Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

  It’s late, I’m tired. And I can’t stop thinking about the way he asked if I was sure. Like I had any other choice. I force the tears away as my mother continues to lecture while I watch the trees pass us by. It's like watching my life pass me by.

  The one time I decide to pave my own way—to make things happen and head my life into a new direction—something like this happens. The only person I can really blame is myself, though.

  By the time we get home, I’m too emotionally exhausted to do anything but fall into bed and hide under my covers.

  I spend the next day, Christmas Eve, at my mom’s moping and listening to “Blue Christmas.” Part of me, I realize, thought when this ended, maybe Graham and I might actually be something. It felt like we had one of those connections you read about and hope you find. Trudy effectively erased that idea, though. I would never jeopardize his resort for my own selfish happiness. That night, I send a little Christmas wish out that I won’t miss him more than I already do, because that might break me, and then I go to bed the same way I woke up—moping.

  Thankfully, there’s something magical about waking up Christmas morning. And when I wake, I try to pretend the whole mess never happened. I traipse downstairs with the spirit of Christmas propelling me forward. I’ll be jolly today, if it kills me.

  My mother is already doing our own Christmas tradition of blueberry pancakes and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

  “Morning,” I grumble as I pour myself a mug of Christmas bliss. Think I can say Christmas anymore times?

  I wonder if I say Christmas more, if it will make the pain of losing Graham go away? It can’t hurt to try.

  So, I grab my mug of Christmas coffee, and sit my Christmas ass on the Christmas stool at the Christmas bar.

  It’s not working.

  Is it even worse I checked my phone this morning in the hopes he may have called? I know, sad and Christmas pathetic.

  “I figured I’d make a big breakfast and then maybe we can cuddle on the couch and watch Christmas movies?”

  See. This is why I don’t need a big family. All I need is my mother. “Sounds perfect.”

  And that’s just what we do. We spend the afternoon watching movies and drinking hot coffee, until I get a call I never expected.

  I know it’s controversial, but I love pumpkin spice. Like hook it to an IV and pop it into my veins. Yum. Today, however, sitting in Baked Beans, the corner coffee shop, listening to a Bon Iver song playing through the speakers while nervously tapping my foot to the beat, I can’t taste my pumpkin spice latte at all. My taste buds have shut down from pure nervousness, and I’m just going through the motions. I’m so nervous, I’m sweating. I tug my coat off as I wait, hoping I don't look as nervous as I feel. It's been a few days since Christmas, and I'm sorry to report, I still miss Graham. It’s like a gentle tug at my mind, he’s always there, following me around throughout my days. I can’t seem to get over it. And I don’t know if I even want to.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” Lindsey says, sliding into the booth.

  “Sure, of course. I was surprised to hear from you.” I take a sip, to busy my hands, letting the burn from my tasteless coffee calm my nerves. When she called and said she needed to meet with me, I was shocked to say the least. I’m assuming it’s about Graham.

  “I didn’t bring you here to rehash what happened with my brother.” Well, that’s what I get for assuming. Lindsey’s expression is unreadable as she remains quiet, peering at me from over her coffee cup.

  “I appreciate that,” I lie, a little disappointed it wasn’t about how he’s pining over me too.

  “I don’t know if Graham ever told you, but I’m one of the VPs over at LGC.”

  “The shopping channel?” I ask her.

  “Yes.” She leans forward, like she has a very important secret for me to hear. “Those soaps you gave me for the kids cleared them right up.” She snaps her finger. “They’re amazing, and I’d like to offer you a contract with us over at LGC.”

  My whole world gets turned upside down with just those words. I’m at a complete loss of what to say, but nod, knowing my soap dreams are coming true.

  “Yes,” I finally agree after about a minute of awkward nodding and smiling. She must think I’m crazy. Maybe I am.

  I can’t wait to tell Graham. And that thought right there knocks me straight out of my happy-fest. There will be no sharing excitement with him.

