A Cowboy Billionaire Country Star Fake Marriage (Brookside Ranch Brothers Book 3)

by Hanna Hart

  He wanted to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

  He’d been toying with an idea that was potentially a huge gamble. But it was something that could benefit both he and Miranda in the long-run.

  Phoenix wanted to tell someone about it, but despite his large family, he’d never felt more alone.

  It used to be that if he had something weighing on his mind, Phoenix would call Hunter. The two couldn’t have been more different—Hunter was loud and endlessly talkative, and Phoenix was quiet and introspective. Hunter was a constant barrage of jokes; Phoenix was serious. But they balanced each other. Hunter allowed Phoenix to see things—to see people—from a different perspective.

  What hurt the most about the whole mess was that Phoenix never saw it coming. Rachel and Hunter had been best friends since they were kids. If something was going to happen between them, wouldn’t it have happened when they were teenagers?

  He hated Hunter as much as he hated to admit that he missed him. He may have even missed Hunter more than he missed Rachel.

  He could have called his older brother Bennett, who had been furious about Hunter branching away from the Brookside chain and about everything that went down with Rachel.

  Bennett always had Phoenix’s back. But Phoenix didn’t want to hear another person complaining about Rachel. He didn’t want someone blindly taking his side on matters.

  Then there was Kennedy—the baby of the family. The two were born nine years apart. She was the sibling that brought all of the boys together. She was the only girl, and so the brothers made it their mission to protect and spoil her as much as possible.

  Kennedy was close with Hunter, Phoenix knew, and the two of them hadn’t spoken much since everything happened the year previous. It was only through his brother Colt that he’d heard Kennedy was going to be Rachel’s maid of honor.

  If he wanted a reality check, he could have called her, but Phoenix decided against it. This was a decision he was going to make on his own, for once.

  When he turned twenty, his parents decided he would move away from Houston, Texas to take over at Brookside Utah.

  Just a few short years later, he got signed to a major record label and had a literal team making his decisions for him.

  Then there was Rachel, who decided to leave without so much as a discussion about it.

  Now he’d once again been told what to do—told to return to Brookside and the ranch that brought a lightning-like pain into the pit of his stomach.

  He couldn’t even think of the last decision he made for himself. So maybe this would be the one.

  Phoenix showed up to work early the next day and looked over some paperwork, signed off on some orders, and had a meeting with his investors, who were also worried about how his image would affect the business at the ranch.

  He told them they had nothing to worry about—and he was right. Business had never been better. The ranch was booked solid for the foreseeable future. If anything, the drama of his personal life had only made the ranch seem more exciting to stay at.

  None of the ranch staff asked about Rachel nor the string of intoxicated photos that had surfaced of the country star.

  It was twenty degrees Fahrenheit in Utah. The December weather was cold and biting as Phoenix walked from his office across the ranch to some of the staff rooms. He waited where he last saw Miranda punch out. When she arrived, she looked embarrassed.

  “Hey,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

  “Hi, how was your day?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know…” she trailed off. “Changed some sheets, stocked some mints. Very life-changing.”

  “Clearly,” he agreed. “Are you okay?”

  She turned to face him. If you only looked at her face, you would swear she had curves. Her cheeks were rounded and youthful like she had yet to lose her baby fat. But a glance at the rest of her body would reveal a slender, tall, swimmer’s build. Long arms, broad shoulders, flat chest.

  “You’re referring to my meltdown the other day?” she smirked.

  “No,” he said. “I was referring to the fact that you don’t seem to want to look at me.”

  She met his eyes—blue on blue. “Oh, that,” she teased. “Well, see, the last time I saw you, you were the bearer of bad news.”

  “You’re saying I’ve become the grim reaper in your world?” he asked.

  “Sort of,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Sorry.”

  “Hey,” he said, putting up his hands. “Guilty as charged. I was wondering if maybe I could change that? Turn into an angel of light or something.”

  “An angel of light?” she laughed.

  He shrugged sheepishly. “Or whatever the opposite of the grim reaper is.”

  “Let’s say…” she began, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Life-giver?”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “Do you mind if I talk to you about something privately?”

  “Oh,” she swallowed. “Yeah, of course. Now?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Without hesitation, Miranda followed Phoenix back into his office. He fixed her a tea, something herbal and floral, and grabbed himself a bottle of water out of his mini-fridge before sitting across the desk from her and cringing inwardly about what he was about to ask her.

  Miranda fumbled with the tea when he handed it to her, spilling some on the desk and soaking her coaster like a sponge.

  “Sorry, I’m just really nervous,” she said, wiping the tea up with a napkin from her purse. “And embarrassed.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  She posed big eyes at him and rolled them playfully. “I mean, I basically had a meltdown in front of my boss and rambled about my money troubles.”

  He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Sure,” she nodded. “I guess I’ll take it as a lesson to learn when to shut my mouth.”

  “Talk as much as you want,” he said.

  “Can I just crawl in a hole now?” she laughed.

