Single Dad’s Fake Fiancée: A Cowboy Romance

by King, Imani

  I snatch the book back from her. “Wait, I thought he was the evil one. She can’t fall in love with him.”

  “Well, she falls in love with the good twin when he shows up!”

  “And just ditches the evil twin like he was nothing? I guess that’s why he’s evil.”

  “No, his father tried to kill him when he was a boy. That’s why he’s evil. The heroine’s rejection probably didn’t help, though.” She pats my leg. “Anyways, you should read this. It’ll be good research for you.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Tachell, you have amnesia.”

  Suddenly, I wonder if it was really Sondra who got hit in the head. “Yeah. I have a medical condition, not a plot point.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know, girl. You knocked your head and woke up pregnant and with a billionaire fiance.”

  I feel my cheeks burning. “Preston hasn’t even visited me since that first day.”

  She cocks her head to the side. “And he didn’t leave your side while you were asleep.”

  I start fussing with the bed sheet. “Well…I just don’t think I should read much into it.”

  “Fine. But I think you can read something into the bouquets of lavender he sends every day.”

  I glance at the most recent bouquet before I can stop myself. White roses and snowdrops are surrounded by lavender and seated in a crystal vase. Every time I shut my eyes, a clear and soothing scent fills my senses. My body knows it means something to me, my mind just hasn’t realized it yet.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “He’s not my fiance! I rejected him, remember?”

  “Yeah, but if he asked you again, I bet you’d say yes.”

  She had me there.

  “I’m tellin’ you, you should read them,” she says as she heads for the door. “Because there is a lesson contained in all of those books that you’re gonna have to learn.”

  “And what gold nugget of wisdom is that?”

  She looks back at me, eyes pensive and weary. “That you have secrets, ones that only you know. And when you remember them, it will change everything.”

  ***

  Finally, it was time to be discharged. I expected to walk down the hall, get in a car, and go home with Sondra (who, apparently, was my roommate in addition to being my best friend) and my mother (who had decided to stay and take care of me until I got back on my feet—my father, unfortunately, had to go back to work).

  I did not expect a sea of cameras and news anchors plunging microphones in my face.

  How did you meet Mr. Easterbrook?

  Is it true you are childhood friends?

  When he proposed, did you say yes or no?

  Are you pregnant?

  How do you know the baby is his?

  My ears ring with chatter and I have to close my eyes to drown out all the flashing lights. All of this would have been unbearable if it hadn’t been for the personal army of bodyguards Preston had hired to escort me. The head bodyguard had told me Preston didn’t come because he didn’t want to attract more attention. I honestly don’t think I would have noticed.

  I slide into the back of the limo. My mom and Sondra follow close behind.

  Mom slams the door shut. “Well. That’s something I hope we don’t have to get used to.”

  “So that isn’t normal?” I ask, relieved.

  “No.” My mom puts her hand on my shoulder. “But it is probably normal for whoever is dating Preston.”

  Oh.

  I shut my eyes, leaning back into the seat and hold my belly. I had a feeling my unborn child was going to live a very interesting, flamboyant life regardless of what I did.

  What had I gotten us into?

  ***

  I watch mom wipe down the counter, buffing it until it shines. She’d already made me an amazing dinner. According to her it was my favorite, and I’d scarfed it down so fast I didn’t doubt it.

  “Something wrong, Tachell?” she asks without turning around.

  I know better than to lie to her. “How can you tell? I didn’t even say anything.”

  She looks over her shoulder, smiling. “You can’t hide anything from me. I’m your mother.”

  “So you know me pretty well, huh?”

  “Well enough to know that you don’t hang around the kitchen after dinner is over unless you have something on your mind.”

  I sigh, leaning forward. “Mom…did you ever worry about the future when you were pregnant.”

  She chortles, dropping her cloth. “Are you pulling my leg?”

  “I guess that is a stupid question. I’m just…a little worried.”

  “That’s normal,” she tells me, resuming her wiping. “It doesn’t matter if you’re an heiress or a pauper, a woman focused on her career or a housewife. Nothing can prepare you for being pregnant and becoming a mother but the event itself.”

  “That doesn’t actually make me feel better.”

  She sets down her cloth and sits beside me, smiling. “Your father and I thought we were prepared, but pregnancy altered our lives pretty much from the beginning. First, it was getting used to morning sickness. The sudden smell of bacon, smoky grills and sometimes heavy scented cheeses, like Roquefort and Camembert had me running for the bathroom. But that was just the first few months. Then everything settles down. Oh, I just remembered. My hormones were flooding through me. I was weepy one moment and outraged the next. Your father said he got through it by pretending he was an amateur meteorologist. He got pretty good at predicting when my moods would erupt into a storm. Funny guy.”

  I can’t help but laugh at my dad’s lame sense of humor. “I think you mean cheesy guy.”

  “Hey, your father may be cheesy, but he was always there for me. Do you know that some men simply will not change a diaper? I was completely spoiled. Having you two really showed me what a gem I had in my husband.”

  I glance down at the gleaming counter. I wonder what kind of father Preston will be. It’s hard for me to think of him changing a diaper. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know how much he’d want to be involved in his child’s life. What if he didn’t want anything to do with it?

