Make Me a Match Read online

  Make Me a Match

  Ella Goode

  Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Goode

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  When high school history teacher, Gant Fréres, gets roped into a charity bachelor auction by his wealthy family, he knows he’s doomed. The buyers are usually of a certain age with strange requests. He’d rather spend a week locked in a room with his football students fielding questions about puberty than strutting down the stage in a penguin suit waiting to be sold. While his mother and sister plot his downfall, Gant tries to come up with a plan to save himself.

  When her long lost grandmother showed up in her hometown, Paislee Rhodes thought she was doomed. After all, the grandmother was from her dad’s side—the side that had kicked her mom to the curb and Paislee to be raised alone. Her grandmother has different ideas. She spirits Paislee away to the Abbott mansion to make a match between the wealthy Freres family and the Abbotts. Step one: get Paislee to buy Gant Freres at the bachelor auction. Step two: profit. While her grandma plots her downfall, Paislee tries to come up with a plan to save herself.

  Chapter One

  Gant

  “I’m not doing it,” I tell my sister and mother, both of whom are looking at me like I killed the non-existent cat.

  “Pretty please?” Caro places her hands under her chin and bats her eyelashes. Ordinarily I would kill for my baby sister, but this ask is too far. I shake my head no.

  “It’s for charity,” huffs my mom. Her delicate hands wave in the air. “How can you be so Scroogelike?”

  “First, I’m not the one with the big checkbook. That would be you.” I tip my head toward Mom. She started selling handmade clothes thirty years ago and grew her business, and her kids, into a multinational wedding dress business. “I’m a high school history teacher,” I remind them.

  “Tell him that this is painless,” pleads Caro.

  “It’s painless,” her fiancé, Ben, repeats dutifully but behind her back he grimaces and slowly shakes his head in silent warning. Caro senses this betrayal and jabs him in the gut with an elbow.

  “You said it wasn’t bad,” Caro accuses. “Tell him.”

  “Yeah it’s fine, man,” he says but I see the fear in his eyes.

  “If you had a girlfriend, of course I wouldn’t ask this of you,” murmurs Mom, “but since you are single, I don’t see how this is a problem. As Ben says, it’s harmless”—awful he mouths—“and it might even be fun.”

  “Are you punishing me because I’m childless and single?” I say.

  “How can giving back to your community, raising money for sick children, be a punishment?” Mom’s finely tweezed eyebrow arches into her forehead.

  “Yeah, don’t be a kid killer,” Caro chimes in. “Ben would do it if we weren’t engaged. He did it for five years, and he’s perfectly fine.”

  Barely, he mouths.

  I fake a cough to cover a laugh.

  Ben pushes away from the table. “Chief got some special cigars from the mayor for saving his daughter’s cat. Gave a couple to me. Want to test them out?”

  I jump to my feet. “Yeah. Sounds like good brotherly bonding shit.” I point to my sister. “Don’t complain. You’re always asking us to do this.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Go on and smoke your smelly cancer sticks. Mom and I will write up your auction text.” She shoos me away while Mom looks on with a smug expression.

  I hesitate but decide that I don’t want to know what my mother is up to. She’s tried matchmaking a dozen times before, and nothing’s come of it. Surely she doesn’t think that someone who is buying me in an auction is going to be my one true love.

  “How bad is it?” I ask Ben when we reach the deck.

  He pulls two cigars out of his pocket and hands one over. “Depends on the age of your buyer.”

  I bite off the end of the cigar and spit it over the railing. Ben holds the lighter for me. “The young ones are the worst, huh?”

  “Ha!” He barks so loudly I nearly jump out of my shoes. “I wish.” He takes a deep drag. “Nah. It’s the old ones you have to be careful with. They’ve got no restraint and fewer morals. My third auction—or maybe it was the fourth one—the buyer had to be eighty if she was a day, and we weren’t even out of the building before she started mauling me. I told her that the winning bid got picnic dinner at a park, and she said she was going to save me some money by offering herself up as a meal.”

  I put a hand on the deck railing to steady myself. “No.”

  “Fighting off Grandma all night wasn’t even the worst of it.”

  A sweat breaks out across my forehead. “I don’t know that I’m prepared to hear this.”

  “You aren’t.” He takes another draw and blows out a stream of smoke. “The last year, I went for the top dollar in the auction. Twenty-five Gs.”

  I almost choke on my saliva. “Twenty-five grand?”

  He nods solemnly. “It was twins, and they wanted their money’s worth.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I told them I’d mow their yard for a year if they promised to leave me unmolested.”

  When Caro brought Ben home for the first time, I wasn’t impressed. She’s going to inherit a billion-dollar wedding business, and he was a blue collar worker who often had soot under his fingernails. I learned quickly he was a good guy who was completely smitten with my sister. After giving him the warning that if he ever hurt Caro, I’d make him eat his own testicles, we got along fine. Plus, their wedding planning consumed an enormous amount of my mom’s attention, and for that I’ll always be grateful. It was a year’s reprieve of her constant questioning of when I was going to settle down and give her some grandbabies. Even if he was a dick, though, I don’t think I would’ve wished these experiences on him.

