The (Not So) Perfect Fiancé

by Dallen, Maggie

  “Hey, Ty,” he said, getting his friend’s attention. “Isn’t it time to start filming the final segment?”

  Tyler’s eyes widened at the reminder, and he only just managed to keep a knowing smirk off his face as he mumbled, “Right, right. Let me go round up the crew.”

  Callie turned her face up to look at him, those impossibly big brown eyes meeting his with such tender affection he was certain he’d died and gone to heaven. Or at least, he’d found the next best thing. Being with Callie—really being with her, was better than anything he could have imagined.

  It had only been a few weeks, but it was enough time to change the way he saw the world. It was enough to give him a taste of the sort of life they’d have together.

  Forever.

  If she said yes…

  Her lips curved up in a sweet smile. “The final segment, huh? Does that mean we’re almost finished?” She stuck her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “These shoes are killing me.”

  He nodded as he stroked her bare arm—her dress had been chosen by the wardrobe crew and while it made her look more stunning than ever, it wasn’t meant for this brisk breeze.

  “This is the last part, sweetheart. We’re almost done.”

  She sighed with relief as she rested her head against his chest. “Oh thank goodness.”

  “The filming is almost over,” he said again softly. But he hoped that they were just about to begin.

  A little while later Tyler came back to them with a wide, easy smile. Cole hoped Callie didn’t catch the mischievous, knowing wink he shot Cole when her back was turned. “We’re ready for you,” Tyler said.

  Cole steered her through the house and to the backyard, ignoring Tyler’s whispered, “Go get ’em, tiger,” as he passed.

  Callie stopped in her tracks as they reached the back patio. While they’d filmed out front, he’d had the landscape artist work her magic out back with her crew. What had been a simple, green yard was now a garden oasis, filled with exotic flowers and strung with little lights that glistened in the early evening sky. In the middle was a small gazebo, the entrance wrapped in ivy and flowers.

  Callie was staring openmouthed and he heard Tyler laugh behind them. “Now that’s the shocked reaction I’d been looking for.”

  He and Callie both ignored him, along with the curious gazes of the crew. Grasping her hand, he led her toward the gazebo, where he’d made Tyler promise there’d be no mics.

  He glanced back and Tyler gave him the thumbs up. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

  Callie’s eyes were impossibly wide. “Ready?” she said to Cole. “For what?”

  His heart was in his throat, his pulse pounding as nerves threatened to make speech impossible. But there was no doubt. Not even a hint of doubt as he dropped down on one knee.

  Callie gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “What are you doing?” she mumbled through her hands.

  He reached up and tugged her hands away from her mouth, clasping them in his grip instead. When her warm brown eyes met his, he gave her a smile—one that would only ever be for her. It was a smile of pure joy. “I know how much you hate to lie, and Callie Wright, I want to embark on our journey together with nothing but truth and honesty between us.”

  She pressed her lips together and he caught sight of tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn’t speak.

  He took a deep breath and squeezed her hands. “Callie, would you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

  She stared down wide-eyed and he feared for a moment that she was in a state of shock. He cleared his throat and tried to rephrase it just in case he hadn’t been clear. “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m hoping you’ll agree to make this fake engagement real. I love you, Callie, and—”

  “Yes!” Her delighted shriek cut him off, and just like that she seemed to come out of that state of shock. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, his neck, his forehead—until he stopped her wandering lips with a kiss that left them both struggling for air.

  “Yes?” he said, that dopey grin impossible to deny. He brushed her hair back. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you, sweetheart, it’s just—”

  “I’m sure,” she said, her voice breathless but filled with promise. “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, Cole Harding.”

  “In that case…” He came to stand, bringing her with him so he could scoop her into his arms and hold her tight as he kissed her with every bit of passion and love he had inside.

  “Cut!” Tyler yelled out, somewhere in the distance. “That’s a wrap.”

  He went to lift his head but Callie stopped him, bringing him back down for another kiss.

  “Got it in one take,” Tyler said.

  Cole was distantly aware of the sounds around them as the crew packed up, as Tyler herded everyone back to the vans.

  “So that’s it?” Callie said, her eyes dazed as she pulled back eventually to see the empty yard around them. “It’s over?”

  “It’s over,” he said.

  She beamed up at him, her arms tightening around his neck. “Or maybe we’re just about to begin.”

  He laughed. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, reviews are greatly appreciated. Did you miss Ellie & Ian’s story? You can find it in The (Not So) Perfect Day. Be sure to check out Leah’s story in The (Not So) Perfect Match.

  Enjoy sweet romance? Keep reading for a free sample of Dating Prince Charming, the first in Maggie Dallen’s completed sweet contemporary series.

  For more sweet romance, check out these adult and YA contemporary reads.

