Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 10

  Point is, I don’t want anything to be off limits for my son. I want the world to be his for the taking. If some stupid ass accident robs him of that, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  They take us in right away at the doctor’s office and get Roman in for x-rays. Sandra has to step out to grab a call while Dr. Stephens goes over the facts with me.

  “It’s a broken metatarsal,” says the doctor, pointing to one of the longer bones in the middle of Roman’s foot. “He’ll have to wear a boot ‘til it heals. Kids his age heal fast, so I expect him to be all better in about six weeks. Eight at the longest.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I say, clapping Dr. Stephens a little too hard on the shoulder.

  He winces, but smiles at me. “Of course.”

  We’re driving home only thirty minutes later. Roman is already looking ten times better. He’s humming and poking at the medical boot on his foot. “Stop messing with it,” I say.

  “Sorry, Dad.”

  Sandra’s sitting in the passenger seat and I realize for the first time since she stepped out to take a call that she looks pale as a ghost.

  “You still thinking about your parents?” I ask.

  “Yeah. A little,” she admits.

  I frown. “So what’s the deal? You said you were worried about them finding something out?”

  She laughs humorlessly. “You could say that. I haven’t been entirely honest with them when they’ve bothered to ask about my life. Seeing where I live and where I work is going to be a shock to them. And I kind of told them I was in a serious relationship to get them to stop trying to set me up with guys.”

  “Where do they think you work?”

  “I never exactly told them where I work. And… well, they think I’m kind of engaged to a businessman. A wealthy one,” she says, voice growing quieter and more hesitant with every syllable.

  I bark a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

  “What’s engaged?” asked Roman.

  “It’s when two people are planning to get married, Bud,” I say.

  “Oh,” says Roman. He’s quiet for a few seconds and then he speaks again. “Are you going to get engaged Miss Sandra, Daddy?”

  Sandra and I laugh, but I notice Sandra’s cheeks burning bright red.

  “Actually,” I say. “Miss Sandra and I are going to play a game tomorrow. We’re going to pretend to be engaged. And daddy is going to pretend he knows something about business.”

  “What?” says Sandra. All the red has drained from her face. “No. That would never work. You couldn’t--”

  “Seriously?” I ask. “I can pass as a businessman if I want. It’s settled. Tomorrow morning. Roman and I will be there and we’ll be looking sharp. It’s a date.”

  Sandra tries to adopt a neutral expression, but I see the corner of her mouth keep trying to pull up into a smile.

  What are you getting yourself into here, Reid?

  14

  Sandra

  When I open the door the next morning I nearly choke on my coffee. Reid Riggins and Roman Riggins are standing on my front porch. Roman is wearing a blue polo and little khaki pants that are adorable. His hair is gelled and combed to the side. Reid is wearing a full suit and he looks like he’s going to a funeral. His hair is combed neatly away from his face, just like Roman’s

  I cover my mouth and laugh so hard I have to set my coffee down to put both hands on my knees. “Oh my God. This is too much.”

  Reid smirks. “Now, now, dear. Be careful. You’ll give yourself a condition.” He speaks in a careful accent where he enunciates every syllable precisely. The voice he’s using makes me break out in fresh laughter.

  “What’s wrong, mommy?” asks Roman.

  He looks up to Reid, as if making sure he did something right. Reid winks and nods back at him. I can’t help staring at both of them open mouthed in complete disbelief. I doubt anyone is going to buy that Reid is a businessman in that getup, and Roman is wearing dirty tennis shoes with his nice clothes, but the fact that he is trying this for me is easily the sweetest gesture anyone has ever made for me. I’m not sure Roman would be calling me mommy already, but I can’t bear telling him not to. It’s too cute.

  The doorbell rings again. My eyes go wide. “They weren’t supposed to be here for another hour. I turn to Reid, taking stock of his attempt at looking like he belongs in a suit. I reach to his collar and hastily straighten a crease behind his neck, trying not to get distracted at how good his hard, warm skin feels as my fingertips brush against it.

