Cowboy SEAL Daddy

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Don’t you think they’d understand?”

  He ran his fingers along a seam in the seat’s upholstery. “I’m sure they would. It’s just complicated.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said with a half smile. “But maybe that’s why fate brought us together? You help me with grocery runs and finding my shoes. I help you sort the complexities of being there for everyone you love.”

  “Paisley Carter...” He arched his head back and sighed, then fixed her with a magnetic stare she was incapable of escaping. He reached out to her, trailed his fingers over her jaw. His touch was innocent, yet erotic. Ordinary, yet inexplicably complex. “One day you are going to make some lucky SOB an amazing wife.” He took her hand in his, bonding them, palm against palm. The simple gesture resulted in a tightening in Paisley’s chest, as well as a swelling knot in her throat.

  Paisley wasn’t sure how to respond.

  With Dr. Dirtbag, she’d had her life planned down to Saturday morning treks to the farmer’s market and spending rainy Sundays in bed. His rejection made her feel no more valuable than roadside litter. The fact that Wayne temporarily found her of value upped her status from mere garbage to a recycled good, but she’d only be useful until his father’s passing. Sure, she was doing Wayne a favor, but it was proving surprisingly tough on her self-esteem. She’d already been discarded by her parents; was she mentally tough enough to carry on the tradition by being tossed by a second man?

  During the final ten minutes to Pine Ridge, she was the silent one.

  The population sign boasted 853, but she was dubious as to where those citizens might be. The place was as empty as a ghost town. There was only one road, flanked on either side by an assortment of businesses, including competing beauty parlors, a drugstore, a diner and Realtor. The structures were a ragtag mix of adobe and faded wood. But flower boxes brimming with yellow blooms the gardener wannabe in her thought were called Blue Haze Spurge made for an overall cohesive and welcoming look. Weathered blond brick sidewalks looked as if they’d been there a hundred years, as did the black wrought iron gaslights.

  After a brief pause at the lone stoplight, they were rolling again. A trio of little boys caught sight of the flashy car and tore off down the sidewalk, their frowning mother running after them.

  Paisley hugged her baby bump, dreaming of the day her boy was big enough to run and play and picture himself riding in a fancy car.

  The limo slowed before turning into the lot of a cement block behemoth of a store.

  Monica gaped out her window. “No, no, no. Are you seriously taking my best friend wedding dress shopping in a repurposed grocery store?”

  “It’s okay.” Paisley swallowed the knot in her throat—not because she didn’t enjoy a great thrift store find, but because she wished for more of an authentic wedding experience. A beautiful boutique like the one where Monica found her gown. A mother weeping with joy. Saleswomen pouring champagne and parading her in front of mirrors. Most of all, Paisley wanted the real man—the real love—all of that pomp implied. “This is for Peter. He’ll never know where we found my dress. What matters is that our marriage brought him peace.”

  “You’re a better person than me,” Monica said.

  “True,” Wayne quipped.

  “Watch it,” Logan warned. “Kindly be respectful to my bride.”

  “You mean your pit bull?”

  Logan laughed.

  Monica smacked him.

  “Sorry, babe.” He thoroughly kissed her. “You can be fierce.”

  After another glare at Wayne, she said to Logan, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” To Paisley she asked, “Sweetie, are you sure this is what you want?”

  Of course not!

  But she’d promised Wayne, so Paisley nodded.

  Once the limo driver turned off the engine, then rounded the vehicle to open the rear door, they all piled out to stand on a cracked and stained concrete lot. The day was sunny with an annoying wind. Wayne’s family ranch was nestled into the mountains, but the town was located on a lonely stretch of desert land that had more rusty-red sand than green anything.

  Wayne asked, “Ready to find you the perfect dress?”

  She winced. “I suppose.”

  He squeezed her hand, infusing her with a restless, achy yearning to one day be a real bride who wasn’t just needed, but thoroughly loved and cherished.

  For now, she’d have to settle for being a real friend.

  Presumably to keep her from tripping on the uneven pavement, Wayne slipped his arm around her waist. To onlookers, she supposed they appeared like a happy couple. In her heart, she felt like an imposter. Never had she been more keenly aware of how deeply she longed for a true companion for herself and father for her baby.

  Chapter Ten

  For the moment in time when Wayne left her to open the door of the converted former grocery store, Paisley felt ridiculously bereft without him.

  What was she doing here?

  How had her life gotten so out of control?

  The enormous space featured row upon row of clothes, books, household goods and furniture. Reggae played over the intercom and hand-drawn signs hung from the ceiling, declaring this week’s special—in celebration of Beach Week, all items with green and blue tags were 50 percent off.

  She’d be hard-pressed to imagine a place more removed from the shore.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find you a bargain gown,” Wayne said.

  “Great.” She blew him an acid kiss. “Not only do I have a fake fiancé, but he’s cheap.”

  “I’m saving up for our imaginary honeymoon.”

  “Uh-huh...” While Monica and Logan veered toward a vintage jewelry display, Paisley waddled to the women’s clothing section where she found a surprisingly great selection of gowns. From simple to elaborate, beaded or lacy or both, surely, she’d find something that worked.