  I take a deep breath.

  Then I’ll do it myself.

  I was surprised at my determination and decisiveness. I was even more surprised to realize that there was no bitterness in my resolve. Where had all of this strength come from?

  I glance back at my mother. She traces the side of my face, smiling. “You’ll be a great mother. I remember you taking care of Reggie when you were only three years old. I remember you came running to me when Reggie had eaten sand. You were so concerned that you tried to telephone the doctor yourself when we refused to take him to the doctor.”

  I giggle despite myself. “I did not.”

  “You did too, and I couldn’t have been more proud. I immediately thought, this girl has a great capacity for love, and even more than that, she takes care of her own. I know that you don’t know yourself right now, Tachell, but you can trust your heart because it is good.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, throat tight.

  My mother gets up from her seat. “Now, you run off to bed. Tomorrow is your first day back, and it’s gonna be a good day. I’m going to finish up here and then get some rest myself. Goodnight, baby.”

  I gulp as a warm, wonderful ache fills my chest. “Goodnight.”

  Chapter 36

  I stab at my scrambled eggs and glare at the paper.

  PRESTON EASTERBROOK’S RELUCTANT, PREGNANT BRIDE

  Lord, what drivel. I roll my eyes like I haven’t read the stupid thing at least three times.

  Okay. Maybe it was more like ten but who was counting? Not me!

  “Give it a rest, Tachell,” my mother calls from the kitchen.

  I cross my arms over my chest and turn to Sondra. “How does she know?”

  “She’s your mother. It’s her job to know.”

  “I guess but…it’s uncanny.” />
  “Hey, you do not mess with the bond between mother and child. It’s sacred, and like many sacred things, it’s some seriously powerful shit.”

  I adjust my grip on my fork and glance at the article. Stupid magazine…

  Immediately, I hear a voice from the kitchen. “Tachell, eat those eggs before they get cold!”

  I drop my fork. “Alright. She’s psychic.”

  “I’m not psychic, I’m your mother.”

  I jolt up in my seat to find my mother standing right beside me. Damn, could she teleport too?

  “Now, I’m doing this for your own good girl,” my mother says as she grabs the paper and rolls it up.

  “Hey, I was reading that!”

  She shakes her head, chuckling. “You’ve read it many times already, honey. You’re not gonna find new words in there.”

  “That’s a good point,” Sondra says with a mouth full of egg.

  “That doesn’t matter! It’s about me!” I explain, reaching for the paper.

  My mom holds it just out of my reach. “That’s where you’re wrong. This article’s not about you. It’s about selling newspapers. They’ll say anything.”

  I pout. “So I didn’t charge headfirst like a bull into a wall of paparazzi to get away from the fantastically handsome billionaire who’d just proposed to me?”

  “I wasn’t there, so I can’t say what you did or didn’t do,” my mother continues slowly, “but I know that whatever you did, you were true to yourself.”

  “Wow, way to evade the question mom!” Sondra declares with approval.

  My mother scowls in her direction. “Stop talking with your mouth full, and you,” she says, turning to me, “finish your eggs before they get cold.”

  I sigh. “Yes, mama.”

  I know it’s just scrambled eggs, but these are really good. And they’ll give me lots of energy for today. Apparently. I’ll probably need it. I had a bad feeling that that wouldn’t be my first run-in with the paparazzi.

  I shake my head in disgust. “What kind of person writes stuff like that?”

  “Vultures,” Sondra replies—after she swallows her food. No one gets away with disobeying my mama. “And unfortunately, you’re the newest strip of rancid meat.”

  “Nice metaphor.”

  “Hey, it’s accurate. And at least those headlines are better than the ones in The Rooster.”

  “The Rooster?”

  “So named because they ‘Give People a Wake-Up Call!” Sondra explains. “It’s a conspiracy theory tabloid.”

  “Do I even want to know?”

  Her lip twitches as she leans over. “Tachell, your future husband is an alien and your baby is half lizard.”

  My fork clatters to my plate. “What?”

  “Yep. And it teleports out of your womb at night and messes with the stock market.”

  “Well, I think the baby gets its teleportation powers from grandma, not the aliens.”

  Sondra laughs. “Yeah, well, the source of the powers doesn’t matter. What matters is your baby will become the new dark lord in charge of the lizard cabal. Oh, you don’t know about the lizard cabal? They run everything. However, no one knows, because they have mind control powers. But if you wear special sunglasses, you’ll be able to see the truth. Or maybe that was the plot of a movie?” She drums her fingers on the table. “Damn, what movie was that?”

  I start laughing. Sure, Sondra could be intensely weird at times, but I’d found myself in an intensely weird situation and I needed to somehow take the edge off. “Sorry, I have no idea what movie it was. You’re asking the wrong person.”

  “Oh, right. Amnesia.” She snaps her fingers. “It was definitely a B movie. I’m thinking late eighties, early nineties. We watched it together, and you totally liked it. There’s an infamous line in there about bubblegum. When I remember the damn name, I’m getting it and we’re watching it together.”

