“You’re not allergic, are you? To the flowers?”
“Not at all. They’re lovely. Thanks.”
“The tea is caffeine-free. Peppermint.” Jules distributed the food and drinks, then sat with a smiling sigh in the nearest of a pair of pastel armchairs in front of the window. “Wayne says you’re due in two months?”
“I am.”
“Nervous? Excited? Scared? All of the above?” Wayne’s mom sipped her tea.
“For sure, the last option.” She wished she could truly open up to the kindhearted woman about how terrified she was by the prospect of becoming a single mother. “All of my clients with kids say once they arrive, maternal instincts kick in, and I’ll know what to do.”
“Sort of?” Jules said with a pinched laugh. “I remember telling my mom and grandmother that Peter and I didn’t need any help after leaving the hospital. I’d read stacks of parenting books and thought I knew it all. Well, we weren’t in the apartment above the barn five minutes before Wayne started squalling. Peter and I took one look at each other, and I swear in unison we both blurted to call in the cavalry. My mom and grandmother helped a lot during those first weeks. It was hard, but in the end, when you first hold your sweet baby in your arms... There’s nothing in the world quite like it. Although, I suppose holding my first grandchild will come awfully close.” Jule’s wistful smile broke Paisley’s heart. She didn’t want to carry on this lie a moment longer, and fought a flash of resentment toward Wayne for ever having made her. But that wasn’t fair. She’d volunteered for this mission and was honor bound to see it through.
“Not to change the subject,” Paisley said after finishing her roll, “but is Peter feeling up to being on horseback?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t he be? And what’s with all the questions about his health? He just had his yearly physical last month, and bragged about having better cholesterol and blood pressure marks than me—and I’m five years younger than him.”
“Really?” Oh boy. Guilt consumed her for feeling bad over seriously great news.
Jules set her cup on the whitewashed table between the chairs. “I probably don’t want to know the answer to this, but how about you do me a big favor and let me in on what’s going on?”
“I, um...” Paisley held her teacup up to her mouth. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Sure, you do. Why does my son keep treating his father with kid gloves? And why do you seem as tense as a cat stuck on a tin roof in a lightning storm?”
“That would be a bad spot...” Paisley found a faint smile, before hugging her baby for much-needed strength.
“Paisley, please.” Jules rose from her chair to perch on the edge of the bed, and placed her weathered hand over her own. The sensation was so warm, so unexpected and quintessentially mothering in the sort of way Paisley had never known that she fell a little further under the woman’s spell. “Tell me if there’s something going on between Peter and my son.”
Paisley wanted to come clean, but because she’d promised Wayne that no matter what, she wouldn’t reveal their scheme, Paisley wrapped Jules in a fierce hug, telling the woman the only truth she knew. “When it comes to Wayne and his dad, all I can tell you is that they share a very special bond.”
One I pray lasts a whole lot longer...
Chapter Nine
“Have you ever seen a more gorgeous place?” Amid workers scurrying to set up tables and chairs, Monica tossed her white straw hat into the clear mountain air, spinning in slow motion with her long, dark hair streaming behind her as if she were in a shampoo commercial. If Paisley didn’t love her so much, she’d have thrown up a little in her mouth.
“It’s a spectacular setting for a wedding.” Paisley gave her in-need-of-a-wash ponytail a self-conscious tug. Why hadn’t she put on her new cowboy hat before leaving her room? At least her feet felt comfy in her boots. “Where’s Logan?”
“Where do you think? He and Wayne took off on horses. I’ve never seen two grown men who are more inseparable.” Hands on her hips, Monica shook her head. “There are SEALs flying in from all over the country. One thing’s for sure, I should have the safest guests of any bride on the planet.”
“True.” It felt good to laugh, but in the back of her mind there was always the truth of why she was here. For Peter. The thought was as tragic as it was inconceivable. She honestly hoped he was faking. The fallout from that would be far less tragic than him dying.
She swallowed the instant knot in her throat.
Standing between the century-old barn and the hacienda ranch house, Paisley could all too easily see herself and her baby boy living out their happily-ever-after on this magical place.
He’d get such a kick out of the horses and cattle and off-key rooster that hadn’t quite gotten the memo that the sun had risen a few hours earlier. Was the bull snorting at every worker hustling past his wooden fence the famous Bruce?
The fact that her son would never see any of this made her even more sad.
“Aw, Paise...” Monica rushed toward her for a hug. “What’s wrong? You can’t be pouty when we’re shopping for your dress. The guys should be back soon. Maybe we should see if Jules wants to tag along?”
“No! Sorry to snap, but the last thing I want is for poor Jules to be any more disappointed when she learns the truth. I’m stunned Peter hasn’t told her he’s sick.”
“Not cool.”
“I know, right? When I think about sweet Jules running this massive place all by herself...” Paisley shook her head, too overcome with pregnancy hormones to even try explaining how awful she’d felt earlier about essentially lying to Jules.
Monica led her to a wooden bench beneath a live oak. Even the tree was perfect. And the bench. “Jules & Peter” had been carved into the backrest’s upper rung, along with the date of their wedding anniversary.
Paisley cried harder.
