The (Not So) Perfect Fiancé Read online

Callie stifled another laugh at Griff’s arched brows, and intervened on Angela’s behalf. “Don’t worry, Griff. Cole Harding is the type of celebrity every woman loves to watch, but none would ever want to date.”

  Angela jabbed a finger in her direction. “Yes. That. Exactly.”

  “Why not?” Griff asked. He honestly sounded curious.

  “Have you seen him?” Callie asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, take my word for it, he’s too good looking,” she said.

  Angela snort laughed at that one. “It’s true! He’s got to have an ego to match.”

  “Exactly,” Callie said. “And the other women…”

  Angela rolled her eyes, clearly getting into the topic. “Tell me about it. The guy must have women throwing themselves at him constantly—”

  “And he probably only dates the ones who are models,” Callie said.

  “If he dates at all,” Angela added. “I’ve read that he only does one-night stands.”

  Both women wrinkled their noses in disgust before Angela added, “Of course, that’s all hearsay.”

  Callie nodded. “That’s a given.”

  Griff looked perplexed. “Why is that a given.”

  “Because he’s notoriously private, as well,” Callie added. This was a fact she’d recently learned. She’d been following his career for ages in a casual sort of way. But once she’d submitted their request and filled out all the requisite NDAs and agreements, Callie had made it her mission to learn all there was to know about the show and its host.

  What she’d learned about Cole Harding was that it wasn’t easy to learn much at all about Cole Harding. At least, nothing personal that was confirmed by him or his people. The man was elusive. A mystery. “Probably all part of some image he’s trying to maintain,” she said.

  Angela nodded, her expression serious. “Oh yeah, the guy gives new meaning to dark and broody. No doubt the privacy thing is all part of the façade.”

  Callie agreed. Cole Harding wasn’t mean on the show—it wasn’t like he was some handyman version of Gordon Ramsay or anything. But he had become known for being gruff and quiet. He was the ultimate man’s-man on a show filled with bubbly couples and nonstop romance.

  See, that was the thing… The show focused on renovating old houses for newlyweds. Each episode was split between the renovations and the couple’s wedding plans. Shots of the house being worked on were cut with scenes of the couple preparing for the big day. Each episode ended with newlyweds returning to their home to find it new and improved.

  Callie lived for this show. She liked Cole Harding well enough because she learned a ton from watching him work, but she would have watched the show regardless. For a woman who loved romance and home renovations, the show was utterly binge-worthy.

  Or, it had been right up until her own engagement fell through. Now the show just made her want to cry so she avoided it like the plague, along with every other reminder of just how happy she ought to be right now.

  “So, was your house picked?” Angela asked.

  “Uh, not quite.” Callie shifted again, feigning great interest in the sandwich. “Since the show focuses on couples…”

  “Oh. Right.”

  When Callie looked up she saw Angela had clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said through her fingers.

  Callie laughed. “It’s okay. Really.”

  It wasn’t. But the fact that her situation was so not okay was hardly Angela’s fault. “I explained to the producers that my house had to be taken out of the contest,” she said, not without a heavy dose of regret. How amazing would it have been to have her dream home finished by the ultimate professionals?

  Angela dropped her hand and the subject. “Hey, if you’re teaching at the school, have you met any of the new teachers yet?”

  Callie straightened in her seat, happy for the change of topic. “Not yet. School doesn’t start until next week, and while I’ve been going in to prep my room, I haven’t run into anyone other than the principal who hired me.”

  “Principal Gregor,” Angela said knowingly. “Good guy, nice wife. But, not exactly who I had in mind for a girls’ night.”

  Callie blinked. Girls’ night? Had she agreed to a girls’ night?

  Angela appeared to think so. She leaned over the table again. “You’ve got to meet my friend Leah, she’s one of the kindergarten teachers and sweet as can be.” Angela grinned. “I think you two will hit it off.”

  Callie had never been one to play it cool so at this particular moment she didn’t even try to hide her excitement at the prospect of making more friends. “Really?”

  “Yeah, she’s great. You’ll love my best friend Ellie, too, but she and Ian won’t be back from Italy for another week.”

  “They live a tough life,” Griff added in a dry tone that made her laugh.

  “Sounds like it.”

  Angela was still on the topic of girls’ night. “Leah’s single too,” she said.

  Uh oh. She had a bad feeling about this. “Oh really?”

  Did she sound as wary as she felt? Probably.

  Angela patted her hand. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re not ready to be set up yet, but me, you, and Leah could all go out…maybe meet some single young men…”

  Griff cleared his throat and Angela laughed. “They can find the eligible young men.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m taken.”

  His smile made Callie’s chest ache all over again.

  Had Brent ever looked at her like that?

  Of course he had. He must have.

  She shook off the silly thought, along with any ideas of going out to meet someone new. “I appreciate the thought,” she said. “But that won’t be necessary. Brent—my fiancé—he just needs some space. But I’m sure we’ll work things out eventually.”

  Right?

  Yes. They had to.

  “Oh,” Angela said, her eyes wide with surprise. She masked it quickly. “Oh, well that’s great.”

