“It’s a surprise.” Sadly, he released her to fish under the chair. “Go ahead and put these on.” He set her sandals in front of her to step into. How did he always seem to know right where to find them? The brush of his fingertips against her ankles made her happy she’d shaved last night in the tub. His touch made her a little dizzy. A little too excited to go anywhere he wanted. A little less determined than she should have been to guard her battered heart. “You’ll also need a nice, thick pair of socks.”
“Why?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He grinned.
She wanted to keep a straight face. She wanted to not get suckered by his lone dimple or strong white teeth or perfectly sun-kissed tan. But she couldn’t. Her lips curved into a matching grin, and then she succumbed to the excitement of her first happy surprise in a long, long time.
It wasn’t until she sat beside Wayne in his truck, stealing a glance at his chiseled profile and dashing cowboy hat and strong forearms gripping the wheel, that it occurred to her the last time she’d fallen for a guy, she’d ended up pregnant and alone.
Before she went and did something idiotic like falling for her fake fiancé, maybe it was time she told him to turn around? To take her home. Where she’d be safely tucked away from his mesmerizing slow grin and the sexy scent of Irish Spring. Most of all, she needed to guard her heart from the way he made her feel.
Protected. Sheltered. Needed.
Emotional ambrosia for a woman in her condition.
A ticking bomb preordained to explode the moment he no longer had a practical use for her in his life.
* * *
IN A MILLION YEARS, Wayne never could’ve envisioned himself easing a sock up a pregnant woman’s silky calf, but here he was, literally kneeling at Paisley’s feet in the center of Boot Bonanza. “Above all, when picking a new pair of boots, you should opt for comfort. All these flashy designs look nice in the store, but when you’re twenty miles down a box canyon, searching for a lost calf, trust me, comfort’s gonna win every time.”
Paisley cocked her head, eyeing him funny.
“I’m serious.”
“I know. And it means the world to me that you want my feet well protected, but let’s think this through. I’m an interior designer who lives in San Diego and will soon have a bouncing baby boy. When do you think I’ll find time to traipse through box canyons?”
“You know what I mean. And since when is it wrong for a guy to want to look out for you?”
“Never. Thank you. Just sayin’ that the majority of shoes in my closet were chosen for form over function.”
“That may well be, but on my watch, I think you should be in more stable footwear. Those sandals you wear are totally unsuitable for a woman in your condition. Did you know 35 percent of women reported falling at least two or more times during pregnancy?”
She scrunched her adorable button nose. “Where did you hear that?”
“Internet.” He pushed a roomy, brown leather boot onto her left foot.
“Oh—well, then you know it’s true.” She winked.
“I don’t appreciate your sass. This is important.”
“I know. Thank you. Really. I’ve never thought of myself as a Western-wear girl, but these are fun.” She stuck out her legs and wriggled her feet.
“Fun has nothing to do with comfort. Let’s get you up and walking around.” When he reached over to help her up, the feel of her hand in his felt right. When it came to Paisley, something about her made him not want to let go. But he did. Then took it a step further by wiping his palms on his jeans.
He needed a reminder not to get used to having her around. This was strictly a temporary gig.
Her purse hummed. “Is that your cell?”
She took one look at it, hit Decline, then shoved it back into the depths of her bag.
“I don’t mind you taking a call.”
“It’s not important.” She peered at her feet, then up at him with a smile so bright, so filled with silly wonder over a pair of cowboy boots, that he smiled, too. “Hate to admit it, but these are great. I feel so stable—imagine that?”
“Told you. Now we need to find a hat.”
“Really? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Won’t it seem...touristy? Like I’m a poser?”
He pointed to his own trusty hat. “Do I look like a poser?”
“No. But you grew up on a ranch. I spent my formative years in a crap apartment in Anaheim.”
“Doesn’t matter. My dad always says being a cowboy is more of a state of mind than way of life. Don’t get me wrong—having a few acres and a horse sure wouldn’t hurt your cowgirl street cred, but you’ve already got the good stuff. Loyalty. Honor. A dedication to always doing your best. You’re not afraid of challenging work.”
“You could be describing a golden retriever.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Quit busting my balls. I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” When she followed her quick grin with a wink, his pulse revved. Was his fake fiancée flirting? Was it wrong that, if so, he liked it? If this sort of thing continued, he could see it being a problem. How the hell was a guy supposed to steer clear of a woman he was starting to enjoy being with damn near as much as his horse?
* * *
“YOU LOOK AWFULLY good in that hat.” Wayne fixed Paisley with such a surprisingly intense stare that her cheeks warmed.
“Thanks.” She ducked her gaze. “Guess this is the one?” She’d tried on at least a dozen cowboy hats that hadn’t done much for her, but this one made her look adventurous. Maybe even a little mysterious. Even sexy? At that, she couldn’t help but smile.
“What’s that about?” Wayne grinned back.
“No clue what you mean.” Monica was always talking about her womanly power. Was this what she’d been referring to? The feeling that she was invincible in the face of any man? Too bad because even though the notion had been fun, even empowering, Paisley wasn’t in the market for romance. After what happened with Dr. Dirtbag, she wasn’t even sure she still believed in romance. Maybe it was a convention created solely for selling greeting cards, candy and flowers?
