The Christmas Groom

by Taylor Hart

  The Christmas Groom

  Bachelor Billionaire Romances

  Taylor Hart

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Excerpt Rescue Me: Park City Firefighter Romance

  Excerpt The Faithful One: Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

  Excerpt Love on the Rebound

  Excerpt Marrying Miss Kringle Romancing Miss Kringle Romancing Miss Kringle

  Also by Taylor Hart

  All rights reserved.

  © 2016 ArchStone Ink

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the publisher and/or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC.

  First eBook Edition: 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Nathan Pennington sank low into his ski boots and breathed in the cool Park City mountain air. It’d been a rough three months.

  His father had died right before the election they’d been planning for two years. Granted, he still had a law firm to run he’d inherited from his father. He also had several oil companies and a plethora of businesses his father had owned. His movie star brother, Sterling, wanted nothing to do with them.

  But the businesses didn’t replace the loneliness growing inside of him. He often told himself it would get better. After all, he was closer to his brother then he’d ever been. Which was nice.

  But, he missed his father. He missed…being so wrapped up in his father’s affairs, he didn’t have time to hardly think about the lack of relationships in his own life.

  Until now.

  When the calendar had flipped to December first, though, something had changed inside of him. It was as if he suddenly noticed something was lacking in his life. He was thirty years old and had never been married—hardly even had a relationship, even if he counted the two-year thing during law school.

  All month long he’d been “squirmy,” as his secretary had called it, and she told him he needed to get out of the office and enjoy life. He’d thought maybe he needed to find a woman to distract himself with for a while. After all, what was a padded wallet good for but to pull out and attract the next shiny thing?

  When Sterling called and asked him to meet him and Sayla in Jackson for Christmas and New Year’s, he’d been happy. He was going to spend a traditional Christmas with family. He’d been so happy he’d decided to spend a week in Park City first, where his mom and dad used to take them every December when he and his brother were younger. Maybe it was time to do more than have a distraction in his life. Maybe now he needed a real relationship, something like his brother had.

  Determined to thoroughly enjoy this week, he’d spent the day skiing. It’d been an incredible rush. Now, his aching back and legs were begging to be done, so he told himself he would do this last run and then go back to his resort and take a soak in the hot tub.

  “On your right!” Someone shouted behind him.

  Looking over his shoulder, he saw a neon-pink coat, gloves, and a hat coming at him.

  Trying to scoot out of the way, he thought the woman would hit him, but at the last minute, she curved to the side, barely missing him. She did some kind of move that sprayed snow in his face.

  “This is the fast track!” She yelled. “Stay out of the way!”

  Fuming, he pushed off and decided right then to stay on her heels all the way down the mountain and give her a piece of his mind. After all, this was his vacation, and he had been having a pretty good time before this clearly insane woman got in his way. What nerve or right did the pink-fleeced snow bunny have telling him to get out of her way? And fast track? Who said a person couldn’t take a minute at the top of a mountain to enjoy the view?

  The faster he went, bending into the run and putting his poles closer to his sides, the farther the woman seemed to get away from him—which was insane because he was flying down the mountain. Skiing was something he was passionate about and had made time to do four or five times a year all through his life. It was pure joy to him.

  By the time he arrived at the bottom of the mountain, the pink woman was gone. Searching the exit, he couldn’t spot her. Man, the woman had been fast. And rude. He was seething just thinking about her, but he consoled himself with the thought of going back to the resort and letting his problems melt away in the hot tub.

  Sitting, he tugged off his skis then walked in the jilted way skiers walk with the boots on. At the lodge, he checked in his gear before changing into his hiking boots and heading toward his room. Scanning the shops along the edges of the resort, he considered his options for dinner. It was even more difficult to choose because he couldn’t decide if he should eat first or if he could wait until he’d soaked his sore muscles in the hot tub. Which problem was worse, his screaming muscles or the nagging hunger?

  He came to a stop when he saw the woman in pink gear standing next to a booth. The ski resort had set up little tent shops in part of the parking lot. It looked like there were a variety of vendors. They had everything from new sports labels hoping to make it big to the mainstream brands everyone knew. There were also boutique-like tents with local crafts that people could buy for souvenirs or last-minute Christmas gifts.

  His heart skipped a beat as she took off her helmet and her blond curls fell around her face. When he looked closer, he saw she was talking on her cell phone.

  Perfect. He would get a chance to give her a piece of his mind after all.

  Someone walked out of the tent next to her and turned to her. “Night, boss, you sure you’re okay to close up alone?”

  He saw her shake her head.

  “Yep, see ya.” She put her phone down. Then turned around, startling him. Seeing the tears in her eyes and the tense expression on her face, he stopped abruptly.

