Her TV Bachelor Fake Fiancé: Christmas Romance Series

by Krey, Kimberly

  He decided to leave it a mystery until the appropriate time came to bring it up. Once at the top of a pine-covered hill, he and Cambria selected the perfect tree. Canyon wouldn’t want to admit it, but he felt an odd sense of child-like excitement at the thought of decorating the tree with Cambria.

  A small team in SUV’s helped cut down the tree and strap it onto a sled. The sled was then attached to the snowmobile he and Cambria would drive back to the cabin. Lunch was being brought in today, thank heavens, and they’d get to relax and enjoy. Then they’d get to talk more. Something he was looking forward to as well.

  And as they settled into the snowmobile, Cambria wrapping her arms snugly around him from behind, Canyon took note of how very nice it felt to be around a woman who knew the darkest parts of him. She knew, and she hadn’t run. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the truth was, Canyon hadn’t liked himself a whole lot over the last few years. But being with Cambria somehow melted that away, making him feel as if he might not be so wretched after all.

  As he considered that, an unpleasant reminder came to mind. She could be acting. Heck, hadn’t he known Marsha would make Cambria an offer she couldn’t refuse? No doubt she had. Anything to salvage the show’s reputation.

  No, he decided, pushing the thought away. Canyon had some incentive of his own and that didn’t make his feelings any less real. Even if Marsha had tempted her with compensation, Cambria wouldn’t pretend to feel something that she didn’t. Would she?

  Chapter 9

  Cambria dusted crumbs off her hands and leaned back in the kitchen chair. Warm light spilled over Canyon’s handsome face across the table.

  “That soup was so good,” Canyon said. “Why did I ever think I wouldn’t like broccoli cheese soup?”

  Cambria laughed. “Because it has broccoli in it?”

  He laughed too. “Good point.”

  “Usually even people who hate broccoli like the soup. I like both,” she admitted.

  “You know what I don’t get?” he said, a furrow coming over his brow.

  Cambria shook her head. “What?”

  “I don’t get these weird cooking mittens.” He reached over and grabbed an oven mitt off the counter. The large mitt was bright white with blue snowflakes, made especially for the season. Cambria had used it earlier to remove the pan of toasted bread from the oven—the only lunch detail they’d had to take care of.

  “They’re just so big.” Canyon shoved his hand into it and reached toward her.

  Cambria squealed and backed away. “Ew, what are you doing?”

  “Hold still.” Canyon laughed. “I just want to see if you’re freaked out by them like me.”

  “I’m not.” She squealed again as he ran the rounded, puffy tip along her hair.

  “Obviously you are,” he said.

  Cambria laughed as she came to her feet. “I’m only freaked out by it when your hand’s in there.” She hurried behind him and snatched it off his hand.

  Canyon’s face fell flat. His head tipped to one side, and a crooked smile pulled at his lips. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Cambria sunk her hand into it and lifted it up theatrically. “Lookie what I have here.”

  His face scrunched up. His shoulders did too. “Lookie?”

  “Come here,” she said, taking one slow step. “I just want to run my mitten through your hair.” She chuckled, moving in slow motion as she held his gaze.

  “Never.”

  “C’mon,” she persisted. “It will be like therapy for you. Maybe if you endure this, you can stop thinking they’re so… creepy.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Just try.” Cambria leaned on one hip, waiting to get his consent as she lifted a pleading brow.

  “Fine. You can touch my hair with your giant mitt. Just once.” He wiped the emotion off his face and gave her a nod.

  “Thank you.” She looped her foot around the leg of her chair and dragged it closer to his before taking a seat. “I’ll go slow, okay?” she said in a low voice.

  Canyon cleared his throat and folded his arms. “Okay.”

  As he held her gaze with those incredible stormy blue eyes, Cambria tuned into the sheer draw she felt toward him. He was magnetic. More so than ever, now that his insides were matching his attractive appearance. He was a good sport too, evident in what he was about to let her do.

