by Logan Chance
She glances at her glove-covered left hand. “A ring?”
“Yes, you know, an engagement ring.”
“Why?”
“No mother would believe her son is getting married without a ring on her finger.”
“Can’t we just say we wanted to wait?”
I step closer. “Look, we want to sell this engagement, right? Make it look real? So, you need a big fat rock.”
She laughs a little. “Ok, but I’m returning it to you after this is over.”
The non-business part of me is kind of fucking pleased that Zoe isn’t the type to milk this for all its worth. I like that. It says a lot about her character. The women I’ve dealt with in the past have all been about the money. “I’ll have Jean select something. What’s your ring size?” I grab my cell, ready to make the call.
“Oh, hm. If we’re really going all in, we should pick it out. For authenticity.”
I blow out a breath. I swear the way this girl stares at me makes this all harder. And not just the situation, my dick swells at the thought of spending a long weekend with her. But I throw the sexual thoughts in the trash bin of my mind and try to focus on this ring situation. The thought of actually stepping into a ring store leaves a fine sheen of sweat on my forehead. “I have a jeweler friend, Charles, whose shop is on the way. And after that I’ll buy you some clothes to save time. So, that’s a yes?”
“I’m not loving the idea of pretending to marry someone who hates Christmas.” She pauses, worrying her lip. “This is only business, though. So, we shouldn't have sex again.”
“Of course,” I agree.
She taps a red-tipped nail against her plump bottom lip. “Ok, yes. I’ll marry you.”
Thank God. Before she can change her mind, I whisk her away from the ski slope and head inside the warm cafe nestled under snow laden pine trees. While Zoe waltzes to the counter to grab a hot chocolate, I put a call in to my mother and tell her Zoe will be joining us this holiday. Needless to say, she’s shocked, but it’s not like I haven’t shocked her before. After we hang up, I dial the highway patrol to check on the conditions of the roads. The patrolmen lets me know it’ll be any time now. Thank God. As soon as we’re given the all-clear, I want to be headed to Charles’s and then to my mother’s to get this holiday over with. When I hang up, I walk with Zoe back to her cabin. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” I almost ask it like a question, because more than anything I want to ask her to dinner. I want a repeat of last night. But, I keep my wits about me, remembering not to mix business with pleasure, and I say goodnight.
She smiles a soft smile, and whispers her goodnight, almost as if she’s thinking the same thing as me. Like she wants the repeat too.
Once she’s inside, I head back to my cabin, alone. I check my emails, and do some push-ups, but nothing calms the lust swimming around in my veins. Zoe isn’t too far away. I could go knock on her door and just get a kiss. Instead, I pretend I’m not going out of my mind insane with desire for this girl.
When my mother invited me for Christmas, I wanted to decline just like I did for the Fourth of July. During the summer, I holed up away at this mountain resort, and pretended the world didn’t exist. It’s not that I hate my family. I don’t hate them at all. It’s my mother’s incessant pushing of the neighbor’s daughter, Trudy.
So, to appease my sanity and deal with the holidays in semi-peace, I’m bringing Zoe.
I head to bed, and after tossing and turning half the night, finally pass out.
The next morning, I get the ok from the highway patrol that the roads are open.
“You ready to get this show on the road?” I ask Zoe after she opens the door.
“Sure.” She’s dressed in a baggy off-white sweater with dark, skinny jeans and the same calf-high boots she wore yesterday. Never knew boots could be so sexy, but these are.
Once the Range Rover is loaded, and my fake fiancée is buckled in, I head off down the road.
I wish I could say I hated everything about this, but I’m actually kind of enjoying it. Which is probably not a good thing. But, I’ve always been a little bad. I’ll just have to keep my hands to myself. Easiest deal I’ve ever made.
Chapter 6
Zoe
My grandmother, Lila, used to tell me something every year when I’d visit her for the summers. We’d sit on her porch, molding candles, and she’d look over at me and say, ‘Zoe, you can’t wait for things to happen. You have to make them happen.’
I remind myself of that as I scan the jewelry shop—I’m just making things happen.
I’m sure she didn’t mean try to land a soap contract this way, but it’s too late to take it back now.
What’s the big deal, though? I spend a few days at home with his family and he puts my soaps in his resort? Like this is easy. Too easy. Mothers usually love me. And I already like having sex with her son, so this should be a breeze. And oddly enough, I feel comfortable around him. I mean, we’ve seen each other naked, there’s nothing that strips away the pretenses more than that. I’m sure Granny is haunting this shop right now, shaking her head at my justifications.
The glass cases lining the rectangular shop are filled with stunning rings of every shape and size. Graham guides me closer, and I swear every diamond in here is judging me.
I’m sure his mother expects status and a diamond that eclipses the moon, but I feel guilty taking a ring from him for a fake relationship.
Maybe his friend will just let him borrow it?
“Graham,” a distinguished gentleman, wearing a black suit and bow tie, calls out in a regal voice. I almost feel like curtseying. He steps from behind the counter, and his blue eyes give me a once over before he reaches out and embraces Graham into a hug.
“Charles, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Zoe,” Graham introduces us.
