SNEAK PEEK
Fake Fiancée for the Grump Sneak Peek
I need a fake fiancée and my best friend’s sister is my only option .
Coming home to Seaside Bay has its perks: family and the calming ocean. I needed both.
My return comes under challenging circumstances.
I left the military after our squad was lost in battle under my command.
My injured leg is a daily reminder of my failure.
I’m in line to take over my family’s prestigious security company.
But it requires a strong physical body and a spouse…great.
I’m caught off guard by my new physical therapist, my best friend’s sister.
She’s no longer a little girl; she’s stunning.
But her sunshine during sessions is irritating, given my mood.
She’s still the only choice to be my fake fiancée at an important event.
In return, I give her a glowing recommendation from my influential family.
It’s one night of mutual gain, nothing more.
But her gentle touch from therapy still lingers on my skin.
Her warm smile is dismantling my carefully built walls.
It’s supposed to be pretend, but our connection is so real.
I’m done with make-believe… I’m going to make her mine.
Click here to read Fake Fiancée for the Grump.
Chapter 1
Jackson
The smell of bleach assaults my senses as I sit in the sterile waiting room. Shuffling feet echo in the hospital hallway as doctors and nurses scurry past. My fingers trace the intricate details of the eagle crest handle of my cane, a silent distraction from the minutes ticking away. It feels like I’ve been waiting for hours. This is the last place I want to be.
I turn to Kennedy, my family”s estate manager, who has become a trusted friend over the years. I”ve known him since childhood, a constant presence in the periphery of my life. He’s here to support me as always. His smile is polite, understanding, as if he holds the answers to all the questions swirling in my mind.
”Relax, Jackson,” Kennedy advises, his voice a soothing balm. I huff in response, unable to quell the restless tapping of my working leg against the cold, unyielding tile. Patience isn’t one of my best attributes.
Starting physical therapy was a directive from my parents, delivered with a well-practiced blend of concern and insistence. Guilt, my ever-present companion, whispers that the suffering is warranted. It”s a small penance for leading my entire squad to their deaths just months ago.
An injured leg pales in comparison to what those families lost. I deserve the pain as a daily reminder of my failure.
I knew military retirement was necessary after what happened, my mind rendered unfit to continue. Coming home was the only way to try and find peace.
Growing up in Seaside Bay was an amazing childhood. The seclusion of this small California coastal town provided a safe and sheltered bubble. Kids had the freedom to explore the picturesque terrain, discovering hidden caves and wandering through rolling hills. We found secret trails leading to panoramic views and created lasting memories watching sunsets over the Pacific Ocean.
It was my haven.
But coming home is also complicated, which is why I begrudgingly sit in this room. My family owns a security firm called Shieldify, started by my grandfather. It’s always been very successful, but a new direction propelled it to unprecedented heights many years ago. Recognizing the advantage of our town’s proximity to Los Angeles, my grandfather started targeting higher-profile clients.
The goal was to show them we were a small-town, family-run company. We put people first, business second, unlike companies in the city. After Shieldify started representing one A-list star after another, it exploded.
By the time I started high school, we were a hundred-million-dollar company with a long list of celebrities begging for our services. I’m one of two heirs in line to take over. My grandfather wants the next generation at the helm to appeal to clients that get younger and younger. I didn’t have much interest until I heard my cousin Trevor wanted the job.
Trevor will ruin everything that’s been built. He doesn’t care about our clients’ best interests. Money and power are his only motivators. He also has a gambling problem that’s completely out of control. He has debt with some less than upstanding people. His involvement with them will destroy our prestigious reputation.
My military background gives me an advantage. But I know my grandfather will insist on a strong physical presence as Shieldify’s leader. I get it. It’s a security company. You can’t look weak, or clients won’t put their trust in you. I’ve got to get rid of this cane.
There’s another hurdle to overcome. You must marry to exemplify the family values the firm built its reputation on.
This additional pressure got to me last week, thinking about Trevor already being married. I let slip to my parents that I was recently engaged.