  She reached up, noticing how right Canyon was. The mitt looked ridiculously big against her small wrist. In fact… “This is almost as big as your head,” she said in a whisper.

  He chuckled low in his throat. Even that—the simple sound of his low laugh—was alluring. “I told you.”

  She brought it in, pressed the open face of it against the ashy blond strands of his hair, and stifled a laugh. Stifled, because already the mood had started to shift. If Canyon’s eyes reminded her of a stormy day, the thunderclaps were hammering in her chest. Deep rumbles that taunted, teased, and enticed.

  She moved it down the side of his head as if he were some sort of pet, and gave in to a chuckle. As she pulled the winter-themed mitt away from his head at last, static tugged at a few stray strands. She gave him a couple of pats.

  “Good boy,” she said, laughing again while tugging the thing off her hand and setting it back on the butcher block.

  He tightened his lips over a smile. “Thanks.”

  Was it just her, or was Canyon’s face reddening?

  “Is my hair sticking up now?” he asked.

  She glanced up at the wayward strands. “Yes. Looks like they’re dancing, actually.”

  He grinned. Yes, his face was definitely reddening. “Would you mind fixing it? Maybe get it wet or something with your hand.”

  Cambria had a small bit of water left in her glass. She tipped it into her cupped palm, rubbed her hands together, and smoothed a palm over the static-ridden part of his hair. It worked the first time, the hairs falling right back into place, but she repeated the action anyway; it was nice being so close to him. Face-to-face, unlike the sleigh ride.

  Canyon must’ve agreed, because he reached out then, slipped a hand around her knee, resting it there. The action brought them closer still. Enough that she could smell that masculine, spicy cologne of his.

  Her heart thumped faster and harder still. A symphony of thunderstorms now. But she didn’t let that stop her. Instead, she curved her hand around his head, then moved it slowly, gently down the back of his neck. Then, using the very tips of her fingers, she circled the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck, their connection growing as he held her gaze with a knowing look just before glancing down at her lips.

  Desire swelled deep in her chest, warm and tempting as she leaned in the slightest bit, admiring the perfect shape of his mouth in return. Yes. She wanted his kiss again. Yet just as the thought came to her, she tuned into the small, electrical hum of an automatic lens.

  Stan, who’d circled behind Canyon to come in for a side view, probably stood as far from them as he could in the cramped space. Hence, the need for the zoom of his lens, but awareness kicked in fast. Cambria had been the one to initiate their first kiss on the swings—all of America had seen it. Talked about it. Speculated over what it meant. Most of the comments had been positive. She wants something, she goes out and gets it. She’s a successful business owner, what else would we expect? Others were less favorable.

  Not that it mattered. The moment was lost.

  Cambria dropped her arm and straightened back against the chair. Canyon’s brow furrowed as he darted a look to each camera in turn. He looked down at his hand where it rested on her knee, then gave it a squeeze before sliding it off casually, the tips of his fingers first grazing down the back of her calf.

  “We’ll take a break here,” Lisa Throw announced while glancing at the clock. “Me and the crew will catch a bite to eat, have a little rest.” She clapped her hands twice and came in to stand closer. “Off you go, you two. Off to your own quarters, now. Tonight’s date will be a five
-course meal served by Wyoming’s finest.”

  Cambria knew what that meant—formal wear. And a dinner that was usually followed by a ceremony Find My Fiancé took very seriously. A moment where the bachelor takes hold of the bachelorette’s token necklace, decides whether or not to continue dating her by either fastening the clasp behind her neck, or abandoning the chain altogether and hanging it on the pegboard.

  Canyon lifted his brows at Cambria as he stood. “Later, gater,” he said through a gorgeous grin.

  “Later,” she managed, tossing a wave over her shoulder and hurrying out. Her insides were bobbing around like a bunch of confused neurons. One moment she and Canyon were sharing a laugh, the next they were inches from sharing a kiss. Now they were being sent to their own rooms like a couple of naughty children and Cambria was forced to pull her mind off the sudden, desperate desire to have his lips on hers again.

