One Hundred Secrets (An Aspen Cove Romance Book 10) Read online

  One Hundred Secrets

  Kelly Collins

  Copyright © 2019 by Kelley Maestas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Victoria Cooper Art

  Contents

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  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 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Sneak Peek at One Hundred Regrets

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  Chapter One

  It was every girl’s dream wedding, from the dress to the stretch limousine. Goldie Sutherland sipped her champagne and looked out the window as the forest’s snow-capped trees stared down on her like disapproving giants.

  “Stop judging,” she said out loud.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” The limo driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Did you need something?”

  Goldie pasted on her social smile. The same smile she’d been trained to perfect since she was a child.

  “No, just thinking out loud.”

  “No problem. Would you like me to raise the privacy screen so you can think without interruption?”

  Did she? She’d spent most of her life alone, and it was nice that another human was only several feet away from her and engaged, if only because he was paid.

  “Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” she replied.

  The window came up to lock her in solitary confinement. Funny how a life built around social media could be so lonely.

  The long tulle skirt of her wedding dress puddled at her feet. It was right out of a fairytale. Silk bodice with pearl buttons. A cinched waist that led to yards and yards of tulle embellished with tiny handsewn sequins and pearls. Even the shoes were special, with acrylic heels and embroidered lace and Swarovski crystal insets. The final touch was a white faux fur shawl that hung perfectly around her shoulders to protect her from the winter’s chill.

  She opened her clutch and pulled out her phone. There were several missed texts from Sebastian, her groom. The first was all lower case, call me. The second threw in some caps, Call Me, right away. The last message was like a scream CALL ME NOW!!!!!

  She rolled her eyes and dialed. Sebastian was always a drama king. Like her, he was a social influencer, which in plain English meant they were great at getting people to buy crap they didn’t need.

  “Finally,” Sebastian yelled.

  Goldie held the phone from her ear. “What the hell is the matter? You’re on your way, right?”

  There was a pause that didn’t sit right in her gut. Nothing with Sebastian went in slow motion. He was a full steam ahead kind of guy, which made him the perfect temporary husband.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  She sat up, nearly tipping over her champagne. Her fingers gripped tightly to the stem. “There’s no room for problems. Everything is set to the minute.”

  “You’ll need a new plan.”

  Goldie’s mind reeled. “What part of the plan?”

  “The whole thing.”

  She cocked her head and replayed his words. “The whole thing? Like as in you'll be late? Your tux doesn’t fit? You woke up and you’re bald? What part of the plan is failing?”

  Sebastian sighed. “The part where my girlfriend said if I marry you, she’s leaving me.”

  “What?” The champagne glass tumbled from her shaking fingers and landed on the carpet in front of her, barely missing the skirt of her gown. “We went over this a thousand times. It’s a temporary marriage. The publicity will do you good and save my career.”

  She’d been losing her following steadily for the last year. Her millions of followers had dwindled down to a few hundred thousand, then tens of thousands and was still heading south. She was a sinking ship. This entire secret wedding hoax was a last-ditch effort to pull in a broader audience. It was her life preserver and now there was a hole in her plan.

  Nancy, her publicist, had put the whole thing in motion six months ago. Goldie’s Secret Groom had boosted her ratings and pulled in a lot of sponsorships. It had become a modern-day Where’s Waldo in the social scene, but without a groom, she was screwed.

  “Chloe said if I married you today, she’d leave me. She doesn’t want to marry a divorcé and since she’s Catholic she doesn’t want to have to deal with the whole Vatican annulment thing when we finally get married.”

  Goldie grew dizzy. She gripped the door for stability. “But you were going to use the additional sponsorship money to help pay for your real wedding. I don’t understand what went wrong.” She watched the trees whiz by as the driver raced toward their secret destination. A place chosen for its small-town appeal and beautiful landscape. A place that would be missing an important component of her plan—a groom. A place called Aspen Cove.

  Nancy had some connection to the popstar Indigo, who’d told her Hope Park would be a great place to take photos.

  “You can’t call me on the morning of our wedding and tell me you’re not showing. I need a damn groom, or I’m ruined.”

