Cowboy Seal Daddy. Laura Altom Marie

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СКАЧАТЬ Miracles might be rare with his kind of disease, but I’m sure they do happen. What are we going to do if he’s so thrilled with our sham marriage that he goes into remission?”

      Eyebrows furrowed, Wayne asked, “I fail to see how this is a problem? That would be awesome.”

      “Not if the whole reason for his recovery is an eight-pound bundle of joy who isn’t his grandson.”

      “Oh.” His shoulders sagged. “I see what you mean. But hey—that’s a long shot. I promise, if something like that happens, I’ll take the heat. You won’t even have to be there when I come clean.”

      “Promise?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Okay...”

      “Does that mean you’ll still do it?”

      “I already said I would.” Monica would lecture her till the end of time about the recklessness and irresponsibility of this plan, but since when had her fun-loving business partner and best friend become the morality police?

      “You’re awesome.” Wayne stood, only to then kneel beside her, squeezing her in an awkward, but not entirely awful, hug. “You won’t regret this. I’ll map out the whole thing. Oh—and we’ll need wedding pics.”

      “What?” Her indigestion roared back.

      “Relax. You can help me find a suitable thrift shop gown.”

      “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to find one my current size?”

      “No worries...” Rocking back on his heels, his slow sideways grin disarmed her. “We’ll grab a dress in a style you like, then chop it off midway down. It’ll be perfect for a few head-only selfies.”

      Paisley groaned.

      Why had Wayne ruined his temporary charm by being an idiot?

      * * *

      TWO DAYS LATER, Paisley found herself not buying part of a dress, but on her way to a bakery. Being next to him in the cab of his truck was too close for rational thought. Besides looking extra hot in his cowboy hat and Ray-Ban Aviators, he smelled too good—like the beach and a great deli. Had he recently eaten? She wouldn’t mind eating. “Do we really need a wedding cake? Seems like overkill.”

      “Yeah. We’ll have that classic wedding shot where we’re shoving cake in each other’s mouths.”

      “Mmm... Sounds romantic.”

      “You know what I mean. Lion—one of my teammates—recommended the place where we’re headed, but then his wedding got canceled—long story. They specialize in fake cakes. Super cheap, but totally legit looking.”

      Her only comment was to raise her eyebrows, then shake her head. She turned her gaze from him to the scenery outside her window.

      “Tell me you don’t love a bargain.”

      “Of course, I do, but this—Never mind.”

      “What?”

      “Nothing.”

      He made a left. “God, I hate when women pull this crap.”

      “I’m not pulling anything.”

      “The hell you’re not. You’re pissed about something, but won’t say it. Instead, you’re taking the passive aggressive approach which—”

      “Am not.”

      “Are, too.”

      “Am—” Her cell rang. Rather than continue their argument, she answered. “Hey.”

      “Are you alone?” Even though the phone wasn’t on speaker, Monica’s voice rang through loud and clear.

      “No.”

      “Still stuck with the pretend fiancé?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “Okay, well, sorry. But I have a major crisis and need your advice.”

      “Is something wrong at the shop? Or with a client?”

      “No, no. Nothing like that. Logan called. He wants to meet for coffee. He doesn’t even drink coffee, but knows I love that cute place on the corner that has the great patio and garden.”

      “How is this a bad?”

      “Because I don’t know what to say. Or wear. The last time we were together, we both said some harsh things, and—”

      Paisley sighed. “Monica, talk to him. What’s the worst that can happen?”

      “I end up sleeping with him and falling hard all over again? Worse—we break up again.”

      “Point of fact—I’m pretty sure you never fully let go of him, and second, how many times have I heard you brag about his superhero bedroom talents?”

      Paisley glanced at Wayne and saw him smirking.

      “Of course, I’m over him. I hate him. And his stupid dimples. And the way he fills out that pair of designer jeans I bought him, but he claims to—”

      “Monica, I have to go. I’m going to be sick.” Paisley ended the call.

      * * *

      “DO I NEED to pull over?” Wayne asked, worrying equal amounts for his leather upholstery and her.

      “Nope. I’m fine. But Monica’s constant whining about Logan pisses me off. How can she not see how great they are together? What even happened to break them up?”

      “No clue. Although Logan did mention something about having talked with her dad.” He pulled into the bakery’s crowded lot. The white brick structure featured pink-and-white-striped awnings. The Cake Place was written over the entry in hot pink neon script. “Think this place sells doughnuts?”

      “Maybe?” In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never seen her so snippy. Especially with her best friend.

      “Please tell me what’s got you in a mood.”

      “It’s lame.”

      Progress? At least she was admitting there was a problem.

      “Worse than Logan and Monica pretending they’re not insanely hot for each other?”

      She laughed. “This is stupid, but you hurt my feelings.”

      “What did I do?” He killed the engine, removed the keys, then turned to face her.

      She worried her lower lip. “More what you didn’t do. But now that I’ve had time to reflect, I’m making a big deal out of nothing and you’re forgiven.” After opening her door, she eased out of the truck and onto her feet.

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