  A realization came to her then. An awful one. If they were going to the trouble of doing one of Lisa’s ceremonies, they could easily be flying somebody else in. After all, if Canyon hung her peg on the board, what would they do? Abandon the cabin? Leave the crew (not to mention all of America who planned to watch the episodes) high and dry?

  No. They’d bring in an alternate. Maybe two. But a quick reflection on her contract put that idea to rest. She and Canyon were supposed to like one another. It was what America wanted.

  She strolled over the thick, plush rugs, creamy white against the rough slates of rock, as another idea came to mind, bringing with it a thick layer of gloom: Perhaps what was really happening in Canyon’s head could be summed up in two words—words that suggested he was faking his feelings for her even now: contractual obligation.

  The acknowledgement felt like a punch to the heart. Anxious heat pooled into her chest, pumped throughout her limbs, and caused her feet to nearly trip over themselves.

  Take your mind off of it, Cambria. Just get that thought out of your head.

  She hurried into her room and snatched her tote bag of books. Quickly, she dug into the bag and blindly selected a paperback from the pile, praying it would lend the escape she sought. The worn, crinkled cover promised that very thing; the novel had been read, re-read, and loved. She wriggled it out of the canvas bag and looked at the cover. The Death of the Heart by Elizabeth Bowen.

  Cambria chuckled at the irony. Sure, it might seem extreme to imply, but—in addition to the obvious parallel between Cambria and the main character who’d also lost both parents in her youth— there was the fact that Cambria had allowed herself to become very hopeful where Canyon was concerned. And now, to think that he might be influenced by whatever was written in his contract, Cambria realized what a great risk it was to let herself love him. A risk that could break her heart.

  Just moments ago, her hopes of a love relationship had been as warm and bright as a rising hot air balloon. But doubt was quickly swallowing that hope, consuming every shiny bit and replacing it with a boulder-sized gloom—dull, heavy, and cold. A vision of Canyon’s handsome face came to mind. The way he’d stared at her while she patted his head with the oven mitt. Had he been faking for the camera?

  Tears welled up in her eyes at the very idea, making her feel pathetic. She hadn’t been invested when this thing began. Heck, Cambria hadn’t expected anything but her paycheck once it was all said and done. So who cared if she got that and nothing else? Perhaps that should be her focus. She wouldn’t get hurt that way.

  That’s right. She was getting somewhere. Buffering the weight of the boulder. Good things, Cambria. Put your mind on every good thing in your life. Things that don’t hinge on Canyon’s feelings for you.

  She lay back on her bed, stretched out her legs, and rested the book on her chest. There, she did what she’d always done. Consider the great gifts in her life: Sweet Stop, yes. She had the natural oils shop, and business was booming. She had Double V, Leah, and Mae. She had her nice home. Her mean cat. Things she’d still have if none of this worked out.

  So at this point, Cambria could do one of two things: Give in to this experience, feelings and all, despite the risk of a broken heart. Or she could shut herself off now and play it safe. Acting the part as best as she could while guarding her heart. She’d been hurt by Canyon once before, more than she wanted to admit.

  The dilemma dangled over her head, swaying like a pendant. Option one, option two. One. Two.

  When Cambria went off to summer camp at twelve years old, a staff member handed her a note from her mother. It was night one, and Cambria hadn’t made a single friend. She’d stayed tucked into the fray of each activity, claiming to have a headache, and watched the others participate in canoe rides and wall climbing. She was terribly shy back then, and had felt homesick the second she’d climbed into the chaotic bus.

  She’d never forget the moment she unfolded the piece of stationary, pink paper with little mice around the border, and read the words as firelight danced over the page.

  Anything worth having comes with a risk. Don’t play it safe, baby girl. Put yourself out there, make friends, and show people that bright, beautiful light of yours!

  Cambria hadn’t known how important that letter would become. How glad she would be that she, unlike some of the girls, tucked it into her pocket instead of tossing it into the crackling flames. She couldn’t have known that three years later, her parents would be killed in a car accident, and that she’d read and reread the tear-stained note well into her twenties.