  Callie was quick to add, “But I would love to make friends. I mean, I’m new to town and I don’t know many people and—”

  “Say no more,” Angela interrupted with a grin. She leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile. “I’m all over it.”

  Callie returned her smile and once again, it felt surprisingly genuine. See? Things were already looking up. She’d always known this house and this town were meant to be. And Brent…well, one day soon he’d come to his senses and remember how good they were together, and when he did she would be waiting. At their house.

  The thought of her house brought with it the usual swell of pride, along with all the other emotions she’d come to expect when she dwelled too long on the work in progress.

  Fear that it would never get done. Anxiety over all the money she did not have to do it right. And sadness at having lost the dream that she’d been harboring ever since she’d applied to be featured on One Step at a Time.

  It was too bad, really. Brent would come back to her, and they would have their happily ever after. But her chance to have her dream home done by the best?

  That was one dream she’d have to let die.

  There was only one person other than herself who she’d trust to do right by her baby, and that was Cole Harding. But—She picked up her sandwich and took a big bite. Thanks to Brent, that would never happen.

  Chapter Two

  The final day of filming for any particular episode of One Step at a Time meant one thing for Cole Harding.

  Nausea.

  The show’s producer, Tyler Arnold, handed Cole a travel-size packet of Pepto-Bismol. Cole’s lips twitched up in a grudging smile at the inside joke. When he and Tyler had first started working together some six years ago now, he’d despised the LA hotshot. Now?

  Well, he wouldn’t say they were the best of friends, but Tyler was one of few coworkers on the show who’d not only stuck around all these years, but with whom Cole occasionally grabbed a beer or two after
a long day of filming. That said something.

  Cole pocketed the medicine, which he’d never really take, and turned his attention back to the couple who stood just off camera. They were fighting.

  Again.

  Cole watched them with barely veiled disgust. He wished he could say this was a rarity on the show, but alas—more often than not, the stress of renovating a home, combined with the pressure of looking good for the cameras turned even the most solid of relationships on their head.

  By the last day, more often than not, the couple being featured was shouting about wanting a divorce even though the ink on the wedding license had yet to dry.

  He sighed as Tyler broke away to intervene.

  Tyler was all for the couples letting off steam before shooting the big finale, but if the escalating battle looked like it was about to turn into all-out war…well, that wasn’t good television. No one was watching this show to see newlyweds tear each other a new one over the color of the upholstery or the lack of crown molding. No, the viewers of this show—his show, some might say—were looking for the fantasy of new love, along with a healthy dose of beautiful old homes and satisfying before-and-afters.

  But it was the illusion of happily-ever-afters that kept their viewership coming back for more, and it was Tyler’s job to provide it.

  Cole only had to transform a falling apart old house into a magical paradise of new functionality with old world charm. Easy-peasy compared to Tyler’s job.

  “I never said I hated shingles!” The man’s shout interrupted the otherwise tranquil vibe on set. No one seemed to notice. They were all used to it.

  Tyler ran interference before the new bride could scream something back, and Cole took a long sip of his coffee.

  Another day, another big reveal.

  These last days of filming were always slightly bittersweet for Cole. More often than not, he grew attached to the homes that he was restoring. Seeing them intact, restored, and living up to their potential—he’d never lose the sense of pride that came with seeing the finished product.

  But having to hand it over to a couple who didn’t know the first thing about maintaining an old home? Having to give it to the kind of people who wanted to star on a show like his?

  “I give ’em two months,” Tyler said as he came back to Cole’s side and picked up his own coffee where he’d set it down to run interference.

  This was another one of their jokes. Neither of them had been romantics to begin with, but after six years of watching the fake happiness in front of the cameras and the real misery behind the scenes—that had made them both cynical to the extreme.

  “That long?” Cole asked now.

  Tyler let out a huff of laughter that sounded far too jaded for a guy who was renowned for his boyish good looks. Despite the fact that he was actually thirty-six, Tyler still had the blond hair, blue-eyed sun worshipper look that pegged him as a former surfer and current Hollywood bigwig from a mile away.

  Cole, on the other hand, looked older, despite the fact that he was a few years younger. But unlike his friend, Cole often worked in the elements, and his skin was weathered. On top of that, his dark hair was mussed most of the time when it wasn’t covered with hard hats and baseball caps, and despite the fact that he shaved most mornings, his jaw was almost always covered in scruff.

  “We’d better get this over with,” Cole said, eyeing the couple in question as they glowered at one another on opposite sides of the craft services table. “I don’t know what you said to them, but I highly doubt this truce will last for long.”

  Tyler’s sigh seemed to be in agreement because he followed it with barking orders to get the cameras rolling.

  Let the happily ever after begin.

  Sure enough, the moment they were given their cue, the bride—a pretty blonde with a blindingly white smile—and her groom, whose smile was inexplicably just as bright—strode toward the house, clasping hands as they made a show of exclaiming their excitement.

  Nauseating. All of it. Even if he hadn’t just watched them tearing one another’s heads off, he knew very well that the groom had hit on Carrie, the makeup girl, last week, while the bride had slipped her number to Tyler.