  Lindsey goes over important details while I try desperately to listen and not ask any questions about Graham. It’s nearly impossible, but somehow, I manage.

  “I’ll be calling you after the New Year to plan a meeting,” Lindsey says, once everything is squared away. “I have to run and get the girls.”

  I hug her, thanking her profusely before saying goodbye. As she leaves, I resist the urge to stop her and ask for one little something about Graham, because as great as this is, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel a little hollow.

  Chapter 13

  Zoe

  One month later

  “Have you met Logan Chance?” Hope, the host of “Holidays with Hope,” asks me as the stylist for LGC flatirons her wavy blonde hair into silk. Tonight, I’m her guest for thirty minutes, showcasing all of my soaps. To say I’m nervous is an understatement.

  “The owner of this channel? No, not yet. What’s he like?”

  “He’s a great guy. It’s funny, he became addicted to a shopping channel and decided one day to buy it. And that’s how LGC was created.”

  “Ah. Where does the ‘G’ come from?” I ask, adjusting the red bow tying my shirt together.

  “Graham Steele, you must know him. He’s the other owner.”

  Just the mention of his name, sets my heart racing. To say I’m not sad about the fact I haven’t seen or heard from Graham would be a lie.

  His purchaser, Mark, held up Graham’s end of our bargain, even though I never would have expected that, and I’m currently in production to have my soaps in every cabin of Mountain Goat Resort. I debated whether to accept, but in the end, Mark convinced me by saying Graham really wanted the deal. It feels flat somehow.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that,” I finally respond. “I know his sister is a VP. That’s who offered me the deal.”

  The producer of the show calls us on set, and everything is pushed out of mind except for the fact I’m about to be on television.

  “We’re going to sell the fuck out of your soap,” she assures me, rising from the makeup chair.

  “Let’s hope.” I laugh. “No pun intended.”

  She cringes, slightly. “Honey, you just leave the funny stuff to me.”

  I follow her on set, unable to believe I’m really here. Ever have your life happen in a whir of commotion? That’s how the past month has been. Busy on top of busy, getting ready for LGC to run a Valentine’s Day promotional preorder for my soaps. We have a seat on the white, comfy couch, and I smooth down my black skirt, and take a deep breath.

  The cameraman counts down and then the red-light flicks on, showing us we’re live. My heart jumps into my throat, but I keep a smile glued on as Hope does her little intro.

  “So, next up, we have Zoe Walters here with her Serendipity Soap collection. I just love these soaps.” She turns to face me.

  “Thank you, Hope,” I say, not really sure where the words are coming from, but somehow, I launch into a little memorized promo spiel about my soaps.

  “Let’s go show everyone what you’ve made.”

  We stand and move over to a display table with a variety of my products. Hope picks up the peppermint bar shaped like a heart. “This is great for a Valentine’s Day gift. It not only moisturizes, but it also leaves the skin feeling supple and smooth.”

  “That’s right. These soaps are designed with that sensitive winter skin in mind.”

  “Be sure to grab these soaps,” she speaks to the viewers at home with a toothy grin, “they’re currently flying out the door.”

  “We
should shut that darn door, Hope,” I say, giving her a wink.

  She smiles back. “We have a caller on the line. Let’s see what they have to say.”

  “Hi, this is for Zoe,” the caller says. The familiar timbre of the voice on the line sends chills all over my skin. “I’ve used the soap and I have to say,” he chuckles softly, “it kind of turns me on.”

  Unable to believe Graham would call, I stand statue still, blinking wildly like everything is ok. Hope intervenes as quickly as possible. “Well, thank you for calling.”

  “Wait,” Graham’s voice calls through the speaker, “Zoe, I want to talk to you.”

  Hope glances nervously at me, and the cameraman talks rapidly into his headset. I still have my smile plastered on my face, trying my best to remain calm, but my heart is galloping a million miles a minute. Say that three times fast.

  “Graham,” my smile slides off my face as I stare into the camera, hoping Trudy doesn’t see any of this, “it’s probably not a good idea for you to call in?” I need to end this call, stat.