  Sweet Contemporary Romance:

  Barely a Fairy Tale (Rom-Com)

  Dating Prince Charming

  Winning Snow White

  Saving Rose Red

  Enchanting the Beast

  Sweet Beginnings (Western Romance)

  Homecoming Promise

  Promise to Return

  Promise Me Forever (Releasing Summer 2019)

  Sweet Young Adult Romance:

  Geeks Gone Wild

  Love at First Fight

  My Virtual Prince Charming

  Once Upon a Comic-Con

  Kissing the Enemy

  The Perfect Catch

  The Perfect Match

  The Perfect Score

  Briarwood High

  Out of His League

  A Whole New League

  The Perfect League

  The Holiday Kiss

  The Prom Kiss

  The Candy Cane Kiss

  Summer of Love

  Senior Week Fling

  Senior Week Crush

  Senior Week Kiss

  Dating Prince Charming

  Jacob woke to the sound of metal clanging. Before he could even open his eyes, the misery set in. His head throbbed and his stomach churned, and even though his eyelids were squeezed shut, the light behind them seemed to stab his brain like an ice pick.

  “Rise and shine, princess,” a low voice boomed, echoing through his skull and making him wince as the throbbing intensified.

  But physical misery was nothing compared to the cold, hard pit of despair that had him moaning out loud as his brain slowly kicked into gear and the reality of his situation became clear.

  He was in jail.

  “Up and at ‘em, sunshine,” the voice called. The tone was mocking, the volume mercilessly loud. And close.

  Jacob finally managed to open his eyes and found himself staring up at an overweight cop with a haircut that hadn’t been seen since the eighties.

  He tried to say something, peeling his sandpaper tongue from the top of his mouth and cringing at the horrible taste of death and decay. He wanted to ask questions—where am I, maybe, or what day is it? Either would have been a good start in sorting through the jumbled collections of drunken, scattered memories from the night before. But all he managed to croak out was, “Water.”

 
The throwback cop smirked down at him. “What do I look like, room service?” He turned and headed toward the hallway. “Come on, hotshot, we don’t got all day.”

  Jacob managed to ease himself up into a sitting position, unleashing a whole new set of aches and pains. He thrust his hands through his hair, attempting to wake up fully, but the move only managed to make his left cheekbone scream with pain. With tentative fingers, he touched the sore spot and found it swollen.

  Wonderful. He had a shiner.

  “Good news, kid,” the cop said from where he was waiting in the hallway. “They aren’t pressing charges.”

  Jacob nodded. He should be pleased, he supposed, but at that moment it was difficult to conjure up any positive thoughts. He just wanted to be home, in his own bed, buried under the comforters with a giant bottle of aspirin by his side.

  The cop continued speaking at a volume that was better suited to the hard of hearing rather than the hungover. “That means,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “That you are free to go, your highness.”

  Jacob gave a short nod. Free to go. That was good. He shoved himself up and out of the hard cot, trying not to look at the dirty metal toilet to his left, afraid his body might succumb to the urge to vomit at the sight of it.

  He followed the cop out of the cell, into the hallway and up to the door leading to the public area. Stopping mid-step, he froze as a horrible thought occurred to him, temporarily overshadowing his physical misery. “Are there any reporters out there?”

  The officer smirked at him. Oh yeah, this guy knew exactly who he was. And by the looks of it, he was enjoying his misery. “Just one,” he said.

  “Tell him there’s no story here,” Jacob said, rubbing his eyes trying to force himself fully awake. Even as he said it, he knew this cop wasn’t about to do him any favors.

  “You tell her yourself.” The cop sounded highly amused.

  So glad he could entertain. Jerking his head toward the door, he said, “All right then, let’s get this over with.”

  The moment the door opened Jacob was blinded by a flash.

  Jeeze, that was rude.

  He blinked until his vision returned and when it did he blinked some more to ensure he was seeing correctly. The reporter who had thrown herself in front of him to snap what was sure to be a hideous photo… she looked familiar.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Her wild curls were blonde now, not dyed black. Gone was the nose ring. Her lips, curled up in a mischievous grin, weren’t sporting the siren red lipstick she’d always worn in high school. But that pixie face, those vivid blue eyes, the petite figure… there was no doubt.

  “Morning, Prince Charming,” she sang in a ridiculously chipper voice.

  He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. This couldn’t be happening. As if his morning wasn’t bad enough, she had to be here to witness his humiliation?

  When he dropped his hands and looked up, she hadn’t gone anywhere. She was still blocking his path, that camera going off with a dizzying display of flashes and an incessant whirring-clicking sound.

  Belatedly the pieces clicked together in his fuzzy hungover brain. “You’re the reporter?”

  Her grin grew wider. She looked entirely too pleased with herself. The cat that ate the canary. Or the reporter who’d gotten the scoop on the newspaper heir’s latest debacle.

  He let out a string of curses under his breath, ignoring her soft laugh. Her laugh—that hadn’t changed at all.

  “Anything you’d like to say for the record, Jacob?”

  His eyes snapped open at that. The reality of his situation sinking in as details fell into place. He’d heard that she’d become a reporter. And she was here. Now. With his picture.

  He bit back another groan, which he was sure would only add to her amusement. She’d always disliked him and now she had his picture coming out of jail. When his father found out….

  No. He wouldn’t go there. Not now. Not until he had coffee in hand.

  Straightening his shoulders, he met her gaze with as much dignity as possible. “A pleasure as always, Cinderella.”

