Single Dad's Hostage: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  And you know what? She did it without your help. Do you even realize how incredible that is? Do you get how many people would take the easy handout you’re offering? You should be proud as fucking hell of your daughter for the woman she is. If you can’t see that, neither of you deserve to be here. So you can get in your fancy fucking car and go back to your bullshit excuse of a life.”

  Reid practically shoves my father in the car and slams the door. My father starts the engine and hastily backs out, turning as quickly as he can and spinning the tires in his rush to get away from Reid and his anger.

  I stand speechless, mouth open as I look at Reid, who is sucking in heavy breaths and frowning. He just defended me. No one has ever defended me, not like that, and especially not to my parents. I’ve always tried to stand up to them and get my point across to them, but it never worked. They never saw who I was or even listened to me. Even if a word of that didn’t sink in for them, I can’t stop hearing it all over and over again in my head.

  “You really think all that?” I ask, smiling shyly.

  “Every word of it.”

  I kiss him then, with the fading afternoon sun warm against my neck and his body pressed to mine. His strong, possessive hands splay across my back, taking me in and making me feel small and vulnerable in all the best ways, in the ways that make me know I can let my guard down around him. I can be the girl I never got a chance to be. I can be vulnerable. I can be all the things I couldn’t because he’s here to protect me. To keep me safe and to care for me.

  I kiss him knowing all of that is true down to the last syllable because I can feel it in his touch and see it in his eyes. And for the first time, I know with blinding certainty and without even the faintest glimmer of doubt that I want to have his baby. I hope beyond all hope that it’s already growing inside me, and if it’s not, I want to keep trying.

  “Reid Riggins,” I say softly, pulling away and looking up into his eyes. “You might just be the man of my dreams.”

  He smirks down at me. “Sweetheart, if I came out of your dreams, I’d hate to see your nightmares.”

  38

  Reid

  Roman waits in the truck and listens to his songs about bears while I go to confront Alfred and Collette Williams, who are ordering around a small team of teenagers from town. The teens are bringing load after load of supplies out of the bed and breakfast from furniture to suitcases to floral arrangements. It’s all being packed into a semi-truck while Collette and Alfred watch, command, and don’t break a sweat.

  “How long were you planning on staying?” I ask them, eyeing the ridiculous amount of stuff.

  “You have some nerve to come here,” says Alfred.

  “Yeah, get used to it,” I say. “You’re both making a mistake. You know if you leave now, you’re going to lose her.”

  Collette sniffs derisively. “Sandra is losing herself. We’ve done all we can for her.”

  “That’s what you think?” I ask. “All you’ve done is taken the satisfaction out of chasing her dream. You’ve made her feel like a fucking outcast. Like she’s some kind of slimy, lowlife person for wanting to make something out of herself.”

  Alfred looks to the sky, holding his hands up as if asking for help from above. “Good God, man. You really don’t get it. Maybe to people like you in places like this, being a… a… baker,” Alfred finally spits out, as if even uttering the word offends his sensibilities. “Maybe that’s ‘making it’. But Sandra is better than that. She has millions of dollars waiting for her if she so much as asks. And she’s too headstrong to ask, so we’re forced to watch one of our own subject herself to this life.”

  I huff a humorless laugh, nodding my head, finally understanding. “She doesn’t need you. Either of you. Fuck. I should’ve seen it sooner. Yeah,” I say spitting on the ground, inches from Alfred’s expensive shoes. “Why don’t you two get as fucking far from here as possible and don’t even think about coming back. She’ll be better off without you.”

  I get back in the car and Roman looks at me from his carseat in the back. I eye him in the rearview and force a smile. “Ready to go home, Bud?”

  “Why were you yelling, Daddy?”

  I sigh. “Because someone I care a lot about deserves to be treated better than she is.”

  “Who?”

  “A good friend.”

  Roman grins deviously. “You like Miss Sandra.”

