by Hanna Hart
The offer consumed her thoughts and distracted her from her work for most of the day.
One million dollars.
The amount was so extravagant, it almost didn’t seem real. The very concept that she had just said no to a million dollars send her arms shivering with goosebumps. Who was she to be turning down that kind of money?
Her distraction wasn’t lost on Birdie, who was quick to point out when Miranda wasn’t paying attention or bring up things she’d missed in their cleaning routine.
Four hours into their shift, Birdie asked, “Is something on your mind?”
Miranda let out a muffled laugh, and her eyes went wide. She tucked a silky sheet under the left corner of the king-sized mattress and worked in unison with Birdie to cover the bed until the sheet was pulled taut.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Miranda admitted.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Miranda set her jaw. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Birdie said with sugar. “You just seem like you’re somewhere else today.”
“Yeah, uh,” Miranda stammered. “Well, it’s actually about Phoenix.”
Birdie’s expression brightened. She dropped the thick duvet she was holding and bounced onto the bed, so she was kneeling in front of Miranda. “I knew it!”
“You...did?”
“Yes!” her friend exclaimed. “Tell me everything!”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Miranda said. “What do you know about Phoenix? I don’t know anything about the guy, and Googling him seems so...” she stalled and made a face. “I don’t know. Gross.”
“Okay, um. Alright, so, he comes from a big family,” Birdie began, counting on her fingers.
“Right,” Miranda remembered. “Each of them has a ranch. Super rich. Billionaire brand.”
“He was engaged to his high-school sweetheart for like four or five years. They announced last year that she was pregnant, and then I guess she lost the baby. It was horrible.”
Miranda’s heart sank. “That’s awful.”
“Then I guess he was on the road and there were all these rumors about what happened,” Birdie shrugged. “Nothing ever substantiated. But after that, I guess they couldn’t get over it. Now she’s with his brother.”
“Ew,” Miranda said, wrinkling her nose. “Imagine dating your fiancé’s brother? That’s like, the worst thing you could do.”
“It was this huge scandal, for sure,” Birdie confirmed. “And he’s pretty much been a mess ever since. I think he’s still heartbroken over it.”
“Wow,” Miranda shook her head. “It sounds so salacious.”
Miranda knew this was the way of celebrity life. Once you open up your talent to the world, the world takes free reign to poke into every single avenue of your life and exploit it for money. But hearing the prideful and painful moments of someone’s life spouted out in bullet-point form felt so much different when you knew the person being talked about.
“He asked you out, didn’t he?”
Miranda shifted. “Not exactly.”
“Oh, my gosh! What did you say? I mean, I know what you said. You said no or you wouldn’t be so bummed out right now!”
“He didn’t ask me out,” she reiterated. “Not in so many words. I think he just needs a friend.”
Birdie blinked in surprise, her expression falling into confusion. “Oh. Then...what’s the problem?”
This was the question Miranda kept asking herself, and the longer she pondered on the subject, the less she understood why she turned down his offer. This could be a new start for her.
So, exactly two days later, Miranda called Phoenix Brooks and accepted his offer.
Chapter Seven
Phoenix
Of all of the things Phoenix imagined might happen on a boring Thursday night, Miranda accepting his bizarre offer to become his faux girlfriend wasn’t one of them.
Phoenix had been nervous about extending the offer ever since the foolish words came out of his mouth. He worried they would be leaked to the press and that people would think he’d really gone off the deep end. But, once Miranda was on board, Phoenix once against wondered if the idea was so crazy after all.
Both of them would be getting a second chance at life—a new start. He could revamp his career, all while spoiling a perfectly sweet girl and giving her the opportunity to really make something of her life. And all he needed form her was six months to a year of her time.
The two of them had met at his house the next morning for coffee to go over some guidelines of their new agreement and he was struck by how much more attractive she seemed outside of her
Her body was long and slender, and her blonde hair was thick and wavy. She had beautiful blue eyes that seemed to curve up at the sides as though they were permanently smiling. She wore a blue button-up blouse with white flowers on it and stretchy khaki-colored pants.
Phoenix asked her repeatedly, in all different ways, whether she was sure she was ready to commit to their deal and she said yes every single time.
Three days later, he had her back to his home to sign that paperwork.
“I can’t get over your house,” she gushed, walking down the wide hallway of his home.
“It used to be an old mill. We renovated it,” he explained.
He’d given Miranda a brief walkthrough of the house when she first came over, but now she was getting the grand tour.
The home was a one-hundred-and-thirty-nine-acre mountain retreat that had its own river and snow-capped views of the gorgeous mountain range.
Rachel had been hesitant to come and work at the ranch back in the day, but once he brought her into the house and she saw the marble floors and the mountainous backdrop, she was sold.
The house had the ultimate privacy, which was something Phoenix appreciated the more his musical career took off. It was a fully gated property that was outfitted with all of the best security gadgets.