Big mistake. I instantly regretted it, but I was already in too deep.
My parents have been on a month-long trip, so I made up a quick story about the whirlwind romance that happened in their absence. They were so ecstatic for me they didn’t even question it.
”Jackson Reed, this way please,” the receptionist’s voice calls out, pulling me from the memory.
Finally.
I exhale heavily and push myself up from the uncomfortable chair. The cane supports my weight as I make my way toward the beckoning doorway, the clack shattering the silence.
Groaning, I advance, not enjoying the way my body wobbles like a penguin. Look at me, no one will take me seriously as head of a security firm. I know I need this, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I reach my therapy room, turning the handle to the heavy door. I’m so shocked at the woman standing before me that I tip over, dropping my cane. A hand instantly grabs my arm to steady me, saving me the embarrassment of flopping to the floor. I lean against the woman’s body for balance.
Brinn.
She’s my best friend”s younger sister. Her brother Greyson and I were inseparable as kids. Brinn tried to tag along everywhere we went, but I always brushed her off. Her bubbly personality got on my nerves. Who is that happy all the time? Most days, I pretended she was invisible so she’d go away.
But there’s no ignoring her now. She’s stunning. Long, dark brown hair is swept to the side, waves cascading past her shoulders. Her chocolate eyes have the slightest fleck of gold in them. I know because I’ve been looking at them for longer than I should.
“Hello, Jackson.”
Her voice breaks me from my trance. Did she notice the staring thing?
“Hi, Brinn. Long time.”
She gives me a full-teeth grin. Same Brinn.
”I’m surprised you remember me.”
If she’s holding any grudges, she’s hiding them behind a thousand-watt smile.
“I didn’t know you were a physical therapist. Your brother never mentioned it.”
“Almost, I’m finishing up my doctorate. You’re my last patient before I graduate.”
“Lucky me,” I snark.
But there’s that smile again. This is going to be infuriating. How did I get stuck with the world’s most cheerful therapist?
Brinn is Greyson’s sister so I should try to be nice, but I’m not in the mood. I just want to get this over with and get out of here, back to the solace of the house.
”Please sit.” She points to a long therapy table, pulling down a sheet of paper to cover the length of it.
I pause, reluctant for her to see me in this condition. The thought of limping and relying on my cane contradicts the confidence I’ve always shown her. But it’s impossible to avoid now.
I pick up my cane from the floor and move slowly across the room, doing my best not to limp. I hesitate again at the table, realizing I need help to climb up. Before I can even ask, she’s there again, offering her arm.
Why does she have to be so considerate?
Settled on the table, I stretch out my leg. It feels good to rest it.
Brinn asks me a few questions about my medical history and the cause of my injury. I grunt short answers, giving her as little information as possible. I tell her nothing about the military. She doesn’t press me for more details.
She asks permission to perform a thorough physical examination. She wants to evaluate the range of motion, strength, and stability of my injured limb. I reluctantly agree with a mumble and nod.
Her first touch sends a shiver down my spine.
What in the world was that?
I quickly send a message to my brain that this is my best friend’s little sister, not a breathtaking woman.
She continues her assessment, gently moving my leg into different positions. I try my best to stay focused and ignore her warm hands on my skin.
”Where exactly do you feel pain?” she asks, continuing with her professional demeanor.
I point to the area below my knee. She presses on it. Pain spikes through my leg, instantly transporting me back to the moment of the injury.
”What are you doing?” I rage at her.
”I”m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“This isn’t going to work,” I bark, stumbling off the table. She instinctively reaches her hand to help, but I wave her off.
“No. Don’t touch me.”
Her ever-present smile disappears instantly. Her mouth hangs open in shock and disbelief.
I want to apologize, but pride stops me. I refuse to show more weakness.
“Please, come back,” she pleads, eyes full of empathy.
I ignore her, an act she should be used to with our history, turning to leave. As I close the door behind me, I hear her call out, “Jackson,” once last time.