Buying A Bride_A Romance Collection Read online

  “No, seriously, it’s not necessary,” I began. But it was too late because Miranda was on a roll.

  “I’ll tell you what. You’ll like Melanie, I promise. Why don’t I hook you two up? I can offer you Melanie for three months. That is, if you pay me a million dollars,” she added slyly.

  What the hell?

  “Let me get this straight,” I began. “So you’re selling your daughter to a man you just met for a million dollars? A dude that you literally just met in a bar?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

  Miranda cocked her head, as if deep in thought.

  “Okay. Well, when you put it that way, it sounds awful. But still, what do you say?”

  I stared speechless, as the older woman dug through her pockets. With clumsy fingers, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through photos.

  “This is her,” Miranda slurred. She raised an eyebrow at me. “What do you think?”

  Reluctantly, I leaned over for a look. To my surprise, the girl was more than just pretty – she was gorgeous, with chestnut curls and big brown eyes. Something stirred inside of me, and I had to force myself to look away.

  “That’s her?” I growled.

  “Yeah. She’s pretty, just like I said.”

  I thought about it more. Life has kinda sucked lately, and I was caught in a funk that I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of. Everything was going great on all fronts, except for that unknowable something. What was it? Was it this? If I hooked up with a sweet, pretty teen for a month, would the blues go away? Hell, why not? After all, a million dollars wasn’t much to me, and if I didn’t like her, I could just pack her up and send her home, no biggie.

  “Sure,” I said nonchalantly. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Miranda squealed unbecomingly, the sound like a chicken with a rock caught in its throat.

  “Yee haw!” she shrieked before breaking down into a hacking cough. “You got yourself a deal, Mister!”

  And with that, the wheels for this dirty deal were set in motion. A pang of conscience made me sit up for a moment. Something told me this wasn’t going to end well, but I ignored it because I’m Aaron Black. I control my environment, and this dirty deal? It was no exception. I’d come out on top with my motors revved … and that was what mattered.

  Chapter Two

  Melanie

  Finally.

  It’s the end of the day and the start of the weekend.

  It had been one of those long weeks – the kind that make you insane as they endlessly march on. I definitely needed a few days of rest and relaxation.

  I mean, don’t get me wrong. My job isn’t even bad. It’s just tiring. I work at nice little pizzeria called Harry’s on Fourth Avenue. It’s on the corner of Main and Second, right in the heart of Tucson. Here, there are more than fifty bars and restaurants packed into two or three streets. Main Street was the luxury street with upscale eateries and valet parking.

  Some days, it looked like a whole other world. A world of pomp and extravagance I’d never experience.

  Oh well.

  The life of luxury isn’t for everyone, I suppose.

  Besides, I don’t think it’s suited for me. I’m not really a high-end kind of girl. I like to keep things simple. Most of the time, I’m perfectly content with the little things in life like a new book or an extra-cold drink with my meal.

  Speaking of which, I was ready to dig into this historical novel I picked up at the local bookshop. It retold the backstories of famous pieces of artwork from the Mona Lisa to The Starry Night. As an art history fanatic, I was excited to see the creative path the writer would take.

  Eagerly, I took off my apron and hung it up for the night. Home was so close I could taste it, and I grinned as I made my way to the back of the restaurant.

  “Bye, Melanie!” one of my regulars waved before slipping out the door.

  “Bye, Fred!” I called after him with a smile. The nice thing about this job was that most of my regulars tip really generously.

  When I stepped into the back of the restaurant the rest of the wait staff was already hanging out, sharing a few slices of leftover pizza.

  “Hey, Mel.” One of the waitresses offered me a slice.

  I shook my head.

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “Are you going out with us tonight, Mel?” another waitress asked.

  “No, not tonight.” I answered, opening my locker and pulling out my jacket.

  “Aww, why are you in such a rush to go home? You never go out with us!” she pouted as the rest of the staff groaned in agreement.

