His for One Night

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “We need to get hitched,” he said. “Quickly. Tomorrow, even.”

  Brooke stared at him with a look of horror on her face. “No. Absolutely not.”

  No? No?

  Obviously, they needed to make this legal, especially if she was going to announce their baby to the world at large.

  “This is nonnegotiable, Brooke. You can’t keep pretending that I don’t exist because it’s convenient for you. That’s my son, by God, and I won’t let you keep him from me. You will marry me!” he yelled.

  “I have no intention of keeping your son from you,” she shouted back.

  Oh, if that didn’t just take the cake. “More than you already have, you mean?”

  A little of the shock bled into fury as her eyes flashed with righteousness. “We are not getting married, Flash. Under any circumstance.”

  She couldn’t have hit him harder if she’d actually punched him. He had to grab on to the door frame to hold himself up.

  “The hell we aren’t,” he snapped. “That’s my son and we’re good in bed—against the door—together. Why wouldn’t we get married?”

  Dimly, he was aware that probably wasn’t the best way to phrase it but, damn it, he was pissed. This was not complicated. Brooke was the mother of his child and he liked her. Simple.

  Her cheeks blazing, her mouth opened for what looked like a blistering response, but just then headlights flashed through the parlor, cutting her off. They both turned toward the windows as the sound of doors slamming filled the air.

  Brooke went to push past him but he grabbed her arm. “This conversation isn’t over,” he said, trying to make it sound nice and gentle.

  But the way her eyes flashed a warning and the way she jerked out of his touch made it plenty clear he hadn’t succeeded. “I will not be forced into anything I don’t want,” she said, her tone icy.

  Then the doorbell pealed through the house. “Oh, no—the baby!” she said, making a break for the door. “Come inside—quietly,” she said to Chloe and Pete, but it was too late because that was when James Frasier Bonner decided he needed to be part of the festivities.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chloe Lawrence said in a quiet voice, even though they were way past whispering. James began to wail. “We didn’t mean to wake him!”

  “My bad,” Pete Wellington said, whipping his hat off his head. “I rang the bell. Didn’t think.”

  Brooke heaved a mighty sigh even as she launched a forgiving smile at Chloe and Pete. “It’s okay. Things haven’t been exactly quiet here tonight,” she added, shooting a look at Flash that was part challenge, part scold and all mad.

  Was she going to blame this on him? He hadn’t been the only one yelling! “With good reason,” he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to glare. Given the way Pete frowned at him, Flash was pretty sure he hadn’t succeeded with that whole not-glaring thing.

  But then again, neither had Brooke. “You’ll excuse me,” she said, her voice tight. “I need to go see to my son.”

  “Our son,” Flash snapped.

  Chloe and Pete took in the tension, shared a look and then moved like a calf-roping team with years of competitions under their belts. “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay? I can’t wait to meet this little guy, even if he’s grumpy,” Chloe said gently, putting an arm around Brooke’s shoulders and turning her toward the stairs. “I’m sure it’s been a long night—for all of you.”

  “You have no idea,” Brooke said, almost sagging into Chloe. Even through the haze of emotions he was barely keeping in check, Flash heard the sheer exhaustion in her voice.

  Well, if that wasn’t enough to make a man feel like crap.

  But before he could open his mouth—regardless of what was going to come out of it—Pete advanced on him, crowding him back into the room where Flash and Brooke had ended up before.

  “How’s it going?” the man had the nerve to ask, his hands up as if he were ready to give Flash a hard shove should the need arise.

  “Great. Freaking great. Thanks for asking,” Flash said. Okay, snarled.

  He turned and began to pace around the couch. The one where Brooke had sat and said things about understanding and co-parenting, and why, for the love of everything holy, was she so hell-bent on not getting married? Was it marriage in general? Or was it just him?

