The Matchmaker’s Fake Marriage
A sweet fake marriage romance book four
Bree Livingston
Edited by
Christina Schrunk
The Matchmaker’s Fake Marriage
Copyright © 2018 by Bree Livingston
Edited by Christina Schrunk
https://www.facebook.com/christinaschrunk.editor
Proofread by Krista R. Burdine
https://www.facebook.com/iamgrammaresque
Cover design by Bonnie Paulson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Bree Livingston
https://www.breelivingston.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
The Matchmaker’s Fake Marriage / Bree Livingston. -- 1st ed.
ISBN: 9781074021283
Contents
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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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Sneak Peek! The Beast’s Fake Marriage Chapter 1
Other Books by Bree Livingston
About the Author
I wrote and rewrote this dedication a million times (that’s possibly exaggerated) and I still couldn’t come up with anything that I liked.
There are lot of people who are just there for me. Everyday, every month, with every word I write. They make these books possible and for them, I am forever grateful.
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Chapter 1
With a sniff, Peyton Burrows grabbed the box of tissues off her bed as she shuffled into the living room of her apartment and flopped down. Without even checking herself in a mirror, she knew how she looked. Life had kicked her while she was down and then thrown her off a cliff. And right before Christmas?
Only six days ago, she was engaged to Frank Salmon, Esquire, and only one meeting away from a promotion at the bank. A promotion she’d already decided to give up so she could move to Paris with Frank. Only, it wasn’t that kind of meeting after all. Now she was newly single and looking at a pink slip. It had all happened so fast that she felt as though she was suffering from whiplash.
The phone in her bathrobe pocket buzzed against her hip, and she fished it out. “Hey, Tracey.” Ugh. She sounded pathetic.
“Hey, I’m sorry to hear about your job.” Peyton and Tracey had worked together at the bank for five years, but Tracey’s job was secure since she was in mortgages and the bank wasn’t moving that department.
It was the only job she’d had since graduating high school. When it was bought out six months ago, she’d known changes were coming. She just didn’t think her department moving to Iowa would be part of the merger. Now she was twenty-eight and looking for a new job.
“They offered to let me move to Iowa, but not as a supervisor.”
Tracey scoffed. “What? That’s an insult. You took over bad debts and recovered over eighty thousand dollars’ worth of lost assets. Assets the bank had already written off.”
Peyton sat up, energized by the injustice. “It was more than enough to cover my salary. You’d think that would’ve given me job security.”
“Did they tell you why they wouldn’t give you the supervisor job?”
“The supervisor in Iowa had seniority, and there isn’t a need for a second one.”
“Nice. Real nice.” Tracey paused. “Have you heard from Frank?”
Frank. The jerk. He’d proposed at Thanksgiving in front of her parents. Her parents! It had been grand and wonderful, and a big ole fat joke. Through the grapevine—also known as his loudmouth brother—she’d learned that he’d only dated and proposed to her to look good to the partners at his firm. Once he found out he was heading up the Paris office, Peyton was an accessory he no longer needed, and he dumped her.
Peyton groaned. “No, and I don’t want to hear from him. We dated four months, and he was using me the whole time. I mean, I know it was fast, but he said that when you’re in love, you follow your heart.”
“What a creep. Are you sure you believe his brother, though? Maybe he just got cold feet.”
Peyton flopped back. “Oh, I believe him. Plus, there’s the picture of Frank in Paris, kissing someone.”
“Already?”
“Yep. I sure know how to pick ’em, huh?”
This was her third engagement. And the third one to end almost as soon as it began. She could hear her baby sister ribbing her already. She loved Lori, but, man, there were times when Peyton just wanted to sock her.
Was it really her fault that she picked guys who seemed great and then turned out to be horrible? It wasn’t like she had a flag flying that said, Welcome, losers.
Was it really so bad to want to be loved?
Her bottom lip trembled, and a tear ran down her cheek. Grabbing a tissue, she blew her nose for the umpteenth time. “Ouch. I should have gotten the tissues with lotion in them.” She sniffed. “I can’t stop crying. It’s so unlike me.”
“You should call Gus.”
Normally, she would’ve called her best friend, Gustaf Grant. If she called him, she knew he’d make her feel better. He’d fly in from his New York penthouse to her sardine-sized apartment in Alaska and veg on the couch with her, watching horribly sappy movies while telling her what an idiot Frank was. That was what he always did when she had a bad breakup.
“I can’t, Tracey. He’s opening his resort in Hawaii on Christmas Eve. That’s just two days away.”
