23. Maggie
Chapter twenty-three
Maggie
I could barely open my eyes when my ringtone blared into my peaceful sleep.
Shoving the covers over my head, I reached around my nightstand to turn off the irritating noise.
It was a struggle to find it with my eyes still closed, but when I finally brought it close enough to my face, I recognized my father’s profile photo lighting up the phone.
Groggily, I swiped the screen to answer it.
“Hello?”
“My, my, Maggie! How’s it going out in Wyoming, baby girl? I miss you,” a familiar voice chirped over the phone. I glanced at the time. It was five-thirty, mountain time, but it was past seven in Pennsylvania.
“Hi, Dad! Everything is going really great over here. Jack is winning almost all his tournaments, and I got a second job as a riding instructor.”
My dad blew out a gush of air. “Honey, that sounds great. Are you enjoying it out there?”
I nodded with a smile before remembering he couldn’t see me.
“Yes, Dad. I love it.” A punch of guilt hit when I remembered I still hadn’t informed my father that I was now fake-married…
and pregnant. I was lucky that no polo gossip had come across the Forrest Hills Polo Club yet.
Mine or Jack’s dad knew zilch about our arrangement and our…
condition. “And Jack and I are getting to be great friends.”
“Oh…yeah. Is he behaving himself out there?” I could hear the distaste in his voice. My father was never a fan of Jack Hennicke due to his playboy ways and disobedience to his family. It was quite ironic. If only Dad could have seen him now.
A fake laugh came out before I replied. “He’s doing fine, Dad. No need to worry about anything.”
God, this guilt was killing me. I was almost five months pregnant and keeping a massive secret from my father, the only family I had. My stomach churned.
I would tell him at some point. Jack and I planned on telling our parents together in the coming weeks.
“Good.” His tone was firm, and there was a pause. “Anyway, I called because I have a surprise. I’m flying out to visit you on Wednesday!”
I flew up from lying on my back.
What?
Wednesday? Today was Monday, which meant he would be here in two days .
Two. Freaking. Days.
Two days to prepare for the nightmare I was about to encounter when he found out about Jack and me.
Dealing with my dad would be a bloody massacre when he found out I was carrying a baby.
Let alone Jack Hennicke’s baby. While I was only five months into my pregnancy, there was no doubt my bump was beginning to show.
“Dad…I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.
There’s a lot going on right now, and I just don’t think we would have much time since we’re so busy.
I’m thankful you’re thinking of me, but could we push it back a couple of weeks?
” Genuine sorrow filled my voice, but I couldn’t handle having to come clean about Jack and my actual situation. Not yet, at least.
“Honey, you know I’d love to do what works best for you, but this is my only week off. Season just ended here, and I’ve got to drive the horses up to New York with Wally on Sunday. I promise you don’t have to cancel any plans for me. I just want to spend time with ya.”
Fuck. Fuck my empathy for my sweet, loving father, and fuck my decision to be dishonest for so long. I had no idea how my dad would take the news, or how he would react to my withholding of the truth for so long, but I made the decision. It was time I dealt with the consequences.
“Of course, Dad. I’m so excited that you’re coming.”
“I’m excited too. I’ll see you in a couple of days, Maggie. I love you.” His voice betrayed his excitement.
“Love you, Dad.”
I let my phone drop to my bed after hanging up and flopped backward with a groan.
How the hell was this going to turn out?
I had kept small secrets from my dad before.
Hell, there was no way I considered informing him of my secret hookup, whom he happened to despise and who happened to live two doors away.
But this, this was a secret I was damn sure he would resent me for keeping from him for years to come. Every time he looked at his grandchild, he would remember the four months I lied to him about my pregnancy.
God. All those years he spent taking care of me and loving me as best he could, and I repaid him by lying about my fake husband, my fake life, and my very real baby. All I had to do was come clean to him the day I left for Wyoming, and none of this would be happening.
Truthfully, I was afraid to tell him because he instilled in me at a young age that I shouldn’t be held down by a family, yet.
That I had an entire world to explore and wealthy sponsors to play for.
He saw as bright a future for me as I dreamed, and I didn’t want to let him down.
And technically, I wasn’t giving up on that dream.
I would still work my way up as a female professional.