  “Sorry, guys, maybe next time,” I responded quickly and waving as I headed out the door.

  A little while later, I stepped off the bus a few blocks away from my apartment. With my hands in my pocket, I hurried along the sidewalk. I always hated this part of the night. Even though I lived in a decent enough neighborhood, I could never shake off the thought that someone was watching me and about to jump out of the shadows for nefarious reasons.

  I was probably just being paranoid but all those crime shows on TV had to be based off something, right? And I didn’t want to become the next statistic.

  Finally, I reached the apartment I shared with my mother.

  On the porch I struggled to find the keys. I rolled my eyes as I plunged my hand deep into the cavernous space of my bag and fumbled for the cold metal. By the time I got them out, I was shivering.

  Then I had to fight with the lock. It was sticky, and the key jammed nine times out of ten. The landlord knows, but he definitely doesn’t care.

  Typical.

  I would just have to give him another call in the morning. Or maybe just fix it myself. How hard could it possibly be?

  Suddenly the door sprung open by itself, nearly causing me to lose my balance. I shook my head and ran my hand up the wall, turning on the lights.

  Sigh.

  Once again, the apartment was littered with empty bottles. They were strewn everywhere. I swear, if there was a way for them to stick to the ceiling, they’d be there too.

  My shoulders sagged with fatigue. All I wanted was a nice long bath and some time in bed with my new book. But it looked like that would have to wait: if I didn’t clean up, no one would.

  As if a twelve-hour shift waiting tables wasn’t enough for one day.

  Honestly, my mother belongs in rehab. After the incident with my dad, she hasn’t been the same. It started off with a couple drinks here and there, but it’s turned into full-blown alcoholism.

  But on the other hand, rehab is expensive.

  Very expensive, and there’s no way we can afford it. Not on my salary, at least.

  With another sigh, I pulled the garbage can out from under the sink. Slowly I filled it with empty bottle after empty bottle.

  If she didn’t drink so much, I know we could afford her treatment. But until then, it looks like I’ll be cleaning up a lot of empties.

  ***

  I was already asleep when I heard my mother return home. Groggily, I turned over, looking at my bedside clock.

  It was just past three in the morning and I closed my eyes as exhaustion swept over me. She’d stayed out past last call again, and I had a feeling that the party wasn’t over just because she was finally home.

  I groaned, trying to hide my head in the pillow. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much.

  Outside my bedroom door, I could still hear my mother knocking things over and mumbling to herself.

  Couldn’t I just have one night of peace and quiet? Was that too much to ask for?

  “Mel? Where are you?”

  For a few moments, I didn’t move. Maybe I could just pretend to be asleep and she’d lose interest.

  But knowing Miranda, she’ll just barge right in and make even more of a fuss. So with a sigh, I rolled out of bed, wrapping my robe around my torso and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  When I walked out of my bedroom, my mother was sitting on o
ur beat-up old sofa trying to pull her shoes off. Of course the laces were still tied, making the task near impossible.

  I shook my head.

  She looked up and smiled ear to ear as soon as she saw me. “Mel!” she beamed, happy to see me. While still trying to take off her shoes, she motioned for me to sit down. “I have some exciting news!”

  Oh, here we go.

  Hesitantly, I sat down beside her. The sofa springs dug into my back, making me regret leaving the comfort of my bed. “What happened?” I asked warily. The sooner she told me whatever she had to say, the sooner I could crawl back into bed.

  “So, I met this guy,” Mom started. “Down at Surly Wench, you know, that bar I’m always telling you about.”

  I nodded. I hated the name but then again, a name is just a name. Besides, from what my mother has said it’s just a place for cheap booze and maybe a game of pool. The Surly Wench was apt.