When he started his matchmaking app four years ago, Peyton never would have expected it to be as wildly successful as it was. Not that she didn’t have faith in him or that it wouldn’t be a hit. She just didn’t imagine an unbelievably wealthy kind of successful. Who knew the lanky boy who moved in next door to her childhood home in Juneau would grow up to be Mr. Matchmaker and own a resort?
“Yeah, but that’s why you call him your best friend.” Tracey paused. “See, now, he’s the guy you should be engaged to—tall, handsome, and wealthy.”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “He’s my best friend. That’s all. He made it clear a long time ago that all he wanted was to be friends.”
Tracey exhaled heavily. “The way he looks at you says he doesn’t think that anymore.”
“No, that’s just Gus. He’s wonderful. And only my best friend. I wouldn’t want to do anything that could ruin that. He means too much to me.” Which is why she’d kept Paris from him. She was waiting for the right time to tell him.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call, an
d she pulled it back to check the screen. Gus? They talked almost every day but usually before bed. It was three in the afternoon. Why would he be calling this early?
“Oh, hey, speak of the devil. That’s Gus,” Peyton said.
“Okay, well, call me if you need anything, girl. You know I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, Trace. Talk to you later.” Peyton switched calls. “Hey, Gus-G―Hey.” She’d stopped calling him Gus-Gus in high school after he wouldn’t speak to her for a week. The only way to get him to talk to her was to promise never to use it again. She still had to catch herself once in a while.
“Hey! How’s my favorite girl?” His voice was cheery, making her smile.
“I’m great. How’s my favorite guy?” This had been the way they’d answered the phone since the Bambi Bumgardner incident in fifth grade. Bambi had been mean to Gus because his name was goofy. She said no girl would ever want to date him because he was a weirdo.
Back then, Gus had worn baggy slacks and button-ups, and the kids made fun of him, mostly because his clothes looked as if they belonged to someone fifty years older. But Peyton had liked him from the moment she met him. She told him that what Bambi said wasn’t true and he was her favorite boy. From there, it just stuck.
He laughed. “I can’t be your favorite guy anymore. I believe that job was taken by Frank.”
Ouch. Bon Jovi was right. Shot through the heart. “You’ll always be my favorite guy. There’s just a tie now.” Not. Frank could go skydiving without a parachute. No, it was wrong to even think something such as that. Just because he was awful didn’t mean she was going to stoop to his level.
“Oh, thanks.” He laughed. “I bet you’re wondering why I called.”
“You’re psychic. Do you charge by the hour? Should I get my credit card?”
Gus snorted. “I wish. No, I’m calling because I’m flying in, and I was hoping we could hang out before I leave for Hawaii tomorrow. I have a Christmas present for you.”
Flying into Juneau? What? Oh no. How was she going to hide her miserable week from him? Crud.
“Oh, Gus, you didn’t have to do that.” Of course he’d get her a present. The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and by then, he’d be in Hawaii. “But I didn’t get you anything yet. I didn’t know what to get, and I didn’t know you’d be in town.”
“I know, but I wanted to. And I don’t care about a present or I’d have warned you I was coming. That new promotion of yours deserves some celebration too. I’m taking you out to dinner. After, we’ll rent a movie and hang out on the couch. I need some down time before I put my game face on.”
Seriously, he didn’t know he was shooting arrows, but, man, it didn’t keep them from hurting. She covered the receiver with her hand and took a deep breath to keep from crying. She refused to put a damper on his big opening day.
“Are you there?” The phone shuffled. “Hello? Aw, I got cut off.” It sounded like he was about to hang up.
“No! I’m here. Just overwhelmed by how sweet you are. This is why you’re my favorite guy and why I don’t understand how you’re still single.” She’d tried to set him up so many times over the years, but either he wouldn’t be interested or he’d have to cancel at the last minute.
“I’m too busy for a relationship, and I enjoy being a bachelor. I don’t have to worry about anything but me and my company. Besides, I’m not single. I have my best friend.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know, but stop worrying. I’m okay.”
Peyton shook her head. “All right, fine. When are you supposed to be here?”
He made a little humming noise, the kind that said I’m looking at the clock. “In about forty-five minutes.”
Holy cow. She looked around her apartment, and her eyes went wide. It was the scene straight out of You’ve Got Mail. Used tissues, scattered clothes, and half-eaten bowls of ice cream were everywhere. She did a sniff test and wondered if Gus could smell her from his plane. “Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“I told you I wanted to surprise you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Unless Frank is there. Am I interrupting something?”
“Oh, no, I just…I need to go so I can get ready. The last time you took me out to dinner, I had on jeans when I should have been wearing a runway dress.”
