Single Dad’s Fake Fiancée: A Cowboy Romance

by King, Imani

  How did this conversation get so weird all of a sudden? Preston looks like he wants to go hide in the closet. My mom looks like she’s about to smack Reggie’s head. Kate is laughing.

  “Brother, I hate saying it like this, but the damage has already been done. I’m pregnant.”

  Reggie straightens his back. “That has nothing to do with the principal of it.”

  Oh dear lord. Here we go! I swear to God, by the time the wedding has come around he’s going to have convinced himself that this was an immaculate conception, and that all our future children would be immaculate conceptions.

  I shake my head. Don’t get distracted by the random crazy. I glare at Preston. “I ran into someone at the pizza joint today.”

  Kate nods. “Yeah. Clarence. And he sparked a very unpleasant memory.”

  Preston and Reggie suddenly look guilty.

  Very guilty.

  And, for some reason, Sondra looks a little guilty too.

  My eyes narrow. Oh my God! This was the big thing she refused to tell me earlier about Preston—the one that she thought might shape my opinion of him. Well, guess what? She was right! He is and was and will always be an asshole, and I can’t believe she purposefully kept this from me!

  “I can’t believe you kicked her out of her own apartment just because she was living there with some dude that wasn’t you!” Kate yells in her brother’s face. “How could you? What kind of man are you?”

  “Hey, why are you so mad at me?” Preston asks Kate.

  “Because you are an asshole!” Kate yells back.

  Sondra stands. “Look, I think we all need to calm down. I’ll be the first to admit that Preston did some really unpleasant things in the past, but his heart was in the right place. Sort of. Well, okay maybe not, but we can all at least admit that he is really into Tachell!”

  Silence.

  Sondra cringes. “Damn, I don’t think I convinced anyone there.”

  My nostrils flare. Normally when I get angry, I control the impulse because it just looks weird. But do you know what? I no longer care if Preston gets nightmares from my angry face. In fact, I’d love it if he did! I glare at him with the power of a thousand suns and boom, “All of you, out! I’m pissed, but I’ll eventually forgive you. There’s only one person who I cannot forgive.” I point at Preston. “You and I aren’t done here. Not even close.”

  Then, my mom starts laughing.

  “Oh boy,” she chuckles. “You got it bad!”

  “Mother!” I scream.

  “Look, what he did was wrong. No one’s gonna say otherwise, sweetie. And it wasn’t just wrong it was unnatural. But…just look at him. All that anguish you put him through is really the best revenge, isn’t it?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “I think he needs a little more anguish. And I also don’t know if I want to be with someone who would do that to another person.”

  My mother nods. “Well, those are good points too. I stand by your decision, whatever it is Tachell. Should we start carrying back down these boxes?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m moving in. Preston can sleep on the couch.”

  Reggie steps forward, beaming. “I think this is a really good idea. I think he should stay on the couch until the wedding, maybe even move out and get his own place—”

  My mom puts her hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “Stop it, sweetie. This is between them. They will work it out, or they won’t. But you just need to stop, son. Preston isn’t the only one here being…unnatural.”

  And that was how Preston and I started sleeping separately before our lives had even really begun.

  Chapter 48

  I’m alone.

  The sheets feel oddly cold. I tell myself it’s silly, that I’ve just gotten used to things being a certain way, but it doesn’t help. The strange thing is, most of my nights since suffering from amnesia have been spent with him. My body is used to his. It takes comfort in his rising and falling chest. In the way he protectively holds my body next to his as we both drift into sleep.

  Maybe it’s because I felt his hand in the dark when I was in the hospital. His fingers entwining in mine, squeezing gently. Maybe before I even saw him, he’d already left an imprint on my soul.

  I sigh. Maybe I’m thirsty? A glass of water. Yes, That’s what I needed to clear my mind.

  I slip into the hallway, careful to keep the door quiet as I open it. I don’t want to wake him. But as I tiptoe down the hall, I see a light from under the door of his office.

  What?

  Gently, I push open the door.

  Preston is bent over his desk. His tight white shirt clings to his body. His white boxers give me a very delicious look at his hard ass and sculpted legs. But it’s what he’s working on that really gets my attention.

  It’s a building. He’s started inking, but he hasn’t finished yet. All I can see clearly is the left side. The entrance looks warm and inviting, and he’s so expertly rendered the trees out front that the leaves seem to be moving.

  I can’t help myself. I must know what this is. “What are you working on?”

  He turns suddenly. “Oh, Tachell. I didn’t realize you were awake.” He wipes his hands on his shirt. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No. Just couldn’t sleep.”

  He looks down at his work, shrugging. “Neither could I.”

  “So you decided to…start drawing?”

  “Yeah. I often can’t sleep, so I figure I might as well get some work done when it happens.”

  I step towards him. “You slept fine with me.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  My heart starts to ache. Why is he sleeping alone, especially when we both hate it so much?

  Then, I remember how he threw me out of my apartment because he couldn’t deal with the fact that I was seeing someone else.

