A lie was a lie.
At what point in this process had she forgotten that fact?
Jules and Peter were such easy people to love.
And Wayne...
Paisley ducked her flaming cheeks by sipping the herbal tea Jules delivered. “Wayne said you had a rough time of it your first couple trimesters?”
“The worst. Knock on wood, I seem to be much better now.”
“Good.” Jules joined her at the table while the men finished washing the pots and pans. In a conspiratorial tone, she said, “I can’t tell you how tickled I am to see Wayne happy again. What that Chelsea put him through should be a crime. The poor boy walked around like a zombie for years. But with you... Oh!” She cupped her hand to Paisley’s belly. “He kicked so hard I saw it! Peter! Come here! Our grandson kicked!”
“Praise be!” Peter held his hands up to the heavens. “We are a family inordinately blessed.”
Paisley would have thought she’d feel awkward about Jules and Peter each edging their chairs closer to place their hands over her tummy, but she didn’t mind. If anything, their affection filled her with an achy yearning she felt clear to her toes. How was it possible to have only been on the ranch mere hours, yet already feel part of this tight-knit family unit?
How lucky Wayne was.
How devastated she would feel when their charade culminated in Peter’s funeral.
Peter said, “My new daughter, Paze-lee, I have idea. Wayne spend so much time doing army man, you must stay with us when baby come. My beautiful Jules, she make sure you have best of everything. I teach baby about cattle and horses and how to be best American cowboy.”
Paisley glanced to Wayne. Help!
He nodded. “Dad, that’s an amazing offer, but slow down. If and when I’m deployed, Paisley might enjoy staying here, but for now, she’ll stick with me near base.”
“Of course.” Peter’s smile faded. His shoulders hunched. “I understand.”
“Stop pouting,” Jules playfully scolded. “We’ll have plenty of time with the baby on weekends and holidays. Of course, we’d have even more if our new little family ever wanted to move into the apartment above the barn. It’s adorable, Paisley. I’m sure you’ll see it. That’s where Monica’s staying.”
Paisley raised her eyebrows. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine her friend bunking in a barn. But then she’d never envisioned Monica marrying in one, either. Guess there was a first for everything.
“I’ve got an idea.” Jules rose with an excited clap. “It’s such a gorgeous night, let’s eat dessert on the patio. I want to hear about how you two lovebirds transitioned from neighbors to a romantic couple. Peter, would you mind grabbing plates, forks and napkins. I’ll carry the cake.” She grabbed the golden-brown creation in its glass dome on her way out of the kitchen. “Paisley, for future reference, this pineapple upside down cake has always been Wayne’s favorite. Don’t leave without the recipe.”
“I—I won’t.”
“How are you doing?” Wayne whispered in her ear on their way outside. His mom led the way while his father lagged with his assignment. “You seem to be handling this like a pro.”
“Shouldn’t you help your dad?”
“I will, but I’m concerned about you. I know this is a lot to take in. I wanted to thank you again. You’ll never know how much it means to—”
Crash!
The sound of shattered glass erupted from the kitchen.
Paisley and Wayne rushed to check on his dad, only to find him on the floor.
Chapter Eight
“Dad? What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I trip,” Peter said with a shrug. “Nothing serious. Unless your momma kill me for breaking dishes.”
“Peter...” Jules entered the kitchen, hands on her hips. “What happened?”
“I told you rug in front of sink would kill me and look what happened.” He grinned up at Wayne. “Your momma—she try kill me.”
Wayne held out his hand to his father. “Let me help you up, then I’ll clean this mess. You take a breather.”
“I’ll bring the cake inside,” Paisley offered.
“No need for that,” Jules said. “I appreciate the offer, but we have plenty more plates to proceed with our original plans. Only this time, I’ll carry them.”
“Don’t you think Dad should rest?” Wayne asked.
“Why?” Jules cocked her head.
“He looks tired.” As was starting to be a habit, Wayne caught himself sharing yet another look with Paisley. Call him crazy, but now he was leaning more toward the reality that his prideful father hadn’t told his mom he was dying.
Was he that far into denial?
Or that hopeful he was destined for a miracle?
“His color’s off, but it’s barely eight o’clock. We usually don’t go to bed for hours. Come on, let’s get to the patio. We’ll make a fire in the pit and stargaze and hear all about every detail of your whirlwind romance with Paisley.”
Wayne gulped.
After the shattered glass was swept and more plates gathered and taken outside, a crackling fire was built. With the air fragrant with pinyon smoke, Jules served everyone slices of her decadent cake and then refused to be put off a moment longer.
“I’ve waited long enough. Tell me everything.”
Wayne shared a cushioned wrought iron sofa with Paisley. She’d kicked off her sandals and now leaned against his chest. Every so often, when her storytelling grew animated, her soft hair brushed the underside of his chin. He smelled lilacs in her shampoo and remembered her kissing him with her curtain of long hair wreathing their faces.
