Fake Wife

by Stacey Lynn

  Epilogue

  TWO YEARS LATER

  Corbin

  My wife takes my breath away every time I look at her.

  The night of our wedding, I could hardly breathe. She stood next to me wearing a blue silk dress, nothing wedding-like about it, but it didn’t matter. I’d marry the woman every day, for the rest of my life, in a paper sack or nothing at all.

  Which is my favorite outfit of hers next to her skinny jeans and riding boots she’s currently sporting.

  We’ve done it. Two years, and I have the final paperwork in my hands to reinforce what we’ve already started.

  She’s mine. My wife. My family. We’re reaching our dreams, knocking them down one at a time, and this is another step in our journey. Pointless, because the papers in my hand mean nothing.

  We’ve been living at Cannon Bluffs since the day we returned from our week in Vegas. Married the night we got there, we didn’t leave our suite at The Mirage until we needed to board our plane.

  We skipped right over the condo in Portland and went straight to our bed at our home.

  And God, I’d still be in bed with her two years later if we didn’t both have our goals.

  I’ve never been more proud of Teagan. I’ve known exactly what I wanted out of life ever since I built my first piece of furniture. She was my catalyst for finding the strength to go for it.

  But Teagan? She grows more confident and beautiful every day. I’ve watched her graduate, finally getting her bachelor’s degree in business. I’ve watched her have a hand in everything, from the moment I began building a horse barn and paddock for her along with an indoor ring for colder weather.

  We work together, side by side. Me in my workshop unless I have to go to the new warehouse we’ve bought just outside of town to help with orders. I now have fifteen employees, all local. Bluffs Builders furniture is now in independent, nonchain stores up and down the entire West Coast, and we’re constantly expanding.

  I still prefer to create and build furniture in my private workshop on our land, but all the furniture built by my staff is done at the warehouse and gets my approval. It’s all handmade. I will not sell out for quantity versus quality.

  I haven’t spoken to either of my parents in two years, my father refusing to allow my mother to have any relationship with me. I fought it at first, but she’ll follow him to her grave, burying herself in drugs and alcohol to get there. Anything so she doesn’t bring more shame to him. And I’ve had to let it go.

  Fortunately, I have Teagan.

  She’s everything. And even now, her laugh and her smile as I watch her working with three ten-year-old children in the paddock makes my heart ache and my dick go hard. They’re finishing brushing down horses, cooling them down. It’s almost dinnertime, and they should be picked up soon, but it’s not my anxiousness to have her alone that makes my pulse race.

  She’s beautiful, kindly teaching children how to brush the horses properly. Her equine therapy is more than just a farm.

  It’s a center for children, most of whom are on the autism spectrum and have difficulties communicating. Yet their hearts are some of the sweetest I’ve ever met, and their gentle love for animals is unparalleled.

  My wife shines every day it’s time to start work. Whether she’s on a horse or working with children, she has lofty goals and a bigger heart than anyone I’ve ever met.

  Plus, she puts up with me, so she also has more patience than a saint. I might have been the rich, successful man when we got together, but I definitely married up.

  I hope she never realizes it.

  “There you are,” she says, turning to me. “How was your day?” She takes off her thick leather gloves and rolls to her toes to kiss me. “I missed you.”

  I kiss her back, forcefully but quick. There are children around.

  “I’ve missed you more.” She playfully rolls her eyes and I tap her backside. “You almost done here? I can get dinner started.”

  “Um.” Her eyes dart around, a pink hue darkens her cheeks, and it has nothing to do with her constantly working outside. “Actually, I was thinking we could do something different.”

  “You want to cook?” She works long, hard hours and is usually exhausted. I’ve taken over most of dinner when I’m home, and she rarely turns me down when I offer.

  Her top lip disappears between her teeth. Her blush deepens.

  “Hey, what is it?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…well, I was hoping we could go to Gill’s.”

  My brows furrow, pulled tight with a snap. Gill’s is the nicest restaurant in town. The only restaurant with candlelight and decent champagne and true silverware and slick tablecloths. We can afford to go whenever we want, but prefer to keep it to celebrations.

  She must read my confusion, because one finger presses against the deep line above my nose. “Corbin.”

  “What happened?” My hands fall to her hips. “More students?”

  “No.” She laughs softly, and it cracks a bit over her nerves. “Well, there’s a child, but he or she won’t be a student.”

  My fingers flinch on my grip and as she looks at me, wide, beautiful brown eyes sparking, I close my eyes and drop my forehead to hers.

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not. I wanted to wait until the kids were gone to tell you.”

  “Tell me you’re serious.”

  She takes her hand, pulls one of mine off her hips, and presses it to her stomach. My hand is trembling. I’m shaking. My entire body feels electrified. We’ve been trying for months. Almost eight, and I know every month she doesn’t have to take a test she gets that sad, worried look in her eyes.

  And God. “You’re pregnant?” I can barely ask the words. Emotion thickens my throat and I press my lips together. I’ve cried twice in my life.

  The day I buried Eleanor.

  The night Teagan said I do.

  This is a gazillion times more powerful.

  “I took a test this morning.”

