“I get it. I asked you to go above and way beyond what you’d originally signed up for, and you’re not on board. It’s not a problem.”
“Yeah, but—”
He pressed his finger over her lips. “There’s nothing more to say. Although if you ever do want to marry, I can think of all sorts of pleasant ways you might repay me.”
So can I...
She’d forgotten how to breathe.
How to think.
How to do anything other than wish herself free of this increasingly awkward situation. It was wrong to lust for her fake husband. What personal defect had stopped her from finding the real thing? Her very own love. She was beginning to doubt if true love even existed.
“Just kidding. No favors required.” He nodded toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“Thanks. But first, I have a serious question.”
“Shoot.”
She forced a breath. “D-do you find me attractive?”
“What?” He coughed. Not a great sign.
“I’m serious. Guys are always drooling over Monica. When I met my baby’s father, I thought he was the one, you know? My whole life, I’ve been alone. It’s probably just exhaustion and hormones talking, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find the right guy? Do I even want a guy? Would he inevitably be one more person in my life who’s destined to let me down?”
“That’s a pessimistic attitude.” He held out his hands to pull her from the foot of the bed. He was incredibly strong, shouldering not just her physical weight, but emotional whining when he was the one on the verge of losing his father. “Especially, when you have a great offer already on the table from me.”
“Thank you. But as great as that offer is, I have to question your sincerity.” On her feet with her fingers linked to his, she dared ask, “Why haven’t you ever asked me out?”
His smile turned introspective. “Thought about it, but you were intimidating.”
“Are you kidding me? Compared to the busty beauties you usually bring home, I’m a wren amongst peacocks.”
“If we’re talking birds, I’d equate you to a more substantial variety. Maybe a robin? You’re solid and smart and dependable. I know you’d call me on my bullshit and never let me put you second to anyone or anything.”
“How in the world did you derive all of that from hardly even knowing me beyond friendship.”
He shrugged and released her hands. “Gut feel.”
“Explain. Because that makes no sense.”
“Remember how I told you that by leaving the ranch, I feel like I’ve let my dad down?”
“Yeah...”
“His expectations for me were unrealistically high. He demanded so much that I wasn’t capable of giving.”
“But you’re a navy SEAL. Aside from being, I don’t know, an astronaut or president, isn’t that one of the highest achievements a person can attain?”
“Sure, but—” he dropped his gaze “—that’s different. It’s not personal. I just can’t imagine being responsible for another person’s heart. I already let my parents down. I could never do that to any woman—especially, not you.”
Fair enough. Not the answer she’d expected, but if she hadn’t wanted the truth, she shouldn’t have asked.
“Taking it a step further, it somehow doesn’t matter that Chelsea cheated on me. What matters is that I wasn’t man enough for her to want to be faithful. I made lifelong vows that were broken. That makes me a failure.”
“Wayne, no...” Her heart ached for this big, strong man whose confidence and emotions had been shredded. “If that’s your definition of failure, then I’m far worse off than you. At least you had a commitment. I had a wham-bam, thank you ma’am.” She swiped sudden tears.
“Aw, don’t say that.” He pulled her into his arms and she let him, rejoiced in being held by him. He smoothed his hands up and down her back. “Dr. Dirtbag didn’t deserve you. You’re amazing.”
“I’m not...”
“Yeah, you kind of are.” Fingers beneath her chin, he tipped her head back, forcing her gaze to his. “I’m not sure when it happened, but, Paise, I’m crazy about you.” With his hands now cupping her cheeks, he hovered his lips dangerously near hers. “Where have you been?”
“Here, all along.” Waiting for you.
He toyed with her, nipping her bottom lip, caressing her with hints of his warm, yeasty-smelling breath.
She splayed her hands against his chest, boldly exploring his insanely honed pecs while he kissed her neck and jaw and the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat where surely, her pulse beat hard enough for him to see.
Finally, he kissed her lips and she was gone.
Primal urges took hold.
They paused long enough for her to unbutton his fly, freeing him from his boxers. While she worked him, he untied her robe, fingering her through the side of her panties. It had been so long, she came fast and hard, biting her lower lip, crying out in wholly pleasurable pain.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I will be...” Pushing him onto the bed, she slipped off her panties, then, because she couldn’t imagine one more moment without having him inside her, she awkwardly joined him on the bed, lowering herself onto him, riding hard until coming again in a glorious technicolor dream.
He stiffened, spilling himself inside her. Her fantasy of him being her baby’s father instead of Dr. Dirtbag was now so much more real. As was the fact that she’d just been incredibly irresponsible with her heart.
“That escalated quickly.” Wayne brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek.
“I’m not sure what happened, but I think we can safely say we connect on a physical level.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m not even sure how to get up—which is almost as mortifying that this happened in the first place.”
“How was she supposed to get off of him when he was growing hard again inside her? And it felt amazing?
Now he was the one groaning. “Round two?”
In the dim lamplight, his slow, sexy grin ruled over self-control or sanity.
She leaned down to kiss him.
He rose to return the favor.