  I can’t help but laugh again. “So the baby I’m having now was prophesied in B movie over two decades ago? That is impressive.”

  “Yep. That’s just the kind of shit that goes down when you marry into the Illuminati.” She leans forward and whispers, “beware of triangles today on your date.”

  I feel my cheeks warm up. Not because she mentioned triangles (who the hell cares about triangles?) but because she’s making whatever this is with Preston seem really serious.

  I don’t think the thing with Preston is serious.

  However, I also don’t think it isn’t serious.

  I…am seriously confused by the entire thing. Yesterday, a man came to our door and handed me a note saying that Preston wanted to meet and instructed me to call his secretary to set up a time.

  I’d called and the secretary had seemed a little too happy to hear from me.

  When is a good time? I asked.

  Whatever is a good time for you, she responded.

  You can just fit me in at any time.

  You can choose to meet him at any time.

  Even right now?

  Yes, she answered without hesitation.

  I’d gripped the phone as I tried to process this information. If all of this was true, why wasn’t Preston currently talking to me? Why was I making plans with his secretary? I almost asked her, but this entire thing was already way too surreal.

  Tomorrow at noon, I’d said.

  Great! He will pick you up at your place at noon. Preston is looking forward to seeing you.

  And then she’d hung up.

  I shook my head. “It’s not a date. He’s just taking me out for lunch.”

  She raises her eyebrows skeptically and looks down at my stomach. “Uh huh. And I’m sure he was just taking you out for coffee, before.”

  I squirm in my seat. “Maybe we did get coffee. I don’t remember.”

  “Honey, that doesn’t matter. The point is he got you more than just coffee.”

  “You may be right—”

  “May be? You’re pregnant!”

  “Alright, alright. You’re right, but today it’s just lunch.”

  She sighs. “Well, that may be true. Preston’s probably trying to take things slow so he doesn’t fuck it all up again.”

  Now we were talking. “How did he fuck it all up the first time?” I ask.

  “By being a dumbass,” she eloquently states.

  “Can you maybe be a bit more specific?”

  “Oh, I most definitely can. But if I do, you might not give him a chance.”

  “A chance to do what?”

  “To make it up to you.”

  I frown.

  “You like Preston right now, don’t you?” she continues.

  I shut my eyes. Yes. I more than liked him. Man, I never thought holding someone’s hand would mean so much, but I guess it was all about context. When a hand reaches out to you in a world of darkness, it becomes your entire world. My body was still reacting to that powerful sensation.

  And maybe, just maybe, it was also reacting to something else. Something more. Something I couldn’t yet remember.

  “So…you want me to give Preston a chance?” I ask slowly. “In the hospital, when Reggie suggested I marry him, you called him an asshole.”

  “Well, he is. But he’s also a little bit more.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Look, Reggie was talking about forcing you to marry a guy you hated out of honor or some shit! Of course I had my girl’s back. But now that you’re ready to make a decision for yourself, I want you to make the one that’s best for you. Not the one that you think is best for you.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She sighs. “Sometimes, your perception of someone can be skewed by your memories of them. They might have done something bad out of a misplaced desire to help. And, even if they were right, it wouldn’t matter. The damage had already been done. They weren’t going to be forgiven.”

  My heart starts beating frantically. “Okay, seriously. What did he do?”


  She reaches out and holds my hand. “Let’s just say that when it comes to you, he is a possessive control freak. It’s something you’re gonna have to work on with him. Luckily you’re a strong woman who sets clear boundaries and doesn’t take anyone else’s shit. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sending you out there alone to be romanced by Prince Charming. But the truth is, you can take care of yourself, and you’re good for him.”

  “I’m good for him?” I think back to that horrible article. The man was born a billionaire, and through his business acumen, had turned those billions into several more billions. He was sexy, smart, and confident. I’m pretty sure most people would think it was the other way around—that he was good for me.

  Sondra stands, grinning. “Yeah. Can’t you tell? The guy wants nothing more than to serve you. He’s completely lost without you. Now, let’s get you ready for your hot, sexy “lunch” with New York’s most eligible billionaire bachelor!”

  Chapter 37

  The phone rings two seconds before the clock struck twelve.

  Preston is downstairs. He wants to know if I can buzz him in. No, I tell him, amazed I can speak—hell, that I’m still standing—with my heart beating a thousand beats per second. I’ll be right down.

  Even though it was noon instead of midnight, I felt a little like Cinderella when I get into the elevator. Well, if Cinderella wore a tight cream dress from Saks (alright, actually it was from Randy’s Threads, but it had originally been from Saks) instead of a ballgown, and practical Mary Jane clogs instead of glass slippers. I absently touch my princess-like ringlets. Sondra had spent two hours straightening, curling and pinning my hair in place. She could give any fairy godmother a run for their money—surely no one else would be able to endure such stubborn tresses without magic.

  My breath caught when I reached my humble lobby.

  Sure, fairy tales may possess an irresistible air of romance, but when you reach a certain age you start to appreciate more practical things. Like a gleaming black limo instead of a horse-drawn carriage that could randomly revert back to a pumpkin at any moment. And, hands down, Preston Easterbrook beats any Prince Charming.