by Elyse Riggs
My Billionaire Fake Fiancé
Beaky Tiki Series Book One
Elyse Riggs
To all of us who would rather be at the beach right now sipping something delicious out of a coconut.
Contents
Description
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
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Epilogue
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events in this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2020 by Elyse Riggs
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Description
Start with a sassy pastry chef. Add a cocky billionaire. Throw in a fake engagement. Let the games begin.
Kaylee
I have one rule. I don't date tourists. Ever. Because vacation boyfriends never last. But my life is a hot mess. So much so that my friends throw me a love-life intervention. Never heard of that? Me neither. I may have a problem.
So I decide to break my rule just one time because the tourist is unbelievably sexy. Hey, it's more of a guideline than an actual rule. What's the worst that can happen?
Cue Chase Covington, the relationship-averse billionaire who blows into my life like a category five hurricane.
My Billionaire Fake Fiance is a full-length, standalone romantic comedy with no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a HEA.
Chapter One
Kaylee
I watch the sun set over the horizon as I hold my shoes in my hand and cross the vast expanse of sand between my work and the Beaky Tiki. The Beaky Tiki is the beach bar I’m meeting my friends at.
Okay, so it’s not a vast expanse of beach. It’s probably only four tenths of a mile or so. The sun just set, and everything is starting to cool down.
It feels amazing to be outside after working in a hot kitchen all day. The sea breeze plays with my hair as my feet pad across the white, soft sand.
The Beaky Tiki bar is my favorite place in the world. It’s an honest-to-goodness, square-shaped, thatch roof structure situated on the sand overlooking the ocean.
Soon, I spot it. The signature lit tiki torches that stand like sentries around the perimeter flicker dramatically.
As I approach, I hear the sound of top forty music playing on the sound system mixed with the not-too-distant sound of waves crashing on the shore. This place is my idea of heaven.
Fi and Angie’s smiling faces greet me as I arrive and then girl’s night officially begins. I grin as I pull out my chair.
The table we’re sitting at is within the bounds of the tiny, decorative picket fence area of the bar, but barely. We are on the ocean side, off to ourselves. It’s our favorite table.
From this vantage point, I can see the silhouettes of couples walking the beach in the distance. The Beaky Tiki Bar is more than just a bar and grill to me. It’s my home base, my happy place, my safe zone.
I work nearby at one of the most exclusive beach resorts in the country, so my trek here is a very enjoyable evening commute.
The waiter appears like magic. We order drinks and the appetizers flow. Tonight, it’s crispy mozzarella sticks and chips and salsa. My mouth waters as I smell the intoxicating aroma of the delicious food. I’m grateful Fi and Angie ordered early, since I worked through lunch.
We call it girls’ night, but honestly, we do this most nights of the week. And sometimes for lunch.
After the second round of drinks, I grow a little suspicious. Something about tonight feels different. I have a feel for these things. And it feels like Fi and Angie are up to something.
There’s only one way to find out. I grab my drink and hold it up in the air to toast. Fi and Angie hoot and do the same. It’s getting downright rowdy at our table. We drink.
“You guys never told me what we’re celebrating,” I say, fishing around for whatever it is that I’m missing as I set my drink back down on the wooden table.
Angie plays coy after my question. She finishes her drink and then puts her own glass on the table with a satisfying thud. “Why we’re here,” she smirks. Then she cocks her head at me. “I don’t understand the question. Why do we need a reason? We do this all the time.”
“Exactly,” I answer, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously. “So tell me, why does tonight feel different?”
Angie and Fi both grin at me, and then I know for sure something is up. I knew it. I study their faces in the warm glow of the tiki torches.
“Welcome to your intervention,” they chime in unison.
What the hell? Now I know they’re messing with me. I laugh out loud and point at the three now-empty drink glasses on the table. “Well, we might as well make it a threesome intervention, then, because it looks like you guys are keeping pace with me just fine.”
Fi laughs. “This is not an intervention for drinking. It’s a love life intervention.”
“Kaylee Love, we are gathered here today to raise your love life from the depths of the sea.” Fi stands up dramatically and raises her voice and her arms like she’s summoning something out of the depths of the sand beneath our table.
