The Cowboy's Fake Marriage (Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Book 1) Read online

  The Cowboy’s Fake Marriage

  a sweet fake marriage romance book one

  Bree Livingston

  Edited by

  Christina Schrunk

  The Cowboy’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 Cowboy’s Fake Marriage / Bree Livingston. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN: 9781074008383

  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

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek! The Star’s Fake Marriage Chapter 1

  Other Books by Bree Livingston

  About the Author

  I have many people to thank.

  Christina Schrunk for editing this beast.

  Krista Burdine for proofreading it.

  Victorine Lieske for giving it a cover.

  Julie Spencer for reading it and making me fix the headaches.

  My husband and girls for letting me write it.

  My best friends, Kendra McGee and Katherine Saunders, for being my support system.

  And thanks to everyone who continues to read. I know, I know, I say it a lot, but it’s true. I’m truly grateful for all of you.

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  Chapter 1

  In the middle of nowhere, Texas, Grace Maddox was as lost as she’d ever been. Her GPS had sent her who knows where, and now, she was cruising through winding hills on a stretch of road that never seemed to end. And while it was beautiful, lost was lost.

  At least she was driving her fiancé’s old sixties Mustang, which was fun. She could still remember the first time Bret let her drive it. They’d gone far outside Houston so he could teach her how to drive a stick shift. It was awful. She nearly gave up, but Bret pushed her to keep trying.

  Bret would have loved being lost in a place with willow trees and grass so lush it looked fake. Add to it the picture-perfect powder-blue sky, and it was like being in a different world. That was Texas, though. You could go from a packed city to desert-dry to what looked like something out of a rainforest without ever leaving the state.

  Only, she didn’t have the luxury of being lost or slowing down. Her boss, Yolanda, would kill her if she missed this appointment. Not only did it mean good things for Westhall Interior Designs, it meant Grace might finally get the promotion she’d been working for since she was hired six years ago.

  All the late nights, coffee runs, and lack of social life had led to these clients: a rich couple with a house in need of a complete interior makeover. They’d specifically asked for Grace after seeing one of her homes featured at the Abilene Design Show. Granted, that was before she lost Bret, but it was still her design that caught their attention.

  What would Bret think? Would he be proud of her? She had to think he would. He was always great about cheering her on. She graduated from college with a business degree, but her passion had been design. Instead of encouraging her to get the corporate job, he’d told her to go for her dream. If it weren’t for him, she would’ve never even had the guts to try.

  Rubbing her thumb across her engagement ring, tears pricked her eyes as she thought about him. It had been eight months, and moving on was proving nearly impossible. To the point that she’d been unable to take her ring off yet. How could she move on when she couldn’t get over loving him? It’s not like he’d left willingly. He’d been taken from her, and she felt hollow.

  By now, she would’ve been married. They would still be in the honeymoon phase.

  She swallowed hard and shook her head. There was no point dwelling on it. How many times had she been told to be thankful for the time she had? That didn’t make losing him any easier, but she’d finally pulled out of her funk a few months ago. At only thirty-one, she was determined to live her life. It’s what Bret would have wanted anyway.

  She pulled the ring off and stuck it in her pocket. This time, she’d do it. She’d take it off and keep it off.

  Without warning, a rattling noise came from the engine, and white smoke poured from the hood, yanking her from her thoughts.

  “Oh, great.”

  As she pulled to the side of the road, the car shuddered to a stop and died. She opened the door, got out, and walked to the front of the car. The smoke was even thicker now that she was stopped.

  Grace raked her hand through her shoulder-length hair and twisted around. There were no signs of life anywhere. Would roadside assistance even be able to find her, especially since she didn’t know where she was?

  She walked to the open car door and leaned across the seat to grab her phone. As she straightened, she sighed. “No bars?” What was she going to do now? With another exasperated sigh, she sat down hard in the driver’s seat and leaned her head against the headrest.

  “If anyone is listening, I could really use a break.”

  The blue blur of a pickup whizzed past her. She didn’t know how fast they were going, but it had to be more than the 65 mph speed limit she’d been driving.

  A moment later, the blue pickup returned, facing her head-on as it stopped a few feet away. An average-height man wearing jeans and a denim button-up got out and approached her. If she were to guess age, based on his tanned, weathered face, she’d put him in his fifties.

