His Pretend Baby

by Theodora Taylor

  “And I have the recipe for the chicken!” I cry. “In fact the chicken you ate at that Sunday Dinner-it was mine.”

  I hear a collective gasp go up from my family, and I know I'm going to have hell to pay later, but I go on, giving him my very last secret.

  “Grandma taught me how to make it after my mom left me with her, to cheer me up. But then the Sunday Dinner became a little too much for her, so she'd been letting me handle the chicken while she did all the rest for a while. That chicken you ate when you came round to my grandma's-I made it.”

  This, of all things, finally turns Colin around.

  “You're lying,” he says, his voice barely level, because of the anger. “Again.”

  I shake my head. “No, I'm not. I swear. And I will make you that chicken whenever you want, even if I have to come on the road with you to Europe, I'll do it.”

  Colin stops, a shadow of smile crossing over his face, as if he's actually considering that scenario. But then he shakes his head again. “No, I don't trust you, “ he says. “I can't trust you ever again.”

  That's when my desperation gives way to flat out anger.

  “Stop this, Colin,” I practically snarl at him, more pissed off than I've ever been at a man, including my trifling father. “You think you can just demand everything from me, and then throw me back when you decide again that you can't trust me?”

  I jab my finger into the air at him. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your weak heart, acting like you're too fragile to handle me. You can handle me, you son of a bitch. You made me. You own me now, and I own you. And I'm not going back to my grandma's house, to live out my life lonely without you. So stop fucking around and take me home to Nashville, right now. Right now, Colin.”

  Colin stares at me, his blues eyes hollowed out with disbelief.

  “Take me home, right n-”

  I don't get a chance to finish that command, because Colin turns around and this time, there's no hesitation as he starts back up the hill toward his truck.

  I hear a murmur go through the crowd behind me. And the voice of Darnell, who's technically a cousin five times removed, saying, “Hey, it ain't against the law for me to marry you, and if you serious about knowing how to cook Grandma's friend chicken...”

  “Shut up, Darnell,” I hear LaTrelle say.

  “I'm just sayin…”

  It's funny, but I don't laugh.

  My heart is screaming with anguish as I watch Colin walk away. Looking exactly like what he is. What he's always been. The loner. Once again. And maybe for always, this time.

  I watch him yank open the door of his black Silverado, start to get in… only to freeze in the doorway.

  My hearts stutters in the middle of its anguished scream, afraid to hope… But then he slowly turns back around. And my heart starts screaming with a whole 'nother emotion when he comes walking back toward me.

  I run toward him, meeting him halfway, and it feels like worlds colliding when he sweeps me up into his arms and kisses the hell out of me, in front of Beau, in front of my family, and in front of Grandma, who I am sure is smiling at us from up above.

  When he finally sets me down, he whispers in my ear, “You're right, I am crazy, and this time you are going to spend a whole month tied up in my bed to make up for this.”

  “Okay,” I agree. Easily. Happily.

  Then he glares at me and says loud enough for my whole family to hear, “And I swear, Blue, if you're lying to me about that chicken…”

  “I'm not,” I assure him with a watery laugh. The tears are back now. Because I'm so happy. Because Colin's taken me back. Because I'm once again his for keeps. And because I know I won't ever do anything to mess that up again. “I swear I'm not lying.”

  He gives me a harsh look, his blue eyes glittering in the winter sunlight. “Nothing but the truth between us from now on. You promise me that.”

  “I promise,” I answer, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I swear it to you, Colin.”

  I've never been so happy to make a promise in my life, or to seal that vow with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  “You’re lying!”

  Colin smiles at me lazily over his shoulder as he pulls on a black cowboy boot. “You want to accuse me of lying to you now? What happened to all those promises we made about us always telling the truth?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering?” I answer. I’d be getting dressed, too, but Colin has yet to release me from his bed. He wasn’t kidding about keeping me tied up for a month. He lets me out at regular intervals to use the bathroom, and if I’m very good, to have a cup of coffee, but other than that, if we’re at home, I’m pretty much tied to his bed.

  I’m not going to lie. I don’t hate this. And even now, I watch him hungrily as he pulls on his boots, wondering if he’s really going to leave me here, horny and naked while he’s—I have no idea.

  “Seriously, where are you really going?” I ask him.

  “I told you,” he answers with another over the shoulder grin as he pulls on his other boot.

  “Yeah, but I know you’re lying!”

  “Now, why would you think that, Liz?”

  Colin’s been calling me Liz ever since he re-colored my hair green for me a few days ago. He says he did it himself because he was truly curious about what a color called “Electric Lizard” would look like on me. But I think he did it because after all these years of being kowtowed to, he actually likes doing stuff like cooking for me and dying my hair. Either that or he just didn’t want to untie me so I could do it myself. One of those.

  “Because there’s no possibility you’re actually going into the studio to work with Roxxy RoxX on my song.”

  “Why not? Roxxy and me are old friends. Because of me she got her first Country number one.”

  Which I doubt mattered much to her, because by that time, she’d already clocked a ton of Pop Chart number ones.

