The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three (4 page)

Chapter 4

Rym felt like an idiot standing by the baggage claim at the Salt Lake Airport holding a handwritten sign that said “Amber Miller.” He had no idea what Amber looked like. Not knowing had placed him at a disadvantage, and he knew it. His discomfort stemmed from his pride. He’d considered texting Pamela and requesting a picture of Amber. His fingers hovered over the keypad while his mind turned over different phrasings. In the end, he hadn’t sent the stupid text because he didn’t want Pamela to think he was interested in Amber’s looks or that he couldn’t accomplish the simple task of picking up someone from the airport without help.

He glanced down at his old black work pants and polo shirt with a pink stain on the hem. He pulled his beanie down to cover his straggly hair, which he’d pulled back to appease his boss at the restaurant. There was no way he was going to start acting like a big shot. It wasn’t him. He bought last-season’s, or even several seasons’ ago clothing at steep discounts. If Amber thought she’d be getting Prince Charming, she was sorely mistaken,

Amber’s flight number flashed on the far baggage carousel, and he moved closer to stand with a small group of passengers who had booked it off the plane. Pretty soon the area clogged with people and the conveyer belt dropped suitcases onto the turnstile. A family of four, decked out in matching sweatshirts, crowded in front of him to wait for their bags.

Rym craned his neck and wondered if he should hold the sign up higher. He perused the passengers, but soon found himself staring at a beautiful woman making her way toward the other end of the revolving belt where there were fewer people.

She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and checked her flight number against the ones blinking overhead. She wore designer boots, much like the ones the women staying at the lodge wore, black pants that hugged her long legs, and a shirt that hung loose on her thin frame. She had curves in all the right places, including her lips, which were full, though pursed together as she examined the bags floating past.   

Rym stuffed his stupid sign in his back pocket and moved in her direction. Years of helping guests at the lodge had engrained a sense of chivalry into his subconscious. Every Iron Mountain employee was expected to keep an eye out for opportunities to pitch in. Besides, a smile from those full lips would be more than fair compensation for his efforts. He didn’t want her phone number or anything; she was way out of his league, and he was here to meet his bride. There was something about her that was classy and … he searched for the right word … enchanting? He shook his head. Never in his life had a mushy thought like that crossed his mind. Not even when Frankie Deerden had baked him homemade cinnamon rolls and asked him to Sadie Hawkins. And Rym loved cinnamon rolls.

As she reached for an oversized suitcase with a baggage tag that looked like a flip-flop, he leaned in and said, “Let me get that for you.” 

“Thank you.” Her voice held a note of surprise. She stepped back to give him room.

The dang bag was heavy, but he held in his grunt as he hauled it over the edge of the turnstile and set it by her feet.

“Thanks. That one’s mine too.” She pointed to a medium-sized bag that matched the first.

He set it next to the monster bag and pulled the handle up so she could wheel it along. Their eyes met, and it was like he was stuck. With her blond hair and tanned skin, Rym expected blue eyes. This beauty had brown; deep, dark, smoldering brown eyes that lent an exotic touch to her otherwise born-in-the-USA look. She broke away first and unlatched the handle on the bigger bag, moving past him.

Not willing to let her get away so quickly, Rym blurted out, “So, you’re either planning to stay for a while or you packed way too much.”

She took in his worn clothes, frayed beanie, and generally unkempt appearance and gave him a polite but distant smile. “Thanks for your help.”

Embarrassed by her dismissal, Rym stuffed his hands in his pockets. She hadn’t been rude, just direct. What did he expect? She was all about high society and he looked like the kitchen help.

She moved closer to the doors, and he saw her shiver as they slid open to let a family out. Rummaging in her smaller bag, she pulled out a thin jacket and slid it on. There was no way that thing was going to keep her warm—it was twelve degrees outside.

Rym continued to watch her as she watched every car that pulled up to the curb. It was apparent that she was waiting for a ride, and he turned his attention to the rest of the passengers, hoping to find Amber and get away from his humiliation. As the group thinned, a new flight appeared on the board and a new group of people filed in.

Rym stepped back to allow them space and checked his phone for Amber’s flight information. He verified the numbers and when he looked up, he saw that woman checking her phone as well. He felt his stomach drop to the floor as he wondered if she
was
Amber. Refusing to pull out his sign, he approached her again.

When she saw him coming, she put on the same polite smile as before.

“Look, I’m not trying to bother you, but I’m supposed to pick someone up. Are you Amber?”

A small crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Did Rym send you?”

He pulled off his stocking hat, a gesture that seemed old-fashioned and yet highly appropriate at the moment. “I
am
Rym.”

She pressed her lips together as she contemplated him. Nodding once, her smile brightened considerably, though it didn’t register in her eyes, which were still guarded. She held out her hand. “Amber Miller.”

“Rym Hoagland.” He shook her bare hand with his gloved one. Allowing his eyes to rest on her face, he noticed how beautiful her skin was, flawless, soft. The kind of skin a man wanted to brush his fingertips over.

“Sorry about earlier. You don’t look like your picture. If I’d known it was you ...”

Rym pulled his hand back, regaining some control over his thoughts. “What picture?”

Amber turned her phone to show him the image she’d been studying. He groaned. Two years ago, Ski Nation Magazine had done a cover spread on Iron Mountain. The company offered him three hundred dollars to pose for the cover and then proceeded to give him a makeover. Once the article came out, they splashed the image all over the website, Facebook, Twitter feed, and anywhere else they figured it could boost reservations. Where he had been nervous about looking for a picture of Amber, she’d obviously done her homework. He wouldn’t underestimate her again.

