Holiday Hoax: A Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (The Cartwright Family Book 1)
Holiday Hoax: Chapter 14

Mason jumps off the Thoroughbred he named Dynamite. He opens the gate and joins my other brothers and me, declaring, ‘I think he’s ready.’

‘Looks like it,’ I agree. I’ve spent the morning with my brothers, watching Jagger and Mason train their new horses. I’ve tried to get Georgia off my mind, but I can’t.

I keep thinking about how she made me pancakes so delicious, I’d happily eat them every morning. After last night, it surprised me she’d do anything nice for me, especially something that’s above and beyond.

Mason secures the gate. ‘Dynamite’s going to win. I can feel it.’

I stare at the horse, wondering for the millionth time this morning if Georgia has ever ridden.

I bet she knows how. She seems to know how to do everything.

If she doesn’t, I could show her.

I’ll bring her down here. Make it into a date.

A date?

What am I thinking?

My father arrives with Wilder and Ace. He booms, ‘Boys, time to cut the tree down.’

Jagger mutters, ‘Oh, what fun.’

Mason adds, ‘Yippee.’

Cutting the tree down is always a project. It depends on what my mother’s chosen for the year. Some years, we have it easy. Other years, not so much.

I ask, ‘Where’s Jacob, Jr.?’ It seems like if the men are going, he should also get to experience it.

My dad looks at me in disapproval, claiming, ‘Three-year-olds don’t belong in the tree field. It’s too dangerous.’

‘God help your children when you and Georgia have them,’ Alexander claims.

Images of a slew of blond-haired, blue-eyed, happy kids next to a very pregnant, beaming Georgia fill my mind.

Maybe that’s what I should do. Keep her barefoot and pregnant.

Jesus. I need to get a grip.

It’s a colder day, so I grab one of the flannel Carhartts from the barn, knowing that the wind will be even harsher out where we’re going. We get in the truck, and my brothers and I jump in the back cab with the kids. It takes about five minutes to get to the large field where my father planted Scottish Pines.

It’s my mother’s favorite type of Christmas tree. For their tenth wedding anniversary, he decided to create a whole field for her. They have a date night every year before Thanksgiving and come out here. She picks which tree she wants him to cut down, then it’s our job to do it. We never know how big or small it will be. My mom keeps us on our toes.

The scent of pine whips through the air, and my father points to the biggest tree in the field. ‘That’s the one, boys.’

My brothers and I grumble obscenities. The tree’s at least fifteen feet tall. It’ll look amazing in our family room, which has a twenty-five-foot vaulted ceiling. The tree also has a full body, and it’s hard to see any space through the limbs and needles.

Mason mutters, ‘That’s going to take forever to decorate.’

Jagger groans. ‘Guess we’re clearing our schedules the rest of the day.’

My father gives them dirty looks. ‘This is our Christmas tradition. Stop complaining. What are you teaching the boys?’

My brothers glance at our nephews. One thing my parents are serious about is their Christmas traditions. That and the family being together.

I used to believe it was more my mom, but the older they get, the more I think my father loves it just as much as she does.

I order, ‘Day’s not getting any younger. Let’s get this down.’

My brothers and I start to unload the chainsaw and an ax. We pull the tarp out and put it where we plan on dropping the tree.

Alexander takes the chainsaw, and we all step back.

My father asks, ‘What are you getting your bride for Christmas?’

My stomach flips. Anxiety fills me. I didn’t think about it.

What would Georgia want for Christmas?

I shrug, confessing, ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.’

My father’s eyes turn to slits. He disapprovingly states, ‘This is your wife’s first Christmas with you, and you don’t know what you’re getting her?’

‘I’ll figure it out,’ I claim.

He shakes his head and says, ‘Son, you’ve got a lot to learn.’

I ignore him and pretend I don’t care.

But I do. As much as I don’t want to, I now care about what I’m getting the woman I plan on marrying in less than a week and divorcing shortly after Christmas.

How did I get this so fucked-up?

Christmas gifts were never hard before this year. Anyone I dated always made it clear what they expected. All I had to do was tell my assistant to get it, and it would appear on my desk already wrapped.

Why didn’t I think about this before I left Dallas?

I sort through all the expensive gifts I’ve gotten my girlfriends in the past. Brand-name perfume, hard-to-get jewelry, luxurious trips, designer purses, clothes, and shoes all fill my mind.

Nothing is good enough for Georgia. I continue to rack my brain, growing antsier and antsier, wondering what she’d appreciate.

Why do I even care?

It’s just for show for my family.

This really isn’t a big deal.

Yet the nagging voice in my head tells me that it is and I shouldn’t mess this up. Plus, I’ve never done anything half-assed, so the last thing I want to do is disappoint her on Christmas, especially after her reaction to the ring.