  Without knowing why, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She focused intensely on his face and gave him an incredulous, confused look. “Do I know you?”

  “No.” It made no sense given a minute ago he was ready to give her a piece of his mind, but he felt drawn to her. Maybe she was exactly the distraction he needed during this trip. “Unless you call almost knocking me down up there on the mountain our first date.” He attempted a charming smirk.

  She frowned and shook her head, blinking away the tears. “Oh, you were the idiot in everyone’s way at the top of the mountain up there.”

  Being called an idiot right to his face didn’t happen that often to Nathan Pennington. “Right, you’re on the fast track, and I need to get out of the way.” He made air quotes for her benefit.

  Narrow
ing her eyes, she said, “Listen, tonight’s not the night to mess with me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what you want, but just stay out of my way.”

  What he wanted very much was to get in her way, but she was already stalking over to the table piled high with neon-colored products much like the ones she was wearing. Giving the whole thing a once-over, with the hangers laid out over the bundles of things and the bins out, he figured she was putting stuff away for the night.

  “Is this some type of trade show or something?” he asked. Her shop was one of the many tents in the parking lot outside of the regular shops.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Excuse me?” Nathan wasn’t used to being ignored either.

  Letting out a sigh, she picked up a sweatshirt and folded it. “This is an expo for all the latest and greatest in new products coming out on the market. Park City Resort puts it on for a few days before Christmas every year so all the richies can be wowed and buy the best stuff.” She snorted and slipped something into a bin beneath the table, not looking at him.

  Turning around, he took in the large quantity of products she had. “So you’re trying to unload all this over the next couple of days?”

  “Wow, you’re a genius.”

  He stared at her, nonplussed. “O-kay.” Man, this really wasn’t turning out to be the distraction he was looking for.

  Continuing the process of pulling sweatshirts, jackets, and a plethora of other gear off the table and into bins, she said, “I would say ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out’ if I had a door, but obviously I don’t.”

  This woman had issues. Anger issues mostly. Yet when he’d first seen her get off the phone, he could have sworn she was about to cry. Not knowing what compelled him to do it, he moved to the men’s gear and picked up a coat, noticing the brand name was FastTrack. “Clever. Your brand name is the same thing you used to insult me.”

  She glared at him then continued packing up gear.

  Eyeing the gear, unsure why he cared so much, he asked, “Will it keep me warm all day on the slopes? And at night?” He studied a pair of black gloves for a moment before reaching out and feeling the material.

  She hesitated and then cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  He liked the fact that she clearly wasn’t the kind of person who turned on the salesman charm instantly. It was sad for her in a business sense, but in general, it was a good trait to have on a personal level. It made her seem more authentic. He pulled his wallet out of his coat. “I’ll take a complete set of gear. Coat, hat, gloves, and pants. All in black.”

  Her jaw dropped, but she collected herself and crossed her arms like she didn’t trust him. “Why?”

  He shot her a stern look then moved his gaze back to the gear, sizing up the quality of the coat’s workmanship. “The correct response is ‘Great, awesome customer, I’ll get that ready for you.’” He knew he sounded condescending, but he didn’t care. The more he inspected the product, the more he liked it.

  “Who are you?”

  Casually, he pulled out a credit card and took a step toward her, finally meeting her eyes. They were the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They reminded him of the Cayman Islands where he’d gone diving two years ago.

  When he didn’t answer, she cocked her head to the side. “Seriously, who are you? Someone famous? Some millionaire visiting Park City?” She snorted.

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Why do you care? I want to purchase your merchandise. Isn’t that enough?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t be offended that I don’t know you. I don’t watch television.”

  Mimicking her expression, he asked, “Who are you? Someone famous? Don’t be offended. I don’t watch television either.” It bothered him he was acting petty, but the words just came out.

  Giving him a glare, she took his credit card and turned to run it in her machine. “You know this isn’t cheap. The product is the best in blended fabrics. It whisks away moisture, keeping you cool and dry.”

  “You’ve run my card. You don’t need to give me a sales presentation now.” He kept his words calm.

  She matched his glare, and her nostrils flared. “I just want you to know this stuff is quality. I want you to appreciate it.” She handed his card back to him.

  Not having any idea why he seemed to be at odds with this beautiful woman, he shook his head and watched as she packaged up all of his gear.

  She sized him up. “Are you a men’s large?”

  Hesitating briefly, he nodded. “Yep.” He watched as she folded his gear quickly, noting how she took pride in her stock. “You know, you might be able to sell more items if you smiled once in a while.”

