Tristan did like the idea. The stress of taking care of a loved one was worse than he ever imagined. The last month or so, his grandma didn’t even know who he was. She’d look at him with a blank expression most of the time, and when she was even remotely coherent, she’d call him by his father’s name, Thomas.
He had promised his grandma that he’d take a cruise and spread her ashes. May as well get it done. He could check that off the list. “Maybe you’re right.”
Grayson smiled and pulled out his phone. “Ohhh, I’m going to need you to say that again. I want to record it and replay it when you’re being arrogant and egotistical.”
“I’m not arrogant or egotistical. I’m just right all the time.” Tristan chuckled.
His friend’s eyes widened. “Let me take care of it. I’ve got the perfect place in mind. Hot women, warm sand, cool clear water. I can even picture it. The two of us, lounging on some tropical oasis and sipping fruity drinks that come in pineapples.” He pulled up the search engine on his phone. “Cheesy, but tasty.”
Tristan rubbed his knuckles down his jaw. “No, I want to go somewhere no one will recognize me. I want to be left alone.” He wanted to be Tristan. Not Tristan Stone the billionaire. He wanted to feel normal. For once, he wanted to be just one of the guys. An idea began to form.
“You might try Mars, then. You’re a thirty-one-year-old billionaire, and you’re in every socialite paper known to man. And with that baby face of yours? Good luck.” Grayson laughed.
“I could grow a beard.” The words popped out of Tristan’s mouth. What? He hated beards. They were itchy.
Grayson lifted an eyebrow. “You? Dude, you tried that remember? A five o’clock shadow nearly had you in a straightjacket.”
That was true, but if it could give him some anonymity, maybe it was worth it. “I’ll try again.” And if he went undercover on the cruise ship, maybe he could get a better understanding of the company.
“Okay, if you think you can.” Grayson’s lack of confidence didn’t help.
Tristan tugged on his dark-gray suit coat, straightening it. “And I want to go alone. I think I need it.”
His best friend’s face fell. “What? But I’m your wingman, your right-hand dude, your mate, your—”
“I know. Normally, I’d want you to come, but I really think I need some time alone.” Plus, he didn’t want Grayson to know what he was really planning.
Grayson eyed him and then huffed. “Fine, but you owe me a paradise getaway with hot women.”
“Aren’t you dating that model? What’s her name?” Tristan wracked his brain. Grayson had a new girlfriend every five seconds. “Gwen Hanover.”
He shrugged and looked at the floor. “Nah, she was okay, but she had this weird thing where she smacked her gum.”
“You broke it off because she smacked her gum? I met her twice. Neither time was she chewing gum.” He’d never met a guy so afraid of commitment.
“Yeah.”
Tristan shook his head. “One of these days, you’re going to have to evaluate a woman on more than her quirks. Granted, I didn’t think she was good for you, but she wasn’t horrible either. Not nearly as bad as that Heather woman.”
Grayson grunted and shivered. “At least I date.”
“I date. I date a lot.” Tristan was also lonely. A lot. The women who were attracted to him were typically interested in two things: his money or their fifteen minutes of fame from being associated with him. It happened enough times that he’d stopped asking anyone out.
A thin dark eyebrow went up, and Grayson pierced him with a look.
Tristan shook his head. “Fine, so I don’t. I have to go. I’ve got some plans to make.”
“Okay, but don’t forget, you owe me.” His friend pointed a finger at him.
“Whatever.” Tristan grinned and walked out of the room. He needed a beard, a single room, and passage on a cruise ship.
* * *
Belle Evans’s leg bounced as she waited to board the cruise ship. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever thought she’d win a cruise and ten grand. All her life, she’d figured those contests were hoaxes. Who sticks their name in a box and actually thinks they’re going to win something? She’d hung up on the radio guy twice before he’d convinced her she’d won.
She wasn’t the only winner, either. At least twenty others had won, or that’s what she was told by the cruise people when she got her tickets. They’d be picking out random paying passengers too. Something about fixing their image and using them as advertisement by getting photos and feedback at the end of the cruise. If it weren’t for the ten grand that came with the trip, she wouldn’t be going. It’d given her the ability to get ahead on her mom’s nursing home payments.
Her phone buzzed, and she checked it. Ugh. Laura, her best friend since high school who was now her ex-best friend had been calling incessantly all morning. How many times was she going to call her? She needed to catch a clue and leave her alone.
Their relationship had always been like that though. Laura would do something to hurt her, and for some reason, Belle would always forgive her. This was different. She’d done something that Belle couldn’t just brush off this time. It was time to stop thinking about Laura and get on with her cruise.
Over the last hour, other passengers had arrived one by one, and now the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen was standing about a foot behind her. His dark wavy hair was neat except for a cute little wild piece curling over his ear. He had dazzling dark-brown eyes. She only knew that because he’d caught her staring earlier. The smile he’d shot her almost made her fall to the floor.
It had reminded her of another smile, and she’d worked to avoid looking in his direction again. She didn’t need any complications, and a man would definitely be a complication.
“Nervous?” he asked.
She startled. “What?”
He pointed to her foot. It was tapping so fast her nickname could have been Thumper.
Her cheeks heated up, and she hooked her foot around her other leg. “No, I’m just fidgety. I’m not used to just standing and waiting.”