  My nostrils are in serious danger of flaring. Yeah. I’m still kinda pissed, but not enough to just slam the door on him. I sigh. “What is it? It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s a community center. I’m thinking of putting it near the folk art museum I just acquired.”

  “The one that shows local folk artists?”

  “Yeah.” He turns to his work. “Since the museum is community oriented, I was thinking of putting in more structures that could facilitate community activities. See, there’s a park here. It’s not that big, but a good number of children can play—especially the ones attending daycare. I think there should be studios where people can have aerobics classes and teach yoga and Qigong. Also, an area to play cards and things like bingo. You know, community things.”

  I smile despite myself. “Really? You’re putting in a place to play bingo? I can’t imagine you playing bingo, or getting excited about it.”

  “Architecture isn’t just about your own vision, though that is important. However, it’s mostly about thinking about the best way to use a space, and that means putting yourself into the minds and hearts of people who will use that space. I like imagining people. What do they like? What do they love? What makes them happy and what do they need? What kind of structures can be created to accommodate those things? Good food. Good family. Good community. I love helping people do what they love in my buildings so I can share a little part in it.”

  I take a deep breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

  He looks at me sheepishly. “What do you mean?”

  I study him. Preston always seems so sure of himself. I haven’t seen him vulnerable like this yet. He’s truly sharing his heart with me and…it’s beautiful.

  “I’ve been wondering a lot lately about what drove me be an artist in the first place. When I remember, I’m flooded with feelings I wanted to express and things I wanted to say. But my memory is foggy, so it’s hard for me to get a good grasp on any one thing.”

  “That’s normal,” he says, “but I think I know why.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s a pretty big claim.”

  “Yeah, it is, but I only know it because yo
u have a pretty big heart.” He brushes a lock of hair from my face.

  I try to ignore my escalating heartbeat. “So what is it?”

  “You really want me to tell you, or do you want to rediscover it for yourself?”

  I don’t answer.

  I don’t move.

  I don’t move even when he takes my hand and presses it to his chest.

  His heavy lidded eyes look down at me. “Do you feel that?”

  “Your heartbeat?”

  “Yes.”

  I nod. Of course I feel it. Every cell in my body is throbbing with it.

  “Everything you feel is on your face,” he whispers. “It’s like you paint the room with your feelings, even before you ever picked up a brush. It frightened people. Intimidated them. They knew that they could never be as bright as you when they were beside you.”

  My throat closes.

  “Even I felt that way,” he says. “I couldn’t take my eyes away from you. Every moment…every second…all I could see was you. It terrified me. Your art is the same way. You can’t look away. You can’t help but feel, even if you haven’t made sense of those feelings yet. And do you know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s because you’re honest,” he tells me. “It’s because you feel deeply and purely. And anyone who comes into contact with it can’t help but be moved.”

  He closes my hand and envelopes it in his own. “I didn’t want you away from me because I knew that anyone who saw you would be attracted. How could they not? I was like a moth to flame, and you were this burning, beautiful thing I knew I would never be able to touch, I knew would destroy me if I tried to touch it. But still I tried, and I tried to separate you from those things. It was wrong. I knew while I was doing it. And I respected you, even though I hated it, that you told me to go fuck myself.”

  “I did not say that.”

  “Yeah, you did. Right after you said you’d be fucking him.”

  Wow. I guess I had…

  “Don’t apologize,” he tells me.

  “Wasn’t going to. I was just going to say…you better not try that shit again. I’m going to be myself, and you’re going to have to deal with it. If you ever try to control me like that, I’m out. I don’t care who you are or what you mean to me, I’m out.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want a woman who will just bend to my will. I want a partner. Someone strong who will stand beside me. Someone who is honest.” He looks at my lips. “That is what brings me to life.”

  He cups my face, leaning down.

  My hand moves to his wrist. I hold it tightly, but don’t push him away. Instead, I pull him closer so our faces are so close that our lips almost touch.

  For a moment, he stops, shocked. He didn’t expect me to consent so quickly, to change things between us so fast, especially with what I just remembered. But I did. Even I don’t understand why.

  And then, he kisses me. Softly. A ghost of a kiss I can somehow feel all the way to my toes. It’s more teasing than kissing. More breathing than touching. As ephemeral and warm as a sunbeam breaching the shade beneath a tree.

  Familiar.

  Close.

  Beautiful.

  My heart pounds in my chest. I grab his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He doesn’t hesitate this time. His hands are on my shoulders, in my hair, cupping my face, down my back, grabbing my ass, pulling me close to his magnificent erection. We both move back, quickly, our legs tripping over one another until I hit his desk.

  He sweeps his hand across his desk, spilling papers and pens and all the rest of it onto the floor. “What the hell? You’re work—”

  “I can get to it later. Right now, I need this,” he says, pushing back my legs.

  I’m about to say something, and then I feel his breath fanning between my legs.

  My pussy reacts immediately, tightening with anticipation for the moment he makes contact.

  He does, tongue flicking over my clit. Lazily, he rolls it up and down my cunt before slipping it into me. I cry out. His thumbs dig into the backs of my knees, hiking my legs over his muscular shoulders as he makes love to me with his tongue as it rolls up and down my cunt.