  “Uh, you need some help?” he asked.

  “Um.” What did she say? Yeah? This was a great place to run into the wrong person and wind up on a missing persons list. Although, he didn’t look like a homicidal maniac. Then again, how would she know?

  He smiled. “I swear you’re safe with me.” Holding up both hands, he chuckled. “See, no weapons.”

  “You could just be saying that.”

  He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I’m Quincy Bellamy, and I’m guessing you’re lost.”

  Grace chewed her thumb. Indecision gripped her. What should she do? Did she have a choice?

  She stood and put the car door between them as she stuffed her phone in the pocket of her navy slacks. “I’m Grace Maddox, and I don’t think smoke is supposed t
o be pouring out of the engine.”

  His smile was warm as he closed the distance between them. He stopped at the front of the car and took a deep breath. “It’s a shot in the dark, but by the smell, I’d say your radiator’s busted. If you want, I can give you a ride into town, and you can see about getting your car towed.”

  This man was the first human she’d seen in hours. What if she turned him down? Or better yet, what were the chances of someone else stopping?

  She fanned herself with her hand as sweat began to form along her brow. With as hot as it was, if this man didn’t kill her, the heat would. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Sure.” He nodded his head toward the truck. “Get in.”

  Grace grabbed her purse and locked the car door before walking to the old seventies pickup. It might not be pretty, but it was running, which was more than she could say for Bret’s—her Mustang. She pulled on the door handle, and it didn’t budge.

  “Oh yeah. I’m sorry. That door is persnickety.” Quincy jumped into the pickup and reached across the bench seat to push the door open for her.

  Well, if Quincy was a killer, at least she knew she could get out. “Thanks,” she said as she got in and shut the door. “I appreciate you giving me a ride.”

  “No problem.” He chuckled. “So, you’re lost, huh?”

  Grace nodded. “Yeah, I’ve never been more lost. I know I put the address in my GPS correctly. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Willow Valley isn’t what you’d call mapped.”

  “What? Willow Valley?” That wasn’t what she’d put into her GPS. How could she have gotten so turned around? She’d even downloaded the app’s newest version before she left home.

  Quincy glanced at her. “That’s where you are.”

  “How far is Abilene?”

  “You’re at least three hours from Abilene.”

  Her eyes widened. “Three hours?” And a broken-down car. How was she going to make her appointment now? Yolanda was going to kill her, raise her from the dead, and kill her again. And promotion? Forget it. It seemed like the last eight months had been one continual shoe drop after another.

  “I take it that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

  Grace shook her head and sighed. “No. I wish I knew what happened.”

  He shrugged. “I guess someone thought you needed a detour.”

  She snorted. “I wish they’d asked.”

  “Would you have said yes?”

  “No.”

  Quincy chuckled. “Then that’s why they didn’t ask.”

  “Funny.” She rolled her eyes.

  “So, where you from?”

  “Houston.”

  “Big city. I stayed there a year one week.”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “What?”

  “Longest week of my life. I swear those highways and roads were so twisted around that it was like driving on concrete spaghetti.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s busy, bustling, and crazy, but I love it.” Warmth filled her as she smiled, thinking of Bret. The smile faded, and she looked out the window. “Loved it.”

  Quincy cleared his throat. “Were you going to Abilene to find a new place or…”

  She looked at him. “No. I’m an interior designer. I’m supposed to be meeting a client first thing tomorrow to show them what I have planned for their home.”

  “Uh, well, you may have to postpone that. We don’t have a car rental place. We do have an excellent mechanic, but it takes a while to get parts sometimes since we’re so far out of the way.”

  Great. She looked down at her phone. Still no bars. “Is there better cell reception in town?”

  “Sure, it’s better, if by better you mean only slightly better than what you’ve got now.” Quincy brightened.

  Grace nodded. Of course. That’s how everything in her life was working lately. Her gaze blurred as she turned her attention to the rolling hills zipping by, and the companionable silence lengthened.

  “Well, we’re here,” Quincy said.

  She jerked her attention forward, looking out the windshield. How long had it taken to get here? No longer lost in thought, she was wide awake and trying to take in everything as they slowly drove through what she’d call Main Street, USA. It was a cute little town. If it were a cartoon, it would remind her of Radiator Springs. “It’s…quaint.”