  I turn the car on and back out, grinning back at him. “Okay. Caught me.”

  “I like her too. She’s pretty.”

  “Watch it now,” I say. “You’ve got Lyla. Miss Sandra is mine, okay?”

  Like the little player he is, Roman refuses to give me a verbal commitment that he’ll stay away from my girl. He just hums quietly to himself, looking out the window innocently. But I know better.

  A few minutes later, I help Roman out of his carseat and head into Sandra’s bakery. Her only customer is Mrs. Stevens, who’s leaning close to the display and apparently making a life-or-death decision between a danish or a doughnut. Lauren spots me when we come in.

  “Sandra! There’s a male model out here to see you. He’s got a little kid with him too. Super cute.”

  Sandra emerges from the back a few seconds later. She has flour all over her apron, hands, and even on her face. The specks of white bring out the red in her cheeks and make her look beautifully flushed. Innocent even, but I know better. I can still remember the way she rode my face. I fucking love that she can look so sweet an innocent and still let go as hard as she does between the sheets.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I say.

  Sandra’s cheeks get even redder and Lauren raises her eyebrows, fanning herself off with a well-manicured hand. “Uh, hey. What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too,” I say. “Roman wanted to come over to your place tonight. He hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

  “I haven’t?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Remember?” I ask him, nudging him with my toe.

  “I haven’t stopped asking about it,” he says mechanically, drawing grins from both Sandra and Lauren.

  “Wow. So your daddy doesn’t really care one way or another? He just wants to come over because you do?”

  Roman looks up at me. I raise my eyebrows and signal for him to disagree.

  “No ma’am. My daddy likes you a lot. That’s why he yelled at your parents before we came here.” Roman gives me two thumbs up and I wince, scratching the back of my neck and bracing myself for the anger.

  Sandra’s eyes slowly move from Roman to me. “He did what?” she asks.

  “I might have had a few words with them. Hey, I know. Let’s talk about it over dinner tonight and I’ll give you all the details.”

  Sandra folds her arms. “Or we could talk about it now.”

  “Yeah. Wish we could,” I say quickly, scooping up Roman and carrying him over my shoulder. “Little Roman has one of those four hour stomach bugs though. He’ll have to sleep it off before we can come over.”

  “Reid!” Sandra says sternly.

  I wave over my shoulder, carrying a giggling Roman out of the bakery and closing the door behind us.

  We’re outside Sandra’s house that evening, just before sunset. The crickets are already chirping and there’s a chill in the air. I lick my thumb and try to smooth down a clump of Roman’s hair that’s standing up in the back. He wanted to dress nice for our “date” with Miss Sandra, so he’s wearing a dress shirt, slacks that are a little too short, and of course his favorite pair of tennis shoes.

  I’m wearing a button down shirt without enough buttons undone to breathe and the sleeves rolled up. Roman tried to get me to wear dress pants, but I opted for jeans.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  Roman nods and runs his hands through his hair, messing up the style he had going on. I smirk, knocking hard.

  Sandra opens the door. She’s wearing a short black dress and her hair is shiny and falls just above her shoulders i
n loose brown curls. I give her a crooked smile. “You didn’t have to dress up for us,” I say.

  “Come in,” she says with a shy smile.

  She has no idea how much her bashfulness turns me on, but Roman’s here tonight. It’s not the time for that kind of stuff. Tonight, we’re just going to have a good time. Nothing sexual. Nothing dirty. At least that’s the plan. If the little man passes out on the couch or something, I can’t promise to behave.

  “Smells good,” says Roman. He pads off toward the kitchen, nose raised in the air like he’s a bloodhound following the scent.

  “Seems like his stomach bug cleared up,” says Sandra.

  “Yeah. It’s wild how fast that came and went,” I say. “So, what’s for dinner?”

  “You just get washed up and sit down. I’ll bring everything to the table.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Now that’s a woman who knows how to make me happy.”

