Fiancee by christmas a h.., p.1
Fiancée By Christmas: A Happy Acres Romance, page 1
Fiancée By Christmas
A Happy Acres Romance
Taryn Quinn
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Fiancee By Christmas
© 2021 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by LateNite Designs
Photograph by Shutterstock
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First ebook edition: 2021
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Happy holidays, readers!
We are so excited to introduce this new series set in our Happy Acres Orchard world. Most of our the books in our various series intertwine in some way, and you’ll meet some characters in FIANCÉE BY CHRISTMAS who are part of our Crescent Cove and Lost in Oblivion worlds. Never fear, if you’re new to our books, you should be able to follow along just fine with the cameos, but if you want to learn more, we have reading orders at the back of the book and on our websites, www.tarynquinn.com and www.quinnandelliott.com.
Also, we have a bonus extra about some of the characters who appear in FBC—along with Clay!—which you can follow a link to at the end of this book or you will receive it if you’re part of our newsletter list. Welcome to our fun, steamy small town world, with some rockstars tossed in! We are thrilled to have you!
Cari & Taryn
aka Taryn Quinn
Contents
Acknowledgments
1. Clay
2. Rachel
3. Clay
4. Rachel
5. Clay
6. Rachel
7. Clay
8. Rachel
9. Clay
10. Rachel
11. Rachel
12. Clay
13. Rachel
14. Clay
15. Rachel
16. Clay
17. Rachel
18. Rachel
19. Clay
20. Rachel
21. Clay
22. Rachel
23. Rachel
24. Rachel
25. Clay
26. Rachel
27. Clay
28. Clay
29. Rachel
Epilogue
Have My Baby
Rocked
Rock Revenge
Happy Acres World
Happy Acres
Crescent Cove
More by Taryn Quinn
Quinn and Elliott
About Taryn Quinn
Acknowledgments
To Kim for always helping out in the midnight hours. You’re the best! We love you madly.
To Tori for being our rock. Xoox.
Sometimes we make up fictional places that end up having the same names as actual places. These are our fictional interpretations only. Please grant us leeway if our creative vision isn't true to reality.
To Christmas and new starts.
Our favorite things.
Chapter 1
Clay
Don’t Call Me Shirley
I tapped the secret panel I’d had put into my office. It definitely wasn’t sanctioned by my personal security.
But right now, I didn’t give a crap.
I needed to hear the water.
I needed to breathe.
I dragged in a deep lungful of briny, sharp air. November had come in with a bite. And okay, the Hudson River wouldn’t be anyone’s idea of fresh air. Even me most of the time. However, sometimes the sterile, perfect air pumping through the building got to me.
Sure I could take a walk outside. We had an eatery, outside work stations, and a million dollar promenade I’d let an architect convince me to build. It was stunning and had only elevated the Winslow name across the country.
The only problem with the exquisite campus was the reaction from some of my employees. Either people tried to avoid me—which I actually didn’t mind—or I had to deal with the suck-ups who came flying at me like a swarm.
I didn’t have that in me today.
Instead I made do with a 360º view of the river and the vast coastline of buildings spiring up into the sky. It felt like a new one was magically appearing every time I took a moment to look. Then again, I didn’t have much time to enjoy my view.
My perpetual slate of meetings seemed to take all my time.
When all I wanted to do was escape to my helipad and get the hell out of the city. I didn’t even need to look at the calendar—it was as if my body was attuned to the day November hit. But this year, I felt even itchier. Enough that I contemplated doing a no show to three parties I had scheduled this weekend.
One included a date with Helena Danbury.
The perfect socialite and my grandfather’s vote for the future Mrs. Clay Winslow. Too bad we had about as much chemistry as flat seltzer water. We made a very pretty picture, but the taste was bland and slightly off-putting.
A discreet chime reminded me that again, my time wasn’t my own for another twelve hours, and I definitely needed to put aside wedding thoughts. Nothing good came from that line of thinking, even with my grandfather’s constant lectures about adding to the Winslow family tree.
With a sigh, I slid the panel closed. It had been built to hide within the endless windows that made up my office. The canned air and dry meetings waiting for me ramped up the unsettled undercurrent that sat on me like slushy city snow.
Twelve hours until I could escape.
