by Jillian Dodd
“And now?” I ask her.
“He’s my love slave and happy about it,” she jokes. “Seriously, I adore him. He’s my best friend. And I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone but him.”
“That’s how I feel about AJ,” Lakelyn gushes.
“So, where are you going on your honeymoon?” I ask. “Now that he’s drafted and all.”
“He still won’t tell me. But I know he’s been planning.”
“And you know that Carter is helping him,” Ashlyn says. “Carter has this town wired, I swear.”
“Seems like you do too,” I say to Ashlyn.
“Maybe,” she says. “Time for a round of shots!”
It’s a quick flight, and to my surprise and slight horror, we pull up to a golf resort and hotel in Half Moon Bay. The site of our fake engagement.
Does no one see the irony in this?
But then I realize that I never actually told them the name of the hotel. Only that it was a golf resort overlooking the ocean. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be.
Either way, we get taken up to a lovely suite with a balcony, where we are served mimosas and given our spa appointments for the day.
I have had a full-body scrub, mud treatment, and massage, and I’m lying by the spa pool, feeling quite relaxed. It’s not the beach with Carter, but the fact that my sisters flew out here to spend time with me does nothing but confirm my decision.
Taking Carter home with me, even though it was clearly in desperation, was the best thing I ever did. I’ve talked to my mom twice since I left, and she’s been encouraging me on my journey of what she calls my rediscovery. My father, who always seems to butt in during some point in our conversation, just asks if I’m back with Carter yet. Of course, he used to want me with Trent, so I’ve been taking that with a grain of salt.
“All right, ladies,” Ashlyn says, glancing at her watch. “We need to head back to the suite. We have hair and makeup coming.”
“What for?” I ask her. “I figured we’d just order room service and watch movies or something.”
“Are you kidding? We’re going out.”
“But—” I start to argue.
“We’re going downstairs to sit by the outdoor firepit, have cocktails, and then watch the sunset. It’s like an event in and of itself. Followed by dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. No bachelor party redo,” Lakelyn says with a grin.
“Sounds like a plan,” I tell them. “The sunsets are amazing here.”
I’m ready first, and although I’m chatting away with my sisters and Ashlyn, my thoughts are still on the sunset. Specifically, the sunset I saw at the bridge on the property. How I’m feeling pulled back there in some kind of full-circle moment. The girl who will stand on that bridge now is much different than the one who stood on it a few weeks ago. I want to be struck by the colors and the beauty around me. I want to hear the sounds of the ocean. And I want to feel the warmth of the sun. But I’m not sure that I want to share it with anyone other than maybe Carter.
I consider calling him now. Inviting him to come join me. Now that the draft is over, maybe he could take a few days off. Meet me here after the girls leave.
I take a deep breath and grab my phone. “I need to make a quick call,” I say before heading out onto the balcony for a little privacy.
He answers on the first ring. “Hey,” he says, his voice warm and sexy.
“Guess where I am,” I tell him.
“On a girls’ weekend, I heard,” he replies.
“Did Ashlyn tell you where we would be?”
“She mentioned a spa up north.”
“I’m at the scene of the crime. The spot of our fake engagement.” I let out a chuckle. “Can you believe that?”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asks tentatively.
“Good, I think. But that all depends on you.”
“On me?”
“Yes. See, I did what I said I would do. I’ve been thinking, meditating, doing some serious soul-searching, and I know what I want. Not just what I don’t want.”
“And what do you want, Vale?”
“Well, that’s the problem, Carter. I was surprised by this trip. It was a fun surprise, but I had planned to do something more important today. I was going to go to a certain beach in Malibu. I planned to surprise this guy I like by showing up at his house. And I was going to tell him that I love him. And all the things I want in a life with him.”
Carter doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s still on the line because I can hear him breathing.
Finally, he says, “I think the guy would have loved that surprise.”
“The girls’ trip is just for the weekend, and I can clear my calendar for the first of the week. What would you say to you coming up here on Sunday and spending some time with me?”
“Well, that all depends,” he says, his voice playful now.
“On what?”
“If you promise to show me the bridge. At sunset.”
Tears fill my eyes and roll down my freshly done face.
“I can’t think of a more perfect place to start a new chapter with you,” I tell him.
“Me neither,” he says.
I dreamily tell him good-bye and then make my way back inside.
I get out of the hotel robe and grab one of the dresses Ashlyn packed for me. A cute D&G sundress.
She comes into the room and says, “Oh, I think it might be too chilly for that.”
“I can just throw a sweater on with it.”
“I think this one,” she says, pulling out a gorgeous, fit-and-flare, tea-length emerald-green silk-satin dress out of the closet. It features a crew neck and long blouson sleeves set above a banded waist.
“I’m pretty sure that dress wasn’t in my closet,” I say with a laugh.