  “Yeah, the new guy was totally out of place,” she babbled. “You could tell he had some serious coin. He was wearing a…oh, now what did he call it? A…that’s right! A suede jacket! He was wearing a suede jacket at the Surly Wench, can you imagine that? You know the place I’m talking about, right?” She moved a little closer. “You know, where drinks are cheap, and the people are tattooed and tough.” When Miranda finished her description, she gave her shoes another mighty tug, trying desperately to remove them. The ways things were looking, they might as well have been cemented to her feet.

  I sighed, leaning down to help her and carefully untying the laces as she continued her ramble.

  “Anyway, so this guy is totally out of place. He starts telling me about his business, fancy house, and all the cars he has stowed away in his garage. I’m telling you this guy is Mr. Moneybags. Like, totally rich. So, I decided to strike a bargain with him…”

  Her words faded into the background as I tuned her out. I love Miranda but sometimes, I can only take so much of her droning.

  Finally, I pulled off both her shoes, placing them neatly beside the sofa so no one would trip over them. I was just about to get up when my mother tapped me on the shoulder, insistently and annoying.

  “What?” I asked looking up at her.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  I nodded, forcing a soft smile. “I’m happy you met someone, Mom. That’s really great.”

  And I was happy for her. Miranda deserved the opportunity to move on with her life. After all, it’s been about five years since my father died of cancer, and she’s been a mess since. Maybe meeting someone could pull her out of this horrible downward spiral.

  “No, no, no, honey,” she shook her head. “You didn’t hear me at all. The guy isn’t for me. He’s for you.”

  Huh?

  I just stared at her.

  What was she talking about?

  She kept looking at me with this expectant expression on her face that I just couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a good one, Mom. Very funny.”

  “No, it’s true! I found him for you. Trust me, you’d like him. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. Plus,” she added with a wink. “He’s a billionaire.”

  I sighed. Miranda is all about exaggerations, and this would all disappear in the morning.

  “Mom, it’s three in the morning. Enough with the jokes.” I got up, cracking my back, eager to get back to bed.

  “This isn’t a joke. And I haven’t even told you everything yet,” she insisted, taking my hand before squeezing it in hers. “He’s going to give me a million dollars!” she squealed. “But you have to go and be his live-in girlfriend for three months.”

  “What?” I goggled at her. She had to be kidding, right? Okay, this joke was getting out of hand, but Miranda nodded solemnly.

  “It’s true.”

  I shook my head with exasperation.

  “Well, that’s quite the deal, Mom, but frankly, I don’t really believe a word you’re saying. Why would anyone pay a million dollars to date me?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  “Because, you’re gorgeous, Melly.”

  “Right,” I agreed with sarcasm. “Totally. The next Miss America.”

  “You are!” she protested. “I showed him a picture of you and he practically drooled.”

  I groaned, now slightly angry. “Why would you show some stranger a picture of me?”

  “Because there’s a million dollars on the line!” my mom said huffily, getting worked up. “You think I’m making this up, don’t you?”

  I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes.

  “Okay, you’re telling the truth.”

  She smiled. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  I sighed again before standing.

  “Come on, Mom, let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk about this “deal” tomorrow.”

  “Mmn, that does sound good,” Mom mused. She tried to get up but her legs instantly gave way. Fortunately, I managed to catch her before she could hurt herself, supporting most of her weight as I guided her to the bedroom.

  “You know what I don’t understand?” she asked woozily.

  “What?”

  “Those robotic vacuum cleaners? I mean, why do people need that? Can’t they just sweep up their houses like everyone else? Plus, if you have the money to buy a robot, then why not just hire a maid? It doesn’t make any sense. Maybe people just buy them for their cats. You know, I saw this video the other day of this really fluffy cat just riding around on a robotic vacuum cleaner. It looked like a lot of fun.”

  I shook my head. Whenever my mother gets drunk her mouth always runs a mile a minute. I could tell she’d already forgotten about the guy from Surly Wench. Miranda continued in a slurred voice.

