Page 3 of The Fake Girlfriend's Billionaire Match
She stopped, put her thumb to her mouth, and chewed on it. Would it hurt to reply? It wouldn’t automatically mean she’d be chosen. Her chances were probably slim at best.
Taking a seat on the couch, she set the computer on her lap and began typing out a response. When she got to the end, she frowned and erased all of it.
She pulled up his photo again, studying it. Now that she was really looking at him, this was a man who worked hard. A ranch wasn’t easy, and it was a business that required tough owners. He wasn’t looking for love or a girlfriend; he’d been clear on that. For a brief moment, she wondered why and then dismissed it. Did it matter? She had a restaurant to open, he held the key to the funds she needed, and she didn’t want or need a man gumming up her life.
This time, she took her time with the response. She mentioned the picture, pointing out he had to be using it to weed out women who could handle spending time on a ranch. Then she told him about her dream of opening her own restaurant, that she liked simple things like hot tea in the afternoon and nights by a fireplace. They were things she was sure he’d like, but nothing was a lie. She figured there’d be plenty of women lying to him.
When she finished typing it out, she read it over, and once she was satisfied, she hit send and closed her laptop. If the man chose her, she’d be back in business without her father being any the wiser. If he didn’t, well, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. For now, she’d wait and see.
Chapter 3
Pulling into the restaurant parking lot, Bear found a space and parked his truck. He hooked a finger between his shirt and tie, trying to loosen it. Why had he put a tie on anyway? He loosened it enough to take it off and tossed it in the seat next to him.
He opened the driver door, grabbed his Stetson, and stepped out. It was only a few weeks before Thanksgiving, but he sure couldn’t tell by the weather. Sunny, nearly ninety, and as pretty a day as he’d ever seen. Of course, according to the weather guy, supposedly, the next week they’d be seeing snow, which explained all the traffic. People wanted to take advantage of the nice weather before they were hit with a storm.
His phone buzzed against his hip, and he pulled it out of his jeans pocket, easing down on the edge of the driver’s seat. “Hey, Wyatt.”
“The furniture just got delivered. They’re unpacking it now. Good timing, too, since the new hires are supposed to arrive soon.”
“Yeah, I hoped it’d be there before they arrived just in case anything went wrong,” Bear said, pulling his phone from his ear and checking the time. “Uh, I probably should go. My meeting in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, you never said what meeting that was. What are you doing in Lubbock anyway?”
No way was Bear telling Wyatt the whole truth. That he was meeting a potential pretend girlfriend. “I’m meeting a cook. Since Bandit won’t be around, I thought it would be good to find someone to take care of all that.” He paused, feeling the anxiety build. “I don’t want Reagan taking time off from the bed and breakfast, only to find herself cooking for us.”
Since Bandit was dealing with family stuff this year, and he wasn’t going to be spending the holidays at the ranch, someone was going to have to step up and handle a lot of kitchen time. Bear had offered to help him if he needed anything, moral support or financial, but Bandit wanted to handle it on his own. If there was one thing Bear understood, it was that. Sometimes, a man just needed to do things in his own way and in his own time.
“Oh, well, that makes sense. Have you heard from Bandit?”
“Nah, but I didn’t expect to, really.”
“Finding out he had a grandfather was a shock.”
Nodding, Bear replied, “Yeah, and finding out he was the only heir was another. All that money makes things complicated.”
“It’s about the same as winning it.”
“True.” When Bandit told Bear about the money, the first piece of advice he’d given was to keep it close to the vest. There were too many people out there who would take advantage of him. Bear knew that firsthand after he and his brothers and sister had won the lottery.
Bear stood, placed his hat on his head, and shut the door to the pickup. “All right, let me go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Pocketing his phone, Bear strode to the restaurant door. As he opened the door, he pulled off his hat.
The picture Winifred Fordham had sent him didn’t do her justice. He’d thought she was striking, but, wow, she was a knockout. She certainly didn’t look twenty-nine, which is what she’d listed as her age. There was a ten-year spread in their ages, but only for about a week. The rest of the year it was nine.
“Winnie Fordham?” he asked as he reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Bear West.”
“That’s me.” The instant her skin met his could only be described as electrifying.
His pulse skyrocketed. She’d called herself average, but their definition for that was miles apart. Gorgeous was more like it. Dark red hair that hit just below her jaw, emerald eyes, and porcelain skin. What he liked most was that she’d worn jeans and a t-shirt to meet him. She was his kind of girl…so far.
“Uh, is everything okay?” she asked, gently pulling her hand free.
“Oh, yeah, great.” He smiled. More than great. If this worked out as he hoped, he’d have the prettiest girl on his arm during the holidays.
It was only a few weeks before his family would gather together from Thanksgiving to New Years, and the closer it got, the happier he was with his decision to find a fake girlfriend. He definitely didn’t want to spend the season alone—once again. He wasn’t looking for anything real, but he could fake it a little while his family was together.
Two days ago, a woman had applied to his ad on the website, and the note she’d sent spoke to him. She’d told him about her best friend stealing money from her. That she’d dreamed of opening a restaurant one day, and now that dream was in jeopardy. One of the things he’d hoped for was a woman who could cook while Bandit was away, and she’d given him the name of a chef in Houston to validate her skills. No number, nothing. Her reason was that she could’ve made up the number, and this way, he could have a little peace that she wasn’t lying. It had been one of the things that let him know she’d read his profile.