I wince inside, still having a difficult time believing I got it so wrong. She tried to hide it, but I could see she despised the ring I chose.

It burns me that she hates it. Not because I love the ring, but because I didn’t put the effort in to pick the right one. I went into the jeweler and pointed to the biggest one in the case, figuring she was just like my other fiancées.

She’s not them.

It’s only until January 2nd. She can do whatever she wants with the ring afterward.

Hell, it’s worth a lot of money. She’ll be happy I gave it to her when she goes and sells it.

Even that statement feels off. The more I get to know Georgia, especially after our conversation with my sisters and mom this morning, the more I get the impression she isn’t all about money.

Then why did she negotiate a million dollars?

She wanted three!

The longer the debate about Georgia goes on in my head, the more confused I become.

‘Timber!’ the boys yell, tearing me out of my thoughts.

The pine drops to the ground on the tarp, which isn’t surprising since Alexander is a pro at cutting down trees. Still, we all cheer.

We secure it on the tarp and tie it to the back of the truck. All of us hop back in the vehicle, and when we get back to the house, we drag it to the front steps.

Then the real work starts. It takes about an hour to move it inside the house and secure it on the tree stand. And even though it’s a pain in the butt, I have to admit it makes it feel like Christmas. Plus, all my nieces and nephews are running around and shrieking with excitement.

But the thing I notice the most is Georgia beaming. And that funny feeling in my gut sparks again.

I go over to her and kiss her since I know I can get as many as I want when my family’s around. I ask, ‘Did you miss me?’

She looks flustered but recovers, stating, ‘Nope!’

‘Ouch,’ I declare, pounding my heart.

She laughs and points to the stuff I tossed onto the chair, inquiring, ‘Since when do you wear cowboy hats?’

‘When I’m here. Why? Does it get you riled up?’ I tease.

She doesn’t answer, just bats her eyes and smiles.

Is she flirting with me?

No.

She picks up the Carhartt flannel. ‘This makes you look kind of rugged.’

Yes! She’s flirting with me.

Why am I even wondering this?

My stomach flips some more, and my chest tightens. I try to think what to say to flirt back, but I’m suddenly speechless.

What is it about this woman that keeps making me forget how to speak?

I regain my cockiness and tug her closer to me, trying to ignore my growing erection. I lower my voice and suggest, ‘Is this what you’re into? Do I need to dress down for you?’

Her eyes light up, and her face flushes. She claims, ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t have to, Sunshine,’ I arrogantly state, then stare at her lips again until her cheeks turn the color of a tomato.

She pushes her hand against my pecs, and I secure my arm around her.

Then I invoke my PDA rights, palming her ass cheeks and leaning into her ear, murmuring, ‘Why don’t you admit you think I’m cute?’

She laughs and whispers, ‘Do you ever get sick of being so full of yourself?’

Jesus. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to have sex with anyone so badly before.

I lower my voice even more and claim, ‘I’m pretty sure if you had let me lick your sweet pussy last night, you would have had no problems afterward seeing what it’s like to be full of me.’ I retreat and pin my gaze on hers.

Her bottom lip trembles slightly. She takes a short breath, then clears her throat, announcing, ‘Why yes, Sebastian! I’d love to see you let the girls put makeup on you tonight!’

‘What? Yes!’ Isabella screams, grabs Sebastian’s hand, and jumps up and down.

Once again, I’m speechless. Maybe I should be mad, since there’s no way Isabella will let me out of this without me being the bad uncle, but I start to chuckle. I warn Georgia, ‘I think you messed with the wrong Cartwright.’

She smirks.

‘Sebastian, help with the lights,’ Dad orders.

I tear my gaze off my little peach and grab a string of lights.

Everyone stands around the tree, and my mom chirps, ‘I knew it’d be perfect when I saw it.’

I glance at her. ‘You pick the biggest one.’

‘I know. I’ve been waiting for years for this tree,’ she claims.

‘It’s really pretty,’ Georgia says, staring at it like she’s never seen a Christmas tree before.

Why does everything seem so special to her?

Is it real excitement?

I continue to stare at her until she catches me. I hand her the plastic reel, stating, ‘Let’s start stringing, Sunshine.’

We work for a few hours decorating the tree. Georgia and I continue to go back and forth, and we’re both constantly laughing.

There are five ladders. Most of the time, my brothers and I are up there. Sometimes we let the kids go up. When it comes time to put the star on the tree, I hold it out to Georgia. I announce, ‘You get to put it on.’

She glances up at the tree, her eyes wide and expression filled with fear. She replies, ‘That’s okay. Someone else can do it.’

‘No, you have to do it. You’re new to the family,’ I declare.

She assesses the tree again, and the color drains from her cheeks.

I ask, ‘What’s wrong?’