  “I tried to explain to Jessica that the robots are a waste of money, but she said that if she ever won the lottery that’s the first thing she would buy. Max was on my side. Too bad he’s taken. Sherry is nice though. I like her.”

  At least she was making a bit more sense now. I could totally picture her and her drinking buddies getting in a heated argument about robotic vacuum cleaners.

  As gently as I could, I laid my mom down on her bed and tucked her in. When she was settled in, I headed for my own room, plopping onto the mattress. As I stared at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but laugh at my mother’s supposed deal. She has quite the imagination. It wasn’t the first time Miranda’s come home with a crazy story, but this one definitely took the cake.

  I turned over and closed my eyes, trying to think of something else. And pretty soon, I was fast asleep once more.

  Chapter Three

  Melanie

  I woke up around nine with the sun warming my face. I turned over, trying to savor a few more moments of serenity but I could already tell that I wouldn’t be falling back asleep. My body itched with restlessness. I groaned, hiding my head into my pillow but it was useless. The sun kept beating down on me, getting hotter and hotter. It was like someone was concentrating the rays in my direction with a magnifying glass.

  “Ugh, what time is it?” I mumbled to myself as I raised my head to look at the clock. The red numbers were blurry. So, I blinked and rubbed my eyes.

  7:07 A.M.

  I groaned even louder. It was way too early for me to be awake. Damn daylight savings. In a last-ditch effort to salvage the morning, I pulled the blanket up and over my head. That helped. I eased back into the mattress and closed my eyes. I relaxed and felt my body become weightless in those sweet moments right before sleep takes over.

  But then, the sound of a jackhammer rumbled in the distance.

  Goddamnit!

  Of all the mornings they had to pick today to start construction on the complex next door, it had to be today.

  Knowing there was no use staying in bed, I slowly got up. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, letting my body wake up. Once I was a bit more conscious, I rose to my feet and headed for the bathroom. There, I splashed my face with a bit of water, waking myself up further.

  I gasped at the coldness o
f it. Some of the water trickled down my neck and onto my chest, pooling there. “Ah!” I grabbed a towel and quickly dried it off. When I was done, I glanced at the mirror and frowned. I looked like a mess. Wild hair. Shirt full of holes. Nipples poking through the thin material.

  With a sigh, I rubbed my eyes, hoping the vision would improve. It didn’t. I still looked horrible. Plus, it didn’t help that I looked utterly exhausted. I mean, it’s not surprising. I’ve been working nonstop lately, picking up shifts left and right just trying to make a little extra pocket change.

  As I continued to stare at my reflection, I promised myself that this weekend would be devoted to pampering myself. I deserved it. Maybe a nice mani-pedi. Or I could treat myself to a nice restaurant. Only, the thought of going to a restaurant alone seemed very depressing. I didn’t want to be the only one there without a date or a family. Okay, maybe a movie then, but it was still the same problem. I’d feel really lonely in a crowded theater with just me and a bucket of popcorn. So maybe a tub of ice cream and a rented movie for a relaxing night in?

  Yeah, that sounded good.

  Eventually, I stepped out of the bathroom, changed into some clean pajamas, and headed into the kitchen.

  My stomach growled in anticipation. I grabbed a frying pan and placed it on the burner, wanting a nice omelet for breakfast. But when I opened the fridge, I was rudely reminded that I desperately needed to go grocery shopping. The fridge was so empty that I’m surprised spiders hadn’t moved in to decorate it with cobwebs. I grabbed the milk off the door and looked at the expiration date. Of course, it had gone bad three days ago. Nonetheless, I opened the carton and sniffed the contents.

  “Ew, that’s lethal.” I shook my head and chucked it into the garbage. “No way I’m drinking that.” After clearing out some of the other expired items, I finally found a carton of eggs hiding in the back. “Ah, here we go. Now, if only there was a little bit of shredded cheese,” I mused as I checked all the drawers. For some reason, an open bag of cheese was tucked away in the vegetable drawer. Odd. But okay.