  It wasn’t like he wanted to get married. He rode the rodeo. He lived out of his suitcase ten months out of the year and rarely saw his own home. That wasn’t a lifestyle that lent itself to raising an infant. And this was the year he would win it all. He was off his suspension for fighting, he was sober and focused, and he did not have time to settle down. He’d make time, damn it, because that’s what family did. But if he wasn’t extremely careful about how this played out, he could kiss his championship year goodbye.

  Damn it all to hell. If Brooke had told him about the baby months ago, he could’ve spent the off season getting to know his son and making plans. Now he had to scramble—and rely on Pete Wellington, of all people, to help him out.

  Flash hadn’t punched a single person in months—not since he’d gotten into a brawl with his father, his brother Oliver and Pete over Pete’s underhanded tactics to win the All-Stars and Chloe away from the Lawrence family. And even then, Flash hadn’t been as mad as he was right now. The last time he’d felt this dangerous had been...

  It’d been when Tex McGraw had said those things about Brooke and Flash had been booted off the All-Stars as a result of the fight.

  “What happened?” Pete kept his voice calm and level, but he wasn’t inspiring anything calm or levelheaded in Flash.

  “She had my baby and didn’t tell me! Come on, Wellington—keep up!” Flash realized his hands were fists now, swinging loosely at his sides as he stalked Pete around the room. He was primed to throw a punch. God, it’d feel so good to just let go...

  But Pete had been around Flash long enough that this outburst didn’t faze him. “You need to hit something?”

  “You volunteering?”

  “Jackass,” Pete said easily, dancing just out of reach. “Here.” He bent over, grabbing the cushions from the seat of the couch. When he had two of them stacked, he held them in front of his stomach and stood in front of Flash. “Go.”

  “Seriously?” Was the man actually giving Flash permission to punch him?

  Pete smiled. Not a big thing, but it was there. “Afraid a cushion will bruise your tiny little—oof! Damn, man—you’ve got a hell of a kick,” Pete wheezed out, stumbling back a step.

  A minute passed with nothing but the muffled sounds of Flash punching light blue couch cushions and Pete grunting as he absorbed the blows.

  “I told her we had to get married immediately, if not sooner, and she said no, and that’s when you showed up.” He finished this off with a quick three punches. “This is supposed to be my year to win it all. She was supposed to be a one-night stand. And we have to get married because I’m not going to let her keep that boy from me, even though it’ll screw up all my plans. But she said no.”

  Now that he’d hit something, he felt his anger going from a roiling boil to a low simmer. He punched the cushions one more time and sagged forward, his forehead resting on the top.

  He had a son. The enormity of that fact still made him see stars. A healthy little boy who Brooke obviously loved and...

  And she hadn’t told him.

  “Better?” Pete asked, sounding winded.

  Flash nodded. He was breathing hard and his hands hurt, but the throbbing pain was good, anchoring him to his body.

  Pete shifted, one arm coming up and lying over top of Flash’s shoulder. Not that Flash needed a hug and not that this was a hug—but there was something comforting about it, all the same. “I guess I’m not as calm as I thought I was,” he mumbled into the cushions.

  “Did yo
u hit anyone?” Pete asked, patting Flash on the back.

  “Do you count?”

  “Not today.”

  Flash shook his head. “Walked away when I needed to. Called you guys for backup when I realized I couldn’t handle this myself.”

  “Didn’t punch me in the face, either. All things considered, you’re doing real well.”

  Flash snorted. It didn’t feel like he was doing anything but losing it.

  “You said you told her you were getting married?”

  “Yeah.” The thought left him uneasy. Marriage was...forever. Lawrence men—and Pete by extension—were one and done. If Flash married Brooke, that was it. He was done.

  He’d do it. He’d do it in a heartbeat because that’s what a father did for his son and, honestly, the sex was great. People throughout time had gotten married for less.

  But...marriage.

  To a woman who had no problem keeping secrets from him.

  It was a recipe for disaster. And that was if she agreed.

  Huge if.

