by Miley Maine
Fake Boyfriend
Miley Maine
Copyright © 2020 by Miley Maine
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you are reading this book and book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
For any queries, reach out at [email protected]
Created with Vellum
Contents
Blurb
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
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Excerpt: Love Undercover
Special Invite from Miley
Blurb
She showed up in my life when I wanted time off.
And it ended up being the biggest roller coaster ride.
I met Loren at the airport.
Sat right next to her on the plane while barely being able to keep my hands to myself.
She’s irresistible.
She’s also inexperienced.
Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to her.
Loren is innocent, and I’m a ruthless Army Ranger.
But there’s something about her that makes me want to stay.
That makes me want to play the perfect fake boyfriend for her.
To protect her when she’s in trouble.
I’ll give her my everything.
And I bet she’ll forget that our relationship is fake.
But will I be the one to remind her that it is?
Chapter One
Jackson
Overhead, footsteps thundered as gang members pounded across the roof.
This was supposed to be a quick job. An Ambassador’s son had gotten in over his head gambling in Romania, and owed a shit-ton of money to the locals. They hadn’t taken kindly to his entitled attitude, so they’d tied him up and dumped him in a decrepit hotel.
My job was to get into the hotel, grab the kid, who at twenty-six, wasn’t really a kid at all. It was a typical Ranger rescue job -- get in, get the hostage, get the hell out.
Someone inside must have been watching more closely than we’d thought, or one of us had hit a trip wire, because as soon as the three of us entered the hotel, the gang had come running. One of my guys had stayed on the roof as a lookout, so we weren’t caught off guard. But we were going to have to speed this up a bit.
I side-stepped down the stairwell to the third floor. Room 332. The cheap wood splintered as I kicked the door in.
Thank the Lord. The kid was in the room, exactly where the intel said he’d be.
I checked the room. It was empty. Morons. They’d even left the kid without a guard.
The kid was tied to a chair by the ankles, but he looked fine. No blood, no bruises. I cut the ropes away from his ankles and pulled the gag from his mouth. “Stay quiet,” I said as I hauled him up with one arm and carted him down the hallway. He was so skinny he barely slowed me down at all.
He mumbled a few times, but mostly stayed silent.
Shit. The footsteps were getting closer. Some of the gang members must have come up from the street entrance. I couldn’t fight with the hostage over my shoulder, so I stuffed him into a broom closet. “Stay in there.” I said. “We’ll be back for you. Don’t leave unless it’s with a U.S. soldier.”
“But--”
“No arguing.” I pointed at him. “You do not want to be in a firefight with these people. Haven’t you learned anything?”
I didn’t wait on an answer. I got my back against the wall and waited until the door to the stairwell burst open.
The Romanians were screaming at me and shooting. Bullets whizzed by and for some ungodly reason, the little shit I’d just saved came running up behind me waving a dustpan.
He must be high. I should have realized.
“Get the fuck back,” I shoved him behind me. But it was too late. One of the bullets hit him right in the thigh.
He screamed and hit the floor.
Fuck.
Now the ambassador’s son had been shot, and I was the one responsible. Thank God it was in the leg and not the head.
Fire sliced across my shoulder. Dammit. This was not good. I was distracted, and now I’d stood there and let a bullet graze me. I scooped him up and threw him back over my shoulder. The kid moaned and thrashed a little. “Put me down,” he said weakly.
Not happening. The chance for a dignified exit was long over.
I ran.
Outside the hotel, our car was gone. Fucking perfect. I ran down the block and ducked into an alley. Within seconds, tires screeched and I heard someone yell, “Ace, get in the car.”
Relief flooded my body. It was my team. Ace wasn’t my name, or even my title, but it’s what my team called me, because I was the lead. I raced down the alley where they were waiting with the car door open. I shoved the kid into the backseat and climbed in after him.
“Couldn’t stay in the street,” my teammate said. “It was like an invasion of ants back there. Gang members running in every direction.”
“You can’t take me to the hospital here,” the kid said, groaning and clutching his leg. “They’ll kill me.”
“Fine,” I said. “We can handle this.” In my bag, we had a shot of lidocaine, penicillin and some butterfly bandages. I got to work, sanitizing my hands with rubbing alcohol, and doing my best to remember all the field medicine training I’d had.
After enduring a long phone call with our supervisor at the American Embassy, and a request for paperwork, and a visit with a medic to patch us up, we were finally cleared to go. The Romanian government even put us up in a nice hotel in Bucharest.
