Page 1 of Billionaire Bad Boy's Fake Bride

Allie laughed. “So they think she’s cute?”

He grinned at her but tried not to. “Don’t you start. You have no idea how hard it is to have a little sister that draws men to her like a Venus flytrap—which isn’t a bad description. She’s a chew-’em-up-and-eat-’em kind of gal. I used to go dancin’ with her just to make sure fights didn’t break out when she was done with ’em.”

“I think I like your sister.” Allie placed her hand on her hip.

“You would,” he said in an accusatory way, but the twinkle in his eyes belied that notion. “Now, before I head back out there, I need some help.”

More kissing? Done. She gave him a saucy smile.

He turned her to the living room. Lamps, tables, vases, paintings, an ottoman, and a few other pieces of furniture that’d been in the house for years sat all over the floor.

She froze, shocked by the mess. Brandon wasn’t a mess kind of a guy. He was orderly. Almost to a fault. “What happened here?”

He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t know where any of these things go.”

Craning her neck back, she glanced up at him. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She looked around at the items, a sinking sensation filling her gut. They were all pieces she’d mentioned to him over the last couple of weeks that hadn’t been put back by the movers where’d they’d originally been. All pieces from the main floor.

She hadn’t been upstairs. Aside from the library, all the rooms up there were bedrooms, and she hadn’t felt comfortable asking about it. Plus, what would she say? How are you finding the master suite,boyfriend? No way. Talk about awkward. Plus, her parents had slept in there.

She grabbed his hand and brought him around to stand next to her. “Brandon, this is your house now. This stuff should go exactly where you want them to go. That’s where they belong, not somewhere else just because I noticed they weren’t where they used to be.” She felt terrible. And also kind of flattered. There had to be thirty pieces, and he remembered every one of them.

He stepped into the room and grabbed a vase off the floor—an ugly floral piece some great-aunt who’d died years ago had given her mother. Her mom hadn’t liked it either, but she’d felt too guilty to get rid of it, so it’d stayed in a nook at the back of the house. “The thing is, I wasn’t lying when I said I know nothing about decorating.”

She bit her lip, trying not to smile at how uncomfortable he looked.

“Like this,” he said, holding the ugly vase out to her. “It really didn’t look like it went in the study, but heaven help me if I know what to do with it. Come on, help me.”

“First,” she said, taking the vase from him. “Do you even like this?”

He looked at it and frowned. She could see him fighting an inward battle between being polite and being honest. After a moment of painful expressions warring over his face, he reluctantly said, “No, not especially.”

She laughed. She was glad he’d gone with honesty. She found it refreshing. “I don’t either. It’s hideous, isn’t it? So I say toss it. In fact, if there’s anything you don’t like, get rid of it. Please. Really, this place was due a good clear-out long before you bought it.”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I want you to be comfortable here—I know it’s got to be weird coming into your home and seeing someone else living there. And I appreciate the free rein you’re giving me here to throw things out willy-nilly, but I’m not going to do that. Unless I get the go-ahead from you first. You’re important to me, and I know a lot of things in this house are important to you.”

“Unless it’s one of Dad’s pieces, I probably won’t have much say on the matter. Honestly, there was so much about this house I wanted to change before we moved, so you’re fine. And besides, it’s not my home anymore, Brandon—it’s yours.”

He made eye contact. “Maybe one day it’ll be yours again.”

A delightful shudder ran through her. Was he saying what she thought he was sayin’? She didn’t find out, because the doorbell rang. Brandon squeezed her hand as he walked by, heading for the front. She stayed where she was for a moment, trying to compose herself. They’d only been an official couple for a week. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he did. But if he did, why had the very idea thrilled her to her marrow?

“Allie,” Brandon called. “Come see this!”

She shook her head and straightened her spine, then went to the door. It stood open, so she stepped outside. Brandon was down in the gravel drive. A truck sat backed up to the barn. She rushed outside and hurried over to see what was happening. Brandon, Maverick, Hunter, and another man Allie had never met were unloading a large wicker basket, large enough to carry several people, with metal arms reaching upward from each corner to a meeting spot at the top where a burner was welded in place.

Allie’s stomach somersaulted at the memory of the last time she’d seen a hot-air balloon. In fact, she’d been up in it for, like, fifteen whole minutes. She was pretty sure she’d seen God’s face before the hysteria had kicked in. “What is that?”

“It’s the Carroll Family Farms’ Balloon,” Brandon said. The four men lowered the basket and started pulling more things from the back of the truck bed. Brandon pointed to the new guy. “This is Ralph, our pilot. Ralph, this is my girl, Allie.”

Blast the balloon. She so wanted to enjoy the first time Brandon introduced her as his girlfriend, and instead, she was trying to keep her sea legs. Oi. The spinning! The nausea! The vomiting!

“Hi, Ralph.” She forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look weird, cuz it totally felt weird. “Why are you gents putting the balloon in the barn?”

“The Balloon Festival?” Maverick took a step back as Ralph maneuvered things around.

“Right.” Brandon pushed his sleeves up. “I was listening to morning crew last month …”

“The morning crew?” She couldn’t help it; she smiled. “You mean Crew?”