The memory of that night was so visceral, he curved his fingers into fists. He had to physically stop himself from losing his grip on reality. This moment of enjoyment. If he took it at face value—the crickets, the stars, what might very well be the last time he bore witness to his parents’ shared laughter—he was terrified of doing something stupid. Like suggesting to Paisley they double down and go all in. Make this sham engagement the real deal. But in the end, no matter how tempting the notion may be for the short term, years later, when she discovered he wasn’t emotionally equipped to give her everything a husband should, she’d only resent him for ever asking.
So Wayne held himself back from stroking her hair. Or tugging it free of its ponytail holder to watch firelight play in the copper waves.
“There we were in this bakery,” Paisley said, “and I hadn’t had a decent appetite in forever, so I was seriously looking forward to a yummy bite of cake. But then this crazy baker says she specializes in fake cakes, then she actually picks up this monstrosity of a tiered cake and tossed it at Wayne.”
Wayne’s mother gasped.
“I know, right?” Paisley laughed. Wayne should have been focused on his father. Catering to his every need, but now, all he could do was think about how once his father had passed, telling his mom the true nature of his relationship with Paisley would only further break her already grief-stricken heart.
“What did you do?” Jules asked, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees in rapt interest.
“I wanted to walk out,” Paisley admitted. “But your son here—” she delivered a sideways jab “—went ahead and rented one. It was a ridiculous-looking thing. Great big cake with dozens of little cacti all over it instead of something more traditional—like roses. Oh—and instead of a bride and groom at the top, there was a giant cowboy hat. I suppose given the right proportions it could have been all right, but this one...” She shook her head. “What’s even funnier...” She continued with the story about how they’d each picked out matching Christmas ornaments that resembled the cake while inside the truck stop.
“I like cowboy cake.” Wayne’s dad slapped the thighs of his jeans from laughing. “My boy have, how you say? Good taste?”
Wayne nodded. He’d had more than enough family togetherness for one night. The gravity of what he and Paisley had done was starting to take a toll.
His parents were already falling hard for the woman they thought would in a few days be their daughter-in-law. Maybe the wisest thing for him to do at this point would be to keep them away from Paisley? No sense in them growing fonder of her when she wouldn’t be a permanent fixture.
His mother howled with laughter. “Paisley, you are the breath of fresh air this house has needed. Really, you’re the answer to my every prayer for our son. Isn’t that right, Peter?”
“Amen,” his father said with a solemn nod. Wiping tears, his father added, “You two make sentimental old man very happy. Me and baby grandson cowboy spend many happy days on this ranch.”
“Now you’ve got me crying,” Jules said with a smiling sob. “Old man, take me to bed before I make a complete fool of myself.”
“Beautiful wife...” Peter stood before gracing her with a formal bow, “...nothing would make me happier.” He held out his hand to her, she accepted, and off they went, giggling like a couple of teens, into the night.
For a good twenty minutes, the only sound aside from the crackling fire, wind high in the pines and crickets was the pounding of Wayne’s pulse.
He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were leading, and needed to talk. As was starting to be his new normal, the only person he could trust was Paisley.
“Hear me out.” Wayne cleared his throat. “I’m going to say something and, at first, you might think it’s out there, but—”
“Let me guess—you don’t think your dad’s quite as sick as he let on?”
“How did you know what I was going to say?” He lurched upright to read her expression, but that left her in need of support, so he shoved a few pillows behind her back.
“Because I’ve been thinking it ever since the dishes were broken. Speaking from experience, that glass would have been everywhere—not in a neat little pile. It looked like he dropped them just close enough to the tile floor to make a loud noise, then lie down—far away, so he wouldn’t get cut.”
Wayne nodded. “I read that whole scene the same.”
“A way bigger issue than that is the fact that your mom seems oblivious to him being sick.”
“Yes.
“For that matter, aside from his dubious complexion, he doesn’t seem remotely under the weather.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Wayne growled. “If I find out he faked this whole thing to manipulate me into—”
“What are you going to do? If he is faking, that’s kind of wonderful, right? I mean, come on? That means your dad’s not dying. And if he’s not? Well, neither of us are cut out to be detectives, but we can come clean about our true situation. We did mean well. Either way, don’t make any moves until after Monica and Logan’s wedding. We don’t want family fireworks to ruin their big day.”
“Agreed.” He stared into the fire. “Now what?”
“We go to bed. Start over again in the morning. Only we’ll have a cast of hundreds to fool.” Paisley raised her arms over her head, stretching and yawning.
Which made Wayne follow suit. “I guess I am tired. Wanna fool around first?”
“No!”
He winked. “I’m messing with you. Testing your resolve. Worth a try. Sex is a proven stress reliever.”
“Uh-huh...whatever!” She tossed a throw pillow at him, but missed. “Playing devil’s advocate, if your dad is sick, but his desire to spend time with his fictional future grandson is so strong that he’s determined to live, what then?”
“Guess I could rent you and lil’ Johnny Wayne for a weekend.”
“Mister, you are just asking for trouble.” She tried lunging, but lucky for him, Paisley had the dexterity of an upside-down turtle.