It looked pretty swanky, but I was too tired to appreciate the fancy architecture and the high-thread count sheets. At that point, I’d have taken a blanket and a cot, which would still be a step up from many places I slept. I fell asleep immediately.
Smoke clogged my throat. Dust stung my eyes. On my stomach, I crawled forward. A blast rocked the ground next to me. My ears rang; my head spun.
I jerked awake. Someone was in the room. I rolled sideways to grab my gun, but my hand hit a combat boot.
“Watch it,” my teammate said.
Dammit. A nightmare.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth. “How’d you get in here?” It’s not like we were crammed together in barracks; the U.S. government had sprung for separate rooms.
My teammate loomed over me, but not too close. He had the heel of his boot o
n my gun, which was smart. “Broke in.” He pointed to the adjoining door, where the handle was now missing. Great.
“You screamed,” he said.
“I was dreaming,” I said. I was not telling him about my nightmare. We were close, but not that close. “Must have thought I was at Disney World,” I said.
“Yeah, I bet. That Dumbo roller coaster is something else.” He gave my leg one last friendly kick. “Good news. We’ve got a month of leave. Boss says good job. The dumbass you rescued is fine, and his daddy is so thrilled he donated a shit-ton of money to the armed forces.”
That was… good. Numb, I tried to muster some enthusiasm for the upcoming holiday from work.
“I’m going to Atlantic City,” my teammate said. “Cannot wait.”
That sounded like hell. Crowds. People. Noise.
I wanted to be alone.
He wandered back to his room, where I could hear the television blaring, thanks to the missing doorknob.
I sat up and leaned against the wall. What the fuck? Why was I having nightmares now? This hadn’t been my worst mission. My team was alive. The kid was alive. The Ambassador was apparently thrilled if he was throwing money around. And we were all sleeping inside. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was damn near close.
I wiped my hand over my mouth and it came away smeared with blood. I’d bitten down on my own tongue.
Christ, I did need a break.
I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes. I had a month off. I could go anywhere in the world. I wasn’t rich, but I had plenty of hazard pay saved up, and I never had a reason to spend it.
I could go to my grandfather’s cabin in Alaska. I’d spent most summers there growing up. The cool air had always been a welcome break from Florida’s heat, where I’d lived as a kid. Now that I was stationed in Georgia, I experienced the same kind of heat while I was in the States.
Alaska in the summer was perfect. I could go there and get a handle on myself, and quit freaking out about nothing.
Chapter Two
Loren
I tapped my champagne glass against my cousin’s. “Congratulations,” I said. “I’m so happy for you.” The words flowed from my mouth, but I didn’t really mean them. Who in their right mind wanted to get married at twenty-one?
My cousin did, I’m sure, because that’s what her parents wanted. The adults in my family weren’t like most parents these days, who wanted their kids to experience what life had to offer first, and get married second. Nope. They wanted us tied down early. It was a side effect of living in the Deep South.
What a waste of her prime years.
“We don’t want to wait,” Marie said. “We’re getting married next week!”
“Next week!” I took another sip. “That’s sudden.” My cousin had just met her fiance Douglas three months ago. He was a nice enough guy. And he was wealthy, and that was what mattered most to my family. He was a little nerdy, but at least he was older, which was the only way to go. Guys in their twenties were insufferable.
“It’s fast, but not sudden.” She grimaced in my direction. “We’re in love.”
Right. Love. “I bet your mother’s not too happy about the date.” My aunt would want maximum time to plan. Or more accurately, to have the wedding planner plan, so the photos would look amazing in the society magazine.
“No. No one’s happy,” she said. But they’ll be fine. The wedding’s going to be in Alaska!”
“Alaska! Wow. That is awesome.” Awesome, and unexpected. Everyone in our family had gotten married at the Lutheran church and then held the reception at the country club. Our family did not like any of us to step out of line. Ever.
As the black sheep of the family, I was glad to have someone else be the rule breaker for once.
I didn’t necessarily want the honor of being the black sheep, but I’d gotten used to it, and now I kind of liked stepping out of line. I’d gotten pretty good at it, over the years. But my cousin Marie was usually a compliant rule-follower.
“You know, if you need a wedding photographer, I’m up for it.”
“Would you really?” she asked. “I’ve been scrambling to find a photographer on such a short notice.”
