The Cowboy SEAL's Triplets. Tina Leonard
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even have said helpful, a foreplay which had stretched his manly capabilities to the max. John practically got stiff thinking about it. “A baby,” he repeated. “I just don’t think you have it in you, old man.”
“What?” Sam squawked, sitting straight up with indignation. “I think I can handle parenthood just fine, thanks.”
John shook his head. There was an alternate reality in here, he knew there was, but these two were thick as thieves about something. He looked at both of them, and then it hit him: his buddy was attempting to paint a bull’s-eye on him with one of his infamous pranks.
Yes, Handsome Sam Barr was trying to pull a fast one.
And the only way to neutralize having a bull’s-eye painted on one’s hindquarters was to pull a faster one.
“You know,” John said, “as I recall, Vegas is only a couple hours from here. Probably quite doable as a wedding destination in one day, considering how you like to apply your boot to the pedal.”
Sam nodded vigorously. “We should be able to make it by nightfall for a romantic destination.”
John looked at Daisy. “I wish you two well.”
Daisy nodded, but she seemed uncertain. “Thank you.”
“All right, then.” Taking a deep breath, John got into the double cab, seating himself behind Sam and Daisy, and belted himself in with a grin.
“What are you doing?” Daisy turned to meet John’s mischievous gaze.
“I’m riding with you to Vegas.” He put his hands behind his head, looking very comfortable and even pleased with himself.
Daisy frowned. “Why?”
He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “I can’t let my buddy get married without a best man. And I am the best man. You may not know this about Sam and me, but we’ve seen some very dark days. Together, we survived.”
Daisy glanced at Sam. He shrugged, and she thought she saw a little what-can-we-do? in his expressive eyes.
“We are best friends,” Sam said.
Daisy turned to stare out the window. “I don’t care.”
“You don’t mind if he tags along?” Sam asked.
“Hey! I prefer to think of myself less as a tagalonger and more as part of the wedding party.”
Daisy didn’t turn to look at John to sanction this silly statement. She was well aware he was taking Sam’s role of being a trickster, but she wasn’t going to be the one to cry “uncle.” If these two wanted to play chicken, it was probably a game they’d played before. “I don’t care one bit.”
Sam turned to glare at John. “You can’t cause any trouble.”
“Me?” John feigned surprise and innocence. “I never cause trouble.”
“Never cause trouble,” Sam muttered under his breath, starting the truck, and Daisy wondered how this situation was going to end up by nightfall. John appeared determined to call Sam’s bluff, so there was a great possibility that Sam might find himself at the altar saying “I do,” something he’d always proclaimed he would never do.
Until today.
This was terrible. With John sitting in the backseat goading his friend on, Sam might not feel as if he could bow out. Sam had just been trying to bring John to his senses—but like other plans in Bridesmaids Creek had been known to go, this one appeared to have taken a turn for the worse.
I don’t even need anyone to marry me.
With the two men dug in for the long haul, apparently, Daisy decided she might as well take a nap. Pretend to take one, anyway—as if she could ignore John’s long, lean body in the backseat. She could feel his gaze on her, studying her. Waiting to see if she’d crack.
The man really believed she was so hung up on him that he could haul out of town without saying goodbye—then show back up in her life and throw the equivalent of a cold, wet water balloon to explode her plans.
Ass.
“I’m sorry, pumpkin, did you say something?” Sam asked, clearly intending to play the This Is Chicken and I’m Not Gonna Lose scenario to its incongruous end. “It sounded like you said ass.”
Daisy shook her head, kept her eyes closed. “I didn’t say ass.”
“I thought I heard her say ass,” John said, putting his two cents in from the backseat.
“Guys, leave me out of the rooster-like posturing, please,” she said, and they had the nerve to guffaw.
“Daisy, lady, you’re far too much for my gentle friend to handle,” John said.
“And yet he’s handling me just fine,” Daisy said, and that shut John up for the space of five blissful minutes.
Of course, John had to start fielding calls on his cell phone. From the backseat, she could hear him gossiping about today’s wedding plans. He told everyone who called that she and Sam were running off—which of course brought on a flurry of phone calls, all of which John seemed pleased to discuss in laborious detail. Daisy’s nerves were stretched tight, and Sam looked positively unlike himself.
Handsome Sam had turned into a shadow of his former devil-may-care self.
Daisy was relieved when Sam finally pulled up in Vegas. He’d found a quaint little chapel, a white incongruous place that didn’t shout Elvis.
“I’ll take the groom in and tidy him up,” John said jovially, and Daisy snapped, “Fine.”
“Ooh, bridal nerves,” John whispered to Sam, but he made sure his whisper carried. “I think she’s got ’em bad!”
She was going to clock John Lopez Mathison a good one if he didn’t take his annoying self far from her. A delicate, elderly woman approached. “You must be the bride.”
“Not today,” Daisy said. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars if you sneak me out of here and keep those two hunky cowboys I came in with busy long enough for me to get to the nearest airport.”
* * *
KNOWING THE FIRST place Sam and John would look for her was Bridesmaids Creek or Branch Winters’s place in Montana, Daisy took herself somewhere she knew she was totally safe. She went to New York, waited a day for her father to overnight her passport, and flew out to Australia, where Robert Donovan had recently purchased properties. It was a great excuse to check out the real estate, which made her father happy, but most of all, it gave Daisy time to think through her situation.
For a girl who loved riding fast on her motorcycle, her life had become way too fast-paced. She was going to be a mother. It was time to sit and think, figure out what she was going to do. Here she was completely safe from the game-playing duo of John and Sam.
She put a hand on her stomach as she looked out over the Sydney skyline. John had never suspected the baby was his—which had annoyed the heck out of her, but they’d been completely faithful about using condoms, so she guessed she could understand why he might assume the baby was Sam’s.
Then again, he was still an ass. She might have been wild, but she’d never been promiscuous, and John knew that. Part of her wondered if Sam would tell him the truth—but one never knew with Sam. He marched to the beat of his own unseen drummer, one that played a tune no one could predict.
It would all work out. She had to believe that. To think otherwise would mean giving up on the BC magic—something she would never do. Her father owned buildings around the world; she could live anywhere she liked. But Bridesmaids Creek was home.
And