  She’d known Sebastian through a friend of a friend, which meant he wasn’t a friend at all. Social influencers had collaborators, not friends. It was why she sat in a limousine alone. No family. No bridesmaids. No support.

  The term influencer was used loosely and meant she could help push an agenda, show up for a mutually advantageous event, or ride the coattails of a bigger brand. That brand had been her for years, but sadly she was an aging influencer, and she could only remain twenty-six for several years before people took notice.

  “I’m sorry, Goldie, but in all honesty, this was always about you and not me. Chloe pointed out that like real stars, your light died years ago and we’re just seeing the last tiny flicker fade to darkness.”

  “Rude. I’m not a has-been.” She’d been telling herself that for a while. “I’m in a lull.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “You’re in denial. You know once you hit thirty, you’re on the road to retirement.”

  “If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll hunt you down and you’ll never hit thirty. Besides, I’m twenty-six.”

  He huffed, “Fine, you’re twenty-six but you’re on your eighth anniversary of that birthday.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m not thirty-four.”

  “And you’re not twenty-six either. Isn’t it time you were honest with yourself?”

  “Says the guy who has his six-pack sprayed on weekly. Give me a break. No one in this business is honest.”

  Sebastian let out a long exhale. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. I get it, but I can’t lie about who I love, or I’ll lose her. I’m not coming. Th
at’s all you need to know.”

  A tear slipped from her eye. She dabbed a finger against her cheek so as not to disturb her makeup but still swipe the tear aside.

  “What the hell am I going to do now? Everyone will want their product or money back.”

  Again, the silence ate up the space around her.

  “I’d suggest one of two things. You run and hide, or you find another groom immediately.”

  The end of his call delivered the blow of finality. She was alone and in big trouble.

  She moved her fingers across the screen of her phone. She hoped Nancy would answer, but she didn’t.

  The limousine slowed as they entered the town of Aspen Cove.

  Out the window, she could see the photographer setting up his tripod in front of the gazebo. The only saving grace was the wedding was secret, so there weren’t any paparazzi or fans. Then again, there hadn’t been any of those in a long time.

  Sebastian was right, she was old and over. How was it possible that at thirty-two she was washed up?

  The limousine pulled to the curb and the privacy window rolled down.

  “Ms. Sutherland, we’ve reached your destination. Would you like to exit the car?”

  “No, I’ll need a few minutes.”

  “Very well. You can control the privacy screen too. Let me know when you’re ready.” It slid back into place, leaving her alone to deal with her abandonment.

  Why was she always alone? Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. “In this business, you can only count on you. The other bastards will sell your soul to the devil to get a step ahead.” Liza Sutherland had been an iconic movie star in her day. She wasn’t a great mother, but she sure could say her lines. At the end of her heyday, she’d brought her daughter into the business. More like sold Goldie’s soul to the devil when she used her to get a gig called “Growing Up with Goldie” which was one of the first reality television series aired. Her life was on display for the entire world to see. All the good, the bad, and the ugly—mostly the ugly because everyone loved a train wreck. The series ended in much the same way as Goldie’s life was going today—crash and burn.

  The network abandoned them, telling her mother the public had lost interest and had outgrown her. How sad it was to watch her mom try to claw her way to the top again only to lose her life in what should have been a quick nip and tuck for a new series about aging starlets. Liza Sutherland was happy to be on the show, but there was no way she’d ever appear to age.

  Goldie scrubbed her hands over her face, not caring if her false lashes fell off or her sponsored siren red lipstick smudged. She needed a plan and she needed one now.

  The tulle of the dress gathered around her legs, the rough material making her skin itch and crawl. How was it this dress cost over twenty thousand dollars when her cotton nightshirt was far more comfortable? The damn shoes on her feet had rubbed her heels raw and she hadn’t even taken a step. The crystal tiara poked into the beads of her extensions.

  Her life was a mess, spiraling out of control for the last year. Without a groom, she’d be homeless within a month, maybe sooner.