His smile was warm. Not flirty, but genuine. “Well, no worries about that. You’re going to be doing a lot of running on the cruise. From what I understand, there’s a lot to do.” He scratched the little more than a five o’clock shadow growing on his jaw.
“I know. Guess it’s not the worst thing in the world to be forced to relax.” She twisted a piece of her strawberry blonde hair around her finger. “Is your beard new?”
He lifted his head, and again his brown eyes found hers. “What?”
She touched her jaw. “Your beard? Is it new? I’m only asking because you keep scratching it.”
The man jerked his hand away from his face. “Oh, yeah, I’m just trying something different. Everyone tells me I have a baby face, and I’m tired of it.”
It did look good on him, but she tried picturing him without it. “I like it. It makes you look distinguished.”
Before he said another word, he quickly closed the gap between them. “I thought distinguished is what young people called old men.”
Oh, good lord, he was a tower of a man. Olive skin, broad shoulders, thickly built, soulful brown eyes, and he smelled like spice. Butterflies met the tingles flooding her body, and they danced the rumba all over her. “Uh, well, it could apply to anyone. I mean, the definition means successful, authoritative, and commanding respect. I don’t think you have to be old to do that.” Did her voice squeak? She cleared her throat, just in case.
“Name’s Tristan. What’s yours?” This time, she noticed his deep baritone voice. It was like rich espresso. The kind that’s smooth and potent.
He stuck a hand out, and as she shook it, she said, “Belle, Belle Evans.” Her mom had loved literature, and she’d given her the same love. Belle just wished her mom could remember it.
His eyebrows shot up. “Like Twilight?”
She rolled her eyes.
“No, Belle as in Beauty and the Beast.”
“Oh, right. I tend to get those two mixed up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. So, did you win too?” Not that she needed to know, she just wanted to keep him talking because she liked the sound of his voice.
Something she couldn’t put a finger on flashed across his features. “No, I bought my ticket. You won?”
“Yeah, I never expected to win. It was a whim. I’d forgotten I even entered. That radio guy sounded frustrated with me, but I did hang up on him twice.” Her phone vibrated, and she looked down at it. Again? With a huff, she pressed the decline-call button.
Tristan smiled at her again. “Problem?”
Belle leaned over to see where she was in line. It was like an airport terminal with a long counter and agents behind computers checking people in. The person in front of her moved ahead, and she stepped forward, pulling her luggage behind her.
She wanted to tell him, “Yep, my best friend stealing my fiancé was a huge problem,” but instead, she pasted on a smile and shook her head. “No. I just want to be able to concentrate on what I’m doing.” At least on the cruise, Belle wouldn’t be dealing with Laura calling her all the time.
“Good idea.” He caught her gaze and held it. “You have really pretty eyes.”
Belle’s fascination with Tristan screeched to a halt. The one thing she didn’t want was a relationship or fling or anything else while she was on a nine-day cruise. And if both of them were going to be on the same ship, they’d definitely have the opportunity to spend time together. “Thanks.” She turned her back on him, unwilling to take the chance of being burnt again.
The line moved again, and Belle got a little closer to the woman in front of her. Hopefully, that’d give Mr. Smooth Voice a hint she wasn’t interested. Her jackhammering heart needed to cut it out. Falling for someone wasn’t on the to-do list. She just needed to get on board and forget her troubles, like Paul getting her fired.
It was stupid. Paul was the one who chased her. Paul was the one who asked her out and then asked her to marry him. It was all Paul Whitlock. The snake. He’d fed her so many lies, and she’d eaten them up like pie at a church picnic. Then he’d sabotaged her marketing campaign, cheated on her with her best friend, and dumped her. A whole year of blood, sweat, and tears to build her fledgling marketing career had gone straight down the drain.
Finally, it was her turn to check in. There were a ton of things she needed to answer, like had she been sick recently, and she had to have her debit card tied to her room card so she could make purchases, which she had no intention of doing.
Once all her paperwork was in order, she got her room card and hurried to the deck of the ship. As she walked away from the ticket counter, she glanced at Tristan. His dark eyes followed her the entire way, and whatever he was thinking was a mystery. The man could obviously play poker.
A woman in a cruise uniform smiled as Belle stopped at the entrance to the ship. “Hello, welcome aboard. We’ll be leaving port tonight. We hope you’ll have a wonderful time. If there is anything you need, please ask. Crew and staff can be identified with neck lanyards and uniforms.”
“Okay, thank you.” Belle let her gaze sweep across the ship. It was massive and modern. It made the one she’d worked on look small and dated.
“Since you’re a contest winner, we’d like to have you meet in the dining hall as part of the marketing you agreed to when you accepted the ticket. If you have any additional questions, someone will be able to answer them.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks. I’m just excited to get a vacation.” Belle smiled.
The woman smiled wider, if that was possible. “That’s what we like to hear. An excited passenger having a good time.”
* * *
Grab your copy of Her Pretend Billionaire Boyfriend and cruise with Tristan and Belle as they fall in love.
Sneak Peek! The Cowboy’s Fake Marriage 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 s
ome 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 to 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.”
Firefighter's Risk (Bakers Beach: First Responders Book 2) Page 13