  “What kind of style were you thinking?” Wayne asked. He pulled a white sequined number with peekaboo cutouts at the belly and lower back. “How about this? Your baby bump could stick out the hole.”

  She hoped her slit-eyed glare conveyed the full depth of her distaste for his ridiculous suggestion.

  “It could be the perfect solution,” he persisted.

  “Keep it up. You’ll be needing a good divorce attorney.”

  “Ouch.” He clutched his chest, but returned the offensive garment to the rack from whence it came.

  She swiped through dozens of gowns—white and ivory, satin and velvet and a shockingly ugly tan corduroy number that was so tacky it would have made for an awesome Halloween-or ’60s-themed party costume. Gown after gown just didn’t seem right. Too long or too short sleeves. Too many beads or not enough. Was she being too choosy for a dress that would only be worn to a pretend ceremony?

  “Got it,” Wayne announced from behind her. His radiant heat did little to soothe her already frayed nerves. “Close your eyes.”

  “Really?” She didn’t even want to imagine the horror of what he was no doubt on the verge of showing her.

  “Yes. Do it.”

  More because she knew he’d never shut up if she didn’t, Paisley squeezed her eyes shut. Cutting off her vision heightened her other senses. When he stepped around her, a whisper of warm air caressed her forearms and heated cheeks. She smelled his faint citrus aftershave. From somewhere nearby a little girl giggled and for a crazy instant, she wondered if the noise had come from the childlike hope in her heart for this to one day be real. Shopping for the perfect wedding dress with her perfect fiancé.

  “Open them.”

  She did. And then opened her mouth, only to quickly close it, swallowing the knot lurking at the back of her throat. He’d done it—found her the perfect gown. The gown she might have chosen even if she weren’t as big as a house or shopping in a thrift store.

>   “Well?” He wagged the garment on its hanger. “What do you think?” The empire waist vision featured a boat neck with three-quarter sleeves. Thick brushed satin fabric made it feel rich. The vintage lace and crystal belt that would ride above her baby bump made it appear custom-made for her very pregnant body. “I like how it’s elegant and not over-the-top. It suits you. It’s simple, yet refined.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He busted out laughing. “Sorry. I’m pretty sure I heard that line on a luxury car commercial, but it also seems fitting for this occasion. Try it on.”

  She snatched it from him, walking in her awkward gait toward a bank of dressing cubicles.

  “Need help?” he asked, hot on her trail.

  “I don’t think so. But you’ll be first on my list if I do.”

  “Cool.” He sat on a blue plaid recliner that was marked $39.99. “This is a pretty good deal. Think I should grab it for my apartment?”

  “Absolutely. Especially since I won’t be living there.” She ducked into the dressing room without catching his reaction.

  Even with the door closed behind her, the opening at the bottom left her feeling exposed. She’d worn her stupid hot pink capris again—mostly because anything else that fit was dirty. Monica’s extreme dislike for them made Paisley wonder what Wayne thought. Was he out there now, judging the size of her cankles from his new recliner?

  She managed to get undressed on her own, placing her voluminous pale pink maternity top on a bench beside the offensive capris.

  With the wedding gown off the hanger, she was pleased to find the zipper opened low enough for her to step into the garment. She pulled it up and was more than a little thrilled to find the romantic rhinestone belt riding perfectly atop her bump. The bodice hugged her breasts in the right places and the long sleeves hid the jiggly parts of her upper arms. She managed to get the zipper almost up, but then couldn’t reach the rest of the way around.

  “How’s it going?” Wayne asked. His voice sounded muffled through the door.

  She cracked it open. “Could you please finish zipping me?”

  “Absolutely.” He was up in a flash.

  She turned her back to him. Some silly part of her didn’t want him seeing her until the gown was fully in place. It wasn’t a matter of him seeing skin, but vanity. She wanted him to catch the full effect of the heartbreakingly pretty gown. She wanted to see if he’d notice her as a woman? Or merely his giant pregnant neighbor who was doing him a solid?

  When he trailed the backs of his fingers along her spine, she shivered.

  “Cold?”

  Too hot. They’d been friends for years. Why now all of the sudden was his every touch launching fireflies in her tummy? It was downright embarrassing.

  “All set. Turn around so I get the full vision.”

  “I will, but just a minute.” She pushed him back just far enough to shut the door in his face, then took a moment to fuss with her hair. She fumbled through her purse to add lipstick and fresh powder. When she next looked at herself, for once in a very long while, she liked the woman staring back. Maybe it was the heightened color her awareness for Wayne had raised in her cheeks, but she really did look like a blushing bride.

  Even by Monica’s demanding standards, this dress was Instagram worthy.

  Wayne pounded on the door. “I wanna see.”

  She forced a smile, then faced him, holding her breath, wanting, wishing, aching for his reaction to be anything other than—

  “Cool. It fits. Now we need to find you one of those veil things and a bouquet. Want real flowers or will this do?” He reached behind him to the table next to his recliner, then handed her a ghastly silk floral bouquet that looked as if it had been made to match that corduroy dress.