  She’s laughing, her hands at my cheeks, and I’m frozen. I put my hand to her belly, my forehead to hers again. I want to throw her in my arms and kiss her. I want to hold her tight and slide inside of her. I want to cherish her and honor her. I want to be rough and take her against a wall.

  There’s too much. Too much emotion. Too much fear.

  “Fuck, honey.”

  “I know. But it’s happening. I’m pregnant.”

  I kiss her. Damn the children still taking care of their horses. I slam my mouth to hers and take her face roughly in my hands, dropping one of my hands back to her stomach.

  “Tell me I’ll be a good dad.” I don’t always need her affirmation. Besides Eleanor, she’s the only person in my life to see all the good in me, all the fears I have. I can lay all my insecurity at her feet and not hide a damn thing because she sees through all of it to the truth.

  “You’ll be the best dad to ever walk the Earth because you’re the best man I’ve ever known, Corbin Lane.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Teagan Lane.”

  She smiles, that blinding smile that makes me think of angels and peace and a future with nothing but more children and happiness and family, a home full of love.

  Later, when I take her in our bedroom, sliding slowly inside of her and drawing out every beautiful, mewled sound she makes when I make love to her, I tell her all the things I want for our future.

  And I thank her, for all the beautiful, crazy things she’s already given me.

  To everyone who is chasing dreams,

  never give up.

  You’ll reach them exactly when you’re supposed to,

  and not a minute sooner.

  Acknowledgments

  I have the best team behind me, helping me with every project, and I’m so grateful to all of you.

  Thank you, Sue and Michelle, for always being so excited and helpful with my ideas and early drafts.

  To Shannon and Hilary, I love you both tremendously. Your work
and assistance and hand-holding keeps me sane and focused.

  To all the bloggers who review and promote: Thank you!

  Thank you to all my readers who have supported my work for over four years now. I couldn’t continue to chase my dreams without your encouragement. I’m so thankful for each and every one of you who have contacted me through the years, letting me know how much my words mean to you.

  And finally, to my family. You’ve been so full of love and support ever since the first day I said, “I think I want to write a book.” You have faith when I’m lacking, encouragement when I need it the most, and a listening ear that is always available for brainstorming help. I love you, forever, and to the moon and back.

  BY STACEY LYNN

  Fake Wife

  Knocked Up (coming soon)

  Fireside

  His to Love

  His to Protect

  His to Cherish

  His to Seduce

  PHOTO: MAE I DESIGN AND PHOTOGRAPHY

  STACEY LYNN was raised in the Midwest. Over the long, frigid winters, she would read every book she could get her hands on, from John Grisham and Danielle Steel to Ann M. Martin and C. S. Lewis. She began writing poems and short stories long before she reached high school, and now, as a wife and mother to four children, she finds solace from the craziness of her life by creating steamy, sexy stories. After publishing her first book, what began as a hobby has now turned into an unending passion.

  For more information on Stacey Lynn and her books, follow her here:

  staceylynnbooks.com

  Facebook.com/​staceylynnbooks

  Twitter: @staceylynnbooks

  Instagram: staceylynn.author

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Knocked Up

  by Stacey Lynn

  Available from Loveswept

  Prologue

  Cara

  Two blue lines.

  Two pink lines.

  One pink plus sign.

  In my hand, blurry vision can do nothing to diminish the digital readout, bold as can be. Pregnant.

  “These can’t be right.”

  “I’m afraid they are, sweetie.” Jenna’s gentle hand makes large sweeping circles on my back where I’m crouched over the closed toilet seat. In front of me is the proof she’s right.

  Denial, however, is quickly replacing her as my new best friend.

  Pregnant. Knocked up from a one-night stand at the age of twenty-four.

  My parents will be so proud. Shit.

  “Oh my God.” My groan has nothing to do with the morning sickness that hasn’t abated despite it being three o’clock in the afternoon. Morning sickness my ass. More like all day and half the night. Everything makes me want to hurl these days. It shouldn’t be too shocking to be staring at a half-dozen pregnancy tests that confirm what I’ve already been smart enough to figure out.

  No, the groan has everything to do with what in the hell I’m supposed to do now.

  And, you know…my parents.

  Shit shit damn.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” Jenna asks, crouching down next to me. Her hand hasn’t stopped moving and I’m desperate for her to lull me to sleep. Put me into a trance and take me back in time to about six weeks ago. The night she got married. The night she stood at the altar and pledged her love forever to her new husband, Dan. The night Dan’s best friend from college walked me down the aisle following the happy couple. The night he then whisked me into his arms on the dance floor, licked tequila salt off my wrist, and then took me to his room.

  Fantastic.

  My baby daddy is a professional wooer.

  “I had sex and got pregnant, Jenna. What else is there to explain?”

  “Sassy when you’re knocked up, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up.”

  She nudges her knee into my hip. “You know what I mean. You’re being really tight-lipped about this. What are you hiding?”

  “Wasn’t tight-lipped a few months ago.”

  She snorts and slaps my back. “Gross. Those aren’t the details I need. This isn’t like you, you know? I can’t help it if your silence about getting pregnant is worrying me. Who’s the guy?”