  Reid grins. “There are children here, honey.”

  He’s still using that goofy voice of his. I bite my lip. “Just talk normal, okay? Act like a normal person. Just don’t talk about cars.”

  “Let me handle this, wife-to-be.”

  I bite back a laugh, shushing him as I open the door. It’s the first time I’ve seen my parents in person in at least two years, and they look just as I remember. Alfred Williams III, and Collette Williams, dedicated mother of two and master of none. The two of them have never worked an hour between them, but they are worth millions and their fortune grows every day. They have a small army of people to invest their money and manage it so it keeps growing. As far as they are concerned, their only job is to uphold the family name and find newer and more frivolous ways to spend all their money. Well, being disappointed in me probably registers at least as a part time job for them, too.

  “You live here?” asks my mother, Collette.

  Reid steps forward, reaching to help my mother and guide her inside. He winks at me as he escorts them inside and toward my living room. I cross my arms and follow with Roman, listening as he ignores my advice and still speaks in that silly accent.

  “This is just an investment property,” says Reid. “We’re bypassing some federal regurgitations by using it as a residence. You know,” he says.

  Did he just say regurgitations instead of regulations? I want to cover my face and laugh or cry. Maybe both.

  My father’s smile grows, but he doesn’t seem to notice Reid’s slip up. My parents are probably as clueless about real business as Reid is. They just pay other people to handle it for them. “Oh, of course. Collette and I know a thing or two about sticking it to the government. The more you can keep their hands off your money, the better.”

  “Honey, where is your ring?” asks my mother.

  I can’t believe I forgot that detail. My hand instinctively moves behind my back and I stutter, unable to think of a response.

  “At the cleaners,” says Reid. “I can’t have my fiance wearing a dirty ring now, can I?” he asks.

  Alfred purses his lips in approval. “Certainly not. I appreciate a man who pays attention to detail.”

  “Oh, yes of course,” says Reid gravely. “Why, I swear. I could lose myself in the details if I didn’t have my lovely fiancée to keep me grounded.” He punctuates his words with a firm squeeze of my ass.

  I turn to him, glaring while simultaneously feeling a rush of heat flood my body. My mother’s eyebrows flick upwards in surprise, but she only smirks. My father didn’t seem to notice.

  “What would we do without our women,” muses Alfred.

  Reid nods. “Exactly, exactly. I couldn’t agree more. Tea?”

  “Please,” says my mother. My father nods.

  Reid walks toward me and pauses. He gives me a slightly panicked look. “Do you have tea?” He whispers.

  “Yes,” I whisper back.

  “I don’t know how to make tea,” he says quietly enough so that only I can hear.

  I roll my eyes, hardly believing I can grin at a time like this. I may have spent my whole life trying to stand apart from my parents and defying them. I may put up a strong front and say I don’t care, but the truth is, it’s not about caring, it’s about proving myself. The thing I’ve always wanted deep down is to show them they are wrong about me. I’ve want them to see I can make something of myself. I can find happiness and fulfillment outside their social circ
le, and that I can do it without their help. If they even begin to catch wind of my real situation, all of that work will shatter. No matter what happens after this, they will always remember the time they caught me in a web of lies and how pathetic my situation really is.

  “Is Chamomile okay?” I ask, setting down the saucers and grabbing some sugar.

  Roman, who has largely been silent so far, clears his throat. “Father. Will we be ‘questrian riding today?” He gives the same, adorable look of question to Reid after he delivers his line, as if waiting to see if he said it right.

  Questrian? Does he mean equestrian?

  “Of course, good boy. Just like we do every day.”

  Alfred cocks a brow at me. “Really, now? I didn’t know your fiancé is into riding, dear.”

  “Oh yes,” I say, forcing a smile that hopefully hides the panic I’m feeling. “Reid is an avid rider.”

