Laura Altom - Cowboy Seal Daddy

Survival was about keeping his head in the game—not on a woman.

“Thank you.” Wayne was caught off guard by the profound gratitude he felt for her in the moment. “It really is a half-baked plan, but...” He worked past the knot in his throat that hardened every time he thought of a world without his father. “If we successfully pull this off and it brings my dad comfort in the last weeks of his life, it could be worth it.”

“Absolutely.” She wiped silent tears with the backs of her hands.

“This is good.” Damned if his eyes weren’t also stinging from the relief of having her onboard. “Nutty-as-a-drunk-squirrel crazy—but good.”

“For the record, you have to know this could end in disaster.”

“True.” But more likely, his plan would bring his father much-needed peace.

“Just to be clear, I refuse to take money. This would strictly be a humanitarian mission.”

“Deal.” He stood, crossing the short distance between them to shake her hand. Was it his imagination, or was there a spark that had never been there before?

Not cool. Sparks were the last thing he needed from the neighbor he considered one of his best friends.

* * *

“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA. Back up the truck.” In the glorified closet that served as Velvet’s break room, Monica tossed her usual frozen breakfast burrito in the microwave, then slammed the door before setting the time. “Wayne—hotshot, abs-of-steel navy SEAL—wants to rent you and your unborn baby? Sweetie...” She shook her head. “That’s more than a little twisted.”

As if on cue, Paisley’s cell buzzed. Her mother. One more problem she’d prefer avoiding. Paisley touched the decline button for the call.

“You can’t keep this up forever. One day, you will have to talk to your mom.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but that day isn’t this day. Now, where were we?”

“You were trying rather unsuccessfully to explain why you’re agreeing to Wayne’s crazy scheme.”

“His dad is dying.” While Monica ate her smelly meal, Paisley struggled not to retch as she relayed pertinent details. “With all of that in mind, how could I turn him down?”

“Gee—did it ever occur to you to just say no?”

“Well, sure, but then he looked so sad, and—”

“The man’s no doubt been trained in psychological warfare. Playing dirty was the only way Logan got me to date him.”

“Let’s be real—Logan’s ass in a pair of jeans worked most of his magic.”

“Language!” Monica scolded. “You’re about to be a mother.”

“And if you for one second pretend you weren’t just as hot for Logan as he was for you, then you’re a liar.”

“All right. What can I say? The guy has it going on. But he also thinks commitment is a four-letter word. Besides, my dad would never approve.”

“Wait—” Eyebrows raised, Paisley leaned across the table. “Are you saying that if Logan proposed and Daddy Conrad actually approved, you might still be together?”

Monica chewed extra fast before swallowing, then said, “I’m not sure how you turned this issue around on me, but it’s not going to work. The matter at hand is the fact that Wayne is using you. Sweetie, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known, but you also have a seriously full plate. You’re a business owner on the verge of becoming a single mom. You have about two free hours a day when you’re not puking your guts out, and I selfishly need you to spend them here.”

Paisley drew her lower lip into her mouth for a nibble.

“Oh God...” Monica fisted her burrito’s plastic wrapper. “You already told him you’d do it.”

Nodding, shaking her head, Paisley settled for a shrug. “What can I say? Rampant pregnancy hormones made me a sucker for his sad, stormy-gray eyes—but it’s all good. We were both up front about this being a platonic, temporary humanitarian gig.”

“Lord... In the immortal words of Cher, ‘Snap out of it!’ This man is not your friend. He’s a neighbor who doesn’t need a simple cup of sugar, but your womb. There’s no way you’ll fool his dad, let alone his mother. The whole plan is ludicrous.”

True. So why does my heart skip a beat every time I think about getting started?

Chapter Three

Over a week later, Paisley dropped the kitchen window’s curtain. The last thing she needed was for Wayne to catch her spying.

Was it her imagination, or had he been to the communal Dumpster more in the past thirty minutes than he had for the past few months? If so, what did his actions mean? Was he also still confused by their last conversation?

She was so deep in thought that when a knock sounded on the front door, she was nearly startled into a premature delivery. A peek through the eyehole landed her face-to-face with the man she’d been practically stalking. Had he caught her?

“Hey. What’s up?” She strove for a breezy, nonstalker tone.

“Not much.” He leaned against her doorjamb. Was he also trying a little too hard to look carefree? “It’s a, um, gorgeous day. Want to stroll the duck pond?”

“I suppose that would be okay. Let me find shoes.”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.”

She hated the awkwardness between them. Before his “proposal,” they’d been chill. Friends. Now? She couldn’t read his vibe, but knew him well enough to recognize it wasn’t normal.

When her shoes didn’t show up in any convenient places, she dropped to her knees to search under the sofa. No luck.

It took a mortifying three times to push and grunt her way back onto her feet. Even then, she wasn’t especially steady.

“Whoa.” Wayne grabbed her arm. “Take it easy.”

“Thanks. I get dizzy if I stand too fast—which seems silly since it takes me forever to stand.”

“I’m in no hurry. The CO had to be home early tonight for his daughter’s choir concert. His wife insisted. But hey, his family drama is my gain.” His crooked grin should have been endearing, but Paisley was mortified by his comment.

“How do you consider something as sweet as a mother wanting her daughter’s father to see their child sing to be drama?”

“I was teasing. Logan says the CO’s wife gets bent out of shape if he’s so much as a minute late—kinda like how he goes off on us.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Where were her stupid sandals?

“Why are you so testy?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You fake proposed to me, the clock’s ticking on us becoming a convincing couple by Easter weekend, yet I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Sorry. Work’s been hell on a stick.” He fished her sandal out from under the kitchen table, then asked, “I am curious, though. What kinds of plans have you dreamed up?”

“After all this bickering, I’m no longer in the mood to tell you. Besides...” she rubbed her burning chest “...now I have wicked indigestion.”

He landed her sandal on the coffee table. “What can I do to help? Need medicine?”

“I wish, but I’m doing an all-natural pregnancy.” She rubbed her throat, too, then winced. “It’s really bad.”

“There has to be something you can do?”

She nodded before dropping to the sofa. “But it would take too much effort.”

“Name it. Whatever it is, I’ll get it done.”

“Thanks—if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, I need a tablespoon of honey dissolved into a cup of warm milk.”

“Those exact measurements?” As if she’d sent him on a life-or-death mission, he was already halfway to the kitchen.

“Close is fine.”

“Got it.”

While he banged pots, Paisley warred with her conscience. She had to admit, having Wayne around more often wouldn’t be a terrible thing. On the flip side, as a soon-to-be single mom, she needed to learn to be independent. Leaning on Wayne, only to lose him when he no longer needed her, would do her or her baby no good.