She swallows hard. ‘I can’t do it, Sebastian. I’m scared of heights.’

I jerk my head back, shocked. How is she afraid of anything? She always seems so fearless. I taunt, ‘Well, that’s kind of negative.’

She scrunches her face. Her eyes dart between me and the top of the tree.

I continue, ‘This is something you need to overcome.’

‘Sebastian, I’m not getting on that ladder.’

I put my arm around her waist and lead her toward the ladder, holding the star. ‘Come on. I’ll do it with you.’

‘I can’t,’ she claims.

‘I’ll make sure you don’t fall. Just don’t look down.’

‘Sebastian, no. I can’t.’

‘Come on,’ I goad, tugging her into me. ‘It’s not that tall.’

She glances behind her, looking up at me, her mouth in an O.

‘Since when do you chicken out?’ I challenge.

She furrows her eyebrows.

‘I’ll be right behind you. Promise.’

She takes a deep breath, then gives in. ‘Fine. I’ll do it.’ She grabs the star and moves toward the ladder.

I step behind her. ‘Guys, make sure it doesn’t wobble.’

Mason holds one side of the ladder and Jagger the other.

I pat Georgia’s ass. ‘Time’s ticking.’

She gazes up with determination, then climbs a few rungs. She freezes, fretting, ‘I don’t think I can do this.’

I step behind her on the first rung. ‘Sure you can. Don’t look down. Just look at the goal. Top of the tree,’ I tell her, then pat her ass again.

She jumps slightly. ‘Sebastian.’

I chuckle, teasing, ‘If you’re going to stand there, you can’t just expect me to look at it and not touch it.’

‘Sebastian,’ my mom scolds.

My brothers chuckle.

Georgia shakes her head and continues climbing, slowly making her way to the top.

When she gets there, I make sure my frame is tight behind hers. I instruct, ‘All you have to do is reach up and put it on there.’

‘But then I’d have to let go of the ladder,’ she worries.

‘Yep. That’s how it’s done.’

She winces, making a mistake by glancing down. She freaks. ‘Oh gosh. Oh gosh. Oh gosh. I’m going to fall!’

I tilt her chin back up. ‘No, you’re not.’ I put my hand over hers with the star and move it toward the top of the tree, adding, ‘Almost done.’

She takes another deep breath and then moves her other hand to the star, securing it tightly.

‘There. You did it,’ I praise.

My family claps.

She laughs, but nervousness still coats her expression. ‘Okay. Can I get down now?’

‘Sure. But the same rules apply. Don’t look down,’ I order.

We slowly make it to the floor, one rung at a time.

She beams when we step away from the ladder, gazing up and declaring, ‘I did it!’

‘Yes, you did,’ I say and then point up at the perfectly straight star.

‘Point for me,’ she declares, and everyone laughs.

I lean closer to her, studying her face until she shifts on her feet. I inquire, ‘Are you ready to get out of here?’

She arches her eyebrows. ‘Where are we going?’

My chest tightens. ‘I need to show you where I think we should get married.’

There’s the perfect spot on the ranch. When I first proposed to Molly, I wanted to marry her there, but it wasn’t ritzy enough for her. She wasn’t going to do anything that didn’t require lots of money. I never even brought it up to the other three.

Georgia is nothing like them.

She’ll love it.

What if she doesn’t?

Why do I even care? I ask myself for the millionth time today.

‘Sure,’ she replies.

I guide her to the front hall, pull out her coat, and help her in it. Then I grab her hand and steer her through the yard.

‘Where are we going?’ she asks.

‘It’s about a ten-minute walk. Figured you’d be up for it.’

‘That’s fine,’ she answers.

We stroll across my parents’ land, and I point out the horses, questioning, ‘Do you know how to ride?’

‘I’ve only done it a few times. I wouldn’t say I know how to ride well.’

‘You want to learn while we’re here? I’ll teach you,’ I offer.

She glances at the horses and back at me. ‘Okay. Can you make sure I don’t fall?’

I chuckle. ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of horses too?’

‘No, not really. But I want to make sure I know what I’m doing.’

‘Don’t worry, Sunshine. I’ll make sure you’re safe,’ I tell her, then squeeze her hand.

We stay quiet the rest of the way and approach the brick building Dad uses as his office.

‘Is that it?’ she asks.

‘Kind of,’ I state.

She arches her eyebrows.

I lead her around the border of thick hedges that are taller than me and up to a pink, arched door. I instruct, ‘Go ahead and open it.’

She tilts her head. ‘What’s inside?’

I wiggle my eyebrows. ‘It’s a secret. You have to open the door.’

She bites on her lip, then turns the knob. She steps inside and freezes.

Bright fall flowers in full bloom burst with color. Ivy climbs up the back of the brick office. Green grass fills the lawn. Cedar beams in a crisscross pattern support a glass ceiling that covers most of the secret garden.