She’s very convincing, and I consider ducking underneath the table to have a look. What is happening? Is she hiding a smoking-hot guy under there? Nope, nothing.
“Seriously, guys? I don’t think this is really necessary.”
“Pipe down, Kaylee. Let me finish, okay?” Fi has a flair for the dramatic. It’s one of the reaso
ns I love her. She’s a force of nature with her fierce blue eyes and long dark hair blowing in the breeze.
I wait for her to continue. And I’m very curious, because I can’t help but wonder what the hell a love life intervention is.
That’s when Angie takes over, a grin on her face as well. “My prescription for a disastrous love life rut is a very sexy table dancer.” She looks around the room as if a hot table dancer is about to jump out from behind one of the nearby palm trees. All three of us swivel our heads around, but I still don’t see anything.
After a moment, Angie turns her attention back to us and laughs. “But apparently he’s not here yet, so let’s order another round.”
Angie owns her own veterinary practice. She might have an easy smile and look like a goofball with her blond hair in a loose bun and a yellow tank top. But she is wicked smart and as intense as they come. I have the best friends in the world. I wake up every morning grateful for them and today is no exception.
“I hope you guys didn’t go to a lot of trouble for this. Really, I’m okay.”
Fi eyes me with a look of concern. “Seriously, it’s been too long, girl. Also, it’s not just that there are no guys, there’s no trouble. No drama.” She shakes her head. “It’s not like you.” She grabs my hand. “We’re worried. But we want you to know that we are here for you.”
“Noted,” I grin. Maybe a love life intervention will be fun after all. “Did you guys really get me a table dancer?”
“You’re about to find out.” Fi answers.
We settle into a comfortable silence as we wait for the next round of drinks or the table dancer that Angie and Fi ordered, whichever comes first. I can’t help but zone out watching the waves crash onto the shore while I nibble on a delicious mozzarella stick.
Maybe my love life is a hot mess, but at least I’m still here living the dream by the ocean. I have big goals for the future, goals that suffered a recent catastrophic setback, but goals just the same. Even if they seem far off right now.
“Earth to Kaylee. Come back to us, Kaylee,” Angie teases.
I turn back to face her and Fi. I hold up a hand. “I do solemnly swear to start getting into more trouble.” I laugh.
“And we are here to encourage that kind of behavior,” Fi answers. “That is why we invited Paolo.” She raises both eyebrows at me playfully.
I swivel my head around again looking for this Paolo person, but I still don’t see anybody.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Fi says, dragging her chair backward away from the table. “C’mon, guys. Bring your chairs back here with mine.”
Angie and I follow Fi’s lead and soon we are sitting away from the table but enjoying the fantastic view of the beach beyond. An air of excitement surrounds us and people at nearby tables stare at us, but we ignore them.
Just then, a bare-chested man in a grass skirt whooshes by all of us and leaps onto the table. Ladies all around the bar area start to clap and cheer.
Fi stands up again. “Ladies, gentlemen, and especially Kaylee,” Fi points at me, probably for Paolo’s benefit, “I’d like to present Paolo.”
Paolo looks like he’s in his early twenties. A little younger than me. As I stare along with everyone else, I can’t help but notice his muscled, bronzed skin, boyish smile, and lots and lots of oil rubbed onto his upper torso. His chest is particularly impressive by the light of the tiki torches.
He has two small torches in his hands. He places one of them in his mouth while he pulls a lighter out of somewhere in his grass skirt. Impressive. It has pockets?
I can’t help but worry about him lighting his own personal mini fires when he’s already oiled up. It seems like a recipe for disaster.
And as to Fi’s earlier point, it’s not my fault that under most circumstances trouble finds me naturally. It’s not like I live a carefree existence without overthinking and worrying about things like sexy, oiled-up men catching on fire on the table in front of me.
Why can’t I just enjoy the moment and spend five minutes not worrying about the future? Obviously, I have been seriously overthinking everything, or I wouldn’t be in the middle of my own love life intervention.
I resolve to enjoy tonight and go with it. That decided, I return my attention to the table and smile up at Paolo just as he gets the second mini torch lit.