She rolls her eyes and grins. “I brought it for you. Actually saw it when AJ and I were shopping and immediately thought of you. It will bring out the green in your eyes.”
I give her a hug. “Thank you. Really. For setting all this up. I appreciate it.”
She shrugs. “It’s nothing. Also, I want you to know, whatever you decide about Carter, we’ll stay friends, okay?”
I give her a grin. “Okay.”
“No pressure, but when the heck are you going to decide?”
“I was planning on going to his house and telling him today, but I ended up here.”
“Oh!” she says, looking really surprised. “Uh, well, shoot. We messed up your plans. I’m sorry.”
“No need. He was who I called earlier. I told him that I want us to be together. And I invited him to come up here and meet me on Sunday. It’s really quite the coincidence that we are here because this is where our fake engagement was supposed to have taken place.”
“Well, that’s kind of crazy. But good maybe? Like cleansing?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”
Once everyone is dressed, we go outside to have a drink before sunset.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Lakelyn says. “The makeup artist was telling me that there’s a cool path that goes around the property, and you can get even closer to the ocean and look right over the cliff’s edge.”
I want to disagree, but it’s a miles-long walking path, and we’re all wearing high heels. I know my sisters. They’ll be ready to sit back down before we make it ten feet. I shouldn’t have to worry about us making it all the way to the bridge.
“That sounds amazing!” Brooke says. “I can’t wait to explore this place.”
We take our drinks and make our way to the path. Where we find two golf carts with drivers, waiting for us.
“Ladies,” one says.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Raine mentioned after she had kids that she sort of stopped wearing high heels very often. I didn’t want her feet to hurt,” Ashlyn says. “So, I called down and asked the valets to give us a lift.”
“Perfect,” Brooke says.
“But the sun is
close to setting,” I argue. “I don’t want to miss it.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We won’t,” the driver says. “We are taking you somewhere it will be even more spectacular.”
I let out a sigh and hop in the cart as the bagpipe player who commemorates the sunset starts playing.
We’re cruising past the hotel and up a hill when Lakelyn goes, “Hey, look at all the rose petals.”
“Oh crap,” the driver says. “Why don’t you ladies walk around a little, and then we’ll take you back? I’m sure the event planners put them here for wedding photos. I don’t want to disturb them with the cart.”
And what he says makes sense. So, we get out.
“Look, they lead to a bridge. Come look at this!” Ashlyn says.
And I’m thinking, No, I’m not going down that path. It eventually leads to the bridge. And I’m not going there. Not yet. Not without Carter. And certainly not on a bridge filled with flowers waiting for another couple.
But Lakelyn loops her arm around my elbow and leads me down the petal-filled path and around the bend, where I have to blink my eyes, trying to figure out if what I’m seeing is really there.
It’s my family.
“What are you doing here?” I can hardly breathe.
My parents, my grandmother and Aunt Helen, my sisters’ husbands, and my brother.
My dad walks up to me, gives me a hug, and says, “We decided to take you up on your offer. Come out to see where you live.”
“But I don’t live here,” I say with a laugh as I hug everyone else. “I live in Southern California.”
“We might be here for another reason, honey,” my mother says. “Why don’t you follow the petals and see where they lead you?”
I start to shake.
And tears fill my eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A new chapter.
Vale
I follow the path, walking on a carpet of rose petals. There are tears in my eyes. I wipe them away since I don’t want them blurring my vision. I don’t want to miss a moment of this.
There it is. My bridge. Well, not really my bridge, but it’s the bridge I had in mind when I described my fake engagement. Surrounded by trees, sitting just beyond a small waterfall.
The sun is about to set, and the landscape is cast in a golden glow.
Lanterns are floating on the water.
A string quartet is softly playing.
But it’s not the view that leaves me breathless.
It’s the man standing at the center of the bridge, waiting for me.
He looks so handsome in a navy-blue suit, crisp white shirt, and a deep green-and-navy tie knotted at his neck. And I realize his tie matches my dress.
Gotta love family.
Actually, I love him.
“Carter,” I say breathlessly as he takes my hands in his.
He gives me a smirk. “I can’t think of a more perfect place to start a new chapter with you.”
“Stealing my lines now, are you?” I say with a smile. “In that case, I’ll take yours and say, me neither.”
“Did I get it right?” he asks, sweeping his arm in front of us.
“Actually, it’s prettier than I imagined.”
“I’m off to a good start,” he says.
I notice movement on his side of the bridge and see that his family has taken their place at the base.
I turn around and see mine on the other.
“I can’t believe it.” My heart is so full that I can barely breathe or think or speak.
He’s here. He did all of this.
For me.
Pure magic.
Carter
“You should know when we stopped in Iowa to pick your sister up for the draft, I formally asked your father for your hand in marriage. And when I planned all this, I had no idea of what your decision would be or if you’d even made one yet. Either way, I had to give it a shot. I love you, Vale. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Here, in California, or even on the farm. I don’t care. I just want you.”