  Eventually, Vicki made copies of the note on matching paper and even had a copy laminated so it would be tear resistant. She hadn’t brought it with her to Wyoming, but as Cambria lay there, the dilemma still swaying overhead, the words played in her mind to the tune of her mother’s angel voice. Don’t play it safe, baby girl.

  Those very words fueled her while earning her degree in business and opening her shop. And now, she’d let them fuel her in a different aspect of life. She clenched her eyes shut, pictured her mom’s hazel eyes and sweet smile.

  Tears trickled down Cambria’s temples and into her hair. Don’t play it safe…

  Okay, Mom. I won’t. And I know that I’ve healed a lot over the years, but I miss you and Dad so much.

  She let the tears have at her as she recalled Mom busy in the kitchen, scrubbing at a stain on her blouse and mumbling that she forgot to put on an apron… again, and that the shirt was probably ruined. Dad would be hovered over a crossword puzzle—the only thing that took his mind off his work—chuckling under his breath and saying something like, “If you wanted a new blouse, why didn’t you just say so?”

  Cambria sighed. Was she applying her mom’s lasting piece of advice in a way that would make them proud? She hoped so.

  With that, Cambria sat up, wiped her tears, and centered herself on the comfy bed. She nodded, pulled in a deep breath, and let it swell in her chest as she set a new goal for herself: She started, as she always did, by acknowledging the thing that would complicate her goal most. In this case, it was simple—she could get her heart broken.

  Cambria pushed out the breath she held in one long, continual exhale. I’m releasing the fear of a broken heart. I’m letting it go.

  Another deep breath in, and she declared the goal in her mind. She would give in to this experience—fully— and enjoy her time with Canyon. Cambria released the breath with a nod, pulled in another, and declared it again. She could do this. She’d signed a contract, after all. How else would she give them something good to see? And what if Canyon wasn’t faking? What if they really had something special? If she let herself get hung up on fear and doubt, she could miss out on possibly the best thing of her life.

  And the truth was, if she ended up getting her heart broken, she’d move on eventually, the way she’d gotten over her ex-boyfriend Jeff when they broke up. She’d even learned to ignore the whispered comments about the orphan girl after her parents died and she was shipped off to a new school.

  She’d done harder things than this.
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  Cambria allowed herself to open the worn paperback and push her musings to the side. Yet just as her eyes drifted past the title at the top of the page, The Death of the Heart, Cambria wondered how many let-downs in life it would take for her own heart to die.

  Chapter 10

  Talk about boring. Canyon strode across his room, a nine iron in hand, and repositioned the glass he’d set on the floor. With a grunt or two, he snatched the golf balls off the floor and moved back to his place beside the massive armoire. He set the first ball down, steadied it with the ball of his foot, then gave it the lightest tap. When it rolled beyond the glass, he set the other down and tried again. Then again.

  He straightened up as he detected ruckus from the other side of the house. The Christmas tunes playing throughout the cabin’s speakers made it hard to tell at first, but as Canyon stepped beyond his bedroom doorway, he heard Lisa Throw’s voice. It was time for his date with Cambria.

  He did a fist pump. Yes. “It’s about time,” he mumbled while dashing back into this room. He’d already stepped into his tux for the evening, but he’d left a few last small details undone so Stan could get the regular shots of him fastening the cuffs, stepping into his shoes, and getting his hair to that just-right level of mussed perfection he was known for.

  It took longer than he’d hoped, but eventually Stan came in and did just that. Next was time for the walk down the hall, but instead of meeting Cambria at the entrance like he’d done before, Canyon was instructed to head into the formal dining area, a room he hadn’t paid any attention to. A quiet table glowed with soft, flickering light from the wall sconces. The table was set with elegant looking china, goldware, and wine glasses, but as he neared, Canyon noticed a few personal touches had been added as well. A dish he’d made when he was a kid. The second plate he didn’t recognize must have been made by Cambria. The only thing that was missing was the woman herself. And the food, of course, but who cared about that?