  “Is that right?” asks my mother.

  “You bet your jimmies,” says Reid. He winks at me again and I have to stop myself from slapping the smirk off his face. He has no idea how bad he’s doing at pretending to be one of their kind. It’s a shock that my parents aren’t already calling him on it. For some reason they both actually seem to be looking at him with a vague sense of approval that I’m definitely not used to seeing on them. “How about a demonstration?” asks Reid, making as if he’s about to get on his hands and knees and have Roman ride his back.

  “No, honey. Bad idea,” I say. “You know what I always say,” I add, laughing in too high a pitch. “No equestrian activity in the house!”

  Reid straightens, brushing the creases from his slacks. He nudges Alfred. “She does always say that.”

  “Well,” says my father, with a happy smile that I’ve only seen him use when he looks at my sister. “I have to say I was half-expecting Sandra’s business-minded fiancé to turn out to be one of those turnkey business owners.” He barks a laugh at that, slapping his knee and holding Reid’s gaze uncomfortably the whole time.

  Reid handles it perfectly though, laughing right along with my father, grasping his stomach and throwing his head back. Roman watches his father and mimics the laugh. I have to cover my face to hold back the smile of disbelief forming on my face.

  “A turnkey business owner!” gasps Reid. “My God, man. You really are a hoot.”

  I have to step into the kitchen, away from their eyes and ears to grasp the counter and let out a long, stifled laugh that shakes my whole body. I can’t believe what is going on out in the living room. It’s too improbable to believe, but there it is. Reid Riggins, the most gruff, abrasive man I’ve ever known, is out there schmoozing with my parents and they are buying every second of it. My laughter nearly turns to abject panic when I realize there’s no way he can keep them fooled. He’s probably out there right now about to say something that’s going to give him away once and for all.

  When I step back out into the living room, my parents are uncharacteristically rowdy as they cheer on Roman, who is riding Reid around the room like he’s a horse.

  “Guide him with your ankles, son!” laughs my father.

  “There it is!” adds my mother. “Trust the horse and he’ll take care of the rest.”

  I watch with a mixture of shock, horror, and amusement. My parents who have only ever seemed able to scowl in my presence look to be having the time of their lives. Granted, none of their good humor or amusement is coming from me, but this is beyond unusual. And Reid…

  I look at the way he’s bucking his hips and laughing with Roman as he makes a fool of himself. For me. He’s doing all of this for me. I don’t know how much it taxes him or if it does at all, but the simple and plain fact is right there. Clear as day. Reid may not be the selfish asshole I pegged him as. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who jumped to conclusions. He assumed I was just letting my parents’ money solve my problems, and I’ve been assuming he’s as heartless as Tara led me to believe.

  Now I’m not so sure.

  The rest of the day goes off without a hitch, to my amazement. In fact, it goes too well, because instead of leaving like they had originally planned, my parents insisted on renting out a bed and breakfast for themselves to stay a few days. They were completely smitten by Reid and Roman. Neither Alfred nor Collette paid me much attention, but even having them approve of something or someone associated with me is a massive step up in treatment, so I can’t even complain.

  When they finally leave, It’s close to eight, and Roman is already asleep on the couch. Reid closes the door behind them and turns to me, breathing out a long sigh. “How’d I do?” he asks with a smirk that says he knows exactly how well he did.

  “You were amazing,” I say.

  Our eyes lock, and I realize we’re standing incredibly close. So close I can smell the woodsy scent of him. My hands itch to reach for him, to splay across his broad chest and work his buttons open, one by one.

  “Being your fiancé wasn’t so bad,” he says.

  I bite my lip, a little embarrassed at how much of a thrill that sends through me. What is he implying? “I can’t disagree.”

  He chuckles. “It’s settled then. Let’s just tie the knot.”

  “Wh-what?” I ask.

  “I’m just fucking with you,” he says.