He tasted of beer and peach cobbler and the forbidden wonder of the unobtainable. This couldn’t happen again. It felt too good. But did he truly love her? He’d said lots of pretty words. But how did she know if he’d meant them? Was she a fool for leaving herself wide open for another potential break?
Her body didn’t care.
But she was afraid for her already wary heart.
Chapter Thirteen
“Dad, are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” Wayne hated the way his father leaned in his saddle. Used to be he was more comfortable on his horse than the living room sofa.
“Yes, yes. Fresh air best medicine.”
Usually, Wayne would have been the first to agree. But after sharing a wild night with Paisley, assuming their wedding was back on, to then wake without her beside him hadn’t exactly filled him with warm fuzzies.
He’d been on his way to her room when his dad said they needed to talk—away from the house. Apparently, he had medical papers he wanted Wayne to read.
Combining that emotional knot with the one he already carried for Paisley made for one helluva heavy heart.
The ponderosa pine forest was silent save for the horses’ soft footfalls on a thick layer of needles. The smell was incredible. The sight of his father’s struggle? Not so much. The ranch grounds had been sun drenched, but the deeper into the valley they rode, the thicker the fog, lending their world an eerie green glow.
“You remember when we come here when you just little boy?”
“Of course. I loved our rides.”
“Me, too,” his dad said. “We
are very blessed. You with beautiful bride and baby. Me, with your m-momma...” The way his voice caught on that last word made Wayne glance over his shoulder to find his strong, proud dad silently crying. It was a sight he’d never witnessed. And it destroyed him.
They rode a half mile deeper into the woods, the whole while with Wayne’s stomach churning.
“Dad?” Wayne asked upon entering a glade so dazzlingly green and perfect it could be straight out of a Disney movie.
“Yes, my son?”
“How about we rest here and you show me those papers.”
“Yes, yes.”
They both dismounted, leaving the horses loose to graze.
In keeping with his old school cowboy demeanor, Wayne’s dad wore black chaps over his jeans and his black stallion was named Thunder.
When he noticed his father walking with a limp, Wayne helped him to the flat boulder where they used to bring his mom to picnic when he’d been a kid.
“Thank you,” his dad said. “I can manage, but it nice to have my son. I miss you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Tears clawed the back of his throat. His wasn’t ready to say their final goodbye. “Please take papers from saddlebag. I hide them there from your momma. She big snoop.”
“You should tell her.”
“I know. But then she cry. I can handle much—but never that. My whole life I fight never to make her cry.”
“I know, but this is serious.” Wayne approached his father’s black stallion, giving his hindquarter a light rub before finding the documents. Lots of them. Crammed haphazardly as if out of sight, out of mind.
Words leaped from the page.
Stage I seminoma.
Treatment plan.
Removal of patient’s left testicle.
So many words, but what the hell did any of them mean? Wayne was no doctor. He’d damn near flunked basic field medicine because he couldn’t take the sight of blood.
“Dad, do you have testicular cancer?”
His father shook his head. “Too horrible to speak of. They took my manhood. I no longer whole. Humiliating.” He broke down in racking sobs that Wayne held him through. “I couldn’t tell your momma.”
“But, Dad...” Wayne shuffled through more of the documents. “I’m no expert, but look—” He held out a sheet for his father to read. Since he was even worse at reading English than speaking it, Wayne did it for him. “‘...Patient’s long-term prognosis excellent. Zero cancerous cells detected after testicle removal. Recommended treatment—blood tests for three to six months combined with observation.’ Dad, you’re not dying, but cured.”
“No. I have cancer. All I know with cancer...” He made a slitting motion across his throat. “They die. I die, too. Plus, they took my manhood.”
Cautious relief flooded Wayne’s system. The air smelled sweeter, the sun shone brighter. Hundreds of pounds had been lifted from his shoulders and all he could think was how excited he was to tell Paisley this whole medical scare had been caused by faulty beliefs and translation.
“Look, I get that your pride has to be hurt, but since you had the surgery, that means they cut the cancer out of you. You don’t have it anymore.”
“How that possible?” Wayne’s father closed his eyes and pressed his hands over his heart. Silvery tears streamed down his leathery cheeks. “I no understand. You get cancer—you die. Everyone know that. Plus, every time I ride, I hurt so bad.”
Laughing, Wayne hugged his father. “We’ve got to get you some English classes. Bottom line, you’re going to live for a very long time. But you shouldn’t be horseback riding until you’re fully healed. That’s why you’re hurting. Did the doctor give you antibiotics? Pain pills?”
“Yes, but I no take pills. I strong.”
“Yes, you are.” And more than a tad bullheaded. Wayne notched his hat back, drinking in the beauty of this miraculous day. His dad would be fine. His family would remain whole—at least for now.
Only one problem remained—Paisley.
Only she wasn’t so much of a problem as she was an enigma. Even after learning his dad would be okay, Wayne still found himself wanting to go ahead with the wedding. But if his dad was no longer sick, what reason did he have? It couldn’t be love. Since this was a morning of admissions, okay, he’d fess up. He’d loved Chelsea heart and soul. Once their marriage ended, he’d felt lost. Truth be told, even though Paisley’s price for a true marriage was love, Wayne was terrified of the very concept.
