking Riggins chooses that moment to stroll out of his garage, shirtless and gorgeous. I might have been able to get my parents’ attention diverted in time if he hadn’t dropped a wrench and proceeded to yell back to Roman at the top of his lungs to come look at the ducks.

  The ducks. Really? Is his life so boring that three ducks mulling around his front lawn is enough reason to summon the whole Riggins clan ?

  “Is that…” starts my father.

  “Reid?” asks my mother quietly.

  The shock and disappointment is obvious in their voices. Reid has a dirty red rag tucked in the waistband of his jeans and his smooth, muscular frame is dotted with smears of oil. He looks exactly like what he is. A mechanic. My parents don’t need any help figuring it out.

  My father shakes his head at me, narrowing his eyes. “I should have known.”

  “Why?” asks my mother. “Why would you lie to us?”

  I turn on them. “Why would I lie to you?” My eyes are threatening to fill with tears, but I focus on the anger I’ve held for so long instead. They don’t deserve to see the sadness they’ve caused me. They can have my anger. Every last drop of it. “Let’s see,” I say dramatically, holding up my hand to count off a list on my fingers. “You two have always rooted for me to fail, you’ve never approved of anything I chose for myself, you probably wish Vanessa had come first so you could’ve just fucking stopped while you were ahead!”

  “Sandra, lower your voice,” whispers my mother.

  Of course. I lay my feelings out on the line for the first time in my life and all my mother can do is think of how embarrassing it is to be shouted at by her daughter in the middle of nowhere.

  “That’s not true,” says my father. “We don’t want you to fail. We just wish you would see reason. There’s no reason for you to live in a filthy place like this. You’re better than these people, Sandra.”

  I shake my head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s where you’ve always been wrong. The people here are good people. They work hard and they care about each other.”

  “Exactly, dear,” says my father. “They work hard. You really think we want that for our daughter?”

  “No. I know you don’t. That’s the problem. You want me to just waste away and spend your money. I never wanted that for myself and you guys never cared what I did want.”

  “Honey,” says my mother. “Listen to yourself. You’re saying we didn’t care because we didn’t want you struggling away the best years of your life just to make enough money to buy a place like this?” she gestures toward my h
ouse without even looking.

  “I’m saying you didn’t care because you never bothered to see that I’m not like either of you. This place is mine. I was proud as hell when I was able to buy it, okay? Maybe you can’t see that. Maybe it looks like a pile of sticks to you, but it’s mine, and I earned it. That means the world to me.”

  My parents both focus their gaze somewhere behind me. I hear his footsteps and turn to see Reid approaching. The look on his face is not kind.

  “You okay?” he asks, squeezing my shoulders and kissing my cheek.

  His rough whiskers tickle my skin and the wonderful manliness of his smell fills my nose. In his arms and in his presence I feel safe. Protected. Whole.

  “I’m okay,” I say softly, hoping I can make the words true if I try hard enough.

  “We trusted you,” says my father.

  “Yeah, well, I guess you can’t trust every asshole with greased hair and buttons on his shirt.”

  My mother makes a shocked face and my father scowls. “I told your father we shouldn’t have come.”

  My father shakes his head, looking at me sadly. “I wanted so much better for you, Sandra. So much better.”

  They move like they’re about to get back in the car when Reid steps between my father and the door, planting a firm hand on the car and keeping my father from opening it.

  “No,” says Reid. “You’re not leaving yet.”

  My father actually tries to push past Reid, but he might as well be shoving against a tree for all the good it does. Reid waits patiently for my father to give up, straightening his suit and crossing his arms petulantly. My mother is halfway in the car, apparently frozen between her decision to get in or get out and try to help. She settles for something in between, peeking over the top of the car at the standoff between Reid and my father.

  “You’re not leaving,” continues Reid, “until you have a chance to know what an amazing fucking daughter you have. Your daughter owns a bakery. I’m guessing you didn’t know that by the look on your face. Yeah, she owns her own business and she does a damn fine job of it too.