Festive Faking (Rust Canyon #1)

1. Aspen

Chapter 1

Aspen

“What’s eating you, Freckles?”

Oh, Lord. I cannot do this today.

What no one told me about living in LA was that because the sun was out year-round, my freckles would be too. The Oklahoman winters I grew up in had them hibernating for a solid six months annually, but Macallan Blaze, the owner of the slightly taunting voice, never wasted an opportunity to remind me that they were now a permanent fixture of my appearance.

I’d been hiding in the back of the library for a reason. I wanted to be alone while I sorted out the mess otherwise known as my life. So, of course, he would find me. Did an alarm go off in his brain that said, Time to kick Aspen while she’s down ?

Lifting my head from where it had been pressed to the smooth wood surface of the table, I groaned when I saw the cocky smirk on that infuriating man’s face was aimed directly at me.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape him.

The two of us were at the top of our class in the Master of Architecture program at SoCal University, and that meant our professors constantly forced us together for projects. When we weren’t partnered, it was a constant battle as we each tried to wrestle that top spot for ourselves, for however short a time before the other stole it back.

While I’d worked my ass off to earn a spot in the top program in the country—scraping by on ramen as I took on unpaid internships for experience to create my impressive portfolio—Mac had been given entry solely based on his last name.

The Blaze family owned BlazeLuxe International, the largest hotel conglomerate in the world. Though the luxe in their name might suggest they only catered to the ultra-wealthy, they were shrewd enough to recognize that expansion into budget hotels would cause their business to explode.

And it had. The Blazes were billionaires.

But the problem with those who had more money than they could ever spend in a lifetime? They viewed the world as their playground and life as a game—one they had already proven they’d won.

Grudgingly, I could admit Mac would make an exceptional architect, but outside of the classroom, he was a real prick. He thought that if he could get under my skin, I might falter, allowing him to secure that top spot before we earned our degrees in the spring.

I was not in the mood for his shit today.

“Go away, Mac.”

Placing both hands on the table, he leaned in. “Figured we could nail down some of the details on our project due in January. Since you’ve hitched your wagon to my star and all.”

God, why were the assholes so fucking attractive? Especially this one. Like life hadn’t given him enough, being born into an obscenely rich family.

Dark hair was swept away from his handsome face lined with stubble. More than once, I’d caught myself staring into the depths of his brown eyes, unable to look away. His expensive clothing only served to highlight the sharp ridges of muscles it hid, and I found myself imagining what he looked like wearing nothing at all.

I bet he’s good in bed. Confident, with a hint of cockiness.

Then he winked, and that mental daydream went up in smoke.

“I can’t do this today.” I shoved back from my seat, grabbed my backpack, and turned on my heel.

I made it all of two steps before a hand gripped my elbow, halting me.

When I shot Mac a murderous glare, he let go, holding both hands up in surrender. “I was just messing around, Aspen.”

My filter evaporated, and I snapped at him. “Look, I know you only came in here to get busy with some co-ed behind the stacks. Why don’t you focus on that and leave me alone?”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“Hardly.” I scoffed.

“Because you’re super fulfilled with Mike, right?”

How did he do it? Know exactly which buttons to press?

“Mike and I broke up.”

“Ah.” Mac folded his lips inward. “Finally came out, did he?”

“What?!” I shrieked. “No! Mike’s not—“

“Oh, he definitely is. Caught him and Ethan making out right over there.” He tilted his head toward a secluded area of the library. “A few times, actually.”

My first impulse was to call him a liar. Mac attempting to rile me up was nothing new. But I couldn’t deny that his words played into a nagging suspicion in the back of my brain—a conclusion I hadn’t wanted to accept.

In the year I’d spent dating Mike, not once had we made it past second base. It was borderline pathetic that I was still a virgin at twenty-six, and it didn’t look like that would be changing anytime soon.

Fuck my life.

Collapsing onto the closest chair, I covered my face with my hands. “Not again.”

“Again?!” The shocked tone of Mac’s voice had me groaning. “What do you mean, again?”

I dared to peek through my fingers. “Any chance we can drop this?”

“Not on your life.” Amusement at my distress played out across his face.

Getting comfortable, he rested his ass against the table opposite me and crossed his legs at the ankle while awaiting my explanation.

My sigh was heavy enough to move mountains. “Let’s just say I have a history of dating unavailable men.”

“Unavailable. That’s one way to put it.”