The home itself was an architectural wonder—it was clad in copper, wood, glass, steel, and stone, giving it the perfect mix of textures. “Rustic of the future,” Rachel always used to say.
Phoenix continued with the tour, showing Miranda the eight en-suites, home theater, swimming pool, hot tub, his office, the home gym, and his recording room. He gave her three rooms on the far side of the house to do with as she pleased. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to share the common rooms with him if it made her uncomfortable.
The only rooms in the house he didn’t show her were his bedroom and the nursery, which was locked. Something about that felt too personal to share.
“I haven’t been back here since, you know, everything happened,” Phoenix explained curtly.
“It must be nice to come back here after being on the road for so long,” Miranda chirped happily, following him into his office. “It must get lonely, living out of a suitcase.”
“Mm,” he mumbled. “It’s not as relaxing as you might think.”
Sitting in his office, the two exchanged information. He asked her about her family, what she knew of them, and if anything about them might come back to haunt them in the press.
“I can’t be sure,” she said with a wince. “Like I said, I don’t know them. I never bothered to know them, but if the state took their child away, then yeah, they were probably unfit parents. Their past could be anything. Drugs, abuse,” she shrugged. “I don’t know, sorry.”
“That’s fine,” he said, scribbling a few things in his notebook.
He wouldn’t say it out loud, but her lack of family worked in his favor. Not only did that mean he wouldn’t have to deal with in-laws, but there was less dirt to dig up on the poor girl.
Her past was compelling, and any journalist worth their weight would pick up on that. It would be a success story. Phoenix Brooks dates an orphan girl who wants to change the world.
The fact that he was having thoughts like this made
his stomach turn. He didn’t want to dehumanize the girl, but he was desperate not to lose the career he’d worked so hard to build. He lost Rachel, and that was hard enough.
In return, Phoenix told Miranda about his siblings in order from oldest to youngest: Jett, Bennett, Colt, himself, Hunter, Jaxon, and his little sister Kennedy. He told her his parent’s names, Shannon and Roger, and what it was like growing up in a ranching family.
“We should go over the contract,” he said, shifting the papers toward her.
“You had one drawn up?” she said with an amused laugh. “Wow! This is so, like, official.”
“My lawyer wrote it up for me,” he said, leaving out the part where his lawyer rolled his eyes at the request and then let out a hearty laugh, dismissing the madness with a breathy, “You crazy rock stars.”
“You can have yours look it over, too, of course,” Phoenix said, nodding toward her.
“You seriously think I have a lawyer?” she snorted.
“I can hire one for you, or give you the money to hire one of your choosing, if you like. It’ll be good for you to have someone guide you through this process, so you feel comfortable.”
Miranda didn’t seem bothered one way or the other with any protocol. She skimmed over the contract and picked up the pen at her side.
Phoenix put his hand over the page, preventing her from signing, and urged her, “I encourage you to take this to someone.”
“I trust you,” she said happily.
He realized then how very young Miranda seemed. She was from a system that was consistently touted as hard and abusive, yet she showed the sweet naivety of someone who had been brought up sheltered by loving parents.
Luckily for her, Phoenix wasn’t intent on ripping her off in this deal.
“Then at least let me explain it to you,” he offered. “The contract says we’ll stay together at a minimum of six months, and we can stay under the contract for up to a year, so long as all of the stipulations are met.”
“What are the stipulations?” she asked.
“You are getting a monthly allowance to pay off your debts, that way we can put the brakes on the government getting involved in your life, but the sum of the debt does not get paid in full until the contract is over.”
Miranda fixed her hair into a high ponytail and nodded. He hoped she was paying attention.
“There is to be no dating other people, not even in secret,” he said. “No cheating. Nothing that would hinder my reputation like drugs, public intoxication, no racist rants, no car accidents, reckless spending, no selling stories to tabloids, no stealing.”
“No murder,” she added, chuckling to herself.
Phoenix didn’t laugh. “Murder is on the list,” he said, deadpanned, “But I’m not expecting any trouble from you.”
“And I live here with you the whole time?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
Living together made sense. He wanted the public to know that things between them were serious. It also helped him keep tabs on Miranda until he got to know her and trust her, better. “Oh, also,” he blurted out as he opened up his desk drawer. “You’ll have to tell me how you feel about this, but I thought it would look better if we were engaged and not just dating.”
With that, he handed her a two-carat emerald-shaped diamond ring with a white gold band.
Miranda’s eyes lit up at the sparkling jewelry. “Wow! We move fast!”
“Yes, we do. Because we’re in love,” he winked.
“Sure, fine,” she said, nodding and slipping the ring onto her slender finger. “Whatever you think. I can upgrade from girlfriend to wifey-to-be if it makes things easier.”
“Good,” he said. “If they ask, say I asked you...” he trailed off, thinking.
“Over breakfast,” she said.
“Over breakfast?” he repeated in bemused disbelief. “Sounds boring, doesn’t it?”
