Over the last hour, other passengers had arrived one by one, and now the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen was standing about a foot behind her. His dark wavy hair was neat except for a cute little wild piece curling over his ear. He had dazzling dark-brown eyes. She only knew that because he’d caught her staring earlier. The smile he’d shot her almost made her fall to the floor.
It had reminded her of another smile, and she’d worked to avoid looking in his direction again. She didn’t need any complications, and a man would definitely be a complication.
“Nervous?” he asked.
She startled. “What?”
He pointed to her foot. It was tapping so fast her nickname could have been Thumper.
Her cheeks heated up, and she hooked her foot around her other leg. “No, I’m just fidgety. I’m not used to just standing and waiting.”
His smile was warm. Not flirty, but genuine. “Well, no worries about that. You’re going to be doing a lot of running on the cruise. From what I understand, there’s a lot to do.” He scratched the little more than a five o’clock shadow growing on his jaw.
“I know. Guess it’s not the worst thing in the world to be forced to relax.” She twisted a piece of her strawberry blonde hair around her finger. “Is your beard new?”
He lifted his head, and again his brown eyes found hers. “What?”
She touched her jaw. “Your beard? Is it new? I’m only asking because you keep scratching it.”
The man jerked his hand away from his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m just trying something different. Everyone tells me I have a baby face, and I’m tired of it.”
It did look good on him, but she tried picturing him without it. “I like it. It makes you look distinguished.”
Before he said another word, he quickly closed the gap between them. “I thought distinguished is what young people called old men.”
Oh, good lord, he was a tower of a man. Olive skin, broad shoulders, thickly built, soulful brown eyes, and he smelled like spice. Butterflies met the tingles flooding her body, and they danced the rumba all over her. “Uh, well, it could apply to anyone. I mean, the definition means successful, authoritative, and commanding respect. I don’t think you have to be old to do that.” Did her voice squeak? She cleared her throat, just in case.
“Name’s Tristan. What’s yours?” This time, she noticed his deep baritone voice. It was like rich espresso. The kind that’s smooth and potent.
He stuck a hand out, and as she shook it, she said, “Belle, Belle Evans.” Her mom had loved literature, and she’d given her the same love. Belle just wished her mom could remember it.
His eyebrows shot up. “Like Twilight?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, Belle as in Beauty and the Beast.”
“Oh, right. I tend to get those two mixed up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. So, did you win too?” Not that she needed to know, she just wanted to keep him talking because she liked the sound of his voice.
Something she couldn’t put a finger on flashed across his features. “No, I bought my ticket. You won?”
“Yeah, I never expected to win. It was a whim. I’d forgotten I even entered. That radio guy sounded frustrated with me, but I did hang up on him twice.” Her phone vibrated, and she looked down at it. Again? With a huff, she pressed the decline-call button.
Tristan smiled at her again. “Problem?”
Belle leaned over to see where she was in line. It was like an airport terminal with a long counter and agents behind computers checking people in. The person in front of her moved ahead, and she stepped forward, pulling her luggage behind her.
She wanted to tell him, “Yep, my best friend stealing my fiancé was a huge problem,” but instead, she pasted on a smile and shook her head. “No. I just want to be able to concentrate on what I’m doing.” At least on the cruise, Belle wouldn’t be dealing with Laura calling her all the time.
“Good idea.” He caught her gaze and held it. “You have really pretty eyes.”
Belle’s fascination with Tristan screeched to a halt. The one thing she didn’t want was a relationship or fling or anything else while she was on a nine-day cruise. And if both of them were going to be on the same ship, they’d definitely have the opportunity to spend time together. “Thanks.” She turned her back on him, unwilling to take the chance of being burnt again.
The line moved again, and Belle got a little closer to the woman in front of her. Hopefully, that’d give Mr. Smooth Voice a hint she wasn’t interested. Her jackhammering heart needed to cut it out. Falling for someone wasn’t on the to-do list. She just needed to get on board and forget her troubles, like Paul getting her fired.
It was stupid. Paul was the one who chased her. Paul was the one who asked her out and then asked her to marry him. It was all Paul Whitlock. The snake. He’d fed her so many lies, and she’d eaten them up like pie at a church picnic. Then he’d sabotaged her marketing campaign, cheated on her with her best friend, and dumped her. A whole year of blood, sweat, and tears to build her fledgling marketing career had gone straight down the drain.
Finally, it was her turn to check in. There were a ton of things she needed to answer, like had she been sick recently, and she had to have her debit card tied to her room card so she could make purchases, which she had no intention of doing.
Once all her paperwork was in order, she got her room card and hurried to the deck of the ship. As she walked away from the ticket counter, she glanced at Tristan. His dark eyes followed her the entire way, and whatever he was thinking was a mystery. The man could obviously play poker.
A woman in a cruise uniform smiled as Belle stopped at the entrance to the ship. “Hello, welcome aboard. We’ll be leaving port tonight. We hope you’ll have a wonderful time. If there is anything you need, please ask. Crew and staff can be identified with neck lanyards and uniforms.”
