Frank. The jerk. He’d proposed at Thanksgiving in front of her parents. Her parents! It had been grand and wonderful, and a big ole fat joke. Through the grapevine—also known as his loudmouth brother—she’d learned that he’d only dated and proposed to her to look good to the partners at his firm. Once he found out he was heading up the Paris office, Peyton was an accessory he no longer needed, and he dumped her.
Peyton groaned. “No, and I don’t want to hear from him. We dated four months, and he was using me the whole time. I mean, I know it was fast, but he said that when you’re in love, you follow your heart.”
“What a creep. Are you sure you believe his brother, though? Maybe he just got cold feet.”
Peyton flopped back. “Oh, I believe him. Plus, there’s the picture of Frank in Paris, kissing someone.”
“Already?”
“Yep. I sure know how to pick ’em, huh?”
This was her third engagement. And the third one to end almost as soon as it began. She could hear her baby sister ribbing her already. She loved Lori, but, man, there were times when Peyton just wanted to sock her.
Was it really her fault that she picked guys who seemed great and then turned out to be horrible? It wasn’t like she had a flag flying that said, Welcome, losers.
Was it really so bad to want to be loved?
Her bottom lip trembled, and a tear ran down her cheek. Grabbing a tissue, she blew her nose for the umpteenth time. “Ouch. I should have gotten the tissues with lotion in them.” She sniffed. “I can’t stop crying. It’s so unlike me.”
“You should call Gus.”
Normally, she would’ve called her best friend, Gustaf Grant. If she called him, she knew he’d make her feel better. He’d fly in from his New York penthouse to her sardine-sized apartment in Alaska and veg on the couch with her, watching horribly sappy movies while telling her what an idiot Frank was. That was what he always did when she had a bad breakup.
“I can’t, Tracey. He’s opening his resort in Hawaii on Christmas Eve. That’s just two days away.”
When he started his matchmaking app four years ago, Peyton never would have expected it to be as wildly successful as it was. Not that she didn’t have faith in him or that it wouldn’t be a hit. She just didn’t imagine an unbelievably wealthy kind of successful. Who knew the lanky boy who moved in next door to her childhood home in Juneau would grow up to be Mr. Matchmaker and own a resort?
“Yeah, but that’s why you call him your best friend.” Tracey paused. “See, now, he’s the guy you should be engaged to—tall, handsome, and wealthy.”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “He’s my best friend. That’s all. He made it clear a long time ago that all he wanted was to be friends.”
Tracey exhaled heavily. “The way he looks at you says he doesn’t think that anymore.”
“No, that’s just Gus. He’s wonderful. And only my best friend. I wouldn’t want to do anything that could ruin that. He means too much to me.” Which is why she’d kept Paris from him. She was waiting for the right time to tell him.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call, and she pulled it back to check the screen. Gus? They talked almost every day but usually before bed. It was three in the afternoon. Why would he be calling this early?
“Oh, hey, speak of the devil. That’s Gus,” Peyton said.
“Okay, well, call me if you need anything, girl. You know I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, Trace. Talk to you later.” Peyton switched calls. “Hey, Gus-G―Hey.” She’d stopped calling him Gus-Gus in high school after he wouldn’t speak to her for a week. The only way to get him to talk to her was to promise never to use it again. She still had to catch herself once in a while.
“Hey! How’s my favorite girl?” His voice was cheery, making her smile.
“I’m great. How’s my favorite guy?” This had been the way they’d answered the phone since the Bambi Bumgardner incident in fifth grade. Bambi had been mean to Gus because his name was goofy. She said no girl would ever want to date him because he was a weirdo.
Back then, Gus had worn baggy slacks and button-ups, and the kids made fun of him, mostly because his clothes looked as if they belonged to someone fifty years older. But Peyton had liked him from the moment she met him. She told him that what Bambi said wasn’t true and he was her favorite boy. From there, it just stuck.
He laughed. “I can’t be your favorite guy anymore. I believe that job was taken by Frank.”
Ouch. Bon Jovi was right. Shot through the heart. “You’ll always be my favorite guy. There’s just a tie now.” Not. Frank could go skydiving without a parachute. No, it was wrong to even think something such as that. Just because he was awful didn’t mean she was going to stoop to his level.
“Oh, thanks.” He laughed. “I bet you’re wondering why I called.”
“You’re psychic. Do you charge by the hour? Should I get my credit card?”
Gus snorted. “I wish. No, I’m calling because I’m flying in, and I was hoping we could hang out before I leave for Hawaii tomorrow. I have a Christmas present for you.”
Flying into Juneau? What? Oh no. How was she going to hide her miserable week from him? Crud.
“Oh, Gus, you didn’t have to do that.” Of course he’d get her a present. The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and by then, he’d be in Hawaii. “But I didn’t get you anything yet. I didn’t know what to get, and I didn’t know you’d be in town.”
“I know, but I wanted to. And I don’t care about a present or I’d have warned you I was coming. That new promotion of yours deserves some celebration too. I’m taking you out to dinner. After, we’ll rent a movie and hang out on the couch. I need some down time before I put my game face on.”
Seriously, he didn’t know he was shooting arrows, but, man, it didn’t keep them from hurting. She covered the receiver with her hand and took a deep breath to keep from crying. She refused to put a damper on his big opening day.
“Are you there?” The phone shuffled. “Hello? Aw, I got cut off.” It sounded like he was about to hang up.