I tilted my face toward the ceiling, and everything came pouring out. “Look, I don’t know what it is. Maybe I send out some sort of signal. But none of that matters right now because I already told my parents I was bringing him home for the holidays. And I’m gonna become the subject of town gossip again because I can’t hold down a man. Where I come from, everyone is in your back pocket, and I’m under extra scrutiny because I left Rust Canyon behind. There’s already the perception that I think I’m too good for my roots, so coming home minus the plus-one I promised is only going to feed into the rumors as to why I’m still single at my age. They’ll all be wondering if there’s something wrong with me because, where I come from, I’m practically an old maid. Girls get married young and have popped out a bunch of babies by the time they’re twenty-six.”

My chest heaved as I dragged in deep lungfuls of air, having said all of that in a single breath.

“Feel better getting all that off your chest?” Mac asked.

“Not even a little bit,” I huffed out.

“Sounds like you’re dealing with a lot.”

“Ya think?” Sarcasm leaked into my tone. I didn’t need him to point out the obvious—that I had enough issues to sink a battleship.

“What if you take me home instead? Mac and Mike are close enough that you might be able to blame a bad phone connection for the confusion.”

The world came screeching to a halt, and for a second, I wondered if maybe I was having a stroke. Because there was no way Macallan Blaze had just offered to help me. That was a direct contradiction to our entire dynamic. We only barely managed to tolerate each other when forced to work together, and even then, it was fraught with tension, the reminder that the other was just as talented ever present.

My mouth opened and closed a few times before my brain settled enough to formulate a response. “Don’t you have your own family to spend the holidays with?”

Mac’s lips twisted. “You wanna know what I’m facing if I head up to the Blaze family compound in San Francisco for Christmas?”

When I remained silent, he continued with the answer.

“Let’s see.” He used his fingers to tick off family members. “The step-monster will be self-medicating the entire time because my father is married to his job. My older sister is a chip off the old block, trying desperately to show that she doesn’t need a penis to head up the company, so she’ll be right alongside him at the office while the rest of their employees have the day off. My cousins will probably find the nearest strip club and drop enough cash to put the entertainers’ kids through college.”

Before I could shoot back that that last part seemed right up his alley, he held a hand up to stop me. “You think you know me, Aspen, but you don’t.”

Well, that shut me right up. I had made a lot of assumptions about his lifestyle based on his arrogant personality and financial status.

Sufficiently chastised, I dropped my gaze to the floor. “Sorry your family kinda sucks.”

His heavy exhale reached my ears as he blew out the words, “Yeah, me too.”

“So, um. . .” I twisted my hands in my lap. “How would this work?” My eyes lifted to meet his. “If I agreed, which I’m not saying I will.”

Those chocolate-brown eyes pinned me with a stare so intense I began to squirm in my seat. I felt exposed, like he could see straight into the heart of me—not that he needed much help with that after I’d dumped all my problems on him.

Mac lifted one shoulder. “It’s only a week, right? We pretend to be dating, put on a good show for your family and, apparently, the townsfolk too?” He looked at me in question, and I nodded. “Then, when we get back to California, you give it a few weeks and say we split up. Hell, you can even tell them that you broke up with me. I mean, it won’t be particularly believable because who would dump me? But this is your thing, and I’m trying to be nice.”

“Cocky as ever,” I muttered beneath my breath.

“Heard that.” His smirk was audible.

I was out of options. I either took Mac’s offer and we fake-dated our way through a Rust Canyon Christmas, or I came clean and spent a week overhearing how it was such a shame that I prioritized my career over family values.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I made my choice, praying I wouldn’t regret it. “Fine. You can come home with me for the holidays.”

It was the lesser of two evils and only by a hairsbreadth, because Mac could only torture me about this until May and then I would never have to see him again.

“Great.” He clapped his hands loudly, resulting in several hissed shh’s from fellow librarygoers. “When do we leave?”

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

“The nineteenth.”

“Got it.” Mac gave me a mock salute.

I turned to leave, but he called out to my back, “Oh, and one more thing?”

Peeking over my shoulder, I raised an eyebrow.

“Where’s ‘home’?”

For the first time today, the tiniest smile crept onto my lips. “Oklahoma.”

Watching those brown eyes widen in shock as he realized just what he’d gotten himself into was deeply satisfying. Especially when he mouthed, Oklahoma.

Buckle up, buddy. You’re riding shotgun on this game of festive faking.