“Okay, thank you.” Belle let her gaze sweep across the ship. It was massive and modern. It made the one she’d worked on look small and dated.
“Since you’re a contest winner, we’d like to have you meet in the dining hall as part of the marketing you agreed to when you accepted the ticket. If you have any additional questions, someone will be able to answer them.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks. I’m just excited to get a vacation.” Belle smiled.
The woman smiled wider, if that was possible. “That’s what we like to hear. An excited passenger having a good time.”
* * *
Grab your copy of Her Pretend Billionaire Boyfriend and cruise with Tristan and Belle as they fall in love.
Sneak Peek! The Cowboy’s Fake Marriage Chapter 1
In the middle of nowhere, Texas, Grace Maddox was as lost as she’d ever been. Her GPS had sent her who knows where, and now, she was cruising through winding hills on a stretch of road that never seemed to end. And while it was beautiful, lost was lost.
At least she was driving her fiancé’s old sixties Mustang, which was fun. She could still remember the first time Bret let her drive it. They’d gone far outside Houston so he could teach her how to drive a stick shift. It was awful. She nearly gave up, but Bret pushed her to keep trying.
Bret would have loved being lost in a place with willow trees and grass so lush it looked fake. Add to it the picture-perfect powder-blue sky, and it was like being in a different world. That was Texas, though. You could go from a packed city to desert-dry to what looked like something out of a rainforest without ever leaving the state.
Only, she didn’t have the luxury of being lost or slowing down. Her boss, Yolanda, would kill her if she missed this appointment. Not only did it mean good things for Westhall Interior Designs, it meant Grace might finally get the promotion she’d been working for since she was hired six years ago.
All the late nights, coffee runs, and lack of social life had led to these clients: a rich couple with a house in need of a complete interior makeover. They’d specifically
asked for Grace after seeing one of her homes featured at the Abilene Design Show. Granted, that was before she lost Bret, but it was still her design that caught their attention.
What would Bret think? Would he be proud of her? She had to think he would. He was always great about cheering her on. She graduated from college with a business degree, but her passion had been design. Instead of encouraging her to get the corporate job, he’d told her to go for her dream. If it weren’t for him, she would’ve never even had the guts to try.
Rubbing her thumb across her engagement ring, tears pricked her eyes as she thought about him. It had been eight months, and moving on was proving nearly impossible. To the point that she’d been unable to take her ring off yet. How could she move on when she couldn’t get over loving him? It’s not like he’d left willingly. He’d been taken from her, and she felt hollow.
By now, she would’ve been married. They would still be in the honeymoon phase.
She swallowed hard and shook her head. There was no point dwelling on it. How many times had she been told to be thankful for the time she had? That didn’t make losing him any easier, but she’d finally pulled out of her funk a few months ago. At only thirty-one, she was determined to live her life. It’s what Bret would have wanted anyway.
She pulled the ring off and stuck it in her pocket. This time, she’d do it. She’d take it off and keep it off.
Without warning, a rattling noise came from the engine, and white smoke poured from the hood, yanking her from her thoughts.
“Oh, great.”
As she pulled to the side of the road, the car shuddered to a stop and died. She opened the door, got out, and walked to the front of the car. The smoke was even thicker now that she was stopped.
Grace raked her hand through her shoulder-length hair and twisted around. There were no signs of life anywhere. Would roadside assistance even be able to find her, especially since she didn’t know where she was?
She walked to the open car door and leaned across the seat to grab her phone. As she straightened, she sighed. “No bars?” What was she going to do now? With another exasperated sigh, she sat down hard in the driver’s seat and leaned her head against the headrest.
“If anyone is listening, I could really use a break.”
The blue blur of a pickup whizzed past her. She didn’t know how fast they were going, but it had to be more than the 65 mph speed limit she’d been driving.
A moment later, the blue pickup returned, facing her head-on as it stopped a few feet away. An average-height man wearing jeans and a denim button-up got out and approached her. If she were to guess age, based on his tanned, weathered face, she’d put him in his fifties.
“Uh, you need some help?” he asked.
“Um.” What did she say? Yeah? This was a great place to run into the wrong person and wind up on a missing persons list. Although, he didn’t look like a homicidal maniac. Then again, how would she know?
He smiled. “I swear you’re safe with me.” Holding up both hands, he chuckled. “See, no weapons.”
“You could just be saying that.”
He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I’m Quincy Bellamy, and I’m guessing you’re lost.”
Grace chewed her thumb. Indecision gripped her. What should she do? Did she have a choice?
She stood and put the car door between them as she stuffed her phone in the pocket of her navy slacks. “I’m Grace Maddox, and I don’t think smoke is supposed to be pouring out of the engine.”
His smile was warm as he closed the distance between them. He stopped at the front of the car and took a deep breath. “It’s a shot in the dark, but by the smell, I’d say your radiator’s busted. If you want, I can give you a ride into town, and you can see about getting your car towed.”
This man was the first human she’d seen in hours. What if she turned him down? Or better yet, what were the chances of someone else stopping?