“Uh-oh.” Wayne’s smile faded. “Now what’s going on in that pretty head? I swear you have more mood changes than my CO. He’s just plain mean. What’s your excuse?”
She took off the hat and hugged it to her chest. “How come you’ve never been in a long-term relationship?”
“How do you know I haven’t?” He took the box with her boots, then aimed for the checkout.
She followed. “I guess I just assumed.”
“You know what they say about assumptions?”
“No?” They were next in line. Since there was a family with three small kids in front of them and the old saying about assuming making an ass out of you and me was too crude for current company, he kept it to himself—along with the fact that he’d not just been in a meaningful relationship, but married.
Chelsea had cheated on him with one of his SEAL brothers. The scandal had rocked his entire team to the core. Brothers didn’t pull that shit.
It just wasn’t done. Ever.
Morale got so bad that rather than re-up at the end of his current enlistment, Doug left the Navy. Last Wayne had heard, Doug and Chelsea moved to Oregon where they ran a coffeehouse/gym. Good riddance.
Wayne paid for the items, helped Paisley into the truck, then headed for the second portion of their date. “What’s your favorite fast food?”
“Oh no. Don’t think you’re getting out of answering my question.”
He veered into traffic. “You never specifically asked anything. But I did. What do you want for dinner? We’re having a picnic, so nothing too crazy.”
“If we’re having a picnic, we need fried chicken.”
“Done.”
; He turned on the radio, hoping to change topics.
A country love song didn’t do much in the way of taking his mind off women.
“You know one of these days I will get it out of you?”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” He winked before making a right into the drive-through for Mr. Cluck.
“Whatever.” She’d kicked off her sandals. Her poor feet were more swollen than that time he’d had trench foot tracking an unsavory dictator through the Amazon basin.
Once chicken and all the fixings sat between them, he drove to Los Peñasquitos Canyon Preserve, parking near the El Cuervo adobe.
“I love this place,” she said, “but I’m not in the right gear or condition for a hike.”
“No worries. I figure we’ll take our dinner and head for that bench.” He pointed to a wooden bench not far from the vehicle, but in full sight of the park’s rugged beauty.
Walking side by side, she asked, “Of all of the places in San Diego we could have gone, why did you choose here?”
“It makes me feel closest to my family ranch. Whenever I’ve got something on my mind, this is my favorite spot to come think.”
“Being a SEAL, I would’ve pegged you for a beach guy?”
He shrugged. “When you’re on the water as much as I am, I can take it or leave it. I miss the land. It grounds me—well, not just because I’m on dirt, but—”
“I get it. It makes you feel closer to your family.”
“Yeah.” They’d reached the bench. He assembled a paper plate for her—chicken, slaw and rolls. Handing her a plastic fork and napkin, he added, “Despite our predicament, I’m excited for you to see my folks again. They like you.”
“I like them.” She bit into a drumstick and chewed. “Sorry Monica got them involved in her and Logan’s wedding extravaganza.”
He waved off her concern. “On some level, it’s a good thing. When we last talked, it seemed to have taken Dad’s mind from his situation.”
“That’s great. I love a silver lining.”
“I can’t thank you enough for going along with this. You are beyond a trooper.”
“Anyone would help. It’s the right thing to do.”
Not anyone. Chelsea couldn’t even be bothered to offer to refill his coffee when she was already grabbing one for herself.
“What’s with that dark look?” She wiped her hands, then reached out, tracing his furrowed brow. They’d been friends for a while. Her touch shouldn’t have come as a shock. But it did. Even more shocking? He wouldn’t have minded drawing her onto his lap for a hug. Given his history—not cool.
“Look...” He sighed, dropping his chicken breast to his plate. “I wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s irrelevant and frankly embarrassing, but in my early twenties, I was married.”
“I knew I was onto something back in the boot store. What happened? You strike me as a forever kind of guy.”
“I am—was. Thank you for saying so.” He forced a few deep, calming breaths. Appreciated the rich smell of sunbaked stone, rocks and dirt. Over ten years later, Chelsea still held dark power over him. He hated that fact almost as much as he wished he hated her. But he didn’t. A part of him would always love her, which hurt even more. “Long story, short? She not only cheated on me, but with a fellow SEAL. Doug. It was a seriously tough time.”
“My gosh.” She covered her mouth with her napkin. “That’s awful.”
“It was a while ago.” A light breeze fluttered Paisley’s hair. He fought the urge to smooth it back from her eyes. What about her did he find so intriguing? Obviously, for jumping in to help him, she had a huge heart. But there was also an indefinable something more drawing him closer. “I’m over it.”
“Are you?” She finished her slaw. “Not to get personal, but in all the times I’ve seen you and your team partying at the pool, you’ve always kept to yourself. Now that I think about it, I’ve never even seen you frolicking with one of those bikini models.”
“Never saw the need. My ex—Chelsea—ruined me for all future relationships. She taught me that giving your heart to someone is dangerous.”
