I flip over the waffle iron and open it. A cloud of smoke billows off the charred, blackened piece of charcoal that was briefly a waffle. I wave it off and cough. "Fucking asshole of a waffle," I say.

Tess shakes her head and playfully shoves me out of the way. "You're hopeless. Let me do it."

Business is back to usual at the shop, and we're working on a new dish after hours: fried chicken and waffles. But the industrial waffle iron we ordered is really fucking touchy with the temperature controls.

Tess couldn't push me around if she tried, but I gingerly step out of the way and play along. It's my baby that she's carrying in her belly, and I'm not taking any chances with her. Not now.

She tries her hand at the waffle iron and produces a crispy, golden, flaky, delicious waffle. Next to the waffle iron, a couple fried chicken strips bubble in a frying pan, and I remove them with a pair of tongs. I place one of the pieces atop Tess's successful waffle, and drizzle it with honey-mustard dressing.

We sit down at one of the tables in the dining area and dig in.

"Mmm," says Tess. She crunches on a bite of fried chicken and waffles, and my stomach growls at the sound of the crunching.

My eyes lock onto her plump, pink lips as she shovels down more of the waffles. I fucking love her lips. On my cheeks, on my lips, on my body, and all over my cock. I can't get enough of them.

I cut off a bite with the side of my fork, and then I realize what this shit needs. Some fucking sweet butter. "Be right back," I say.

I spin over the counter and head to the back freezer to dig around for some butter. I'll need to melt it first, but this is going to be fucking good, and—

Something smashes into the back of my head, and I see stars and blackness.

"Mmph," I groan, and I wake up lying on my back next to the freezer. I put my hand to my head, and when I take it away, it's covered in red.

Fuck. All I can think about is Tess, alone by herself in the dining room. I try to sit up, but I'm dazed, and my muscles don't cooperate.

Just out of my field of vision, I hear more banging and crashing, then a bloodcurdling scream from Tess. I crane my neck as hard as I can, and I spot them. A couple of guys dressed in black, wearing ski masks. They hold baseball bats and they're smashing everything in sight.

My instincts kick into guard dog mode, and through sheer willpower, I pick myself up off the floor. The room spins and I nearly fall to the ground, but I steady myself against the freezer and clench my fists until my vertigo passes.

Tess shrieks again and the crashing continues. I put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, forcing myself closer to the mayhem. I call on all of my Navy SEAL training to get myself into the fight, the way I've been conditioned to do. This is what I'm made for.

With every step I regain more strength, even as I leave a trail of blood behind me, dripping down from the back of my head. When I get to the dining room, I can't believe my fucking eyes. All the windows are smashed out. The cash register is broken open, on the floor, and bills and coins are scattered all over the floor. The pastry display cases are bashed in. The espresso machine is dented and wrecked.

And now both of the intruders have Tess cornered. They brandish their bats above her head. This is Wilkinson's last act. I just know it is.

As far as I'm concerned, I only have one mission left in life. If I slip into unconsciousness, it won't be until I take these thugs apart piece by piece and make sure my woman and my baby are safe.

I stagger forward, tightening all my muscles, preparing myself to kill.

One of the men feigns toward me. He jerks to the side and swings his bat at my ribs. I reach out and catch it in my palm, which explodes in agony. I feel bones break as the bat hits me. But I ignore the pain. I rip the bat out of his hands, bring it above my head, and send it surging down into his skull.

The collision is brutal and lethal. The man's skull splits open and his body collapses to the ground like a sack of dead meat. I realize the bat is broken in half, just a splintered handle now.

Fucking perfect. That'll work.

The thug standing over Tess turns to face me, and I scan her face and body. I don't see any blood or bruises, thank God. Now I'm going to finish this job.

I draw the splintered bat back like a sword, then plunge the splintered end into the man's stomach. It pierces him fully. He drops his bat, clutching his stomach, blood running out of his mouth. He gasps for air, and I just twist the bat and jam it in until his feet give out from under him and he slides down in a slaughtered heap.

"Tess," I exclaim, and I rush to her side. I wipe my hands on my jeans, and then put my hands on her just as fast as I can. "Are you hurt? Is the baby hurt?"

She replies, her voice shaky. "I'm fine. Thank God you came. They said they were going to kill me. They said it was a parting gift from the mayor."

I bristle with anger. "I fucking knew it. That motherfucker is dead," I say.

"Call the cops," says Tess. "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

That's the last thing I hear before I fall unconscious.

* * *

6 Months Later

I roll up my cuffs and adjust the collar on my tux. Tess slips her hand into the crook of my elbow and we step into the ballroom.

It's the first annual Maple Ridge town social, held here at the town's brand new hotel. Over the last few months the Rainbow Café has brought so many visitors and so much new business to the town that an investor stepped in and funded a new hotel and a new public park project. More business are opening every day, and Maple Ridge is starting to show up on lists of "best small towns to live in."

And Mayor Wilkinson is behind bars, being charged for three counts of attempted murder.

"You're the most handsome mayor I've ever seen," whispers Tess into my ear.

"Does that make you royalty?"

"You wish you were a prince."

"You mean I don't get a crown?"

Tess smacks me on the arm. "You need to take this job seriously."

I rub my arm. She hits soft but she hits often, and always in the exact same damn spot. The bruise is starting to build up. "I am," I say. "The town's already doing better than it ever did before. Thanks to me."

Tess rolls her eyes. Whatever.

We dance the night away. I'm not usually one for fucking ballroom dancing, but once I've got a solid bottle of champagne in me, it becomes a lot more tolerable. We're the center of attention the entire night, not to mention the best dressed. Everyone wants to get to know the new mayor and his bride. A dozen people congratulate us belatedly on our marriage and pregnancy, and we grin to each other each time they do. Nobody knows that it was a fake marriage turned real.

Then I see something that makes me proud. Jason finally has Crystal on his arm. "Damn," I say to Tess, "look at that girl 'miring."

"Good job, you pussy," I call out to Jason. Tess pinches me on the ass, hard this time, out of view from Jason. I flinch and a wave of cold sweat flickers over my body. "Just joking," I call out. "Fuck, that hurt."

After we've had enough of the dance, Tess and I sneak out on a back patio. The sky is clear tonight and the stars shine bright. I polish off my champagne. Tess sips her non-alcoholic ginger ale and pats her belly.

I fish around in my pocket, and I feel it. I close my fist around it.

"Tess," I say. "I love you." Three words that I've never said to a woman before.

Her eyes well up with tears, and that's when I drop onto one knee. I pull it out of my pocket. The diamond engagement ring that her father gave to her mother. "Will you marry me?"

Tess's eyes shine bright in the moonlight. "Fake marry you?"

"Real marry me," I say.

"Yes," she says, "of course I will." A single tear of joy falls down her cheek as I slip the ring on her finger.

I stand up and wrap her in my arms, feeling our growing baby between us. And I know I'm exactly where I should be.