“Fiancée?” Charles’ eyebrows shoot up to his receding hairline. “So, you’re the one who finally got him to put a ring on it,” he says to me.
“Well, not yet.” I hold up my empty ring finger in an awkward attempt to be funny.
Graham’s hand slides onto my lower back, searing me through my sweater. “Let’s find you a ring, Dear.”
“Let me get my special reserve from the vault,” Charles offers. “I’ll be right back.”
When he is out of sight, I whisper to Graham, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but could you pick a different pet name?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“My father used to call my mother ‘dear’ and it always sounded so patronizing. If we’re going to pretend, I want something sexy, like baby.”
He gives me a sultry grin and then sends a jolt of electricity to every fragment of my DNA when he says, “We can do that, baby.”
“Yes,” I whisper, taken aback by how much I like it, “perfect.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and I fight the urge to grab him and make him kiss me while he murmurs baby against my lips. I like it that much.
“Let me show you these,” Charles says, bringing out three rings, which I’m sure all cost more than my apartment.
I lean closer to Graham, breathing in his scent as I say, “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Pick one.”
This isn’t real, so I point to a platinum band with an oval diamond. It’s the smallest of the three, but still heavy and cumbersome when I try it on. I’ll need to cart my hand around in a wheelbarrow.
“We’ll take it,” Graham says, appreciating the ring on my finger.
I smile, trying my best to gush like the bride to be, but then another ring catches my eye. One not from the exclusive vault collection. It’s different, with a rose gold band and vintage vibe, and judging by its positioning in the case, probably much less expensive.
“May I see this one?” I just want to see it closer. It’s like the ring is calling my name. It’s probably my grandmother’s ghost, and when I slip it on, her face will appear and ask me what the hell I�
�m doing.
Charles frowns, but obliges anyway. “This is a James Allen natural diamond ring.”
Thankfully, grandma Lila does not appear as I study the facets and fall in love with its character. When I get engaged for real, this is the one. I remove the gaudy spectacle on my left finger, and slide this one home. And that’s exactly how it feels, like home on my finger.
Graham takes my hand, sending little goosebumps flaring across my skin. “This ring was made for your finger.”
“It’s...wow.” I can’t find the words to finish my thought.
“We’ll take the vintage style one instead,” Graham informs Charles.
“Really? But the other is premium.”
“What my baby wants, my baby gets.”
His words send a ripple of lust through my veins. It’s silly, I know, and this is all pretend, but this desire is also what I want when I’m for real engaged. I look up at Graham. “It’s really ok,” I say. I don’t want to ruin the facade before it even begins.
He leans down and whispers against my ear for only me to hear. “Every ring in this shop is an acceptable ring my mother would believe.”
I nod, and my heart kind of has its own hesitations, but I throw caution to the wind, and take the offer. Twenty minutes later, it’s official: we’re fake engaged.
After we finish with the ring, and buy me some new clothes for my stay as his fiancée, we hop into the SUV and head off toward his mother’s. I flip the radio to a station playing “Silent Night.”
He switches the station to another.
“Not even Silent Night?” I balk.
“No.”
“Graham the Grump. No wait, Graham the Grinch. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t.”
The authority he says it with, and the hooded gaze he gives me, causes me to shift in my seat, envisioning a spanking from him. I think I’d like that. Nothing too much, I’m not into whips and chains, just a hard spank, while he calls me baby. God, I have to stop this. No sex. This is business. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?” I ask to swipe the smut from my mind.
“Because, listen…,” he turns the radio off, “it’s just not enjoyable.”
“I think you’re just not doing it right.”
He glances over to me with a wicked glint in his eye. “There’s a wrong way to do it?”
His words drip with sexual innuendo. “I didn’t mean that.” Judging by my epic orgasm, we both know he knows exactly what he’s doing in that department.
“I should probably warn you, my mother is kind of old school.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s going to assume we haven’t had sex.”
“Ah, I see.” I can play angel around his mother. Heck, I can be an angel and wear wings around his mother.
I don’t really understand all of this, though. He’s a grown man, a very sexy grown man. He’s successful and fucks like a stallion. So, I don’t see why he needs to pretend that he’s engaged. He could probably have a real fiancée in the blink of an eye.
Old money, I guess. Elite eccentricities I’ve never been privy to in my life. Like helicopters and helipads. Because that’s where Graham pulls in and parks—a helipad.
“My parent’s vacation house is a bit hard to reach after a heavy snowfall,” he says as if we just pulled into a gas station.
I point to the white helicopter, its blades already spinning. “We’re going in that?”
“Yeah, we are.” He turns to face me before we head over. “You’re not afraid to fly, are you?”
I shake my head, hoping the fear of flying falls away as I keep shaking. “No, no. I’m pretty sure the pilot knows what he’s doing.”
Graham laughs, softly. “He sure does.”
And the joke’s on me, because as soon as we get to the chopper, the man in the front gets out. “It’s all ready for you,” he screams over the roar of the blades. “And you'll have a vehicle waiting for you at your parent's house when you land.”
Graham nods before helping me inside the chopper. He takes the headset from the man and climbs into the pilot’s seat.