  She narrows her eyes. “It’s a woman who knows you will feel too guilty not to tell me what happened with my parents once you taste my cooking.”

  I chuckle. “Sounds like challenge.”

  I take my spot at the table beside Roman, who tucks a napkin into his collar and holds his knife and fork at the ready. Sandra kneels to pull several steaming hot trays from the oven. She clatters dishes and pans around for a few minutes, moving dishes to platters for the table.

  I stand up, not wanting her to have to do it all herself. “Let me help,” I say, sliding behind her and letting my hips brush against her ass.

  She bites her lip, not meeting my eye, but smiling slightly. “Fine. You can help, but don’t you dare drop anything.”

  I lean close enough that only she can hear me. “Only thing I want to drop are your panties. What color?” I ask.

  She licks her lips, flicking her eyes up to me. “Black,” she says.

  “Hm... You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll find out. Maybe you won’t. It depends what you said to my parents.”

  I grab a casserole dish full of sweet potatoes and head to the table, trying not to let the need to drag her to the bedroom completely dominate my thoughts.

  “This is delicious,” I say a few minutes later when she’s sitting across from Roman and I and we have everything on the table. She made something crusty like pie, but filled with beef, veggies, and cheese. There’s potatoes, carrots, and macaroni and cheese. Roman is in heaven. His plate is piled high and he’d digging into the macaroni and cheese like it owes him money, occasionally sucking in a heavy breath between bites.

  “Thank you,” Sandra says.

  “You trying to fatten us up so we can’t fit out the door? Cause if you wanted us to stay, all you had to do was ask.”

  “Okay, then stay,” she says quickly. The moment hangs between us and she laughs a little nervously, clears her throat, and looks down at her fork. “Sorry. I was just joking. Bad joke.”

  I watch her, running the moment over in my head and looking at it from every angle. “I can’t figure you out, Sandra.”

  “Welcome to the club,” she says. “I hardly know what I’m thinking half the time. You’re not so easy to figure out either, you know. Sometimes I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

  “Well,” says Roman. “He thinks your pretty. He likes you a lot, and he wants you to be my mo--”

  Roman’s voice cuts off as I put a hand over his mouth and clap his back. “Easy there Bud, you’re going to choke on that macaroni if you keep talking with your mouth full.”

  I move my hand away and Roman continues right where he left off. “Mommy,” he finishes.

  I sigh. “Having a kid is like having a parrot. But more manipulative.”

  Sandra laughs, but she’s twirling a loose lock of her hair as she looks between Roman and I. What’s going on in that gorgeous head of hers?

  “Can we get a parrot?” asks Roman.

  “No,” I say. “One motormouth is enough.”

  Roman humphs before diving back into his macaroni binge.

  Sandra eyes me across the table. I may know how to make a woman’s toes curl with the slightest touch and how to make the hairs on her neck stand up with a whisper, but I don’t have a fucking clue when it comes to what they’re thinking. All I know right now is she’s definitely thinking something.

  “So,” she says. “What happened with my parents?”

  “I know you’re pissed, but--”

  “Pissed?” she asks. “Why would I be pissed?”

  “Uh,” I say. “Right. Exactly.”

  She scrunches her nose, leaning forward. “You had better spill it.”

  “All right, fine. You want to know what I said? I told them they were…” I glance toward Roman and decide to opt for the G-rated version. “I told them they were dummies for the way they treat you. And I told them they should get lost, because you’ve made yourself the person you are without them and you don’t need their help.”

  “You said all that?”

  I shrug. “Something along those lines.”

  Tears well in her eyes and she suddenly plants her hands on the table, leaning over the middle. I don’t need to be prompted twice, and I lean over too, kissing her softly.

  “Yuck,” says Roman.

  We break apart, and I glare at Roman. “Aren’t you getting tired, Bud?”

  “Bedtime isn’t for another hour!” he complains.