It’s time for the show. Paolo’s a professional, Kaylee. Let him do his thing already.
Paolo starts a song on his I-phone that sounds like rhythmic drumming before returning it somewhere in his grass skirt. I start to wonder just how many pockets that thing has. Also, I wonder where he buys them.
I tilt my head, trying to get a better look at the grass skirt. Because of the pockets. Then it dawns on me that instead of looking for pockets, everybody around me probably assumes that I’m staring at his crotch.
Mercifully, I’m able to break out of my interior monologue just in time to see Paolo point down at me as he starts swiveling his hips to the beat. Okay, he’s really good at his job.
I watch, mesmerized, as he shakes and shimmies that oiled-up body to the beat of the drums. He has short dark hair and double dimples. He’s super-hot and he knows it.
More catcalls ring out and Paolo drinks it in, looking around at the crowd and shaking his booty, along with everything else. All while swinging and juggling his own tiki torches in the dramatic display. I have to admit, it’s quite a show.
I notice Fi and Angie sitting on the edge of their seats and cheering alongside me. Then they exchange another look between them. A different look, a conspiratorial look. What now?
“Dance, Kaylee!” they yell in unison.
“What?” I lean forward and shout over the song.
“Up!” Fi says. She gets up and starts to dance herself. Angie gets up too and then the three of us are dancing. But apparently that’s not enough. “Not down here with us,” Fi shouts, “up there, with Paolo. It’s your special night, after all.”
They start chanting. “Kaylee! Kaylee! Kaylee.”
My friends know me all too well. There’s no way I can resist if there’s going to be chanting. I carefully move my seat between where I’m standing and the table that Paolo is currently dancing on.
And then as lightly as a cat. Well, lightly as a cat that has already had a few drinks, I step up onto the chair and then make the small leap onto the table with Paolo.
I hear cheers erupt around me. First from my friends, and then from the surrounding tables as well. All I know is that there is a good beat and tonight I am up for anything.
Paolo is smiling at me, apparently fine with the company and okay with me sharing the small table stage. Soon, Paolo and I are in a rhythm, dancing back and forth. He swings his hips in my direction and I do the same back at him. Only as I dance, I’m careful to dodge the flaming tiki torches.
This is probably the most fun I’ve had in, well, a while. Who knows, maybe this love life intervention is going to work after all.
Paolo’s smile turns up an octave, which I had no idea was possible. I follow his lead and the two of us shake our booties and stomp on the table until the song ends.
That brings more screaming across the bar. I take the opportunity to leap down. That was more fun than I expected. I am parched and out of breath, but I have to admit I’m having lots of fun.
Paolo does one more song solo, and then finishes the show. Which apparently involves him leaping back off of the table with a flourish and a bow. As soon as his tan feet hit the sand, women come running from all over the bar area to put money in that grass skirt.
I panic for a moment. My lack of a love life isn’t the only part of me that’s a hot mess right now. I’m also broke as hell. Seriously broke. Ramen-noodle, had to cancel Netflix broke. But I feel bad for not having any cash. Paolo put on a great show.
Way ahead of me, Angie crosses the distance between us, placing cash into my hand. Then without waiting for me to object or react, she puts a hand on my back a
nd gives me a hard shove toward Paolo. Almost straight into his chiseled, glistening chest.
Using the momentum, I dance over to him, trying to fight my way past the female horde that has already surrounded him.
But then I trip over the hard tipped, red cowboy boots of a cougar who beat me to him, dropping the cash onto the ground.
Even worse, I lurch forward and face plant into the sand. Yeah, Kaylee. Smooth. Humiliate yourself in front of the oiled-up dancer guy.
Recovering as fast as I can, I crawl forward on my hands and knees to dig out the money that I dropped. When I finally stand back up, Paolo is smiling down at me, having navigated the crowd and crossed the distance between us.
Smiling back, I carefully put the money into his grass skirt while my friends cheer me on.
His lips part and his tongue grazes his lower lip as he leans closer to my ear. Then he whispers something. “Girl, if you want help breaking out of your slump, all you gotta do is ask.”