  Pete was silent long enough that Flash lifted his head. When he’d been a hotheaded kid, he’d looked up to Pete Wellington. The older man was a hell of a good rodeo rider, one Flash had aspired to be like. But for ten years, they’d been on opposite sides of a feud about the ownership of the All-Stars Rodeo. They’d made their peace, mostly, but it was still hard to think of this man as a friend.

  Even if Flash suspected that’s what Pete was. Who else would take a cushioned pummeling for Flash?

  And now Pete was staring at Flash with a look of incredulous amusement on his face. “Where’s the charm, Lawrence? I thought—ow—you were this legendary ladies’ man. You could talk your way into any woman’s bed and—ugh—make her feel like she was the only woman in the world.”

  “I am,” Flash said, throwing another punch. He was going to owe Brooke a new couch, probably. “I was,” he corrected.

  He hadn’t been that man since, well, since Brooke.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his head. Great sex, yeah—but Brooke had gotten under his skin well before infants had come into play. Hell, he’d never looked up a one-night stand before, much less a year later. It might even be good...

  But he’d have to trust her for that to happen, and she’d have to believe he wasn’t the same asshole he’d been before he cleaned up his act, and, yeah, that felt like an impossible mountain to climb.

  “You told her,” Pete said yet again. “You told that woman to marry you, you giant jackass.”

  “Do you have a point?” Flash punctuated this with another combo punch. “Or are you just going to repeat yourself until the end of time?”

  “What did you think would happen, issuing orders like that—to Brooke Bonner, of all people?” Flash paused midswing to stare at Pete, who rolled his eyes. “Next time, try asking her.” Then he shoved Flash with the cushions.

  Stumbling back, Flash gaped at Pete, who shook his head tauntingly.

  Ask her?

  Ask her to marry him. Like, down on one knee, with a ring and a promise.

  Not an order. A proposal.

  Like he cared about her.

  Oh, hell—what had Flash done?

  Eight

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Brooke said, leading Chloe Lawrence upstairs into the nursery, where Bean was screaming.

  She felt like screaming, too. The nerve of that man, demanding that she rearrange her entire life—again—to get married.

  Married! She had a comeback to orchestrate, a record to release, a tour to get through and a baby to announce to the world. Not to mention the whole mom thing, which was a full-time job all by itself. Who the hell had time for a wedding? Maybe in a few years...

  Besides—Flash wasn’t exactly making his case.

  Yes, the sex was as amazing as ever, but she was not going to permanently tie herself to any man, much less one with an arrest record and a penchant for issuing orders. She had enough people in her life telling her what to do and when to do it, treating her as if she couldn’t possibly make her own decisions about her life and her career. And now she had to deal with his sister because, of course, Flash had called in reinforcements to try and wear her down, no doubt.

  She was more than tempted to call Alex for backup, but that would undoubtedly lead to a brawl. And calling Crissy Bonner was out of the question—that’d be a brawl and a police report. For a brief second, Brooke debated calling Kyle Morgan, but that wouldn’t work either, because Kyle would be just as stunned to find out about Bean as Flash had been.

  No, Brooke was on her own here.

  Then Chloe said, “Do not apologize for anything involving my brother,” in a way that made it seem like she might consider Flash to be a butthead or something. When Brooke gave her a funny look, Chloe merely shrugged. “Look, I know he’s got it bad for you and I also know I don’t currently have all the facts, but just because he wants you doesn’t mean he deserves you.”

  Brooke gaped at the woman in surprise because that was the thing she’d needed to hear right then. The second part, anyway.

  What did she mean, Flash had it bad for Brooke?

  “Thank you.”

  But Chloe wasn’t listening. Instead, she’d moved to stand next to the crib, staring down at Bean with absolute adoration in her eyes. “Oh my. Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, clutching her hands to her chest. “Look at you, sweetie. Hi, honey—I’m your aunt Chloe.”