  “Sure.” He offered a polite chuckle and looked her over. “Or you can talk to me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Why not?” he offered with a shrug. “If nothing else, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

  Miranda watched him for a moment and then smirked, relenting. She pulled in a long breath and said, “Long story short, my boyfriend left me for his ex-girlfriend.”

  Phoenix felt his stomach drop at the mention of exes, and he immediately felt for the girl.

  “And then I lost my job. I have all these student loans and bank loans for a business I had wanted to start, which obviously didn’t do well.”

  He nodded toward her. “What business?”

  “I was trying to open an after-school program for underprivileged kids,” she said. “It was great. We had big brothers and sisters, that type of thing. I also had a couple of programs going—camps and sports,” she scratched her arm nervously. “But I had to pay my employees.”

  “You didn’t want to go the non-profit route?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I didn’t think I needed to. I went in on the company with my friend Karen. We both grew up in the system, and we thought we knew better what the kids needed. We thought we could make it a real company, you know?”

  He nodded. “Sounds like things were going well.”

  “Yeah, they were. Then…” she trailed off. “I was self-employed for so long, and it was hard to, you know, take money out for taxes.”

  “So, you owe the government, and that’s why they’re garnishing your wages?”

  Miranda’s face fell into a deep grimace. “Pretty much.”

  “What about your partner?” he asked. “Isn’t she able to help you?”

  The blonde sighed and shook her head. “No. Karen liked cocaine more than she liked being a business owner.”

  Phoenix blinked in surprise. “She’s a drug addict.”

  “Was,” she corrected.

  “She quit?”


  Miranda shook her head. “No, she died two years ago, just before I met my ex.”

  “Wow,” he exhaled.

  Phoenix was no stranger to drugs. He didn’t do them, despite what the tabloids reported about his ‘drug-fueled weekends’ following his breakup. But just because he didn’t do them didn’t mean he wasn’t around them. The music industry was full of artists who were all willing to try anything once, even country stars.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s terrible.”

  Miranda shrugged. “I had no idea. I mean, I knew she had a problem when we were younger, but I thought she was clean. Otherwise, I never would have gone in on the business with her.”

  “It’s alright,” he said, sensing her getting upset all over again. “There are ways to fix things like this. You can make a proposal with the government; you can go bankrupt; you can move back in with your parents.”

  “I don’t have parents,” she said.

  “Right,” he mumbled, then scraped his teeth against his bottom lip. “You were in foster care. What about siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I have no one. Even if I went bankrupt or made a proposal, I don’t have the money to fix it. I can’t pay a lawyer. I don’t have a car because they took it.”

  Phoenix looked down into his hands. Even with how alone he felt, Phoenix never felt unloved. He knew, at the very least, he had his parents and most of his siblings in his corner. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have nowhere to go.

  “I’m going to be homeless,” she said, and her lip began to tremble.

  Phoenix reached out and put her hand on her shoulder. “You’re not going to be homeless.”

  “How do you know that? All signs right now are pointing to homeless.”

  “Because I won’t let that happen,” he said firmly. “I have an idea of how I might be able to help you, but it’s…unconventional.”

  Miranda pulled away from his touch and wiped at her eyes. “Please, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  She sighed. “Don’t take pity on me just because you saw me crying. Please, I’m so embarrassed.”

  “You need help,” he said evenly. “And I can help. So, why wouldn’t I?”

  “You don’t even know me,” she scoffed. “Besides, I don’t want any charity.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to turn down help,” he said. “And besides, it wouldn’t be charity.”

  Miranda raised a delicate brow and blinked in surprise. “What exactly are you proposing?”

  Phoenix pressed his lips together, considering whether he should reveal his proposition to the girl. If she accepted his contract, it would solve both of their problems. But if she rejected it and somehow managed to leak it to the public, he would look like a desperate, washed-up celebrity.

  “I’m having some troubles of my own,” he said. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my fiancée…” his words suddenly halted, unable to convey the real story to the girl in front of him. “I just went through a really difficult breakup myself.”

  “I’m not someone who pays attention to celebrity gossip, or country music, to be honest. Sorry.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Don’t be sorry. It’s refreshing, actually.”

  “Yeah, well…I’m sorry you’re going through that, anyway,” she said sympathetically. “It’s hard enough going through a breakup when your friends know about it, let alone the whole world.”

  “It isn’t easy,” he said simply. “It’s been really, really hard.”

  He explained to her about his image and his unhappy agents. He told her that he wanted to clean up his act, and then he made her an offer to become his media girlfriend.

  It was perfect.

  Or perfectly insane.

  Phoenix had to fix his reputation, and Miranda needed money.

  He didn’t know her that well, but everything he did know checked out. She was sweet, easy on the eyes, from a humble background, loved the ranch life, and had lofty aspirations to help underprivileged kids.

  On paper, she was the package.

  He would pay her to be his girlfriend, or maybe even wife, under contract. He’d give her a million, something to help her pay off her debts and get her life back in order. In return, she would live at his house, attend events, and avoid dating until their contract was up.