  Her laugh followed him as he strode out the front door of the police station and into the unforgiving sunlight.

  * * *

  Now that had not been expected. Mackenzie watched her mark head out into the sunshine and turned to grin at the cop who was standing next to her. “Thanks again, boys. Catch you on the flipside.”

  One of them called out that reporters like her weren’t welcome back. But that was just Pat with his gruff sense of humor so she turned back to give him a jaunty salute.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Mack,” Angelo called after her. Angelo, sweet and dependable Angelo. He’d been the inside source to tip her off that a celebrity was being held overnight. “Celebrity” was a bit of a stretch, as far as Mackenzie was concerned. Entitled brat was a far more accurate description. But Jacob Hartley’s last name alone made him newsworthy, whether she liked it or not. The only son of the city’s version of royalty—the Hartleys, the media moguls who just about monopolized the world of TV and print news. Luckily they hadn’t yet gotten their hands on Mackenzie’s little corner of the online news world—she’d created a unique niche with her HeatMap site—or her struggling company would be put out of its misery once and for all.

  Stepping out of the dark, dingy police station and into the glaring morning sun that was pounding down on the Lower East Side, she took a quick look at the pictures she’d taken.

  Oh man, he looked bad. Really bad. His classically handsome face was marred by a nasty bruise, a five o’clock shadow, and some seriously dark circles under his eyes. His dark hair was matted and sticking out in all different directions. But the best part was the look of horror she’d captured the moment his eyes had focused on her. She shouldn’t find that so satisfying, but….she did. Call her petty but being able to witness Mr. Perfect’s humbling morning-after firsthand made her day.

  A laugh escaped her, startling the couple that passed by with their morning coffee. She fell into step behind them, heading back toward the subway. She should head straight to her home office in Brooklyn but her stepsister was probably already at their breakfast spot waiting for her. And the idea of filling Jenna in on this latest bit of gossip was too tempting to resist.

  As expected, Jenna was already there and waiting, sitting at an outdoor table on the cobblestoned street in the Meatpacking District, taking in the summer sun. Tall, with flawless fair skin and a perfectly coifed black-haired bob, her step-sister was pretty much the walking embodiment of everything Mackenzie was not. That used to be an issue, when they were teenagers rudely thrust into one another’s lives thanks to their parents’ whirlwind romance. But fortunately for all involved the marriage was nearly as short-lived as the courtship, and in the aftermath, when their parents’ relationship had turned caustic and toxic, the two girls, then in college, had found an odd sort of friendship—the kind that could only come from surviving a warzone together.

  Mackenzie fell into the seat opposite Jenna and whipped out her phone. “You’re never going to believe who I got photos of leaving the police station.”

  Jenna groaned and picked up the menu in front of her. “No business over breakfast, Mack. You know the rule.”

  “This isn’t business, this is news—”

  “News is your business,” Jenna reminded her, only half paying attention as she perused the menu.

  “Not news-news,” she said, powering on her camera. “This is more like gossip. East Harbor gossip.”

  Jenna’s head shot up at the mention of the boarding school they’d been shipped off to their junior and senior year—Jenna willingly, Mackenzie? Not so much.

  “Don’t tell me one of our friends is in trouble,” Jenna said with a mix of dread with a dash of eagerness—that particular blend of curiosity that kept tabloids in business.

  “One of your friends. I didn’t have any friends, remember?”

  Jenna�
�s answer was automatic. “And whose fault was that?”

  Mackenzie clamped her mouth shut. High school was an ancient memory, there was no need to revisit that awful period of existence. Unless, of course, it was to gawk at the school’s answer to Prince William.

  She turned the camera over to Jenna with a flourish and watched with glee as her stepsister’s eyes widened in recognition. “Is that Jacob Hartley?”

  Mackenzie nodded. “The one and only. Your favorite luv-ah,” she drawled.

  Jenna gave a snort of annoyed amusement. “He was not my lover.”

  “But you did have a crush on him.” Mackenzie’s tone had taken on the sing-song tone of a child taunting her sibling. Which was exactly what she was doing.

  “Did not,” Jenna shot back, sounding equally juvenile.

  “You totally did.”

  “Everybody had a crush on Jacob Hartley.”

  Mackenzie leaned forward. “I didn’t.”

  Jenna looked up with her brows arched knowingly. “Everybody normal.”

  Mackenzie shrugged. Fair enough.

  Jenna glanced back down at the image on the camera. “I’d heard he’d gotten his act together. Tabby said he’d really matured last time she saw him.”

  Mackenzie cared about Tabby Bradshaw’s opinion about as much as she cared about the latest episode of The Real Housewives. Which was to say, not at all. But the name still made her cringe. “You still talk to that crowd?” Her nose scrunched up in disgust before she remembered her vow that they would not go there today. Those people no longer had any influence over her life. Sure, Jenna had been in with that group in high school, but even she had outgrown her clicky, arrogant high school friends once she went off to Brown for college.

  Jenna lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I keep in touch with some of them.” She leaned in to study the picture even closer. “I haven’t seen Jacob in ages though. Last I heard he’d gone to work for his father—”