She fanned herself with her hand as sweat began to form along her brow. With as hot as it was, if this man didn’t kill her, the heat would. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Sure.” He nodded his head toward the truck. “Get in.”
Grace grabbed her purse and locked the car door before walking to the old seventies pickup. It might not be pretty, but it was running, which was more than she could say for Bret’s—her Mustang. She pulled on the door handle, and it didn’t budge.
“Oh yeah. I’m sorry. That door is persnickety.” Quincy jumped into the pickup and reached across the bench seat to push the door open for her.
Well, if Quincy was a killer, at least she knew she could get out. “Thanks,” she said as she got in and shut the door. “I appreciate you giving me a ride.”
“No problem.” He chuckled. “So, you’re lost, huh?”
Grace nodded. “Yeah, I’ve never been more lost. I know I put the address in my GPS correctly. I don’t know what happened.”
“Willow Valley isn’t what you’d call mapped.”
“What? Willow Valley?” That wasn’t what she’d put into her GPS. How could she have gotten so turned around? She’d even downloaded the app’s newest version before she left home.
Quincy glanced at her. “That’s where you are.”
“How far is Abilene?”
“You’re at least three hours from Abilene.”
Her eyes widened. “Three hours?” And a broken-down car. How was she going to make her appointment now? Yolanda was going to kill her, raise her from the dead, and kill her again. And promotion? Forget it. It seemed like the last eight months had been one continual shoe drop after another.
“I take it that’s not what you wanted to hear.”
Grace shook her head and sighed. “No. I wish I knew what happened.”
He shrugged. “I guess someone thought you needed a detour.”
She snorted. “I wish they’d asked.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“No.”
Quincy chuckled. “Then that’s why they didn’t ask.”
“Funny.” She rolled her eyes.
“So, where you from?”
“Houston.”
“Big city. I stayed there a year one week.”
Grace wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“Longest week of my life. I swear those highways and roads were so twisted around that it was like driving on concrete spaghetti.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s busy, bustling, and crazy, but I love it.” Warmth filled her as she smiled, thinking of Bret. The smile faded, and she looked out the window. “Loved it.”
Quincy cleared his throat. “Were you going to Abilene to find a new place or…”
She looked at him. “No. I’m an interior designer. I’m supposed to be meeting a client first thing tomorrow to show them what I have planned for their home.”
“Uh, well, you may have to postpone that. We don’t have a car rental place. We do have an excellent mechanic, but it takes a while to get parts sometimes since we’re so far out of the way.”
Great. She looked down at her phone. Still no bars. “Is there better cell reception in town?”
“Sure, it’s better, if by better you mean only slightly better than what you’ve got now.” Quincy brightened.
Grace nodded. Of course. That’s how everything in her life was working lately. Her gaze blurred as she turned her attention to the rolling hills zipping by, and the companionable silence lengthened.
“Well, we’re here,” Quincy said.
She jerked her attention forward, looking out the windshield. How long had it taken to get here? No longer lost in thought, she was wide awake and trying to take in everything as they slowly drove through what she’d call Main Street, USA. It was a cute little town. If it were a cartoon, it would remind her of Radiator Springs. “It’s…quaint.”
“Is that code for old and small?” He pulled the truck into the parking lot of a gas station and parked. A sign that read Q. B. Fix-it was pai
nted on the front of the brick building in black-and-white letters.
She laughed. “Maybe.”
He lifted an eyebrow and grinned. “All right, I’ll give you that. It’s old and small, but the people here are worth gold. Everyone knows everyone, and there’s something to be said about a community of people who’ve got your back.”
Grace nodded. “That does sound nice.” And it did. Her community consisted of her two sisters, her mom, and her grandfather telling her it was time to move on all the time, when they actually took time to talk to her.
As he opened the door, he paused. “By the way, that mechanic I told you about?”
“Yeah?”
“That’d be me.” He smiled.
Her mouth dropped open. “Why didn’t you check the car when you stopped?”
“It’s only ten in the morning and already hot enough to fry eggs on the pavement. I might be small-town, but I’m not stupid.”
Grace could give him that. It was hot thirty minutes ago and only seemed to be getting hotter.
She took another look out the window before opening the door and getting out. “How long do you think it’ll take to get my car running?”
“I have no idea until I’m sure what’s wrong, but you’ll be here for at least overnight.”
Oh man, this was not what she planned at all. Her shoulders sagged. Yolanda was going to be furious. And she didn’t have enough reception to call her and warn her or the clients.
“Is there a place I can stay?” she asked. Maybe they’d have a signal booster or a landline. Something that would give her a way to the outside world.
The way Quincy grinned, it almost made her nervous. “About ten miles from here, there’s a bed and breakfast. My nephew, Jackson, runs the place. Let me give him a call, and he can give you a lift while I get your car towed to the shop.”
Now she wished she’d been paying attention when they arrived in town. “There aren’t any hotels?”
“There’s one, but I wouldn’t stay there.”
Firefighter's Rescue (Bakers Beach: First Responders Book 1) Page 15