“Added bonus,” I said. “You won’t have to pay me a dime.” At least I’d get a really cool trip out of this wedding.
And the cherry on top was that my aunt was going to lose her freaking mind when she found out I was the photographer. I hoped I could be there to see the look on her face when she realized she wasn’t going to be hiring a top-rated photographer out of Atlanta.
“You know that’ll make my dad happy. But of course we’ll pay you.”
Despite being wealthy for his entire life, my uncle was notoriously tight-fisted in ways my parents never had been. “No. This will be my first official wedding where I’m the main photographer. I just want to concentrate on getting the best shots of you and Douglas.”
Marie beamed. “I’m so glad you’re doing it. You’re way more artistic than any of those stuffy people my mom would have hired. Promise you’ll take lots of candid shots?”
“Anything you want,” I said. “I promise.” I grinned at her. “Where’s the honeymoon?”
She sighed. “We’re still trying to work that out. Dad says he’s got to approve it.”
Her dad, who was my mom’s brother, was the current Attorney General for the State of Georgia. And my mother was the senior senator for Georgia. Our entire family was obsessed with politics. Everything was always such a big deal with them. Having seen it up close, it seemed like a crappy way to work and live. I never wanted to deal with that kind of scrutiny. I had enough scrutiny just being related to them.
“Why does he have to approve it? He’s not going, is he?” I wouldn’t put it past my uncle to insist on joining them on their freaking honeymoon.
“You know. He doesn’t want us to go anywhere that might make headlines.”
“Right.” What she meant was he didn’t want his precious daughter to end up in TMZ. It wouldn’t be the first time one of us had ended up in the spotlight.
Back at home after the engagement party, I sat down with my parents for dinner. As usual, both my parents were staring at their phones.
They weren’t trying to be rude. My dad was a CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and my mom was a senior senator. The texts and the phone calls never stopped. The people around them always needed just a minute more of their time.
I tossed a piece of lettuce at my dad. “I’m taking the photos at Marie’s wedding.” It landed on the screen of his phone.
“That’s nice honey,” my father said, picking the lettuce off his phone and dropping it onto his plate. He did not look up.
“I’m going up early to check out the venue, make sure I can get the lighting right.”
My father finally made eye contact with me. “Let me know when. We’ll have the plane ready for you.”
“I’m going to fly commercial,” I said.
Silence.
Both my parents turned to look at me with open mouths.
In some families, parents flip out when their kids get a nose piercing. Or join a band instead of going to college. Or get arrested for public intoxication. But for me, flying on a regular plane is a bridge too far.
“You can’t fly on a commercial plane,” my mother said. “It’s not safe. It’s not clean either.”
“Millions of people fly on commercial planes every day. It will be fine.”
“It will be a lot more work for Michael,” she said, referring to my usual bodyguard. “Flying on our plane makes his life easier.”
“I’m not going to take any security. You need to find a new job for Micheal.”
My mother pushed her chair back. “You have to take security. Anything could happen.”
“Listen, I know you’re aware of a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff that you can’t tell us about, and that it scares the shit out of you.”
My mother pursed her lips, but didn’t chastize m
e for my curse word like I knew she wanted to. “Honey, you have no idea the things that go on in the world.”
“I’m sure I don’t. But I'm never going to grow up if you keep babying me.”
My mother still had on her power suit. She’d even worn it to the party, preferring business clothes over formal dresses. “Using security is not a babyish thing to do. In fact, it’s very responsible.”
I would never win an argument with my mother. There was a reason she’d won her senate seat, and it wasn’t because she gave up easily. “I’m going alone. I agreed to stick with your rules through college, but I’m moving on.”
My dad dropped his phone on the table. “Sweetheart.”
“Look. I love you. I know you’re trying to protect me. But I can’t function like this. I’m not like everyone else in the family.”
“Don’t upset your mother,” he said.
“It’s not upsetting for a twenty-two year old college graduate to talk about traveling alone. Or moving out, which is what I’m doing after the wedding.”
I got up and left before they could start gnashing their teeth about that announcement.
Chapter Three
Jackson
When I got back from Romania, I didn’t need to pack much beyond my basic camping gear; I was going to rough it before I got to the cabin.
My grandfather’s cabin had everything I needed there. I was leaving immediately; there was no reason for me to linger at home. I lived in base housing and my teammates had already scattered, setting off for vacations across the country. My deployments with the Rangers weren’t usually long term, but they were frequent.