“Bring it on, sugar. Double dare you.” Had he whispered that last part? He wasn’t sure how it happened, but Wayne found himself leaning over her, bracing one hand on the settee’s back and the other on the armrest. Meanwhile, Paisley’s plump lips were well within kissing range and getting closer all the time.
She opened them just wide enough to dart out her tongue for a slow lick. “I, ah, thought we were headed to bed?”
“I have to tend the fire.”
“Shouldn’t you do that?”
Damn, but his heart was beating hard. “Thought that was what I was doing.”
Because he was a damned fool when it came to anything other than official navy business, Wayne closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers, trying to physically convey the urgency his body had felt every second he’d been near her, yet not touching her, holding her and doing a whole lot of other nifty tricks he’d love to perfect.
“Mmm...” she groaned, shifting he assumed to try making room for him beside her.
He made a valiant effort to recline next to her, but ended up flat on his ass, perilously close to catching his hair on fire.
“That could have gone better.” She covered her mouth to hide a smile, but there was no hiding the twinkle in her eyes.
“You laughing at me?”
“You do look awfully funny.”
“Excuse me for trying to get some. It’s been a long day, and if I don’t have beer, I figured at least I could fill up on—”
“Sex with the desperate pregnant lady?” Shaking her head, even in the dying fire’s dim light, there was no mistaking her slit-eyed look of disappointment. “See you in the morning, Wayne.”
“Paise, wait.” From his resting place on the patio, he reached for her, but anger must have improved her dexterity as she was already up and waddling for the patio door. “You know I was just messing around!” he shouted after her.
The door opened and closed.
Sighing, he gazed up at the stars, clasping his hands over his forehead. What was he doing? He’d come to the ranch steeled for the reality of his father’s looming death, but Paisley had somehow taken center stage. Why couldn’t he keep his mind focused where it needed to be? On his dad?
After dowsing the fire, he paced beneath the stars.
When that did nothing to ease the frustration and confusion simmering in his heart, Wayne sought comfort the only place that made sense...
* * *
“WAYNE?” PAISLEY ROLLED over to find him standing alongside her bed, stripping down to his boxers. Pale moonlight made him even more beautiful, accentuating the hard planes of his shoulders and biceps and abs. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t sleep. Is it okay if I crash with you?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Why?”
“My mind won’t stop racing. When I’m with you...” In the dark, she heard his breath hitch. “I can’t explain how, but everything feels better. Please, let me stay. Promise I won’t try anything. I just need sleep.”
“O-okay.”
Out of her line of sight, she felt him tossing back the sheet and quilt, and climbing in behind her. He snuggled deliciously close, spooning her, with his big hand warming her baby. “Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You did.” She’d be lying if she said being this close to him, with their bare limbs entwined, didn’t create all manner of havoc, resulting in warm heat pooling between her legs. But she was still mad at him for apparently thinking she was easy.
When nothing could be further from the truth.
She could count the number of men she’d been with on one hand, and she’d loved them all.
He snuggled closer, burying his face in her hair, whispering something unintelligible before mere heartbeats later he drifted into a heavy sleep and light snore.
What had he said?
Doughnut weaves lee?
Dunes need meat?
Once her mind solved t
he riddle, Paisley’s eyelids jolted open. Don’t leave me...
On the nightstand, her cell buzzed. Since the caller ID said it was her mother, Paisley ignored it.
* * *
PAISLEY WOKE TO a view that might have been on another world. Thick fog rose from the valley, yet the rising sun bathed emerald pastures and red rock spires in an ethereal glow. In the distance, Mount Rockwell’s crown of snow glistened.
The baby kicked, and she smiled, covering the tender spot with her hand, then turning to Wayne, wanting to share the joyful moment and view. Only Wayne was no longer there.
It was no easy feat to roll over, but sure enough, by the time she accomplished the chore, she found the side of the bed he’d occupied vacant.
Don’t leave me...
What had he meant?
For a sworn bachelor, his request made no sense. But for a man who was lonely and tired and appreciative of the companionship they’d slipped into and the comfort that brings? Yeah, she could see a sort of twisted logic to that.
But for how long?
And how did she guard herself against the same issues?
The more they were together, the more she found herself wanting more. Not acceptable, considering her son deserved the kind of man who wanted a lifelong commitment—not to indefinitely hang out as long as it was fun. Comfortable. What happened when it wasn’t? When challenging times inevitably hit? Sleep deprivation and fevers and juggling a myriad of baby care activities with work?
Paisley forced a deep breath.
A knock sounded on her door. Wayne?
“Good morning—oh yay, you’re up.” Jules entered with a wooden tray. “The guys are already off for a trail ride, so I figured while it’s still quiet around here we could fit in my world-famous homemade cinnamon rolls and girl talk.”
“Mmm... Thank you.” Paisley pushed herself higher in the bed, smoothing her hair back into its ponytail holder. “I could have made it to the kitchen. You didn’t have to go to this trouble.”
Jules waved off Paisley’s concerns. “It’s my pleasure.”
She set the tray on the bedside table. It not only held two saucers with forks and ooey, gooey rolls, but steaming floral cups filled with tea and a vase containing three sweet-smelling lilies.
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