  I’d love to tell her that it’s no one she knows. But no…I had to go and get pregnant by the best man at my best friend’s wedding.

  “Ugh.”

  “Come on,” she says, pushing me harder. The force of her jostling makes my stomach roll, and I lift the toilet lid.

  “Knock it off. You’re making me sick.”

  “Sorry. Crap. But you’re going to tell me, right?”

  Shit shit damn. Again.

  “No. Don’t you have to get home for your husband?”

  “Procrastination will only make me more rabid, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She runs a washcloth under water and presses the cool rag to the back of my neck. “That feels so good, Jenna. Thank you so much.”

  “You know I’m here for you, right?”

  I nod into the toilet. Now that my skin is cooling, I don’t feel like puking. “I know. You’re the best.”

  “Don’t forget it, either.” She kisses the top of my head and cleans up all the evidence of my one night of indiscretion.

  And yes, I know it’s Braxton’s because while I’m twenty-four, I’m also very…particular. I’ve had three lovers in my life. That’s it. A whole three. Awesome. I have sex so rarely I wasn’t even smart enough to get on the pill. I figured I’d meet a guy, take my time, and when it felt right, then I’d go on it.

  A one-night stand at my best friend’s wedding isn’t only cliché, it’s so far outside my zone of normal operating behavior I wasn’t the least bit prepared. Apparently, neither was Braxton. At least not that fourth time.

  Ugh. Damn, it was good sex, though.

  So is the guy. Which makes all of this so much worse.

  I push away from the toilet and splash cold water from the sink onto my cheeks. She’s at the doorway, arms crossed, brows furrowed. “I’ll be okay, Jenna. Thanks for coming today. I needed you.”

  “All right. But I’m here when you need to talk, you know?”

  “I know.” She slides her purse on her shoulder and pulls on her teal ballet slippers. I’m about to let her walk out the door, knowing I’ve hurt her by my secrecy, when I stop her.

  “Jenna?”

  She spins around, brows furrowed at my tone. “What is it?”

  Another wave of nausea hits and I prop my hand on the counter, steadying myself. “I’m…I’m going to need Braxton’s number from you or Dan.”

  She jolts backward and her jaw drops. “What would you—”

  “Six weeks, J,” I say, before she can finish the ridiculous question. “Count back six weeks to what we were doing.”

  “You didn’t.” Her head shakes frantically. Blond hair flies all over the place as I stun her into silence, which is a feat in itself. “You…what? My…”

  I have to put an end to this blubbering. I walk to her and close my hands over her shoulders. Giving her a little shake, I snap her back into the present. “Yes. Six weeks ago. Your wedding. Braxton and I, well…Braxton and I spent the night together. And I didn’t tell you because you were on your honeymoon and then I just wanted to forget it. Okay? There. Yes, Braxton is the dad and I need to call him. But—” I wring my hands together. Good grief I’m muddling all of this up. “I need some time, Jenna. I need time to figure out what I’m going to do, what I’m going to tell him, okay?”

  “Oh, sweetie.” She quickly closes the space between us and wraps me in her arms. “Of course I will. I’ll do anything you need.”

  Chapter 1

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Cara

  There are things in life a young girl believes in that she assumes are absolute certainties.

  Fairy tales are not only real, they really do come true.

  Unicorns fly through the sky spreading glitter in their wake.

  Boy meets girl, boy
falls in love with girl, boy and girl get married. Girl has a baby.

  I’ve dreamed of and planned my wedding since the first time I saw Cinderella’s blue ball gown and Belle’s yellow one.

  My wedding was going to be romantic. It would have flowers all over the place, twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling. I would wear glass slippers and my father would walk me down the aisle, glowing with a mixture of pride and pain as he handed me off to my groom.

  In my fairy tale, my parents would be ecstatic. My brother would threaten the groom with bodily harm if my soon-to-be husband ever hurt me. We would laugh it off, hug it out, and then dance the night away before being swept off into happily ever after.

  In reality, parents turn their backs on their children.

  Brothers die.

  The happily ever after spent living in a mansion like the one I grew up in turns into a studio apartment in downtown Portland no larger than a shoebox. The disowned princess gets knocked up in a one-night stand and spends the next six weeks puking morning, noon, and night with no relief in sight. My ob/gyn has assured me it will end as soon as I get to the second trimester, but I’m now ten weeks along and more than doubtful.

  I’ve had a month now to get used to the idea of being pregnant. To weigh the pros and cons of this fiasco I’ve found myself in. I’ve had time to consider all my options and there is only one that brings peace to my soul, while at the same time scaring me half to death.

  I’m keeping the baby.

  I have to tell the father I’m having his baby.

  It’s no longer just the morning sickness causing me to puke.

  Butterflies have been swarming inside me, rolling and taking flight ever since I made my decision, but the time has come to let him know.

  From everything I know about Braxton firsthand, and from years of being around Jenna and Dan, he’s a good guy. A noble guy. My first impression of Braxton when I walked up to him at Jenna’s wedding ten weeks ago didn’t include any thoughts of good or noble. No, my thoughts dove straight to the gutter, and my knees wanted to hit the floor.