  “Did they take you up on your offer?”

  “Not at first. Ultimately we agreed that I would sit for a life drawing.”

  “What’s that?”

  He looks away. “It’s when you sit nude for someone.”

  “Man.”

  “Yeah. They sketched me for a whole week wearing nothing but my rubber boots and hard hat.” His shoulders hang down. “When they kick the bucket, I’m going to have to commit arson so no one sees those drawings.”

  “Does my sister know about this?”

  “I told her, and she laughed for about two hours straight. Went over to their house to see if she could buy them from the old biddies, but they refused. Instead, they gave her some wedding brooch.”

  “Not the Elizabethan one?” I ask in shock.

  “Does it have a big green stone surrounded by smaller pink ones?”

  I nod. Mom and Caro have that displayed in a special case at their flagship store on Fifth Avenue.

  “Then that’s the one.”

  “Shit, those are actually your family jewels.” I try not to laugh. I try but it comes out through my nose, and I have to turn away from poor Ben.

  “You’re a dick, man,” he whines but without any real anger in his voice. He knows it’s funny, too, but can’t laugh about it because the trauma’s too real. “Anyway, guess I’ll be laughing at your situation in a few weeks.”


  That sobers me up. “Nah, I’m going to think of a plan and get out of this. Maybe offer up my inheritance or something.”

  “Like your mom is going to allow that.” He slaps my shoulder. “Good luck. I know you’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Two

  Paislee

  I stare in the mirror not recognizing myself. My blonde hair is shinier, and my skin almost glows. My makeup and hair are done so perfectly you’d think I had one of those filters on me that people use when they take pictures.

  My fingers trail down the silk of my dress. I’ve never felt anything so soft on my skin before. I’ve been done up from head to toe. I thought the little makeover today was going to be miserable, but to be honest, it left me feeling pretty.

  “You look like a princess.” I turn from the mirror to face my grandmother. A woman I didn’t know existed until a month ago when she showed up on my doorstep telling me that she was my family. My same light green eyes stare back at me.

  As always, she looks elegant. There is never anything out of place about my grandma. She also looks young enough to be my mother and not my grandma. I hope I inherited some of those good genes.

  News of her arrival spread through the small town of Englewood where I grew up like wildfire. It didn’t help that she rolled up in a car that looked like it came from the future. My life had changed in an instant. I’m starting to think she’s a fairy godmother because I do in fact look like a princess. I start to take a step towards her but wobble in my heels which makes her let out a small laugh. I didn’t have good balance to begin with, and with these contraptions on I’m bound to take a tumble.

  “Can we see about getting some flats for my Paislee? You can’t even see her feet in the gown. No one will ever know she’s not wearing heels. But I’ll have peace of mind that she won’t hurt herself.” I let out a sigh of relief, stepping out of the heels.

  My grandmother's assistant Carol darts off to do as she asked as if my grandmother had a shoe store inside of her home. I wouldn't be shocked if there was. I’ve been living here on her enormous estate for about a month now, and I’m not sure that I’ve even seen every room here.

  “I was going to break my neck,” I admit. Her eyes soften on me.

  “You look so much like my mother,” Marguerite says, coming over toward me. It’s something she says often. She grabs my hands, giving them a squeeze. She’s always so warm and sweet with me. It makes me miss my mom terribly. At least I’m not alone in the world anymore.

  When I answered my door the day she came knocking, she stood there staring at me for a good thirty seconds after I asked what I could do for her. My likeness to her own mother was shocking.

  “Thank you. She was a beautiful woman.” I’ve seen pictures of her. They are hung in random places throughout the estate. This whole place is filled with so much family history that I never knew I had. One that some don’t want me to have knowledge of.

  I wouldn't have ever known if Marguerite had not tracked me down. She told me that her son had slipped in the fact that he’d fathered a child with a woman in Tennessee. My mom never told me much about my father. Only that he was a man that promised her many things when she was young and living in Memphis. Her dream of being a country singer had inspired her to move there from her small town. She’d only lived there a few years before I came along, and she had to move back home.

  When I lost her two years ago, I thought I was alone in this world. Then Marguerite showed up out of the blue asking me to come home. The whole thing was crazy. Heck, it still feels crazy because this isn't my home. No matter how many times Marguerite says it is, I still feel like I don’t belong.

  It doesn't help that my father isn't happy about the fact that his mother went and found me. I could see why since I’m only twenty-two and he’s been married for thirty years with two sons. Both are older than me. I had been his dirty little secret for so long, and now he has to face me every single day. Believe me, welcome is the last thing he makes me feel.

