Page 8 of Wildest Dreams

“The early bird catches the worm.” The man winked, stopping a few feet from us and thumbing his longhorn buckle. “Well, ain’t that a sight? Rhyland Coltridge, I had no idea you were a taken man. With a kid, no less. That definitely gives you brownie points in my book.”

What?

I opened my mouth to clarify that he wouldn’t find any love lost between Rhyland and me, not even if he used a microscope, when I heard the latter chuckle good-naturedly.

“Never judge a book by its cover, Bruce.”

To my horror, what followed was Rhyland’s arm wrapping around my shoulder. I froze into a statue, my eyes taking over my entire face. What in the name of Taylor Swift was going on here?

“And who do we have here?” Bruce fussed over Gravity, who dangled her feet from the suitcase, hugging Mr. Mushroom. Thankfully, she was squeezing the stuffie hard enough that it was indistinguishable.

“That’s Gravity.” Rhyland ignored the way I slapped his touch away, smoothly removing his arm from my shoulder and picking my daughter up, holding her close to his chest. He grinned down at her. Gravity’s eyes were still obliviously glued to the screen. “A.k.a. the light of my life.”

“You must be living in the Dark Ages then,” I muttered under my breath, folding my arms over my chest.

Rhyland shot me a murderous look.

“Bruce Marshall.” The man offered me his hand with a warm smile. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. And you are?”

“Not a ma’am.” I untangled my arms to take his hand in mine. “And also not Mrs. Coltridge, thank God.”

Bruce Marshall’s smile evaporated, and Rhyland inserted himself between us, barking out a laugh. “She means not yet,” he clarified. “But as you can tell, we can’t wait to get married.”

Bruce’s gaze dropped to my bare fingers. “I ain’t seeing no ring.”

What was Rhyland doing? More importantly, why was he doing it?

Rhyland gave him a leisurely clap on the back. “Don’t spoil all my surprises, Brucey boy. She asked for something different than I gave her. She’s a hard woman to please.”

“No,” I drawled. “You just suck in bed.”

Bruce’s eyes ping-ponged from my daughter back to me. I saw his judgment there and then. Even though I knew there was nothing wrong with having a child out of wedlock—especially as I was the one to be dumped—I still found myself feeling naked and vulnerable.

“Gravity’s not mine,” Rhyland hurried to explain, grabbing her from me. “Although she feels like mine in every way that matters.”

What a load of baloney. Rhyland couldn’t stand children and, in fact, always tried to be on the other side of the room when Gravity and Serafina were around. Even Gravity gave him a “do I know you, sir?” glare.

Bruce turned to cast his warm, approving glance on Rhyland, nodding slowly. “Didn’t peg you for the kind of man who’d take on extra responsibilities if he doesn’t have to.”

“Well, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me and my character,” Rhyland responded enigmatically. Asshole had not only thrown me under the bus, but he was also making sure to drive back and forth a few times, leaving skid marks on my body. Why was he lying through his teeth?

“You’re doing the right thing, son.” Bruce clapped Rhyland’s shoulder. “I respect a good family man. Am one myself. Don’t know if you’ve read the Forbes article about me, but seventy-three percent of my staff attend the same Sunday service as I do. Birds of a feather flock together, hey?”

Rhyland smiled brightly, and just like that, I understood his game.

I bit down my lower lip to stop myself from laughing. Rhyland put the “heat” in “heathen.” The man was such a sinner I was pretty sure he’d burst into flames if he ever got less than three miles away from a church. His day job was literally dating and screwing women for money. And he did that with gusto. I’d estimate he’d slept with more women than were registered to vote in this district. And as exhibited right here and right now, he had no qualms about lying, deceiving, and cheating his way into achieving his goals.

“Absolutely right, sir. There is no bigger fan of monogamy and children than me,” Rhyland clucked, his voice honeyed menace.

“All righty.” Bruce rubbed his hands together. “I’ll go get myself comfortable in that fancy coffee shop you recommended and have me one of them uppity pastry thingies, and you help your lil miss get her suitcases upstairs and join me. No rush, yeah? Family first.”

“I’ll try to rip myself away from them.” Rhyland sighed exaggeratedly. “But it’ll be hard.”

“I can always throw you out the window to speed things up,” I suggested cheerfully.

Rhyland elbowed me.

Bruce and his aide wobbled their way down the road to a trendy coffee shop. As soon as they’d disappeared behind the door, Rhyland shoved Gravity back into my hands as if she were made out of radioactive explosives.

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