  Tyler likely had a rolodex filled with new brides’ numbers—or he would have if he didn’t have some sort of moral code. Luckily for everyone, Tyler did. It was just the people who tended to be chosen for this show who lacked in that department.

  Cole supposed it was only natural. He was sure that there were some decent people with honest emotions who threw their hat in the ring, but they had a tendency to be weeded out by the higher-ups back at headquarters.

  See, the thing was—they didn’t pick just any fixer-upper. They had to be right, which typically meant they were pricey even before they were restored. Then there was the owners’ looks, their personalities, etc. Each wannabe contestant couple sent in videos of themselves in different environments, and the producers went through the submissions looking for the brightest smiles, the biggest personalities, the most attractive couples.

  By the time all this weeding was done, the finalists were, more often than not, attention-seeking, money-hungry, celebrity hopefuls. They had less interest in home renovations than they did hair extensions, and their end goal seemed to be less about obtaining the home of their dreams to settle down and start a life together, and more about how to use this opportunity to create a new celebrity status.

  Tyler had lost track of the amount of couples who took him aside to pitch a new spinoff series based on the couple in question.

  Cole bit back a groan as the bride’s squeal of excitement ended abruptly the moment the director called “cut.”

  Maybe he should take that stomach medicine after all. The joke might have exaggerated his issue, but it had started as a nugget of truth. He’d been cynical before starring on this show…and now? Well, he supposed he’d become ever more jaded with each new episode.

  Tyler headed back in his direction as they waited for the camera crew to reposition. Cole’s appearance wouldn’t come for a while yet, so he followed Tyler into his trailer to avoid watching the “happy” couple fight off screen any longer.

  Even if it didn’t make his stomach turn, it was just plain depressing.

  Kind of like his trailer.

  “Can’t you get a plant or something?” Tyler asked as he took in the sad state of Cole’s temporary on-site digs.

  Cole shrugged. “What’s the point? I’ve never been able to keep them alive.”

  “Sheri could find you something,” Tyler pointed out.

  Sheri was the show’s landscaping specialist and he gave a grudging grunt of acknowledgement. But what he didn’t add was—what was the point? He was typically the only one who used the trailer and even then it was rare. He’d much rather be working on the property or hanging out with his crew when the camera wasn’t rolling, and when it was, he was in just about every shot.

  Six years in and he still couldn’t quite believe that he was the star of a TV show. He’d never wanted to be a celebrity, and he’d never asked for it. It had just sort of…happened.

  And much as he might moan about the show, he had it good and he knew it. The pay was great, the job itself—when he wasn’t forced to interact with the couples—was a dream come true. He loved working on houses. It was just the couples, the fake happiness, the pretending at love nonsense…that was what he hated.

  Luckily, his role in that segment of it was usually limited to a couple days a month—like this one. For the most part, he just had to work on the house.

  He was already eager to move on from this day, which had barely gotten underway. Starting a new project was always the best part of this gig. Seeing the new place, coming up with a game plan to bring it up to snuff. That was where he truly got his satisfaction. “So, where to next, boss?” Cole asked as he sank into one of the trailer’s seats.

  “Ugh,” Tyler gave a grunt as he frowned down at the text messages on his phone.
“They’ve narrowed it down but some issue came up with one of the applicants. She broke up with her fiancé or something.”

  Cole took a long swig of his coffee and took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet in the trailer as his friend dealt with whatever latest romantic drama had popped up on his radar.

  It was Tyler who really got the brunt of the “love” side of things, poor guy. On top of that, Tyler had to answer to the higher-ups back at the head office and they kept him on a tight leash.

  Sure enough, the moment Tyler sank into a seat opposite Cole, his phone started ringing. Tyler answered it instantly, a sort of Pavlovian response, it seemed to Cole.

  “Yeah,” Tyler said by way of greeting.

  Cole was only half paying attention as he watched the set from the trailer’s window. From this view—minus the sound of the bickering couple and the shouts from the crew—one might almost believe the fantasy they sold. The house had come out even better than he’d hoped—his crew had outdone themselves. From this point of view, he could almost believe in the fairytale.

  Almost.

  “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  Tyler’s interrupted protest caught Cole’s attention and he turned back to see the producer scowling down at the trailer’s table as he listened to the speaker on the other end.

  Judging by the way the conversation was being railroaded by the other speaker, Cole would bet money that Tyler was talking to the executive producer, Langston Reeves.

  “Yes, sir, I understand that, but—”

  Cole smirked. Sir? It had to have been Langston, he was the only person who inspired such fealty from his producers and showrunners.

  Tyler rubbed a hand over his forehead, and when he spoke his voice sounded weary. “Yeah, I understand. Okay. Got it.”

  Curiosity pricked at Cole as he watched the other man. It wasn’t often Tyler looked so put out by the decisions made at the higher level. Cole’s gut twisted in apprehension. The only other times he’d seen that particularly unsettled expression was right before someone got canned.

  He set down his coffee cup, now on high alert. It wasn’t his own job he worried about—like it or not, he’d become the star of this show—but if it was one of his men…