He didn’t think he was capable of love.
So where did that leave him?
Basically, standing at the altar with no bride.
* * *
“GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE. Happy wedding day!”
“Thank you.” Because Paisley was beyond touched by Jules’s thoughtful gesture of a second breakfast in bed, she forced a bright smile, praying her soon-to-be mother-in-law wouldn’t notice her eyes were swollen and red from crying.
“We have such a busy day. I hate that you and Wayne are bucking the tradition of him seeing his bride before your ceremony, but I understand how it’ll be more fun to celebrate together all day. Peter and I once attended a double wedding for identical twins. It was the darnedest thing. They said their vows in unison.”
“Fun.” The baby kicked hard enough to make Paisley wince.
“Feeling okay? It’s perfectly normal if you’re having jitters—even second thoughts.” Jules fussed with easing the oversize breakfast tray onto the bedside table.
“I’m good.” Sort of. But spending the night with Wayne had been a mistake. Now, she had fallen that much deeper with no hope of escaping the depth of her feelings for him. What if she did marry him? Would that make her a horrible person?
How far would Jules’s opinion of her plummet were she to learn the truth about Paisley and her son? One issue they had yet to approach was her baby’s paternity. Did Wayne ever intend on telling his parents the baby wasn’t his? Her eyes stung with pending tears. If only he truly loved her the way Logan loved Monica. The way Peter loved Jules. Then the baby’s birth father wouldn’t matter, because he would have a new forever daddy in Wayne.
“Oh, honey...” Jules perched beside her on the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Everything. Did she dare take a deep breath and trust Wayne with her heart? Hours from now, she’d stand at the altar with a man who admittedly didn’t love her, but what if he could learn to? Didn’t she owe it to herself, to her baby, to at least give him the benefit of the doubt that he was trying? In the same respect, how could she exchange vows with a man who had to try loving her? It wasn’t fair. Love was supposed to be easy. Paisley swiped hormonal tears with the back of her hands. “Thank you.”
“It’s just breakfast.”
“No—I mean for making me feel so welcome in your home. I’ve never had a real home. My mother and I moved a lot and to think that my son will grow up being part of all of this...” Paisley forced a deep breath. “It’s overwhelming. But good.”
“Aw, you are such a precious girl. Our son is lucky to have found you. Each time you see him, even when you think no one is watching, your expression brightens with the radiance of when the sun punches through clouds after a storm. Sheer poetry. I never saw that with Wayne’s first wife. You, my sweet girl, will be his last wife. The woman with whom my son grows old. As his mother, you have no idea what a comfort that is.”
Cue more tears.
Whatever doubts Paisley had about going through with the ceremony were banished. For Jules, maybe even selfishly for herself, Paisley would marry Wayne with their fake license. When they returned to San Diego she would make it official. With him by her side, she would have her baby and, God willing, she’d never be without a family again.
Jules drew her into a wonderful hug. The kind of hug Paisley had craved as a little girl. Now
that she was a woman on the verge of becoming a mother, never had she needed this kind of support more.
“Tell me about your family,” Jules said.
“I’m an orphan.” Another lie. They were stacking up, waiting to topple, smothering her beneath their weight. But Paisley was strong. If there was nothing else her mom had taught her, it was to persevere under pressure.
Not until this very moment, sharing this special time with her new mother, did Paisley realize how very much she needed all of this to work. If it didn’t, there was no safety net.
Only a lifetime of regrets for things she might have done differently.
* * *
WAYNE LED HIS dad on a gentler route back to the barn, then insisted his father grab a nap while Wayne cared for the horses.
It had been an amazing morning.
Part of him couldn’t wait to share it with Paisley. Another part of him worried he shouldn’t. If she knew his dad was no longer in crisis mode, would she bolt? He didn’t want to lie to her. In the same breath, he didn’t want to lose her. She might have said she was ultimately on the hunt for love, but that was a far cry from her admitting she loved him.
They’d been so hot together, but there was a lot more to marriage than sex. But since they were already friends, wasn’t that a head start?
Finished in the barn, he found her surrounded by a gaggle of women Monica’s dad had flown in for the occasion. They’d all converged on the barn’s loft apartment. Their laughter and Brad Paisley’s crooning had drifted to him in the stalls.
There was such a commotion of hair drying and makeup that no one heard him come up the stairs.
He saw her before she caught sight of him.
She sat in a rocker with her feet up on a padded floral ottoman. Monica must’ve have pulled off the impossible by finding a white maternity jogging suit with Bride monogrammed in hot pink script. Monica wore a matching one in a considerably smaller version.
Paisley looked beautiful—her makeup had been done and her hair expertly styled, but her expression was sad. Wistful. She sat alone, nursing a steaming mug of what he guessed was herbal tea. The look she cast her best friend held a longing that cut deep. Monica was all smiles, laughing and taking selfies with her friends. She was secure in her adoration for Logan and his unshakable love for her.
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