  Brooke stepped around Chloe and picked Bean up. Chloe gasped, “Oh, he’s perfect,” her eyes filling with tears. “What’s his name?”

  “James Frasier Bonner, but I call him Bean,” Brooke said.

  “Can I hold him?” Chloe was already reaching out for the baby, but she stopped before actually plucking Bean from Brooke’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m just—this is such a surprise and I love babies so much and it’s Flash’s baby. You even gave him Flash’s name!” She gave Brooke a watery smile.

  “Sure. Here, take the rocker and we’ll see if Bean is feeling sociable.”

  “Do you want to tell me what’s happened?” Chloe said. “I gather that Flash didn’t know about that little angel before a few hours ago?”

  “No, he didn’t. No one knows, really.” She nestled Bean in Chloe’s arms.

  “Oh, goodness,” the other woman whispered as Bean stared up at her. Then he turned on his father’s charm and smiled at his aunt, who promptly began crying. That startled Bean and made him cry. Frankly, Brooke had no hope of holding herself together. It’d been such a long night.

  “I’m so sorry,” Chloe said again as Brooke took Bean back. “We’ve been trying to have a baby and...”

  “It’s okay.” Brooke snatched the tissues and everyone took a moment to calm down. She felt terrible for Chloe—Brooke couldn’t imagine dealing with infertility and then discovering a sibling had accidentally had a child despite taking precautions? Brooke couldn’t fight the guilt that swamped her.

  “I’m fine,” Chloe said, and her gaze shifted to Brooke. “So how did my brother stick his foot into it this time?”

  The story spilled out of Brooke. She tried to keep to just the facts, but then Chloe would say something like “Those headlines must have horrified you,” or “He did what?” It probably wasn’t smart to pour her heart out to this woman she barely knew and only in a professional capacity because Brooke had no idea what might be splashed across the internet tomorrow, but, God, it felt so good to talk to someone besides her mother and Alex. The isolation of the last few months caught up with her all at once, and, before she knew it, she was crying into a tissue and Chloe was rocking the baby and everything was still a huge mess. Amazingly, Brooke felt better.

  As Brooke finished the story, Chloe gazed down on Bean, who was playing with an expensive-looking necklace, hi
s eyes drowsy. If Brooke was lucky, Chloe would be able to get the baby back to sleep, and if she was very lucky, no one would shout or slam a door or anything.

  Brooke wasn’t feeling that lucky.

  “So let me see if I’ve got this right,” Chloe said gently. “He told you that you had to marry him? He didn’t even ask?”

  “No!” Brooke said as quietly as she could. Thank God, Chloe got it. “And that’s when you walked in.”

  “Such a jackass. Whoops, sorry, sweetie,” she cooed to Bean, who blinked up at her and then launched another charming smile at his aunt. “But he didn’t lose his temper?”

  “I guess not?” Brooke swallowed. “I mean, he’s got a right to be upset. But it was nothing like what those headlines described.”

  Chloe smirked. “Did he tell you what the fight was about?”

  “No?” That didn’t sound good.

  But Chloe didn’t see fit to expand on that comment. Instead, she looked at Brooke. A shiver went down Brooke’s back because there was a calculating gleam in the woman’s eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “Here’s the thing, though—he’s not wrong.” Brooke inhaled sharply as Chloe went on, “From a public relations point of view, I mean. If you two are married, we could spin this as a secret long-distance relationship instead of a wayward one-night stand. We could make it sound highly romantic while we release little teases of this supposed relationship without revealing too much, while we build up to exclusive interviews and magazine covers. We’d have both your audience and ours hooked. The press would be fantastic.”

  A pit of disquiet began to yawn open in Brooke’s stomach. That was probably exactly what the record company would tell her to do, but...

  Yes, she wanted to go public with her son. Yes, it made sense to have a plan. And the PR would probably be great.

  But was it asking too much for it to be on her terms?

  To try to keep some part of her private life private?

  “I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” she told Chloe, trying to be diplomatic about it.