  “Yeah. Obviously. Of course,” I say quickly. “But what are we going to do about the ring? If my parents are staying, they will expect to see it soon.”

  “I’ll figure that out.”

  “Reid... Thank you. What you did for me today was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. You have no idea what it meant to me to see my parents that happy. I’ve spent so long convincing myself I hated them.” I laugh a little bitterly. “I still resent them for expecting so little out of me, but I also think I may have just hated that I couldn’t make them happy… I couldn’t do it in eighteen years of living with them, and you did it in one night.”

  I rock forward onto my tip-toes and kiss him on the cheek. My lips linger against the heat of his skin longer than I intend, his scent intoxicating me. His strong hand threads up my neck and into my hair. Our eyes meet, only centimeters apart.

  “I know just the way for you to thank me,” he says, crashing his lips onto mine and lifting me so my legs can wrap around his waist. He carries me effortlessly toward my bedroom, weaving around obstacles and past the small, sleeping form of Roman.

  We kiss like we’re starving, like every lust-filled kiss could be the last one and we have to make it strong enough to last an eternity. I’ve never kissed anyone like this. Reid infuses every kiss with more sexuality and power than most men could give me in hours, just like a master painter can put more meaning into a brush stroke than an amateur can put on an entire canvas,

  My body reacts to him like a drug. My pulse pounds. My breath comes in heaving, gasping breaths between the locking of our lips and the dance of our tongues. Every movement, touch, and sensation is bliss. I’m thrown down on the bed and Reid stands over me, stripping off his suit and ripping his shirt apart, sending stripped buttons scattering to the carpet. I’ve seen him shirtless before. Outside, in the sun, covered in grease, oil, and sweat. Now I see him like I never have before. Every muscle is a threat. A promise. The powerfully carved chest and abs are a reminder of how much power he has over me, how completely and totally he can rule me in this room. It’s a reminder that I’m in his domain now.

  And my God does that turn me on.

  I’ve spent my life trying to prove I can take control for myself, trying to prove I’m above sitting back and letting the power of my parents’ money handle things for me. But here, in this bedroom, and in the presence of Reid, I have no desire to be in control. No, I want to be controlled. I want him to take me how he wants me. With him, I can feel power in surrender.

  “You liked pretending to be my fucking wife-to-be, didn’t you?” he asks, unbuckling his belt and tossing it aside before pushing his pants off.

  I bite my lip, nodding a
nd scooting back, away from him on the bed.

  He growls, grabbing my ankle and yanking me back toward him. “Don’t run away, wife.”

  Wife. Even imagining being Reid’s wife opens a torrent of confusion in my head. What would that even be like? He would come in from a day of work smelling raw and manly. He’d put his dirty hands all over me. Possessively. Hungrily. He’d probably drag me to bed whether I wanted to or not. He’d take me when he wanted. How he wanted. He would protect me and value me.

  I close my eyes, letting my head fall back into the blankets. “I liked it,” I whisper.

  He rips my pants off in one swift motion, taking my panties with them. “You liked what?” he asks.

  “I liked pretending to be yours.”

  His grin is dangerous as he strips me of my shirt and bra, leaving me as completely naked as he is. “And you liked feeling my cum deep in your fucking pussy, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, cheeks burning hot.

  “You want to carry my baby. You want to be my wife.”

  I clamp my mouth shut, not trusting myself to deny it. I should deny it, deny him, but I don’t know that I want to anymore.

  He smirks down at me. “You’ll admit it before I’m done with you. That’s a promise.”

  A ball of fear grows in my chest. He wants me to admit it? Why? Is it for his own ego? Does he just like to know how quickly and deeply he can make a sensible woman turn against her better judgment? Or does he want me to admit it because he wants it too? God, I can’t believe how far he already has me over the edge. Now I’m about to sleep with him for the third time and I’m clinging to the hope that he wants to marry me? I must be losing it.