“You’re freaking me out. Sit.” Monica gave her a gentle nudge onto the seat. “Since I’m in all white, I’ll stand. But quit blubbering and tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’re a horrible friend. I’m not blubbering. A-and you try carrying Dr. Dirtbag’s baby all by yourself—it’s not a piece of cake.” She stopped her rant long enough to blow her nose on the tissue Monica had found in her white Chanel purse. “I’m starving, though. And would love a piece of cake.”
Monica laughed. “Honey, we’ll get you a whole cake. Now, take some deep breaths, and then tell me what’s wrong.”
“F-for starters, Wayne and I kissed.”
“Really? I need details...”
“I-it was wonderful. For me, at least. But I don’t think he l-liked it. And now that I’ve seen how amazing this place is, I can’t stop wondering what it might be like if Wayne wanted me for real. But that’s just silly, since I’m not his type.”
“Stop.” Hands on her hips, Monica frowned. “That’s crazy talk. You’re pretty and smart and supersweet—any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Y-you’re just saying that to be nice.”
“You know me better than that. I always tell the truth. You, my angel—” Monica kissed the top of her head “—are a saint. Wayne would be lucky to have you. And with all this kissing going on, who knows? Maybe you two will get married for real? Stranger things could happen.”
Paisley snorted. “I have more faith in a pending alien invasion than Wayne ever deciding he’s ready for a real marriage.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “You’re hangry. Come on, my mom and Grandma Lucy are having mimosas and hors d’oeuvres in my room. You’ll feel better after a snack.”
Paisley nodded, then shook her head. “Let me get Jules. Spending quality time with her might make me feel less guilty about how bad she’ll soon be hurting.”
“Logan says she’s like a second mom to him. He loves her. I hope he’s as close to my mom.�
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“He will be.” Paisley pressed the tissue to her eyes, then tried rocking off the bench and onto her feet. Not only was this development embarrassing, but alarming. She prided herself on self-sufficiency, and when she couldn’t manage the simple task of getting up from a bench without a forklift, that was a problem. “I hate this,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Being pregnant?” Monica held out her hands.
“Yes. Of course, I already love my baby, but I’m ready for him to pop out already. I’m tired of being weepy and sore and having indigestion and—Listen to me. I’m such a brat.” With help from her friend, Paisley finally made it onto her feet where Monica pulled her into another hug.
“Everything’s going to be okay. We’re both getting married tomorrow—well, you’re at least sort-of getting married—but regardless, our babies will grow up being best friends.”
“Wait—” Paisley drew back. “You’re...” Tearing all over again, she pointed toward Monica’s ridiculously flat tummy. “How far along are you?”
“Only a few weeks. You’re the first one besides Logan I’ve told. But stop being a depressing pregnant lady, because with all the activities we have planned between now and tomorrow night, I can’t be constantly redoing my makeup because of tears.”
Laughing, crying, Paisley nodded.
How was it possible to be so happy for her dear friend, yet so sad and scared for herself? The worst part was, she didn’t fully understand why. She’d been independent for a long time. Why was she flipping out now?
Probably in large part because ever since she and Wayne had launched their fake engagement, he’d been helpful and attentive and showered her with the sort of male perfection she’d only ever seen in magazine articles or her fertile imagination.
He was amazing. But he also wasn’t really hers.
Her heart struggled to make the distinction.
* * *
WAYNE WANTED—NO, NEEDED—to talk to Paisley, but Monica and Logan’s wedding mayhem was seriously screwing any chance of him getting alone time.
He and his father hadn’t spoken since their time on the trail. Judging by the way he hunched in his saddle, something for sure wasn’t right. Peter took tremendous pride in sitting tall on his horse. Since then, his dad had been slow moving with unsaddling the horses and getting them brushed and fed. But after a brief rest, he’d seemed in his element while showing off his prized ancient barn and award-winning cattle breeding operation to the men in Monica’s family.
As soon as Logan arrived, Wayne had hit the trail again with a fresh mount.
Logan and his father, Keith—a retired fire chief from North Carolina—couldn’t get enough majestic western scenery.
According to Logan, that afternoon he and Monica were supposed to take Paisley to get her wedding dress. After which, Monica had a full schedule for Paisley and all the other women in attendance—massages and manicures and pedicures. Anyway, he was glad Paisley was being pampered. She deserved it.
After his second ride of the day and caring for the horses, Wayne was wiped.
Too bad for him that Paisley and Monica waited just outside the barn for him and Logan, pouncing as soon as they exited.
“It’s about time,” Monica said. “Geez, Wayne, do you expect your bride to meet you at the altar in her pj’s?”
“Lay off him,” Logan said. “He’s had a rough day.”
“So have I. And think of poor Paise who’s hours from her pretend wedding day and still has no dress.”
“Sorry.” Wayne draped his arms over Paisley’s shoulders, drawing her close to kiss her cheek. “Let me grab my truck keys, then we’ll go. I know the perfect place.”
“No truck,” Monica said. “I’ve got a limo standing by.” She pointed toward the white stretch model that Bruce the bull stared down as if it wasn’t sure whether he wanted to attack it or make sweet bull love to it.