  “A million?” Miranda repeated, nearly choking on her tea.

  The fact that she hadn’t screamed or stared at him with a horrified expression gave Phoenix hope that maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

  “There about,” he said. “Enough to get you on your feet—maybe even open your business back up.”

  “How long would the contract be?” she asked in shock.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “My label wants me in good standing by the spring. So, enough to appease them, get my record out, do a press tour. I’d say, a year?”

  Miranda’s eyes went as wide as saucers. She threw both hands over her mouth and seemed lost in thought as she stared down at her legs.

  Phoenix couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. It was almost cute, in a way.

  She looked up at him and asked, “Are you for real right now?”

  “Unfortunately,” he said. “You’re just about the only person who doesn’t make me want to rip my skin off right now, which is saying a lot.”

  “You barely know me,” she repeated.

  He nodded. “And yet I’ve told you more about my life than I’ve told pretty much anyone.”

  She thought about it, seeming to consider the offer, but then began shaking her head slowly.

  “I don’t think I can do that,” she said quietly.

  “Why not?” he asked. “You need the money.”

  “I just…” she shrugged. “I just can’t do that. It’s a lot of money, and it’s a generous offer—”

  “Is it the no-dating-clause?”

  Miranda laughed. “No way! I’m through with love.”

  “Famous last words,” he said, although he felt the same.

  “I’m serious,” she said firmly. “If I didn’t date for twenty years, it would be too soon. No, it’s just, it’s a little…”

  “Odd?” he finished.

  “Unconventional,” she said. “But very, very generous.”

  “I understand,” Phoenix said, though he couldn’t deny that he was disappointed. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  Had he just put his foot in his mouth? Made himself out to be a lonely, creepy, crazy musician? Would he have to tell his manager and have Miranda sign a confidentiality clause not to talk about his offer publicly?

  The media wouldn’t believe her anyway. After all, the idea was ludicrous, but the last thing he needed was more bad press for his label to worry about.

  Chapter Six

  Miranda

  Miranda could hardly sleep.

  Phoenix’s offer had been unexpected, and strange, and yet oh-so alluring.

  She cursed herself for saying no, but it felt immoral, somehow, to pretend to be someone’s girlfriend all for the sake of their PR agent. But then again, who was she to decline such a generous offer? She was basically being handed one million dollars in exchange for jet setting around the world with a superstar for a year. Her troubles would be over. Forever over.

  Then again, Miranda didn’t know if she could live a lie. It wasn’t the type of person she was.

  What would happen, anyway? They would be boyfriend and girlfriend so, would they kiss? Would she live with him? Have to give interviews? Would her life become an endless parade of paparazzi?

  She tossed and turned all night, feeling sick to her stomach. Did she make the right decision?

  Miranda wanted to talk to Birdie about it, but the poor guy seemed like he’d been burned enough by the public and she didn’t want to go around spreading rumors about him—even if they were true.

  The next morn
ing, as Miranda reached the lockers at her work, she still couldn’t shake the mysterious offer.

  “I feel like I now know all I have ever wanted to know about Mr. McElroy,” Birdie said that morning as she returned Miranda’s book to her.

  “Wasn’t that crazy?” Miranda gushed, slipping the book into her bag before stuffing her backpack into her work locker.

  “It was...very disturbing,” Birdie decided.

  “Seems like the whole town was in on it, right?”

  “I don’t know how you can read stuff like that,” her friend said. “I tried to read it before bed, and I had the heebie-jeebies all night!”

  “And I don’t know how you can read this,” Miranda retorted, handing Birdie back her paperback copy of Love Letters, a story about a couple who exchanges letter through time and somehow finds a way to be together. “Am I supposed to believe that these people fell in love over the course of two months?”

  “What?” Birdie said, scolding. “What do you mean? How long does it take you to fall in love?”

  Miranda offered a single-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. Longer than that!”

  “If you’re willing to believe that he’s sending her letters from nineteen-forty-five and she’s in the nineties, and they are exchanging letters through a magical bookcase, I’m pretty sure you can suspend your disbelief for a how long it takes them to fall in love.”

  “Fair enough,” Miranda said. “What’s next?”

  “This one is my favorite,” Birdie said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a movie entitled Lost Over Winter. “It’s about a girl who just went through a divorce, and she moves to Alaska to find herself.”

  “And let me guess,” Miranda chided, “she finds love, instead?”

  “It’s really good, trust me.”

  “Mmhmm,” she giggled. “Here’s mine.”

  Bridie took the disc coverlet into her hands and read off the title, The Zodiac Killer, and sighed. “This is so not fair,” her co-worker laughed. “I give you all of this amazing, lighthearted, feelgood stuff, and you give me books and shows that give me nightmares.”

  “Hey,” Miranda laughed, “this was your game!”

  “I know, I know,” the girl said. “And we’re going to keep exchanging our favorites until we find something the other one likes.”