  “You mean she gave you your first Pop number one. And I don’t think that’s enough to make her come out of early retirement to sing my little song.”

  “It’s a good song,” Colin answers, like this is a simple fact. Like the only thing that was keeping Roxxy RoxX out of the recording studio all this time was a really good song. “And say what you want about Roxxy, but she knows a good song when she hears it.”

  My voice softens as I start to believe… “You sent her my song?”

  “No, she heard it online and called me about it a few weeks ago.”

  “A few weeks ago? But we weren’t together then!”

  “No, we weren’t. And I told her that,” Colin answers, his voice dry. “Which is probably why you got a call from Wyatt soon after that, asking after your publishing rights.”

  I sit up in bed, my wrist straining against the ropes. “I can’t believe this. You’re serious!”

  Colin shakes his head at me, like I’m the crazy one. “I told you I was going to make every single song you gave me a number one hit. Think you’re ready to start believing me about that new, Liz?”

  Yes! And believing made me really start tugging on the ropes.

  “Let me out of here,” I say. “I got to figure out what I’m wearing… alternative arrangements… how not to faint when I meet her—oh, my God! I can’t believe Roxxy RoxX is going to record my song!”

  I twist my wrists inside the ropes, straining to get out, but Colin just sits there.

  “Who said you were invited?”

  “Colin this isn’t funny. It’s Roxxy RoxX. There’s no way I’m not going to be there.”

  “But you see there is a way. Because you’re still tied up, and if I don’t let you out of there, then you’re going to miss the recording session.”

  I shake my head. “You wouldn’t…”

  “Liz, Liz, Liz,” he says, shaking his head. “I think I’ve more than proven how far I’ll go to get what I want. I’m a little surprised you haven’t figured that out by now.”

  I stare at him.

  “This
is about that Viking Shifters video game, isn’t it? You’re still pissed because I beat you.”

  The smug smile drops completely off Colin’s face. “You didn’t beat me. You distracted me with your breasts—”

  “I’m not the one who insisted we play naked. I would have been totally cool with beating you fully clothed.”

  “Oh, wait for the rematch, Liz,” Colin snarls at me over his shoulder. “Wait for it! Because I love you, but I am going to crush you next time.”

  It’s been three weeks since we reunited. I should be used to hearing those three words coming out of his mouth. But it stills sends a little thrill though me every time he says them.

  However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop riding him about losing out to me at his new favorite video game. “I mean… sure, if that’s what you want to believe… it’s good to have dreams, I guess. In the meantime, I can see why you’ve been so reluctant to let me out of these ropes. Too scared of getting beat again. I totally understand.”

  Colin opens his mouth, the nerd he still carries around inside of him despite the Lasik, and the movie star hair cut, and the wardrobe that costs more than my grandma’s house, ready to defend his gaming skills.

  But then he stops and shakes his head. “No, I know what you’re trying to do here, Liz, and it ain’t going to work. There’s only one thing and one thing only that will get you untied from that bed.”

  He pauses, and I wait to hear his newest demand, wondering what it can possibly be this time. We go through this every dang time we leave the house. So far he’s made me beg, pay for my release with “his” mouth, and make him a batch of fried chicken among other things.

  Which is why I’m fully unprepared when he pulls a black velvet box out of his pocket.

  “Wear this when we go into the studio to record…”

  I stare at the thick band encased in diamonds, my breath completely missing in action.

  “It’s an engagement ring,” he says, maybe mistaking my lack of response as confusion. “I was going to try to get you something a little edgier, like an emerald ring, but you color your hair so much, I figured I better go with diamonds because they match everything.”

  I shake my head. “We’ve only been together for three months.”

  “Yeah, and we know each other better than a lot of couples who’ve been going out for three years.” His eyes soften. “We understand each other, Kyra, and I don’t care how short a time we’ve been together. I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “I already know that, too,” I tell him. Because it’s true. I can no longer imagine ever wanting to be with anyone but him. Can’t imagine there’s anyone else out there who will ever get me the way Colin gets me.

  “But what about children?” I ask him.

  He pauses. “You still want them, right?”

  I nod. “I want them bad.”

  “Good then, we’re on the same page about that,” he says.

  “But we can’t… do what we do with children running around.”

  “No, we can’t,” he agrees. “But kids need a lot of sleep, and you know what they say: ‘When the child sleeps, mama should… let daddy play rough with her.’”

  I chuckle. “That’s not what they say at all.”

  “No,” he says, unleashing that beautiful grin of his on me. “But you know what I mean.”

  I do, but I still have to ask, “Do you get that kids would change our lives in ways that wouldn’t be sexy?”

  He nods, his expression turning a lot more serious. “Yeah, I do, and when I think about not being able to have sex with you for a while because you’re healing up or too tired or the kid’s crying in the next room, I still want it. I still want that with you. I love you, whether you’re Kyra tied up by me or by one of our four kids. When we’re being kinky and when we’re just chilling. Even when you’re cheating at Viking Shifters. I love you, and I want to be with you forever.”

  That is easily both the craziest and sweetest thing a man has ever said to me.