He grabbed the handle to her bigger bag. “It’s a couple years old,” he griped. The fact that she’d turned him away when she didn’t know who he was almost made him feel good. Less pressure than if she’d acted like they were supposed to be best friends, or worse—in love! At least he knew she wasn’t attracted to him. Not that he thought himself some kind of babe magnet. It’s just that there had been many calls to the resort requesting the instructor in the magazine. He held on to his grudge against the hairstylist, the photographer, and anyone else associated with that project. “My car is across the way.”

They rushed out into the cold, across the crosswalk, and into the covered parking. The wind wasn’t blowing, but the cold could grab your breath and carry it off in a hurry. He used the remote to unlock their doors. Ever the exemplary Iron Mountain employee, and ready to take charge, Rym said, “Go ahead and hop in; I’ll get your bags.” Amber jumped into the passenger seat while he wrestled her luggage into the trunk. It was a tight fit.

Slamming his door on the cold, Rym started the car and waited for the engine to warm up before turning on the heater. He glanced over to see Amber huddled against the heating vent, shivering.
Pft! California girl
. He reached back and pulled out his emergency blanket, an old quilt his mom made him when he graduated high school, and handed it to her. “Here. This should help.”

Her eyes were part terror, part gratitude as she took the blanket. “Thanks. Is it always this cold?”

Rym put his hand on her seat so he could turn to look back as he maneuvered out of the parking spot. “Naw. January can get pretty cold, but this year has been an extreme one.”

“Great.” Her teeth chattered, and he checked to make sure the heater was turned up all the way.

An awkward silence filled the car. Rym tapped the steering wheel, letting the awkward silence grow between them with glee. Usually he could charm a client in no time. That wasn’t his intention with Amber. He didn’t want her to like him, become comfortable having him around, or even feel welcome in his state. He wanted her to want to leave him alone as much as possible.

Once the temperature in the vehicle warmed up enough that Amber leaned back in her seat, she pulled out her phone and clicked through a couple apps. “Okay, we have an appointment with the justice of the peace at one. Right after that, we’re supposed to meet up with someone from the resort; apparently they have the keys to your grandfather’s house, but it’s being remodeled, so only part of it is livable.” She glanced up at him. “Are you remodeling it?”

Rym held back his groan. They exchanged just enough words to learn one another’s names and already she had him on a schedule.
Not for long.
He was ready for battle and needed to bide his time. Instead of planting his heels, he answered her question. Picking battles was much more effective than fighting at every turn. He could be civil. “No, Grandpa Mike started before he died and didn’t get to finish.”

“Oh.” She pressed those awfully full lips together, and a crease appeared between her otherwise perfect brows. “I’m not sure … that is, Pamela said …” Amber huffed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind one ear. “I don’t know what type of relationship you had with your grandpa. Pamela said you were estranged and I’m not even sure what that means. I just … I want to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

Rym swallowed, hard. He was still figuring out what the relationship with his grandpa had been. They didn’t go fishing or build birdhouses or whatever it was that grandpas and grandsons did together. Their whole relationship was founded on and centered around their love of skiing and Iron Mountain. Rym couldn’t let her kind words and concerned eyes sway him from his goal of taking control of his runaway life. “Thank you.” He paused a moment to allow for the shift in conversation to seem natural. He kept his eyes on the road. “I called Mr. McGraw and postponed our tour of the house.”

“You did?”

“We need to stop at the bank after the wedding. There’s papers to sign and it couldn’t wait.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Amber nodding. She was also working pretty intently on her phone.

Having accomplished his first goal of setting his own schedule for the day, Rym relaxed. “That’s a nice phone. Do you like it?”

Amber’s face brightened. “I love it. I almost forgot. Trish sent a package for you.”

“Trish?” Rym took the Parley’s Canyon exit and made the merge into traffic. The roads were clear, and since they weren’t expecting snow for a couple days it shouldn’t be too hard to get places.

“She’s over brides and grooms. She makes sure we stick to the code of conduct, helps us get settled, that kind of thing. Anyway, she sent you a phone and some other things that are supposed to make this all go smoother. She’d probably meet with you in person if you lived in California, but she sent the stuff with me instead.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
And I know nothing
. Once again, Rym was on uneven ground. He gripped the steering wheel.

Amber pressed her lips again. Rym glanced at her and then glanced away. He didn’t want to stare too long. For just a moment, he considered the fact that Amber was the most beautiful woman that had ever sat in his run-down car.

“How much did they tell you about me?” she asked.

“Pretty much just your name and that you were perfect for me. I mean, perfect to marry. I mean ...”

She placed her hand on his arm, and Rym suddenly felt warm all over. “I know what you mean. This can be awkward at first, but as long as we talk about things we should make it through just fine. I’ll start.” She pulled her hand away and lifted the blanket higher on her shoulder. “Before I started with Billionaire Marriage Brokers, I worked as a life coach and motivational speaker. I have dual degrees in business and finance and I keep up on what’s happening in both those fields.

“I’ve been married three times. My first husband is now happily working as a heart surgeon, living in a beautiful house, and engaged to my best friend.” She held up her hand. “Please save all questions until the end of the tour.”

Despite his desire to keep Amber off kilter, Rym laughed. His questions were piling up, but he did want her to finish. Three marriages meant either she stank at this marriage thing or she was extremely good at it. And, to his horror, he wondered about that intimacy clause. The one that stated there should be no physical relationship between husband and wife unless agreed upon by both parties. Had Amber ever agreed? Hating himself for even going there, Rym tuned back in to Amber’s orientation.

“My second husband comes from old money and was a spendthrift. He’s now living beneath his means, drives the car of his dreams, and has dedicated himself to writing screenplays.”