I glanced down at my watch with a frown. Make that thirteen, dammit. I stroked my hand down my tie to make sure it sat flat under my vest. I buttoned the gray wool Burberry suit jacket I was expected to wear just as Ransom Douglas strode through my door without a knock.
Part of the perks of being my bodyguard as well as my best friend since boarding school. He also wore a perfectly tailored suit, but instead of soft winter wool, his was made of a specialized material that let him have a free range of motion.
It made him feel better. I appreciated that it made him look slightly less threatening—just barely.
I wasn’t sure why he and my board of directors thought I needed a near ninja-level bodyguard. Being one of the billionaire elite in Manhattan required a certain level of security regardless of the endless boredom of the bulk of my meetings. I was pretty sure I didn’t need a Special Forces dropout, but I was glad to have Ransom back in my life in whatever capacity he allowed.
He frowned and sniffed the air, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
One eyebrow spiked and he gave me a flat wintry stare, then went back to typing something before slipping his phone back into his pocket. Another thing I’d had to get used to since my best friend had come back into my life. The carefree Dougie was long gone. I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only reason for that.
I resisted the urge to rebutton my jacket. Especially now that he’d told me it was one of my tells—nope. I wasn’t giving him any reason to think I was guilty.
Ransom was like a dog with a bone. His brow furrowing even further as he scanned the room. He’d probably find the panel by next week, then I’d have to hire another crew to come in and save me from abject mania.
Ransom checked his jet black watch which matched his suit, shirt, and tie. “We have to be in midtown in an hour. We need to get going.”
I grabbed my leather satchel full of hard copies of contracts that should be digital only at this point. “Someday old man Jennings will get with the times, and I won’t have to drag my ass over there for meetings.”
“The day you get George Jennings to do a video call is the day I run down the bike path naked.”
“Deal.”
Ransom shook his head, but as usual, a smile didn’t dent his face. “Let’s move.”
“Not sure how many times I have to remind you I’m not in your unit.” But I strode through my spacious penthouse office to the double doors.
“Former unit,” he reminded me and hustled to pass me and open the door for me. I was slightly taller than him, but he had me in muscle and fear factor. I could have used intimidation lessons from him my first few years in the boardroom.
Luckily, my quick brain gave me some advantage against those who thought I’d only earned my spot because of nepotism. And people like Ransom who didn’t treat me like the prince of New York.
I let him go first through the doors to make sure my admin didn’t kill me. Some days that was hit or miss too.
“Shirley, could you send flowers to Miss Danbury?”
My admin turned to face me. She was a striking Black woman of indeterminate age. I only knew she was in her late fifties because I’d hired her. Anyone else wouldn’t have a clue. She wore a ruby colored head wrap which matched her tailored suit. Tasteful gold jewelry wreathed her wrist, fingers, and neck. She commanded a wide U-shaped glass desk with a trio of screens set up with a terrifying number of windows. Shirley Hunt ran my life from
She lifted one of her elegant fountain pens and jotted a note. “Of course. Would these be regretful roses or perhaps something more cheerful?”
I resisted the urge to sigh. She knew me too well.
“See if you can find Sterling roses. She appreciates those.”
Shirley gave me an almost imperceptible shake of her head, but wrote down the information in her neat handwriting. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.” I nodded to Ransom and we strode toward the bank of elevators.
He swiped his key card over the sensor. It would override the elevator so it wouldn’t stop on any other floors as we left. “Don’t you have a date with Danbury?”
“I think I’m heading to Turnbull this weekend.”
He gripped the elevator doors to keep them from closing on us. “You mean we’re heading for Turnbull. Isn’t it too early for that?”
I shrugged. “I need to check the trees.”
“You have three other employees who take care of that.”
“Just down to two now.”
“What, because you can’t afford it?”
I stood against the back of the elevator and gripped my hands together in front of me. “Was that a joke?”
Ransom gave a huffed growl, strode in and stood in front of the doors, his back to me. I knew he didn’t like enclosed spaces, but thankfully, he’d stopped making me take all nine flights of stairs. Running into a threesome on the third floor stairwell had cured him of that way of thinking. The game development branch of my company was always an interesting visit.
I’d been so impressed with the choreography I hadn’t fired them. Especially since Felicity Baskins was among the trio and had earned me a cool ten million at the last gaming convention with her new adventure series.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Toby had to retire. His grandson and new wife can handle most of the details. I just want to have a look.”