  And my heart feels impossibly soft, even as I say, “I didn’t cheat, and we’re only having two kids.”

  “Three. We’ll split the difference.”

  “Two. You’re not the one who has to carry them,” I remind him.

  Colin just throws me a wicked grin. “You know what, Liz, I’m not going to argue with you about this now, cause we both know I can convince you to come around to my way of thinking at a later date.”

  He presses on before I can tell him there’s no way in hell I’m carrying four of his overly long children.

  “But there’s a main question on the table here. One you still ain’t answered. You going to marry me or not, woman?”

  I think about it. Honestly think about it. How Colin came into my life and changed it for the better. How he opened me up to things I didn’t even know I was capable of. How he’s taken me to places I’ve never known, in bed and out. How he’s made all of my dreams come true, even the ones I didn’t dare to dream or couldn’t fathom.

  I think about all of that and smile as I give him the perfect answer. “No.”

  A slow, devil coyote smile spreads across Colin’s own face, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Ginny,” he says into it. “See if Roxxy can push the session back an hour or two.”

  Then he hangs up and says to me. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

  Her Russian Surrender

  `

  1

  “EXCUSE me, miss. Sorry to interrupt. Is this your jacket?”

  Sam McKinley turned from her conversation with a cater-waiter named Husik to see a young man wearing circular glasses. Like many of the men at the Hockey Ices Cancer Gala, he had on a tux, but unlike those other men, his face still had a bit of pudge to it, the baby fat that dogged some guys into their twenties.

  He extended her coat, a banged up, brown leather number she’d scored at a thrift store for thirty bucks back in grad school. It didn’t really go with the emerald floor length gown she was wearing, but hey, at least it did its job. Nearly ten years later and it was still keeping her warm, even here in Indiana with its brutal winters.

  “Yes, that’s my jacket,” she answered without embarrassment. “Is there something wrong?”

  Sam fully expected to be kicked out of this party. She’d only been here for thirty minutes, but she hadn’t exactly been invited. Unless using the name of your best friend’s husband’s former teammate to get inside could be considered an “invitation”—because in that case, she totally was invited.

  But she knew not everyone would consider her presence at the event legit, so she braced herself, hoping the man’s polite tone meant he’d let her go quietly without calling security.

  “No, no, not at all,” he answered quickly, his face flushing. “I just wanted to make sure. The woman at coat check assured me this was yours, but I, ah…” He seemed to be searching for a polite way to say that most people didn’t attend galas in beat up jackets that were probably older than he was. “I wasn’t sure,” he finished weakly.

  He then rushed in to say, “But there’s nothing to be worried about. I’m actually here to extend an invitation. Nikolai Rustanov would like the pleasure of your company on the balcony. I retrieved your jacket so you’d be warm.”

  Sam breathed a mental sigh of relief that she wasn’t getting kicked out but…

  “Who’s Nikolai Rustanov?” she asked, scanning the room from side to side.

  The man’s eyes widened as if she had asked him who the President of the United States was.

  “Nikolai Rustanov? One of the best hockey players the NHL has ever seen? The new owner of the Indiana Polar?”

  The young man seemed to be waiting for Sam to make the connection, but she shook her head with an apologetic shrug.

  “Sorry. Never heard of him.” She turned to look at Husik, the Armenian cater-waiter she’d spent most of the party talking with so far. “But the Indiana Polar is t
he state’s hockey team, right?”

  Husik winced as if he was just plain embarrassed for her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “Nikolai Rustanov--they call him Mount Nik--owns it, and you should probably know… this is his house.”

  “Oh!” Sam took a closer look around the large, opulent room. The ceilings were covered with intricately carved crown molding, and the ivory walls were filled with luxurious gilt pieces Sam couldn’t have pegged on a specific era or design, but they put her in mind of words like “baroque” and “rococo.” Every room she’d seen in the place so far was done up in this way, and ever since she’d walked in, she’d felt like she was standing in the middle of a set piece for one of the historical romance novels she used to read back when she was a teenager.

  Whoever this hockey player was, his home was beautiful, but way over the top, like Peter the Great and Josephine Bonaparte had hooked up and decided to build a home together in Indiana.

  “Wow! Well, thanks for the invitation to join your boss…” Sam smiled at the bespectacled representative of the hockey player with baroque tastes.

  “No, need to thank me,” the man assured her, lightly cupping her elbow. “If you’ll just follow me, the balcony is right this way.”

  Sam didn’t budge. “As I was saying, thanks for the invitation but…” she carefully removed her elbow from his grasp, “…please tell Mr. Mount Nik the answer is no.”

  The young man blinked. “The answer is no?” He was clearly not used to this response.

  “Yes, the answer is no.” She held up her coat. “But thanks for the coat! I’ll probably be heading out soon anyway, so you saved me a trip.”

  “But… I don’t understand!” the young man’s eyes traveled from her ragged coat to her bare ring finger as if he were trying to piece together the answer to a complex puzzle.

  “I don’t really think there’s anything to understand,” she answered. “He invited me, and I’m saying no. It’s really pretty simple. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation with Husik.”