  “My florist already made her a legit one.” Hands on her hips, Monica cast Wayne her trademark glare. “Sweetie, I can’t believe I’m saying this about a thrift store wedding dress, but you look stunning. Just—wow.”

  “Thank you.” Paisley hugged her friend, grateful for the second positive opinion, but it wasn’t enough. Ridiculously, it was Wayne’s approval she sought.

  “Monica, have your people send me the bill.” He made a spinning motion to Paisley. “Let me get the zipper for you. Then, while you’re dressing, I’ll find someone to ask if they can hold the recliner till I can get back with my truck.”

  “You’re actually buying it?”

  “You think I shouldn’t? It’s a steal.” He’d already turned his back on her.

  “Wayne...” She held her breath. Say something! Anything! About me—not your stupid recliner.

  “Yeah?”

  “Nothing.” Why did her throat ache from the effort of holding back tears? He wasn’t worth them.

  “You sure? You look flushed.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Cool. Logan and I will meet you two at the checkout.”

  Once again ensconced in the dressing room, Paisley forced herself and her stupid hormones not to cry. Cool? The only word he could think of to sum up her beautiful gown and their swiftly approaching nuptials was cool?

  Her stupid cell rang. Why wouldn’t her mom stop? Lord knew, Paisley had enough on her plate in dealing with her uncertain future. No way was she emotionally equipped to tackle her rocky past.

  She stepped out of the garment and hastily redressed in her work clothes.

  “Need help?” Monica asked from outside the cramped space.

  “No, thank you.”

  “If you do need me, I’ll be in kitchenware. Don’t tell Wayne I said this, but they have some incredible deals on vintage silver serving platters and candleholders. I want to grab polish and do before and after shots for an Instagram story.”

  “Perfect. I’ll meet you over there.”

  Could this afternoon get any worse?

  Honestly, what had she expected? For Wayne to catch one look at her in the surprisingly dreamy dress and declare his eternal love? She of all people ought to know relationships didn’t work that way.

  In fact, for her? They never worked that way.

  She had to face it, no matter how badly she wanted to marry and settle down, the only guy in her future would be her son.

  * * *

  DAMN.

  If someone had told Wayne he would be turned on by a pregnant lady in a wedding dress, he’d have told them they were three grenades shy of a full crate. Then he’d caught his first sight of Paisley in a wedding dress—his pick, no less—and all bets were off. He’d always thought she was pretty, but in that fancy number, she’d sported an ethereal glow.

  She was an angel—his angel.

  By the time he’d found a clerk to call for backup on his recliner, Wayne had discreetly adjusted his fly and reprimanded himself for wondering about pretend honeymoon logistics. Just in case, maybe he needed to Google pregnant lady sex positions?

  Get your head out of the gutter!

  His conscience snapped him back to reality.

  This was Paisley he was talking about. And he was done thinking of her in any way other than strictly platonic. She and her baby deserved a real husband, and that was something he’d never again be.

  He caught sight of her zigzagging around the obstacle course of other shoppers while trying to keep her dress’s hem from touching the ground. A protective streak propelled him into action.

  “Let me get that.” He took the garment from her.

  “Whew. Thanks. Who would have guessed a few yards of fabric and sparkle weigh a ton?”

  “No kidding, right?” The gown might as well have been made of tissue. He settled it in the crook of his right arm. His left arm he eased around her shoulders, steering her toward the checkout line, telling himself it was common courtesy bringing out the gentleman in him as opposed to the proprietary notion that if they’d met in an
other time or place, she might be carrying his baby. The thought was at first exhilarating, then terrifying. How much worse could the mess with Chelsea have been if they’d had a child?

  Wayne paid for the dress, decided now probably wasn’t the best time to buy a recliner, then pitched in to help Logan haul all of Monica’s finds to the limo.

  “Have something to say to me?” he asked her once the trunk was closed.

  “Nope.” She ducked into the vehicle’s open rear door.

  “Monica, come on,” Logan defended his friend. “Wayne did pull through with this place.”

  “True. Wish it was back in San Diego. Some of that silver was pretty enough I felt guilty for paying so little—especially, when this is a nonprofit charity to support kids.”

  “So what was it want to say to me?” Wayne badgered.

  “Sorry,” Monica said to Wayne with a begrudging tone. “You were right. But for the record, you got lucky on the dress.”

  “See?” Logan kissed his bride. “This is great. My two best friends on the planet finally getting along. It’s the wedding gift I’ve always wanted.”

  When Wayne and Monica both growled, Paisley laughed. It kinda pissed him off that she wasn’t on his side.

  But then she fell asleep on the ride home, resting her head on his shoulder, sweetly snoring and smelling of lilacs. How could he stay mad when all he wanted to do was protect her and keep her comfortable and happy—all highly conflicting emotions for a guy embarking on a fake marriage.

  By the time they reached the ranch, Monica swept Paisley off to prepare for the wedding rehearsal.

  While grabbing a quick shower, prepping himself for a night of more pretending and lies, Wayne found himself dreading everything to come aside from being with Paisley. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what an incredibly special woman she was to have gone along with this charade.

  Heading over to the barn, he waited to walk with his dad. His mom had gone early to get all dolled up with the other women.