Liars (Licking Thicket 2)

“H-hi, uh, Diesel,” he stammered. He kept his eyes on mine as he shuffled around the car to the passenger side. “I’m just… I just brought over a… um…” He opened the door and leaned in before coming out with a giant basket covered in pink ribbons.

The basket could host a party for a collection of miniature horses, it was so big.

“What’s that?” I asked.

The ribbons all trembled as he approached me, indicating his nerves were even greater than I’d thought.

“More apology stuff,” he said, suddenly looking up, down, over toward the forest, and back toward the house. Anywhere except at the man he was getting closer to.

“I don’t want your apology stuff,” I grunted, thinking about the chicken casserole I’d taken over to my next-door neighbor’s house the night before.

Parrish flushed red and looked down at the basket before turning his chatter speed up to manic. “Oh. Well, sure. It’s just that… there’s a special nipple that might help Marigold with her gas problem and I also found a book about uncles and nieces and there was this little elephant stuffy that needed to come home with me—with her, I mean—and also, Kelsey said everyone needs the Gentria hip carrier for babies this age which is… actually a lie. I’m the one who said it, but you really should trust me on this because I know what I’m talking about. Also, no one should go into the crazy cakes crawling stage without some outlet covers which is just good safety practice, so those had to get chucked in the basket too. And if you’re going to go all out on outlet covers, then how in the world can you forget to get cabinet and drawer locks as well as a few of those handle spinners? You can’t. Obviously. And since I couldn’t remember if you had round doorknobs or the push-down kind, I had to get covers for both, you know? Right?”

He looked up at me as if expecting an answer, but he didn’t wait for one. “Right,” he said, seemingly to himself. “So, I’m going to go. Except… except, I guess I forgot to actually apologize which would mean this was just a gift basket instead of an apology basket which, ha! Of course it’s not. That would be ridiculous and completely…” He started panting a little bit. “Completely unprecedented,” he finished faintly.

He blinked up at me, and I swear to fucking God I almost lurched forward and smashed my mouth on his. He was drop-dead beautiful and the most adorable man I’d ever had the good fortune to lay eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For not marrying you.”

He placed the basket into my hands and turned to go. In that moment, I was sorry for the same damned thing. Nothing sounded more tempting to me than marrying a sweetheart like Parrish Partridge. But that wasn’t what this was about.

“You wouldn’t have to actually do it,” I called out. “Just pretend for a little while. Please, Parrish. I’m… I’m desperate. I wouldn’t ask if…” I hated this. I hated begging. I especially hated asking someone good and pure to get caught up in a giant, illegal lie like this. But I’d meant what I’d said. I was desperate. And I’d do anything to make sure my Marigold grew up loved and protected, even if it meant using this beautiful sweetheart in my nefarious plans to make sure it happened. “Please,” I said again.

He stopped, his narrow shoulders tense and his hands knotted into fists. I tried not to gawk at his sexy ass packaged perfectly in today’s suit pants. I expected him to turn around and give me what for—to tell me off with his unending manners and stammering apologies—but Marigold’s shriek through the monitor at my hip split through the space between us and called me away before I could do any more damage to the man than I already had.

“’Scuse me,” I mumbled, stepping past him toward the house. Diaper and bottle duty called, and I wouldn’t let my princess down just to fight for something that clearly wasn’t ever gonna happen.

Before I knew what was happening, Parrish had bolted ahead of me at top speed and slammed his way into the house, leaving me in the dust. When I caught up to him, I saw why he’d reacted so strongly.

Marigold had somehow managed to stand up in her portable crib and reach the coffee mug I’d left on my bedside table, pulling it into the crib with her and dousing her in, thankfully cold, coffee.

“Shhhh,” Parrish cooed, reaching in to pick her up. “Shh, sweet girl. ’S’alright. You’re okay. Just a little caffeine to wake you right up, hmm? Not quite the way it was intended, but sometimes that’s life.”

Without a single care for the white button-down shirt he wore, he pulled her into his chest to soothe her.