“No,” she shrugged. “It sounds real. Not everyone plans this unbelievable, expansive proposal. Sometimes people just look at each other and go, ‘Ya wanna?’”
“People are going to expect some romantic story,” he said nervously. Especially considering the wealth he possessed and the connections he had, though it felt arrogant to say so out loud.
“Trust me,” she said, playing with the ring and spinning it around her finger. “You proposing over breakfast here at the house is going to sound plenty real.”
“Alright,” he conceded. “Over breakfast then.”
“So,” she continued, pushing out her lips. “Presumably I am seen with you out in public and all that.”
“Right,” he nodded.
“So, do we kiss? Hold hands? What’s the expected level of PDA?”
“I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable doing. But, obviously, if we are supposed to be a believable couple, then we should,” he bit his lip uncomfortably, unsure how to end his sentence, “be affectionate,” he concluded.
Before Phoenix had time to process what he had just said, Miranda leaned across the desk, tilted his face up, and pressed her lips against his.
He felt a rush of blood pulse through his body and a wave of sickness crash through his stomach. Her lips were soft and warm and explored his with a shy curiosity he wasn’t used to.
Then again, he wasn’t used to kissing anyone. The last girl he’d kissed was Rachel, and somehow, despite everything she had done to him, he felt guilty for letting this happen. Kissing Miranda, no matter how briefly, felt like cheating. It felt like he was being disloyal to her in the worst way possible.
“Affectionate in public,” he clarified, breathless as she pulled back from his mouth.
“I know that,” she said with a blush before sitting back down across from him. “But we can’t be all awkward in public! We have to make it look like we’ve done it before.”
He was stunned—barely able to comprehend what she was saying to him. “That’s smart.”
“And what about your agents?” she said, as though she hadn’t just done one of the most intimate things possible with a man she barely knew. “What do I have to do to sell them on me as being your perfect partner?”
“They want a country girl. Someone who has hometown values. Someone who...” he stammered, twirling his finger in the air.
“Tamed you?”
He nodded. “Precisely.”
Eventually, after insisting Miranda have the contract looked over by a lawyer, she signed on the dotted line, and just like that, the two of them were affianced.
It took some time to get used to coming home to Miranda in his house. It felt strange having some other woman in his space, but thankfully the house was plenty big enough to get away and spend some time by himself if he needed to.
Part of him thought their relationship would be strictly professional. That they would go out in public, and when they came home, they would retire to their quarters, but he quickly found that Miranda had no intention of letting that happened.
She wanted to be his friend. When he came home late from work, she had dinner prepared. To his surprise, the food was very good.
Miranda cooked a lot of food that he had when he was in Texas. There were a lot of homemade buns, buttery cornbread, tender meats, potatoes, vegetable casseroles, and all of the Mexican food you could imagine.
His mother would absolutely love Miranda if she were his real girlfriend.
The two had taken to spending most nights together. Sometimes they would sit down for dinner, sometimes they would watch a show, but mostly Phoenix would lightly pluck the strings on his guitar and write while Miranda asked him questions.
“What was your major?” he asked her one night in return to a serious of get-to-know-you questions she had been asking him.
“Business,” she said, watching him in his stool as he tuned his Taylor. “Which didn’t work out too well for me, clearly.”
“Did you know that ninety percent of start-ups fail?” he said absent-mind
edly, not even looking at her.
“Is this supposed to be a twisted version of an encouraging speech?” she giggled.
“No. It’s me saying that not everybody gets it right on their first try, but that doesn’t mean you should give up.”
“Did you get it on your first try?” she asked. “With music, I mean?”
He looked up curiously. “It depends on how you look at it, I guess.”
“How do you mean?”
“I got signed the first time a label came to see me play. That’s pretty lucky. But nobody noticed me until I was twenty-four and established in a completely different career,” he explained. “So, it depends on how you look at it.”
“And how do you look at it, Mr. Brooks?” she flirted. “Are you a half-empty or half-full kind of guy?”
“These days?” he posed. “Half-empty.”
Miranda shook her head in fake disappointment. “What about when you were younger?”
“The same,” he said, and she smiled.
“Me too,” she offered.
“Then at least I’m in good company.”
“So, what do you like to do when you’re not ranchin’ and playin’ gee-tar?” she asked, putting on a country voice.
“Please, never attempt a Southern accent again,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’m serious! What are your hobbies?”
“My hobby is my guitar,” he said, gesturing toward the instrument in his hands.
“What else?”
Phoenix looked down and plucked the B string before turning the machine head to tune it. He shrugged at the question and said, “That’s it.”
“You have one hobby?” she repeated in surprise, making an exaggerated facial expression. “That’s it? You don’t like motorcycles, skiing, horseback riding?”
“I was never the rancher, believe it or not.”
“Your other brothers love it?” she asked.
Phoenix set his jaw. “Some of them,” he said carefully. “I don’t think it was necessarily anyone’s dream. Maybe Colt’s. Maybe Jax’s.”