Wayne balked. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous we’re going to look pulling up to the Pine Ridge Thrift Emporium in that?”
“Wait a second—you’re buying Paisley her wedding gown at a thrift store? I thought you had something nicer in mind, or I would have taken her back in San Diego.”
“Sorry. I had a lot on my mind. She’ll find a great dress at the thrift store.”
“Over my dead and bloated body.”
“That could be arranged,” Wayne mumbled under his breath.
“Watch it,” Logan said with a growl. “Surely, there’s a nice dress shop around?”
“Not unless you want to head to Phoenix?”
“How far is that?” Monica asked.
Wayne shrugged. “It’s a good ways down the road. Like a few hours.”
“Please, quit bickering,” Paisley said. “A thrift store dress is fine. It’s not like it’s going to be a treasured keepsake.”
“But it could be,” Monica pointed out. “If a certain someone would take his head out his derriere long enough to—”
“That’s enough out of both of you.” Logan led his bride-to-be toward the waiting limo. “Paisley, I’m sorry your special dress shopping outing has turned into a pissing war between these two, but we’ll make it better.” He held open the limo’s rear door for her.
Wayne brushed aside his supposed best friend. “I’ll get her door. And for the record, this thrift shop is awesome. You’ll love it.”
The condemning stares of his fake fiancée, his supposed best friend and Monica left Wayne doubting his words...
* * *
WITH HELP FROM Wayne and Logan, Paisley managed to squeeze into the massive vehicle. The white leather seats formed a horseshoe with Monica and Logan seated nearest the driver, and Paisley and Wayne facing forward from the rear. The roof had been outfitted with tiny lights that twinkled to the beat of Monica’s country love song playlist.
It was hard watching true love play out before her. Monica and Logan shared the sort of real commitment Paisley had always wanted. In no way did she begrudge them their happiness. She just felt a sad twinge for herself and her son for the fact that he would most likely grow up without a father.
When Monica and Logan embarked on a make-out session, Paisley forced herself to look away. Clearing her throat, she asked Wayne, “How was your ride with your dad?”
“Good. But bittersweet. I could tell he wasn’t feeling his best. It made me feel better about our sham. Mom won’t like it, but for Dad, we’re giving him the ultimate gift. After our ride, I don’t think he’s faking.” His voice shook as he said, “I’m not ready to lose him.” He took her hand, smoothing his thumb over her palm, in the process flooding her with an achy warmth that had less to do with physical awareness, but the sort of soul-deep, lifelong connection she craved. “Thank you for being here for me. I don’t deserve you.”
“I—I’m glad to help.”
“Being back on the land was a treat.” Still holding her hand, he leaned his head back and sighed. “Big skies. Views for miles. I want to get you on a horse.”
“You do know I can’t ride?”
“Well, sure, maybe not now, but eventually.”
“I don’t mean to be cruel, but once your dad passes, I probably won’t be back to your ranch.”
A shadow passed over his handsome features. Was it possible the realization of their pending separation made him as sad as it did her?
For the remainder of the trip, while Logan and Monica smooched and whispered and giggled, Paisley pretended all was right in her world. She pretended Wayne’s sudden brooding silence didn’t bother her and that she’d always dreamed of finding her wedding gown in a thrift store. But, then, what did it matter? This was just a dress—nothing meant to last a lifetime. Just like her pretend relationship with the man still holding her hand.
“You okay?” she finally asked.
“Sure. Just tired.” H
e glanced her way. When their gazes met, the collision of their connection was enough to force her to look away. How was it possible that for years they’d been friends, yet only now did she feel as if she was truly seeing him?
“I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“If the ranch is your happy place, what in the world are you doing in San Diego?”
He released her hand.
“Never mind.” The sudden stern set of Wayne’s expression told Paisley her question struck a nerve. “It’s none of my business.”
“No. Considering we’re supposed to be married, it’s fair game.” He rubbed his forehead. “The truth is that I didn’t know what I had till it was gone. Don’t get me wrong—I love being in the navy, but I’d be lying if I told you I don’t miss my family and the feel of dirt beneath my boots.”
“Why not retire? I’m sure after your dad passes, your mom could use your help.”
Lips pressed in a grim line, he nodded.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. Wedding dress shopping should be fun.” Hoping to restore their usual lighthearted banter, she flashed a smile.
“It’s cool.”
That was the last cryptic thing he said for the thirty minutes it took to bump over the remainder of the ranch’s dirt road.
On smooth blacktop, with Monica and Logan deep in their own cozy world, Paisley said, “If we’re going to do this—make a convincing couple for your parents—I can’t deal with you going silent. I understand what you’re facing with your dad is beyond heavy, but I’ve got my own issues.” Out of habit, she pressed her palms to her baby.
“Sorry. My head is exploding.”
“Did you take something? I would usually have ibuprofen in my purse, but with the baby—”
“Thanks, but it’s not the kind of pain a few pills can manage. I’m screwed up in here.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “Part of me wants to ask my CO for emergency leave, but another part doesn’t want to let down my team—which must sound ridiculous to an outsider, but my teammates are my brothers. I love them every bit as much as my family. I can’t let them down.”
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