“When you’re out on missions, don’t you trust your teammates?”
“That’s different.”
“Not at all. Just like Doug was a bad seed amongst your team, maybe Chelsea was amongst women. Like Dr. Dirtbag was horrible to me. But just because all of them were rotten, that doesn’t mean we’re both doomed to a lifetime of loneliness and despair. I’d hate for my son to be raised without a father.” She fingered her dress’s hem. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no hurry to throw myself into a new relationship, but someday, with the right guy, I think it would be wonderful to be loved the way I feel like I have the capacity to love.”
“That’s beautiful,” he said. “For real. I wish I felt the same. But something inside me...” He patted his chest. “It feels broken. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever love again.”
“That’s sad. But I understand. I even respect the fact that you know yourself well enough to make that determination before hurting someone else.”
In the setting sun, he took her hand, gliding on the engagement ring he’d bought on the way to her apartment and hidden in his pocket. “I don’t deserve you. But thanks again. Dad’s disease scares me worse than any battle I’ve faced. Regardless of what happens, I want you to have this gift as my way of saying thanks.”
“Wayne...” Tears pooled in her gaze as she looked from him to the sparkling diamond solitaire. “This isn’t necessary. I told you I don’t expect anything in return for helping.”
He wanted to kiss her. It was the only logical way he could think of to get her to stop yammering about things that didn’t matter. But right there, in that moment, he couldn’t quite summon the nerve. Instead, he landed a perfectly harmless peck to her cheek. Only it wasn’t—all that harmless—when leaning close made him notice the floral scent of her hair. He wanted to tug the ponytail holder free. See her copper waves long and wild. Most of all, he wanted his lips pressed to hers. His tongue sweeping hers. He wanted a helluva lot he had no right to be wanting.
“Anyway...” He cleared his throat, then grinned. “More than you know, I appreciate your help. Thank you.”
“But—”
He forced himself back before he went and did something stupid like pressing his lips to hers. “All you have to say is ‘you’re welcome.’”
She raised her fingers to her lips. Was it possible she had the same inappropriate cravings? If so, didn’t that make those cravings wholly appropriate? “But, Wayne—”
“But, Paise.” Shit. Do I have to imagine kissing you quiet all night long?
She looked dazed—kind of like he felt. They were friends. What had he been thinking wanting to kiss her? Why did he crave even more?
“Well?” he prompted.
After a breathy giggle, she said, “You’re welcome.”
“Perfect.”
“We’re in this together now,” she said, admiring her ring. “Chelsea might have left you, but I won’t. Leaving a friend when they need me most has never been my style.”
And that’s what makes you dangerous. You’re exactly the kind of woman I’d always wanted to marry...
Chapter Six
“Thanks again for my ring and hat and boots and, in general, an awesome night. I still need a wedding dress, but we have time to find one.” While Wayne set her gifts on the kitchen table, Paisley covered her yawn. “Really—I can’t remember the last time I had more fun.”
“My pleasure.” He tipped his cowboy hat. Must her pretend fiancé be so charming? The fact that he’d opened up to her only made him that much more attractive. Was it baby hormones making her swoony over her neighbor or could she be developing real feelings? The latter would be a disaster! When—if—she was ready for
another try at romance, she couldn’t pick a worse candidate than a man so opposed to marriage that he was borrowing a pregnant woman to be his pretend wife.
“I’m tired—” she gravitated toward the fridge “—but not sleepy. Does that make sense?”
“Sure. Happens to me all the time.”
“Wanna make popcorn and watch a movie?”
“Depends... I don’t do cartoons or chick flicks. Oh—and musicals.” He shuddered. “Those are the worst.”
“Whatever. Could you please get my popper down? I usually stand on a chair, but...” She hugged her baby bump.
“Got it.”
The kitchen was cramped enough with one person, but with Wayne helping to reach oil and bowls, he also ignited sparks of achy awareness and longing for an activity that had nothing to do with popcorn, but plenty with sizzle and heat.
By the time they each sat on opposite ends of the couch with snacks and apple juice—pregnant lady champagne—and Paisley started the movie, her lips curved into a secret smile.
“I need a beer.” He grabbed a cold one out of the fridge. It had been stashed way in the back since before she’d found out she was pregnant. “Hey, what’s got you grinning?”
“Oh, I’d love a beer.” She rubbed her baby. “Sadly, this guy’s underage. I was grinning because I was just thinking about how funny it is that we’re about to embark on our pretend marriage, but we’re already acting like an old married couple.”
He rolled his eyes before catching his first glimpse of the screen. “Jerry Maguire? Are you kidding me? No. You knew my rules, and—”
“Give it a chance. If you’re not hooked in ten minutes, we’ll watch something else.”
“I know I’ll hate it.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Okay... But only because you seduced me with seriously great popcorn.”
Two hours later, credits rolled.
Paisley had stretched out, landing her feet on Wayne’s lap. “Are someone’s eyes teary?”
“No. No way.” He turned his head to wipe them. “Allergies.”
“Uh-huh. It’s not a crime to feel.”
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