I study her as she glances around, taking everything in. Her jaw drops toward the ground as she processes the area.

My nerves flutter again. ‘What do you think?’

She tears her eyes off the thick hedges and says, ‘Sebastian, this is incredible.’

Relief fills me. I smile, nostalgically remembering all the years I played here with my siblings. I point to the ivy, suggesting, ‘That could be the backdrop for when we have our ceremony.’

Georgia nods. ‘It’s perfect.’

I point toward the sky. ‘My mom didn’t want it completely enclosed. She said fresh air was good, but she also wanted to be able to be here when it rained. Plus, she wanted us to have a spot to play outside during those times.’

‘It’s gorgeous. Those beams are beautiful,’ she declares.

‘Don’t worry though. Dad had pieces created for the winter when it’s colder. We can have those inserted so it closes the space and isn’t freezing. Plus, we’ll add heaters. And I’ll have the glass cleaned so it’s spotless.’

‘I’m not worried,’ she claims and continues to look at everything in awe. Then she asks, ‘Why did your family even suggest other places when you have this?’

My stomach churns. I admit, ‘Because my other fiancées wouldn’t have ever agreed to get married here.’

Georgia’s eyes widen. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’

I blurt out, ‘Because they’re nothing like you, Sunshine.’

She stares at me, and my heart feels funny again.

I’m falling for this girl.

No, I am not falling for her.

This is over on January 2nd. That’s the deal. None of this is real.

She cautiously asks, ‘How am I not like the others?’

I opened Pandora’s box, so now I’ve got to deal with it. Somehow telling her not to worry about it doesn’t seem like it’ll fly. So I step closer, place both hands on her cheeks, run my thumb over her chin, and confess, ‘They only cared about material things…about my money.’

She takes short breaths, making my cock ache more. But her expression makes me think I made her uncomfortable, so I claim, ‘Sorry, we shouldn’t talk about this.’

‘They didn’t deserve you,’ she blurts out, then her cheeks heat under my palms.

Her statement affects me. I wish it didn’t. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t normally let women get under my skin after everything I’ve been through. My pulse buzzes through my veins.

We say nothing for a while, just stand here staring at each other.

I finally step back and question, ‘So this is okay? You’d be happy to marry me here?’

She smiles. ‘Yeah, I would. It’s perfect. Way better than anything I could ever imagine.’

‘What have you imagined?’

She shrugs. ‘I never really had a vision about a place when I thought about marriage. I just imagined the guy.’

My pulse quickens. I dare to question, ‘And what about that guy? What’s he like?’ I step closer to her again, inhaling her sugary-rose scent.

She ponders my question but doesn’t flinch. She finally answers, ‘He loves and adores me. And I love and adore him.’

Flutters fill my stomach. ‘And?’

‘And what more is there?’ she questions.

‘You never thought about anything else? What your ring looks like? What kind of food you’ll serve your guests? The dress you’ll wear? What he does for a living?’ I interrogate.

She shakes her head and lifts her chin. ‘No, none of that matters.’

‘How does it not matter?’ I quiz, wondering how she could mean that.

Doesn’t every girl think about those things?

Is she telling the truth?

Is this a game to somehow trick me as the others did? Or does she really feel this way?

Something tells me that this is her. That there’s nothing false about Georgia and that she doesn’t lie.

She’s lying to my family.

But I made her lie to my family.

‘If you have that, nothing else matters, Sebastian,’ she claims.

I try to process what she’s saying and deal with unfamiliar emotions growing more intense by the minute.

She looks around again and nods. ‘This will be perfect.’

‘So it can be your dream wedding, then,’ I joke.

Her face falls. She asserts, ‘No, Sebastian, it won’t.’

‘What do you need, then?’ I question, confused. Everything in my head screams that I need to make it into everything she’s ever wanted.

‘This is fine for us,’ she claims.

I can’t help it any longer or stop myself. I close the distance between us and kiss her. Then continue kissing her until she’s digging her fingers into my skull. Her body molds to mine, and all I can think is that she has to want me.

I murmur, ‘Don’t worry, Sunshine. I’ll give you your dream wedding.’

She pulls back and then says, ‘No, you won’t.’

‘Sure I will,’ I arrogantly claim.

She shakes her head. ‘You don’t listen. My dream wedding will be with someone who adores me. Someone who loves me. And when I’m not under any false pretenses. I know you’re not capable of those things.’

My gut dives, and what she says sinks in. I want to deny it, but I blatantly told her I didn’t believe in love, last night.

Do I?

No, I don’t.

Maybe it would be different with her?

That’s what I thought all the other times.

For the first time in my life, it hits me that I’m looking at a woman who isn’t ever going to let me have her.

And it’s my own damn fault.