Cowboy Seal Daddy. Laura Marie Altom
from prison, her mother had been calling. The calls now came frequently enough that Paisley dreaded looking at her phone.
She regretted having told David her deepest secrets. It wasn’t a mistake she’d ever make again.
Even worse? He wasn’t even a doctor, but a phlebotomist.
Paisley was too ashamed to tell Monica—or anyone else. Monica would probably post some directive to her fifty-thousand Twitter followers to toilet paper Dr. Dirtbag’s house.
A knock on the door jolted her from her sleepy state.
“Come in!” she shouted, praying Wayne would enter and not a random robber.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” Wayne said. Crinkling paper told her he’d set grocery bags on her kitchen counter.
“You shouldn’t buy out half the store when you were only going for three items.”
“Touché. But I’m hungry, too. Hope you don’t mind if I use your grill? Mine died.”
“How does a grill die?” Feeling like an upside-down turtle, she struggled to flop over to face him. The apartment’s kitchen and living room shared the same space. Another dream was of one day owning her own home, but with Southern California real estate prices, that could be a while. She couldn’t wait to decorate to her heart’s content with no lease restrictions. Until then, she was stuck with beige walls, carpet and tile. She was at least fortunate to have bought a Christopher Guy sofa and matching armchairs from a client who had deemed them so last season.
“I left the grill out. It apparently collapsed from exposure.” She watched him rummage around in one of the shopping bags, and then he presented her with a pack of gummy worms. “Hope these are okay? I used to love ’em when I was a kid.”
She took one look at the slimy confection and bolted for the restroom. Thankfully, she made it in time, but as she rinsed her mouth and washed her face with a cool washcloth, Paisley found herself reluctant to face Wayne.
“Everything okay in there?” he asked from behind the closed door.
“Sort of.”
“Can I help?”
Just thinking about the worms brought a fresh onslaught of nausea. She dashed for the commode.
The door burst open at the worst imaginable time.
“Damn, girl...” Wayne knelt beside her, holding back her coppery hair, rubbing her shoulders, making soothing sounds the way she’d fantasized David would. “How long have you been like this?” He left her to refresh her cool rag, then pressed it to her flushed forehead.
“Forever. I don’t mean to sound like a diva, but could I ask you a teensy favor?”
“Anything.”
“As soon as humanly possible, could you get those w-worms out of my apartment?”
“Absolutely, but I thought you were craving gummy stuff?”
“Cute bears—that’s all. No sharks, either.”
“Got it. My bad.” He flushed the commode, then took off running for the kitchen.
By the time he returned from disposing of the offensive edible creatures, she’d cleaned herself and once again collapsed on the sofa.
“This is probably going to make me sound like an idiot—” he sat in the armchair opposite her “—but is every pregnant woman this sick?”
“I don’t think so. My ob-gyn says this far into my third trimester I should be feeling better—but then she said that about my second trimester, too, so...” She shrugged.
“Well, look...” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “Considering what’s going on with you, I’m going to make your soup and my steak, then table my question for another time.”
“What question?” She’d forgotten his big mystery. “Whatever it is, you might as well ask. At least it’ll take my mind off those disgusting worms.”
“Sorry about that.” He winced. “I’ll grab bears next time I’m out.”
“It’s okay. I can do it.”
“Babe, hate to break it to you, but you’re in no condition to do squat. So actually, my proposition could be mutually beneficial.”
“But you haven’t proposed anything. Spit it out. We’ve been friends for years. We’ve discussed work, politics and religion. Surely, this mystery question can’t be too bad?”
“Not at all. In fact, once you think about it, it’s really no big deal.” His crooked grin had her tummy doing happy flips. The man was criminally handsome. “How would you feel about me renting you to be my temporary wife?”
“What?” Paisley took a moment for the question to sink in, then bolted for the bathroom.
“That could’ve gone better,” Wayne mumbled, as he stood outside Paisley’s bathroom door. He’d tried letting himself in, but she’d locked it. “Paise?”
“Go away!” Her voice might have been muffled, but her tone rang through loud and clear. She thought he was crazy. He’d be first to admit he was, but he hadn’t asked her to be his rent-a-wife for himself, but for his dad’s dying wish. There was a huge difference. If she’d just let him explain.
“I want to help!”
“You can’t—” The sound of her tossing her cookies told him she wasn’t naked or anything, so he made a short jog to her kitchen’s junk drawer for a safety pin, then picked the bathroom lock.
Sure enough, when he entered, she was back on her knees in front of the commode. Her complexion was gray. Her expression when she glanced his way shattered his heart. He could kill the guy who’d knocked her up, only to abandon her.
Wayne went through his cool washcloth routine again, then sat on the floor behind her. Legs spread, he drew her back to lean against him. His every nurturing instinct, that he usually reserved for horses, had him smoothing her hair back from her forehead, wishing her free of pain.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“Sorry.”
She waved off his apology. “It’s not your fault I was stupid enough to have unprotected sex with a married man.”
“I know you well enough—or, at least I think I do—to be sure you wouldn’t have been with him if you hadn’t loved him and not known about the wife.”
“True.”
“I saw you kiss him a few times. You seemed happy.” The sight of her with another guy initially set Wayne on edge. He and Paisley were friends. He wanted the best for her. Without personally vetting her new guy, Wayne couldn’t be sure he was good enough. Clearly, he hadn’t been, which pissed off Wayne even more. “How did you find out he was married?”
“After I told him about our baby, he told me he’d pay to have the problem go away.”
“Bastard!”
“Right? I told him I’d always wanted to be a mom and have a family. I thought the pregnancy was a surprise blessing. That’s when he announced that he and his wife had already been blessed three times, and he wasn’t interested in having another.”
“I assume he’s at least paying child support?”
“He said if I promise not to contact him or try talking to his wife, he’ll cover labor and delivery costs, but that’s it.”
Wayne snorted. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think he gets that choice.”
She