  All of this has made for some very strange and brief encounters. Marguerite doesn't seem to care that she makes her son squirm. The whole family dynamic is strange, and I’m still trying to understand it. So for now I try to mind my own business and stay out of everyone’s way.

  “We’re going to have a wonderful time tonight. I can’t wait to show my granddaughter off.” I duck my head. I always feel a little shy when she fawns over me. “Maybe someone will catch your eye.” I bark out a very unladylike laugh that only makes my grandmother laugh with me.

  “What’s that look?” I ask, getting better at reading her. She’s up to something. She has tried to introduce me to a few men. I swear she is trying to get me married off. But all these men are from a different world than me. My grandmother can say they aren't as much as she wants, but I feel it. I worked at a daycare up until she plucked me from my small town. I’m just a normal girl inside. I don’t fit in with these wealthy people.

  “What?” She glances away from me.

  “I know you’re up to something.” I let out another laugh knowing she is definitely planning something. It’s funny how in the short time I’ve known my grandmother how close we have become. I can even read her moods I think better than anyone. I wonder if it’s because we’re related, or this is just some kind of kindred spirit thing? I feel such a strong connection to her.

  “I do want you to know your father will be there tonight.” I try and hide my cringe. This is after all her son. I don’t care much for her calling him my father, but I’m not going to correct her on it.

  “Does he know I’m going?” I lift an eyebrow.

  “Doesn't matter. You’re an Abbott.” I bite the inside of my cheek. As close as my grandmother and I have become, the truth of the matter is I’m a Rhodes.

  Though I do feel a little bit like Cinderella tonight.

  Chapter Three

  Gant

  “Can’t believe they roped you into this, Gant.”

  I take another gulp of the champagne and trade the empty flute for a full one from a passing waiter. “You ever tell your mother no, Petersburg?”

  “I’m still standing here in one piece, aren’t I?” he replies, fiddling with his bow tie. I knock his hands aside and straighten it.

  That’s a no then. We’re all dressed in variations of the same black suit and tie. Some have satin lapels, some are without, but there’s little to distinguish one from another. “Do you know why all the men wear tuxes at a wedding?” I ask Petersburg.

  “Because your mom has said that’s what we should wear?”

  “Because if the groom is unable to fulfill his duty, the next guy in line is already suited up and ready to go.”

  “That sounds like something your mom would say.” He tugs at his collar. “When my sister got fitted at your mom’s shop, I swear your mom was measuring my worth.”

  “It was likely the size of your wallet. You’re still alive so she must’ve thought you were valuable enough to keep.”

  Petersburg snorts. “Thanks, I guess. I suppose you’re taking Ben’s place. That poor man. He’s suffered a lot.”

  Ben’s traumatic auction experiences must’ve made the rounds. Curious as to whether this was true for others, I ask, “What about you?”

  “I pay my sister to bid for me.”

  “What?” Why had that plan not occurred to me?

  “Yeah. We’ve worked out a deal. She bids on me every auction, and I cover for her when my mom nags her about starting a family.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels as if he doesn’t have a care in the world—which is accurate. Unlike me, who is about to be thrown to the wolves, Petersburg can walk the runway without a care in the world while I’ll be sweating it out under my shirt.

  “Damn. This is the real 4D chess.”

  “Yeah. You’ve got a sister. Why hasn’t she helped you out?”

  “I’d like to know too.” I stomp out of the anteroom in search of my sister, igno
ring some of the handlers’ not so polite requests to not leave because the show is starting soon.

  The crowd at the auction is sizeable, and I can’t find my sister. She’s shorter than most, but Ben’s a big guy. I scan the top of the crowd for his dark head.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going!” a voice somewhere near my chest says.

  I take a step back and look down at a pair of irritated, but gorgeous, light green eyes—a shade so unusual that it tickles the back of my memory bank. I’ve seen these before, but I can’t recall where. Not on her. I’d have remembered. Not only would I have remembered, but I would have had them in my bedroom, staring at my naked body with lust and eagerness. Pink silk cups a perfect set of tits, frames a delicate waist, and falls to the floor. “Sorry,” I murmur huskily.

  She’s fucking beautiful—fairy tale beautiful in her ball gown and golden hair spilling down her back. Around her neck is an expensive bauble, champagne pink diamonds and tourmalines set in platinum. She either has money or comes from money, which makes her perfect for my plan. I don’t need my sister. I have my savior right here.

  I take her small hand in mine. “Cinderella, right?”

  “Is it that obvious?” She brushes a hand down the front of the skirt. “I mean, I don’t look ridiculous, right? This is the nicest thing I’ve ever worn.” Then she winces. “Wait, pretend like you didn’t hear that.”

  Maybe she didn’t come from money but that necklace is expensive, and I swear I’ve seen her eyes before so she must be related to someone I know. I’ll have to ask my sister. She’s got the memory of an elephant.