It was just on hold for a few months. Or maybe I would indulge and revel in motherhood.
Sometimes I couldn’t get the idea of becoming a family out of my head. Nonetheless, guilt ate up my insides.
A soft knock on my door pulled me from my freak-out.
It opened slightly, revealing a still-sleepy Jack, who wore his casual uniform: gray sweatpants, a bare chest, and ruffled blonde hair.
Except this morning, a look of concern consumed his face.
I sat up on my elbows. Not having the energy to speak just yet, I tapped on the bed.
My gorgeous, still-dazed, fake husband stumbled into the room further, stopping at my window to shut the curtains.
I silently thanked him for blocking the early-morning sun from invading my room.
Jack dropped beside me on the bed, lying closer than he should.
His rough fingertips grazed my forearm, sending tingles up my neck.
“Everything good?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. “Who was on the phone?”
I shifted, not wanting to come to terms with the reality that Jack and I would soon have to face. Taking advantage of his closeness, I turned to wrap my arms around his neck and rested my cheek on his hard chest.
Skin on skin.
His breath caught, and, for a moment, I was worried I had taken it too far.
Sure, we had become more affectionate as the weeks went on. A little reassuring touch here, a thank-you hug there. But we hadn’t lain on a bed together since…
Yeah. That was dangerous to think about.
I couldn’t get that close to him.
But Jack couldn’t read my thoughts. He dove in head-first anyway, just like he did with everything else in his life. Full-force. Every time.
His thick hands landed on my waist and pulled me closer to him.
More skin. I breathed deep, sneaking a smell of his intoxicating leather scent, and letting my fingers roam into his hair.
I let myself believe it was the heat of the moment.
My dad had just freaked me out. I was carrying a baby.
I was a thousand miles from the only place I’d ever known.
And I kept believing it, even when Jack snuck his fingers beneath the back of my t-shirt and dragged them up and down.
His hands were so warm—so rough—on my bare skin, rubbing little circles on my back.
I returned the favor, massaging his hair, and he turned to place his mouth over my ear, letting out an oh-so-miserable sigh.
Oh, god. Jack knew exactly what he was doing.
He knew we shouldn’t be doing this. He knew .
And yet, here I was, not stopping him. Here I was, falling deeper into this fantasy that we were a real family. The masquerade felt less performative by the day. I felt something for this man, and that scared the hell out of me.
So what did I do?
I made a terrible decision.
Seemed like I was making a lot of those these days, so what was one more?
I moved my body downward, dragging myself against him. Jack’s hands froze and tightened on my back before he pushed them down to my hips. He gripped them hard and pulled me into him the slightest bit, gauging my reaction. When I didn’t protest, he applied more pressure.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
How many times had I told myself that since we found out we were pregnant? Was it that hard to contain myself around him? Or was there something bigger here that I was ignoring?
My mind said, to hell with it , as I brought myself onto his lap and grinded. Hard. A loud, sexy groan left Jack’s lips as he dug his hands into my ass. I whimpered, not ready to face him, and brought my mouth to his neck, nipping at the skin.
“Maggie…” he warned.
“Jack,” I cried into his neck. “Everything is out of control right now. Just let me control this one thing.”
“Control–what?” He sounded confused, but kept my ass in place. I grinded against him in response.
“Let’s just forget everything for a second. Please.”
“Forget about what?” This time, he pulled his hands away and brought them to my shoulders, forcing me to sit up on his lap.
I sighed and avoided eye contact with him—at least until his hands moved down to my thighs and began massaging them.
He wasn’t supposed to catch the secret look I shot him. A smirk crossed his face.
Damn it.
“Tell me what’s going on, baby.” His accent bled through, the way it always seemed to whenever we were intimate. That accent he tried so hard to mask only made me want him more. I rolled my head back, focusing on his hands rubbing my thighs.
He stopped.
“Jack,” I groaned, bringing my eyes back to his.
“Talk to me, and I’ll keep going.”
I lowered my eyebrows and shot him a dirty look. “Are you trying to exploit my thoughts by touching me?” The look on his face answered my question. Smart-ass. “Nothing is going on.”
“Bullshit.” He met my gaze with his fierce one. Of course, he was worried about me. Of course, he had to be this fucking intuitive.
“If I tell you, do you promise to finish what you started?”