“Peyton, you always look great, and that restaurant was full of snobs. Dress how you want.” He was being nice. She’d practically been dressed for a hoedown, and he’d taken her to a restaurant that didn’t have prices on the menu. He’d acted like nothing was off and that people weren’t staring at her and wondering what bridge she lived under.
“Okay, I need to go so I can be ready when you get here.”
“All right. I’ll be there shortly. I’ve got a car rented, so I’ll pick you up.”
She smiled. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“Bye, favorite girl.”
“Bye, favorite guy.”
She ended the call and hit the nitrous button. Her apartment was always immaculate. If Gus arrived and saw it was trashed, he’d know immediately that something was wrong, and there’d be no way for her to hide it. Good thing her place was small; otherwise, she’d never get it clean in time.
As she zipped around, it struck her as funny that, once again, Gus was rescuing her without even knowing it. His coming into town was what she needed. Good food, his humor, and time spent with her best friend. Yeah, she’d keep her misery to herself until he got back after New Year’s. She pushed down the thoughts of gloom and concentrated on her apartment.
Once she was finished with her cleaning, she put her hands on her hips and let her gaze sweep the space. She pulled out her phone, and her eyes widened. Ten minutes? Great. With a speed she didn’t know she had, she ran to the bathroom and began getting ready.
Her dark hair was a rat’s nest, her nose could’ve been sandblasted, and her eyes were so puffy they looked like they’d been injected with collagen. She was an absolute mess. Why had she allowed herself to get in this shape? This wasn’t her usual. Sitting in a funk wasn’t her style, and she’d been doing it for the last week.
She was done feeling sorry for herself. It never helped anyone anyway. Nope, she was finding her bootstraps and pulling them up—starting with her best foundation and brightest lipstick. After today, she was getting herself back out there and living her life. No more whining.
Chapter 2
Setting the phone down, Gus Grant smiled. In no time at all, he’d be seeing his best friend, Peyton. They never went more than a few days without talking, but it had been almost four months since he’d seen her, and he was nervous. He didn’t know why. He’d given up any hope of them being together long ago.
During the summer between ninth and tenth grade, something had changed in him…changed in the way he saw her. Right before school started, he’d kissed her in the middle of his backyard. Instead of saying anything, she’d looked at him wide-eyed and walked away.
A few days passed before she spoke to him again, and she acted like it never happened. Then a few months later, Gus overheard her tell her friend Leslie that she’d never see him as more than a brother. Sure, that was their sophomore year of high school, but more than once, she’d referred to him as the brotherly type. He’d since packed away his feelings for her and was happy with the way things were.
Of course, she’d look as good as always. Her dark hair would be perfectly curled and sitting just atop her shoulders with the bangs sideswept, accenting her cute little nose and perfectly pink Cupid’s bow lips. She’d wear a dress that showed off her soft, creamy skin and, more than likely, her delicate collarbone and slender neck. And she’d have no idea the effect she had on him.
Just a friend. Three of the worst words ever strung together, followed closely by their evil twin, like a brother. He hated both of those, but that’s what he was…and it would never change.
He couldn’t understand what she saw in any of the guys she fell f
or. The first engagement ended when the doofus cheated on her, and the second one ended when the guy decided he wasn’t ready to commit—which he should have known before he asked her. And now Frank? Gus couldn’t stand the man. One face-to-face with the guy when he and Peyton first started dating, and Gus was not impressed.
His phone rang, and he answered it.
“Hey, Gus, how’s the flight?” asked Tyrone Reid, his business partner and friend.
When Gus had first arrived in New York, it’d been overwhelming. He’d just graduated from college, left Juneau and Peyton, and he was homesick. It was just coincidence that he met Ty. An acquaintance had invited him to a party, and he and Ty both hated it. They’d left the flashing lights and loud music for the quiet of a coffee shop. Since then, they’d become tight.
“It’s all right. What’s up?” Ty didn’t typically call without a reason.
“I have some news.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
Ty cleared his throat. “You know that journalist for the Forever in Love magazine? Justine Pruitt?”
Oh yeah, Gus remembered her. Anytime she got the chance, she’d hound him about his bachelor status. How is it that Mr. Matchmaker can’t find his own match? “Uh, yeah. You wanted her to do an article about the resort.”
“It would be good for us. A positive piece from her, and the resort will be booked until forever.”
“I know, and I’m cool with that,” Gus said. “But she wasn’t going to be able to make it to the grand opening.”
The Matchmaker's Fake Marriage (Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Book 4) Page 1