Her tears sparkle in the light of the setting sun, and the flickering candles in the water make shadows dance on her face. Her hair is aglow, and her dress seems to practically meld into the background. It’s like I’m in a fantasy land, the kind of place you would expect to see fairies and unicorns. I can see why she described this moment the way she did because it is magical.
I drop down on one knee, take her hand in mine, and look deep into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”
She leans down, throws her arms around me in a hug, and cries. She’s nodding her head against my chest, but she hasn’t said anything.
I stand up, picking her up with me.
“Is that a yes?” I murmur in between kisses.
“That’s a hell yes,” she says, grinning at me.
“Shall we seal the deal with something more than a kiss?” I ask her.
“I don’t think my father would approve of that,” she says in a sultry voice.
“I was thinking of something a little more traditional. And appropriate.”
I set her down, reach in my pocket, pull out the ring—her ring—and place it on her finger.
It must translate as a sign of success because I hear an ear-piercing whoop from Blake and cheers from both sides of the bridge.
“Kiss her again!” Grandma shouts.
This causes Vale to laugh through her tears.
“I agree with Grandma. You’d better kiss me again.”
So, I do.
After the proposal, we go to a private dining room overlooking the ocean and celebrate with our families. It’s then that the discussion of wedding planning comes up.
“I was thinking at our farm in Iowa,” Mrs. Martin says.
“And I was thinking a Southern California beach wedding,” my mom counters.
“We’ve just gotten engaged,” I tell them both, wanting to stop this nonsense before it even gets started.
I want Vale to plan the wedding of her dreams, not have to juggle what our mothers—who have both had weddings of their own already—want.
“That’s true,” Vale says, grinning at me. “But I know exactly what I want.”
“You do?” I ask, not able to hide the shock on my face.
“Yes, I’ve basically planned our life out in my head. And believe it or not, Carter Crawford, had the girls not come and whisked me off here, I was going to ask you to marry me today.”
“Really?” I say, feeling suddenly choked up.
“Really,” she says, giving me a kiss. “Provided I didn’t walk in and find you kissing some other girl anyway.”
Which causes me to laugh along with her.
None of that matters anymore. It’s all water under the bridge we just got engaged on.
“So, where will it be—the wedding?” my sister, Chloe, asks.
I look at Vale next to me, wondering if while planning out our life in her head, she planned the wedding out too.
“Well?” I ask, taking her hand into mine.
“California.” She smiles. “I was thinking in Napa, on a farm. Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”
She looks at me and then glances around the table at our family, who are all teary-eyed at the sentimental suggestion.
“It sounds perfect,” I tell her.
“Well, cheers to a future Napa wedding and to a real engagement this time,” Chloe says.
“I don’t know. I kind of liked being your fake fiancé,” I whisper in her ear.
She grins, planting a kiss on my lips as the glasses clink around us. “I think being my real one will have a few more benefits.”
***
Keep scrolling to read an excerpt of Kitty Valentine dates a Billionaire.
About the series:
When author Kitty Valentine’s latest novel totally bombs, her editor suggests she dates different kinds of men for inspiration in this fun chick-lit romance series.
Excerpt from Kitty Valentine Dates
a Billionaire
CHAPTER ONE
The thing about being a best-selling romance author is how everybody thinks your life is nothing but one big romcom. Or a nasty, filthy erotic story.
My life is neither of those things. Why? Because I’m a best-selling author—obviously—and therefore, I have no time for anything but writing. It’s sort of an ugly cycle.
Don’t start feeling sorry for me anytime soon though. I do make an attempt every so often to venture from my Upper West Side apartment and pretend to be an actual human being. You’ll see us sometimes—the writers who occasionally venture from their caves, squinting up at the sun like they’ve never seen it before and asking a random passerby what year it is.
Like at this very moment, as I line my blue eyes and apply a little mascara in preparation for a rare daytime excursion. I then pull my long brown hair into a sleek bun at the nape of my neck. Nothing fancy. This isn’t a date or a release party or anything like that.
When was the last time I put on makeup and did anything with my hair? Last Thursday maybe? No, Wednesday—when I met up with my best friend, Hayley, for drinks. Before that? It’s a mystery wrapped up in a pair of yoga pants.
Once again, don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t need an internet fundraiser set up in my name—besides, you can’t create a fundraiser to get somebody a life. And I’m not deliberately a recluse. I’m fine when it comes to self-confidence, and I do enjoy the feeling of sunshine on my skin every once in a while.
But writing, especially one or two books a year, means a lot of time spent with my butt in my chair and my fingers on the keyboard.
Life as Kitty Valentine is an interesting balancing act between living up to my last name—honestly, with a name like Valentine, what else was I supposed to do with my life?—and living like a normal human person. Today, I’m doing regular human things because it’s time for me and my agent to meet up with my editor in her office.