“No! I’m here. Just overwhelmed by how sweet you are. This is why you’re my favorite guy and why I don’t understand how you’re still single.” She’d tried to set him up so many times over the years, but either he wouldn’t be interested or he’d have to cancel at the last minute.
“I’m too busy for a relationship, and I enjoy being a bachelor. I don’t have to worry about anything but me and my company. Besides, I’m not single. I have my best friend.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know, but stop worrying. I’m okay.”
Peyton shook her head. “All right, fine. When are you supposed to be here?”
He made a little humming noise, the kind that said I’m looking at the clock. “In about forty-five minutes.”
Holy cow. She looked around her apartment, and her eyes went wide. It was the scene straight out of You’ve Got Mail. Used tissues, scattered clothes, and half-eaten bowls of ice cream were everywhere. She did a sniff test and wondered if Gus could smell her from his plane. “Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“I told you I wanted to surprise you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Unless Frank is there. Am I interrupting something?”
“Oh, no, I just…I need to go so I can get ready. The last time you took me out to dinner, I had on jeans when I should have been wearing a runway dress.”
“Peyton, you always look great, and that restaurant was full of snobs. Dress how you want.” He was being nice. She’d practically been dressed for a hoedown, and he’d taken her to a restaurant that didn’t have prices on the menu. He’d acted like nothing was off and that people weren’t staring at her and wondering what bridge she lived under.
“Okay, I need to go so I can be ready when you get here.”
“All right. I’ll be there shortly. I’ve got a car rented, so I’ll pick you up.”
She smiled. “Okay, I’ll see you th
en.”
“Bye, favorite girl.”
“Bye, favorite guy.”
She ended the call and hit the nitrous button. Her apartment was always immaculate. If Gus arrived and saw it was trashed, he’d know immediately that something was wrong, and there’d be no way for her to hide it. Good thing her place was small; otherwise, she’d never get it clean in time.
As she zipped around, it struck her as funny that, once again, Gus was rescuing her without even knowing it. His coming into town was what she needed. Good food, his humor, and time spent with her best friend. Yeah, she’d keep her misery to herself until he got back after New Year’s. She pushed down the thoughts of gloom and concentrated on her apartment.
Once she was finished with her cleaning, she put her hands on her hips and let her gaze sweep the space. She pulled out her phone, and her eyes widened. Ten minutes? Great. With a speed she didn’t know she had, she ran to the bathroom and began getting ready.
Her dark hair was a rat’s nest, her nose could’ve been sandblasted, and her eyes were so puffy they looked like they’d been injected with collagen. She was an absolute mess. Why had she allowed herself to get in this shape? This wasn’t her usual. Sitting in a funk wasn’t her style, and she’d been doing it for the last week.
She was done feeling sorry for herself. It never helped anyone anyway. Nope, she was finding her bootstraps and pulling them up—starting with her best foundation and brightest lipstick. After today, she was getting herself back out there and living her life. No more whining.
* * *
Grab your copy of The Matchmaker’s Fake Marriage and follow along as Gus and Peyton fall in love.
Other Books by Bree Livingston
A Clean Billionaire Romance Series:
Her Pretend Billionaire Boyfriend:
A Clean Billionaire Romance Book One
Her Second Chance Billionaire Sweetheart:
A Clean Billionaire Romance Book Two
Her Broken Billionaire Boss:
A Clean Billionaire Romance Book Three
Her Fake Billionaire Fiancé:
A Clean Billionaire Romance Book Four
Her Stranded Billionaire Mix-Up:
A Clean Billionaire Romance Book Five
Her Secret Billionaire Roommate:
A Clean Billionaire Romance Book Six
A Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Series
The Cowboy’s Fake Marriage:
A Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Book One
The Star’s Fake Marriage:
A Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Book Two
The Matchmaker’s Fake Marriage:
A Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Book Four
The Beast’s Fake Marriage:
A Sweet Fake Marriage Romance Book Five
A Clean Army Ranger Romance Series:
The Ranger’s Chance:
A Clean Army Ranger Romance Book One
The Ranger’s Peace:
A Clean Army Ranger Romance Book Two
The Ranger’s Heart:
A Clean Army Ranger Romance Book Three
The Ranger’s Hope:
A Clean Army Ranger Romance Book Four
The Ranger’s Forgiveness:
A Clean Army Ranger Romance Book Five
A Clean Scottish Romance Series:
Mending the Billionaire Movie Star:
A Clean Scottish Romance Book One
Mending the Billionaire Scotsman:
A Clean Scottish Romance Book Two
Mending the Billionaire Brother:
A Clean Scottish Romance Book Three
Clean Stand Alone Romances:
Love and Charity
The Mistletoe Game:
A Clean Christmas Novella
About the Author
Bree Livingston lives in the West Texas Panhandle with her husband, children, and cats. She'd have a dog, but they took a vote and the cats won. Not in numbers, but attitude. They wouldn't even debate. They just leveled their little beady eyes at her and that was all it took for her to nix getting a dog. Her hobbies include...nothing because she writes all the time.
She loves carbs, but the love ends there. No, that's not true. The love usually winds up on her hips which is why she loves writing romance. The love in the pages of her books are sweet and clean, and they definitely don't add pounds when you step on the scale. Unless of course, you're actually holding a Kindle while you're weighing. Put the Kindle down and try again. Also, the cookie because that could be the problem too. She knows from experience.
Join her mailing list to be the first to find out publishing news, contests, and more by going to her website at https://www.breelivingston.com.
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