  “Is that code for old and small?” He pulled the truck into the parking lot of a gas station and parked. A sign that read Q. B. Fix-it was painted on the front of the brick building in black-and-white letters.

  She laughed. “Maybe.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and grinned. “All right, I’ll give you that. It’s old and small, but the people here are worth gold. Everyone knows everyone, and there’s something to be said about a community of people who’ve got your back.”

  Grace nodded. “That does sound nice.” And it did. Her community consisted of her two sisters, her mom, and her grandfather telling her it was time to move on all the time, when they actually took time to talk to her.

  As he opened the door, he paused. “By the way, that mechanic I told you about?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’d be me.” He smiled.

  Her mouth dropped open. “Why didn’t you check the car when you stopped?”

  “It’s only ten in the morning and already hot enough to fry eggs on the pavement. I might be small-town, but I’m not stupid.”

  Grace could give him that. It was hot thirty minutes ago and only seemed to be getting hotter.

  She took another look out the window before opening the door and getting out. “How long do you think it’ll take to get my car running?”

  “I have no idea until I’m sure what’s wrong, but you’ll be here for at least overnight.”

  Oh man, this was not what she planned at all. Her shoulders sagged. Yolanda was going to be furious. And she didn’t have enough reception to call her and warn her or the clients.

  “Is there a place I can stay?” she asked. Maybe they’d have a signal booster or a landline. Something that would give her a way to the outside world.

  The way Quincy grinned, it almost made her nervous. “About ten miles from here, there’s a bed and breakfast. My nephew, Jackson, runs the place. Let me give him a call, and he can give you a lift while I get your car towed to the shop.”

  Now she wished she’d been paying attention when they arrived in town. “There aren’t any hotels?”

  “There’s one, but I wouldn’t stay there.”

  The way he scrunched his face made Grace wonder just how bad the hotel could be.

  “Okay. I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” She paused. “Is there any way I could get my suitcase out of my car?”

  “I’ll bring it by later this afternoon. I’m having dinner with Jackson tonight anyway.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  He waved her off like it was no big deal. “Go find yourself something to drink in the store. My treat. It shouldn’t take Jackson long to get here.”

  Chapter 2

  Sweat dripped down Jackson Bellamy’s face as he tugged off his Stetson and rubbed his arm across his forehead. His white tank was soaked. He’d abandoned the checkered button-up hours ago. Normally, he kept it on to protect his shoulders and arms from the sun, but it was too stinkin’ hot in the midday sun.

  It might be freezing in other parts of the county, but Willow Valley, Texas, was an oven. It was only May, which meant the coming summer was going to be boiling-water hot because of the humidity.

  He paused and let his gaze roam over the land that lay before him. It was all his now. When his uncle, Quincy, had passed on claiming the place, the ownership had fallen to him. At first, he’d let the place sit. One, because there was an age clause, and two, he’d been married.

  When he’d brought his wife to the farm, she looked at him like he’d grown two heads. She was a city girl, and city girls had no business in the middle of nowhere with not
a manicurist in sight. He could be a cowboy all he wanted, as long as that meant staying in Houston.

  For a while, he’d given up on the idea of fixing up the place, but when his marriage had fallen apart a year ago, he returned to Willow Valley to piece himself back together as the divorce finalized. So far, he felt like one of those five-thousand-piece puzzles where half of it was all sky, and he was struggling to find what blue piece went where.

  Since then, he’d spent hours working on the house, getting it livable again. So much needed to be done on the place, however, that he’d barely made a dent. His plan for this day had been to figure out what indoor paint to buy for the parlor, but the broken fence couldn’t wait any longer. The horses needed better grazing.

  When he’d checked on it before, he hadn’t noticed the posts were rotten. If he’d known they were bad, he wouldn’t have let the horses loose in that pasture. It was the same thing he’d told Don Vickers when the man barged in and raised a ruckus about the animals grazing on his land.

  Rolling his shoulders, he tried to loosen the muscles aching from the morning spent digging holes. As he picked up the shovel again, his phone rang. He swiped his arm across his forehead again and answered it. “Hello.”

  “Hey, buddy,” Uncle Quincy said. “You’re breathing a little hard, aren’t you?”

  Jackson dropped his hat back onto his head. “I’m working a little hard.”

  His uncle laughed. “You’re only thirty-one. What’s a young man like yourself doing out of breath?”