  She didn’t pause in her folding. “Thanks for the unsolicited sales tip.” She flashed him the same mocking kind of smile he’d given her. “But I already sold to you, didn’t I?”

  He let out a light laugh. “Fair enough.”

  She shoved all his stuff into a bag and thrust it at him.

  Taking it, he grinned. “Hey, truly, you’d sell more if you smiled and even pretended to be happy you were selling the gear.” It was funny to him that he wanted to tease her, pester her. Even if she wouldn’t engage out of politeness, he still wanted to draw out some kind of reaction.

  She ripped off the receipt, glanced at it, then put on an overly fake smile. “Here you go, Mr. Pennington. Have a great day.”

  As he took the receipt, their hands brushed. Ungloved hands. Somehow it felt more intimate than he knew it was.

  Letting go of the bag, she held his gaze. “You can leave now.”

  Now that he had her reacting, he ratcheted up his intensity level. “Is this part of your fast track mentality? Get the customer in, get the customer out? If I were you, I’d be trying to upsell me. Maybe offer me a set of skis.” He eyed the skis on the ground.

  Scoffing, she turned back to packing stuff up. “I’m in a hurry, okay?”

  “Right, fast track, I forgot.” Man, why couldn’t he just walk away? “All I can tell you from personal experience is sometimes the fast track part of life is way overrated.”

  Mid-packing a coat into a bin, she eyed him. “Yeah, people at the end of the fast track always say that.”

  He frowned. “They may mean it too.”

  She sputtered out a laugh. “Ya know, I just got off the phone with the guy who is supposed to fund me. The guy who promised he would put my products in mainstream stores—good stores like Eddie Bauer and REI—just told me if I don’t push seventy percent of the rest of this merchandise tomorrow on the big expo day, he’s going to drop me. Unfortunately for me, I don’t know how that’s gonna happen.” Once again, he saw tears in her eyes. “So don’t stand here and give me life lessons, okay? When people like you already have their millions, they can say anything they want.”

  He decided not to correct her statement by informing her he was a billionaire. Instead, he turned for the tent opening.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry. Look, it’s just been one of those days, okay?”

  He turned back.

  She shook her head and reached for another coat, letting out a derisive laugh. “It’s kinda been one of those years to tell you the truth.”

  He paused and then moved back, offering his hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Nathan.”

  Letting out a puff of air, she looked at his hand, but shook her head.

  “Really, let’s start over. I’m Nathan.” He insisted.

  “You’re not going to leave until I give you my name, are you?”

  He had to smile at her brashness, her sarcasm with a bit of pissed off sprinkled in. Every woman he’d dated for the past few years had been the political type—polished, schooled in the right topics, dressed in the right clothes, and they always said the right things. This woman was refreshing. “Nope, not gonna leave without a name.”

  Shaking his hand, she gave him a little smile. “I’m Storm.”

  Oh y
eah, that fit her.

  She pulled back. “And I’m not in the mood for weather jokes, okay? My mother grew up here and was fascinated by the storms that blew through.”

  The information interested him, but he didn’t push her. “Nice to meet you.”

  She studied him for a moment before grinning. “Man, that’s a practiced smile.” Cocking her head to the side, she lifted an eyebrow. “Completely fake.”

  Finding all thoughts of aches and pains and hunger gone, he realized he wanted to know more about her. “Really?”

  “Completely.”

  “How do you know?”

  She gestured to him. “’Cause I’ve been talking to you, and I’ve seen the real one.” She stuck her chin out. “When you were teasing me. Now it looks like you’re running for president.”

  Thoughts of his father flashed through his mind. His gut twisted, and he felt himself wincing.

  “I’m sorry.” She was giving him an intense look.

  He quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about this bad day or year.”

  A derisive laugh escaped her as she opened another bin and loaded more merchandise into it. “Ah, no. It’s … complicated.”

  Taking a chance, he put his bag of stuff down and moved next to her, folding one of the coats the way she was doing.

  She shook her head, but kept packing. “Now you’re helping me?”

  “Why not?” He leaned over the table and put it neatly in her bin. Then he reached for another. “It’s the Christmas spirit, right?”

  Lifting her eyebrows, she put another coat in the bin and closed it. “So you’re a Mr. Do-Gooder, are you?”

  He was the completely opposite kind of guy, and he knew it, but he just grinned and said, “Yep, that’s me.”

  “Hmm.” She worked fast, closing the bin he’d been working on and then shifting her focus to gathering another bin labeled ‘gloves.’ “I guess you can do what you want. It’s a free country.”

  Liking that she wasn’t arguing with him, and liking even more that this day had taken quite the turn, he closed the bin and reached for another one labeled ‘socks.’ “You didn’t sell me socks.”