  “Oh God,” I whisper, grabbing the edge of the desk and spreading my legs as far as I can to give him better access.

  He makes a low growl of approval. “You taste so sweet, Tachell.”

  “That surprise you?” I gasp.

  I feel his lips twist into a grin. “Well, you’ve got such a mouth—”

  “Ah, ah. Don’t finish that. Otherwise I’m closing up shop.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I look down to find him grinning. The, he shuts his eyes and kisses me deeper, tongue rolling inside of me and all around me. Good God. My toes curl. My heels dig into his back. The heat radiating from him warms the soles of my feet.

  I adjust my grip on the desk and arch up, pushing myself into his face. He takes it—no, he loves it—how I grind up against him wildly, completely open and desperate for my own pleasure. He moves his hands to my ass, squeezing it as he pushes it even deeper into his mouth.

  I buck against him as he whispers how beautiful I am, how perfect, how sweet.

  “Cum for me, Tachell.”

  I do, and he accepts it, all of it. I cry as I’m carried above the city, floating above the world of lights beneath me, blinking and sparkling like the thousand incandescent shards of my heart.

  This boy was dangerous. These feelings were dangerous. I know he said that I was the honest one, that he was gonna get hurt flying too close to the flames, but right now I felt like it was me who was stripped bare.

  My heart speeds up. This is so real, too real.

  He leans forward onto the desk, grabbing my arms and pinning them above my head.

  My cunt tightens once again, eager for him.

  Andy then he slides into me.

  Completing me.

  Taking me.

  Am I truly ready for this? A part of me wants it like it’s the only thing it’s ever wanted. Yet, some part of me still hesitates, still fears. But even that part is swallowed by the tide of passion that sweeps over me, drowning out my fears and concerns under desire.

  He keeps his eyes on mine as he moves. Deep, dark, midnight blue against his moonlit skin. He moves slowly, so I can feel every inch of him. My pussy is still a bit sore from all that kissing a few moments ago, and I writhe beneath him, sensitive to his length. He keeps the speed agonizingly slow until I’m ready to break again.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  His lips move over my face, just barely touching mine.

  I turn my head to the side and he kisses just below my jaw, claiming my neck with soft lips and tongue. His strong hands pinning down my hips, holding me in place. I move against him, trying to grind and move faster, but he’s set the pace and it’s agonizingly slow and deliberate. He’s looking down at me like he was looking down at his drawing, and I wonder what he’s imagining.

  This man, his eyes only on mine, only for mine.

  His kisses are like promises of forever.

  I can’t hold back any longer. I dig my fingernails into his back. He pushes into me one last time, back straining, and I shatter again, spilling out all over the city beneath us like red hot embers scattered over sand.

  Chapter 49

  I shut my eyes.

  Breathe.

  I try to still my jittery foot beneath the table.

  Just breathe.

  Only one month before the wedding. Everything is moving in hyperspeed and I can’t take it. Priscilla and Kate are taking care of the arrangements. Since I knew nothing about weddings, I was happy to let them deal with all of it. Florists. Caterers. Musicians. It will be at the Preston’s childhood home—the one so close to the school we both attended—so it will be easy for my family to attend. Also, it is the only area other than New York City where we have shared memories.

  Sure, most of
them aren’t great, but I’m thankful for them. Now that I know what Preston was feeling at the time, I’m starting to look at them in a different way. And I couldn’t be happier that we were going home together.

  Now, all I had to do was finish the damn wedding invitation and send it to the printer.

  The “Save the Date” invitation had already gone out a week before. Preston told me not to worry about it. The wedding was going to be relatively small—only close friends and family. Everyone who was coming had already told us they’d be there.

  Still, I wanted to make our official invitation special. The “Save the Date” card was pretty, but it didn’t say a lot about us. I wanted something that captured our love.

  Preston said I was really over thinking it. Most people would maybe hang it on their fridge for a few weeks, and then toss it.

  I told him I didn’t care about what other people did. I wanted to make something meaningful to us.

  Preston knew when he wasn’t going to win, so he just kissed my forehead.

  I tap my pencil on the edge of the page and think about home.

  The dappled sunlight streaming through the trees. The gentle tickling of grass beneath your fingertips. The clouds moving over the clear blue sky. The changing leaves in fall. How my feelings have changed so much since then…

  I stop my tapping.

  That’s it.

  I grab a watercolor sheet, lay down a ruler with my left hand and tear with my right. Then, I get to work.

  I mix autumn colors. Wine red. Ochre. Burnt umber. Sienna. I love the sensuous spread of pigment on the page. How it’s thin enough to to reveal the tooth of the paper. It perfectly revealed the essence of my theme. Love that was hard won, slow, honest, patient—and most of all, real.

  A small, sad smile spreads over my lips as I think of all the misunderstandings and mistakes we made. And yet, despite all of those things, we somehow found ourselves here—surrounded by love.

  Preston knocks on the door and I look up.