  I know better than to turn it into a battle, so I just ruffle his hair and drop it, looking back to Sandra.

  “Mind telling me why you’re not pissed?” I ask. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Because they came by after I saw you at the bakery. They apologized. It was… I think it was genuine. I’ve never heard them apologize for anything before. They said they will need some time to come to terms with it, but that they may have been wrong. You have no idea how long I have been needing to hear that from them. So… Thank you.”

  I nod. “So, how are you feeling?” I ask pointedly, trying to show her my meaning by staring at her belly.

  She misunderstands, making a scandalized face. “I’m feeling like there are one too many people at the table to be taking the conversation in that direction.”

  I sigh. “No, I mean. Have you had any strange symptoms lately?”

  Realization sets in on her face. “Oh. Um, well, nothing too out of the ordinary. I should know for sure in a week.”

  That soon? Damn. I feel strange about the whole thing, not because I don’t want her to be pregnant, but because I do want it. It’s fucking insane to want to have a baby with someone I’ve essentially spent so little time with, but there it is, clear as day. I want her to be carrying my baby. I want to raise a baby with her, and I want a reason for her to be in Roman’s life. With Tara becoming more and more irresponsible, having a strong woman like Sandra in his life is just what he needs.

  “Is that a relief to you?” She asks carefully. “That I’m not having symptoms so far?”

  I narrow my eyes. She’s asking if I want the baby. “No,” I say pointedly. “In fact, I’m thinking I may need to keep trying to make you have those symptoms.”

  She smiles, biting her lip. The look on her face quickly grows distant though.

  “What?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, jabbing her fork idly at her potatoes. “You’re sure none of your excitement has to do with what your brother told me about?”

  “Positive. Besides. There are two parts to that agreement. If you don’t believe I want this for real, then I’ll tell you this. Garage or no garage, I’d still want this baby. Still want you to be my wife.”

  I realize I may have said too much in front of Roman, but when I look over his forehead is on the table and his mouth is open, trailing drool. Macaroni and cheese does always make him tired.

  Sandra notices at the same time as me and smiles. “Is that normal?”

  “Happens all the time,” I say, carefully wiping his mouth
with a napkin and then carrying him to her couch. I lay him down and cover him with a blanket while Sandra watches. I kiss Roman on the forehead and step out to the front porch with Sandra where we can talk without disturbing him.

  “You mean what you said?” asks Sandra. “About the being your wife thing?”

  “I did,” I say. “I do.”

  She laughs. “This is all so crazy. You realize that, right? What’s happening between us, how fast this is all moving… None of this is normal.”

  “That’s what makes it so fun. That’s how you know it’s real,” I say more quietly, wanting to find out if her panties are black like she said, wanting to kiss her.

  “We can’t get married. It’s so soon. Imagine what people would think.”

  I smirk. “So you’re considering it, then? You wouldn’t be worrying what people would think if you weren’t considering it.”

  She looks out toward where the trees sway, blotting out the stars. “I don’t know what I’m considering, Reid. There might be a baby growing in here,” she says, clutching her stomach.

  I put my hand on top of hers, hugging her from behind and resting my chin on her head. “Yeah, I hope there is.”

  “Don’t say that,” she snaps. She pauses, softening her voice. “This is scary for me. I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it. And… well, why would you mean it? You barely know me. Why would you want me to have a baby if not for the contract.”

  “Because I love you,” I say. It’s not the first time I’ve told a woman I love her, but it’s the first time saying the words has made every inch of my skin tingle. It’s the first time the words have felt real and powerful. “I don’t care if it’s stupid or if it’s too soon, Sandra. I know what I feel. Do you understand?”

  She turns to face me. There are tears in her eyes but no sadness in her features. Only resolve. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she says firmly.

  I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, kissing her before pulling back and locking eyes with her. “Listen to me. I know you’re used to shitty people and shitty things happening to you. I get it, but believe me when I tell you how I feel.”