Remember how I said it was all easy before? Like taking cake from a baby, or whatever idiotic thing I said, well, I’m terrified now. This is real. What kind of house do you travel to by helicopter? Who are these people? Is there going to be a red room when I get there?
I try to smile as Graham hands me a headset, but my nerves get the best of me. “Are you sure you know how to fly?”
His sensual lips curve slowly into a smile. “I’ve seen a lot of movies.” He grabs the control stick. “I think I just wiggle this thing around.”
His humor isn’t funny at a moment like this, and he must sense I’m about to jump out, because he reaches his hand across, and gently squeezes my knee. “Relax,” he soothes, “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
I believe the sincerity on his face and take a deep breath, or at least I try to, and the nausea settles a bit.
And then the helicopter leaves the Earth. The ground below gets further and further away, and I keep my eyes glued on it, watching the helipad get smaller and smaller.
“You doing ok?” Graham’s voice fills my headset.
I glance over and force a smile. “Define ok.”
He laughs. The intoxicating sound relaxes me. I mean, if he can laugh we’re obviously not crashing to our deaths. I finally look out the front window, watching the trees in the distance get closer as he flies us over snow-covered pine trees.
It’s really kind of beautiful up here.
He navigates between a gap in the mountain, racing through the skies, and I relax a little more. It’s actually kind of freeing up here. I could get used to this. I could get really used to experiencing new things with him.
But, I remember why I’m here, and let those thoughts go. After a few more minutes, Graham points to a speck of a cabin in a clearing.
And as we get closer, I realize the word cabin is too tiny for what we’re approaching. The place is massive, sprawling across the land like a wooden castle. Glass windows cover three-quarters of the house, and it’s stunning.
“You grew up here?” I ask.
“No, my parents bought this after we moved out.”
“We?”
He laughs. “My sister, Lindsey and me.”
“Ah, will she be here as well?”
“I’m not sure. She has two kids, and a great husband, but sometimes they spend it with his family.”
“The little girl from the mall?”
He nods. It’s hard to imagine Graham attached to people. That came out wrong. It’s hard to picture him as anything...normal. Or human. Because all of this has been a whirlwind, with no time to process.
“Won’t she recognize me?”
“Probably. You’re kind of hard to forget.”
My face blushes, and a warmth spreads through my body. And as he smiles, landing on the helipad, I’m not sure it’s a good thing if I see the real man behind the business deal, because, once this is over, he’s definitely going to be hard to forget.
Chapter 7
Graham
It’s go time. I hope Zoe is up for this.
As we approach the house, I reach down and twine her fingers in mine, for appearance sake, because I know curious eyes are watching. And, well, because my fake fiancée looks like she needs it. “I would like to apologize now,” I tell her.
She looks up at me, stricken. “That bad?”
“Sort of,” I answer, honestly.
She stops. “You’re not bringing me here to make me some kind of sex slave are you? I probably should’ve asked that before now.” Panic widens her eyes. “Is that why you flew me here, all Christian Grey-like, so I couldn’t escape? I just wanted you to use my soaps, not punish me.”
“Zoe, god no…” I try to interrupt, but she continues to ramble.
“I’m not calling you Sir,
and if I have to chew my way through those wood walls, I will.”
And then I do the only thing I can to stop her freak out, I cup her flushed cheeks with my palms and kiss the fuck out of her. Like a second skin, her curves meld to my body. I didn’t mean to kiss her, well actually that’s a lie, but maybe I don’t mean for it to go on this long. Zoe’s words are long gone from her lips as I kiss away the ache burning inside me.
With one hand in her hair, I finally pull away. “Everyone’s going to love you.” I try to calm her worries, because it’s true, everyone will love her. It’s me that’s in for the earful. “I’ll give you every key to every car and door, if that makes you feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” she says a little breathless, and still clinging to me. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”
I kiss her again, soft and slow, slipping my tongue in her mouth for a taste of sweetness, just because I want to, not because I know people are watching. She breaks the kiss, darting her eyes to the house, and I reluctantly step away.
Now it’s show time. We stroll to the front doors of my parent’s vacation lodge, and I don’t even need to knock before it opens.
“I was about to send out the search party,” my cousin, York, says. His dark eyes scan over Zoe. “But then I saw you trying to be all alpha and shit.”
“Shouldn’t you be chasing a puck or something?”
He grins. “You’re just jealous you’re not a hockey god.” His eyes shift to Zoe. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Graham?”
“This is Zoe. My fiancée.”
“I know you,” Zoe chimes in, looking a lot star struck. “York Steele. You’re the center for the Colorado Blizzard.”
“Hockey fan?” he asks, looking way more interested than he should in my fiancée. I narrow my eyes, listening to Zoe gush stats at him like she’s a sports announcer. What is this madness?
“I can hook you up with tickets to a game,” he tells her, and she looks like he just offered her the moon.
“I can get her tickets.” Hell, I could buy her the team. And maybe I will. I don’t know where this territorial feeling is coming from, York and I are like brothers. I mean, technically, if she were interested in him, she’s free to do so, but there’s no way she’d prefer him over me. If I’m being objective, he’s alright, his dark hair is a bit too long. Women seem to love him, but they love me too.