  The Christmas music lightly playing in the background comes to an abrupt halt. I’m not even sure if the camera is even still filming at this point, and I no longer care. All I care about is the man on the other end of the phone line.

  “Zoe, I’ve missed you. And not the ‘hey, I haven’t seen you in a while’ type of miss you. But, more of the ‘I need you here right now’ type of miss you.”

  My heart aches, my eyes misting over with unshed tears, and I can’t do anything but tell him the truth, “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I have something for you.”

  I stare into the camera, because I’m not sure where to look at this point. All I want more than anything is to see Graham. Just this one time. “Ok.”

  “Come outside.”

  I look over at Hope. “Well go, honey,” she urges.

  “Oh ok, right.” In a rush, I remove the microphone pack from around my waist, set it on the table with my soaps, and exit the set. I grab my coat and then rush out the back door. When I step outside, the wind blows the last of the snowfall around from last night. And then I see him. Graham, in all his glory, standing next to a one-horse open sleigh.

  “Graham, what are you thinking? What if Trudy sees that or someone tells her?”

  “What are you talking about? Why would I care if Trudy sees that? She can fuck off.” He moves closer. “I wanted to call you so many times,” he whispers.

  “I wanted you to. But, I don’t want you to lose the resort.”

  “What? How would I lose the resort?”

  I tell him everything Trudy told me about the marriage, and her father taking over if their wedding didn’t happen. I tell him how I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he lost his resort.

  He laughs. “Yeah, well that shit is just not true.”

  “No part of it is?” I ask unable to believe she’d be so manipulative.

  “None of it.” He kisses my cheek. “He isn’t even on the board.” Then he kisses my other cheek.

  “I could’ve never seen you again…” my words fail me.

  “You should have asked me.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “It’s ok. I forgive you.” He gives me a sexy smirk. “But, this means you more than care about me.”

  “Was it you who got me the deal here?” I ask, stepping closer to him, trying my best to read his eyes.

  The cold wind can’t put out the heat between the two of us. He steps closer, his arms wrapping around my waist. “You got that on your own. I was telling the truth, your soaps turn me on.”

  Even though I know it’s selfish, I can’t help myself. “Are you turned on right now?”

  He leans in. “Very turned on.”

  Wanting to feel him again, I wrap my arms around his neck. “We should take care of that.”

  He smiles against my lips. “We really should.”

  He helps me into the sleigh and nestles me under a faux fur blanket with him. The horse trots off through a small park filled with snow as we sit cuddled in the back. The driver steers the sled around, and I smile up at Graham.

  I pull back, gazing into his chocolate eyes.

  I kiss his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his lips again, and then lean back. “I do more than care about you.”

  A light snow falls all around us and Graham gathers me in his arms, holding me close.

  “See isn’t this fun?”

  “Yeah, it kind of is.” I rest my head on his chest and can hear his heart beating faster. “You were right, baby. I just wasn’t with the right person.”

  He’s so perfect. I’m going to love dating this man.

  And I’m going to make sure he loves dating me too.

  Epilogue (Bonus)

  Keep reading for more of Graham and Zoe.

  One

  What do you get the man who has everything for Christmas? Graham, billionaire mogul and sex god, literally has anything he could ever want. The man owns a shopping network for Christmas’ sake. The twelve day countdown is on, and I’m still presentless. This is unheard of for a Christmas savant like myself. The trees were decorated and the stockings hung with care on the enormous mantle in Graham’s home before Thanksgiving was even finished. Why wait?

  I’m not one to crumble under the pressure of a challenge, though, and I’ve finally found something he definitely doesn’t have.

  “York, I need a favor,” I whisper as soon as Graham’s cousin answers the phone.

  “Why are you whispering, Zoe?”

  I glance over my shoulder to check I’m still alone. “Congratulations on the hockey title,” I say before I dive into what I need.

  “Thanks, but again, why are you whispering? Is something wrong?”