“Control freak,” he muttered under his breath and stepped out of the car.
I was. It was how I’d doubled the worth of the Winslow name in the last ten years, but I also was more than happy to use it as a reason to get out of the city.
Winslow Industries was the most advanced tech campus in New York City’s Hudson Park area. Hell, I was pretty sure the only one who could compete with my company’s largesse was Google.
And maybe Pierce International, not that I’d ever own up to that in mixed company.
But that success also felt like a jail cell some days.
A stunning cell, but a cell nonetheless.
I strode out behind him, only rolling my eyes in my mind as Ransom scanned the lobby. The central hub of the visitor’s center was already decked out for Christmas. Two stately trees flanked the information desk, both in a trendy muted palette of aged gold and burgundy.
People rushed in and out of eateries and cafés. Being out by the piers meant it was easier for my company to have facilities on site than to have my employees have to go off campus.
There was a large glass enclosed business center with internet and charging stations for visiting executives. Above us was a stained glass ceiling in moody ocean colors. Each of the nine floors were represented with balconies tastefully decorated to match the main lobby. In the summer, it was dripping with plants voted on by each department.
It made Ransom twitchy to have so many vantage points for someone to attack. That concern was mostly based on his own obsessive tendencies, but I appreciated that he looked out for me. The tech industry did have its fair share of imbalanced people, but I tried to mitigate that by hiring carefully and by paying my people what they were worth.
“I wish you had built a parking garage into the base of this building.” Ransom’s biting tone had me swallowing a grin.
“Next time I build a two hundred million dollar campus by a body of water, I’ll remember that.”
“That number is disgusting. And should include parking.”
“It does. At the back of the building. We could take the subway.”
Ransom gave me a side-eyed stare.
I shrugged. “I’ve ridden the subway plenty of times.”
“Not since you hired me. First of all, germs, and second, there’s no way to protect yourself in a tube underground.”
“But you want me to have below-street parking?”
“Shut up. It’s just not safe enough.”
“Well, if you want to get particular—and if you’d ever watch a movie—tons of shit happens in parking garages. This way, I keep my employees safe.”
Ransom gritted his teeth together and didn’t reply. He nodded to the security guards as we made our way through the doors to the executive parking structure around the side of the building. Another checkpoint and flash of a keycard brought us to the dozen cars I made available for my employees who had to have off-site meetings.
A brisk wind sliced through my suit, reminding me that soon enough I’d have to bundle up. As usual, the weather didn’t seem to faze my bodyguard.
He opened the door for me. Not to be galant or even deferential, just so he could make sure there wasn’t anything hiding in the car to kill us both. Being in the tech industry included a few too many unknown variables for Ransom’s peace of mind. When hundreds of millions were on the line for a project, it wasn’t unheard of for there to be danger waiting in the wings. The fact that I had at least seven high stakes deals in various levels of completion at any given time gave my best friend indigestion.
He slammed the door and rounded to the driver’s side of the sleek BMW sedan. It was outfitted with a dozen extras, including bulletproof glass. Overkill as far as I was concerned, but when my CFO had been carjacked last spring, Ransom had made some modifications to all the cars.
He was a competent, if slightly terrifying, driver. He weaved in and out of traffic like a seasoned cabbie. I took the time to review my notes on my phone while he fought his way up to the upper west side.
Jennings took great pride in his offices overlooking Central Park. I was also pretty sure he enjoyed making people come to him. He was all about the power plays. He might be a dinosaur when it came to meetings and contracts, but he was as paranoid as Ransom about security.
Any digital footprint could be hacked and the old man believed in a handshake as much as a signature. So, I’d do the damn meeting. And then I was getting the hell out of the city.
I sent off an email to my admin.
The rest of the day could go hang.
Chapter 2
Rachel
It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas
Frost still clung to the grass where the dappled sun couldn’t quite burn it off. The rolling hills of the Happy Acres orchard was as pretty as an autumnal post card. It was the first time I’d been there long enough to see a full seasonal change.
I’d watched the leaves go from glossy green bursting with pink petals, to pregnant with apples, and now to brown and crinkling underfoot.
I rested my mug of overly sweet coffee on the porch rail. A year ago, I’d been drinking black coffee by the gallon and now I lived for sweet creamers. It was the first thing to help put weight back on me and now I was addicted to the stuff.