  “I need help with Graham’s present.”

  “Ah, and what is that?”

  To ensure this remains top secret, I move further into the bedroom at Graham’s mother's home, where we’re spending a few days of the holidays, and step into the closet. “A baby goat.”

  His laugh fills my ear. “Wait. A living breathing goat?”

  “Yes.” I don’t tell him how Graham thinks baby goats are adorable, nor how he watches YouTube videos of fainting goats, because I feel like that would be breaching the unspoken boyfriend/girlfriend confidentiality agreement. “I need your help getting it.”

  I’ve already been in contact with The Mountain Goat Resort and a heated barn with ample enclosure is already in the works. And who knows, maybe friends will be added.

  “I’m all in,” York says, with a smile in his voice. “I’ll be there tonight.”

  “Perfect. Don’t forget your ugly sweater for the party.”

  “Never,” he says.

  “You should see the little sweater I bought for the baby goat. I’ll show you tonight.”

  “Zoe,” Graham calls out.

  “Gotta go,” I whisper. “Don’t tell a soul about this.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. Can’t wait to see his reaction.”

  I disconnect the call and step from the closet. “Hey, babe. How was your meeting?”

  It’s been a year and I still get that dip in my belly, like I’m skiing down a snow-covered mountain at lightning speed, when I see him. His dark hair, full of fuckable Christmas magic, gleams under the lights as his tall body closes the distance between us.

  “Hey. It was good. Sorry I’m having to deal with business.”

  “It's ok.” I hone in on what he’s wearing. “Are those real?”

  “Yeah.” Graham’s crooked grin is hot enough to toast the marshmallows dangling on his ugly sweater. “Check this…” He pushes a button and flames ignite in the fireplace on his chest.

  I’m thoroughly impressed with his hideous creation of a Santa roasting marshmallows by a fire. Real marshmallows. Like everything he does in life, Graham went the extra mile. It’s hot. He’s hot. “Your creativity is such a turn on.”

  He leans in for a sultry kiss that curls my toes
. “I have something for you,” Graham tells me.

  He produces a small black pouch from his jeans pocket.

  “What is this?” I take the velvet bag from his fingers and peek inside. “It’s not Christmas yet,” I say as I pull a delicate silver chain out.

  “Well, it’s the first day of Christmas.”

  I study the charm. “Oh my god.” I look up at him. “Is this a partridge in a pear tree?”

  “Yep,” is his smug answer. “Are you singing the song in that beautiful head of yours now?”

  “Maybe.” I want to cry that this man loves me. He’s the ultimate gift—he got me a freaking partridge in a pear tree. And I have nothing for him. Well, actually, I do have something…

  His family won’t be back for a few hours, and everything is ready for the ugly sweater party tonight, so I’m about to go all ho ho ho on my man.

  I place my hand on his hard chest and push him back toward the bed. His dark eyes incinerate me as he sits.

  “I was going to save this until tonight, but now is the right time.” I knee his legs apart and step between his muscular thighs. “Unwrap me, Graham.”

  “Fuck, Zoe.” As if I’m encased in expensive paper he doesn’t want to ruin, his hands slowly dispose of my t-shirt and then slide my leggings down and off. My panties are next to go. “Beautiful,” he murmurs at my freshly waxed and vajazzled vagina. He traces a finger along the sparkling candy cane, followed quickly by his tongue.

  My knees nearly buckle. “Bre told me at the salon it’s the best way to spread Christmas cheer.”

  As soon as I speak the words, I’m flipped around and on the soft comforter with Graham hovering over me.

  He sucks each nipple in his warm mouth before moving down my body in a flurry of kisses. “Oh, baby, I’m definitely going to spread you.” He opens my legs. “And lick you.” His tongue takes a swipe through my wetness. “Mm. And suck you.” He toys with my clit and does that nipping thing with his teeth I love so much. My back arches off the bed, and I moan as he works my pussy with expertise. To give him better access to his present, I plant my feet on his broad shoulders.