  “That’s it.” She pulled out her mirror from her clutch and checked her makeup. Thankfully everything was long wear and had fared well. She touched up the lipstick, powdered her nose and checked her wallet for cash. “I need a groom, which means I may have to pay for one.”

  She had five hundred dollars. It was the last of her resources. The last of any money she had to her name. She couldn’t imagine the quality of groom she could purchase with so little, but hell if she wouldn’t try.

  Her bank account was empty and would only plump up when the sponsors’ products were mentioned and seen in her wedding pictures. “Love Goldie’s lipstick, click here.” Each purchase put a little cash in her account. That was the way of her job. She got nothing if people weren’t interested. No one would tune in if her groom wasn’t present.

  She lowered the privacy screen. “I need you to pull into town so I can get something I need.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Anywhere in particular?”

  “Wherever you think I’d find the most people.”

  She shuddered to think about what kind of man she’d have to marry to put ramen in her cupboard for the week. Her only alternative was to find another job, but that was impossible because her age was not her only secret.

  The limousine moved down the street until they were parked in front of a place named Maisey’s Diner.

  It took a great deal of self-talk to gear her up for the task at hand. The driver stood by her door. The rule was when she was ready for her big reveal, she would knock on the window. This was not the fake wedding day she had in mind.

  She took a deep breath and tapped the glass.

  He opened the door and she ducked so she wouldn’t take off her tiara or her fake hair. She practically rolled out of the back seat and hopped to her feet, a cloud of tulle floating around her. Heads turned as she made her way inside.

  A bell above the door rang. She walked in, looked around and breathed in the smell of bacon and fresh coffee.

  It was a fifties diner from its red upholstered booths to its checkerboard floor tile.

  Heads rose at her entrance. It wasn’t every day a bride strolled into the local greasy spoon. In the corner sat an older man who peeked over his newspaper. He raised a bushy white brow before ducking back behind the news.

  Across the room appeared to be a classroom of children or a family who didn’t know birth control existed. The table to her left had a couple cooing over their newborn and another woman looking on as if she expected something unusual to happen.

  Goldie refused to disappoint. The only wrench in her plan was the lack of single males seated in the establishment. Outside of the old geezer in the corner, there was one other man. On closer inspection, he was a cross between a grizzly bear and a convict, but he was alone and didn’t wear a ring. In her book, that meant he was fair game.

  Tailored suits and ties were more her type. She didn’t mind a man that beat her to the mirror in the morning. It was part and parcel of her way of life. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and if Mr. Mountain Man said yes, she’d say I do in a second flat.

  Pulling back her shoulders, she took the five hundred-dollar bills from her clutch and held them in the air.

  “I need a groom, and I need one now.” She stared straight at the only single man under seventy and over twenty. “What about you?”

  Chapter Two

  Tilden Cool looked up at Wedding Dress Barbie and laughed. He was no Ken.

  “Excuse me?” He rubbed his hand over his bearded face thinking she was a mirage of sorts. A damn nightmare maybe.

  The woman rushed toward him with her skirt rustling behind her. She pulled out the chair across from him and plunked herself down. The swirl of white material floated around her like thick fog. Only the air that rushed forward didn’t shout, “All is sunny.” It screamed, “Storm brewing, take cover.”

  Her tiny little hand thrust forward until it hovered in front of him. “My name is Goldie Sutherland, and this is your lucky day.” Her teeth were perfect, her lips as red and shiny as a candy-coated apple. On a different day, he might have considered licking them to see if they were as sweet as they looked, but he was a logical thinker and women in wedding dresses looking for grooms spelled trouble.

  He stared down at her hand and offered his, which completely engulfed hers. That wasn’t a surprise, really. He’d never been considered a small man. Add to that his quiet demeanor and his air of mystery, and most people left him alone. He liked his life that way. People had a way of complicating things that should be simple.

  “I’m Tilden Cool.” He didn’t speak much so it often shocked him how deep his voice was.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Your name is Tilden?”

  “Last time I checked my driver’s license, that’s what it said.” He gathered his papers and pushed them aside. He often spent his time at this
table in the diner. It was a quiet place where he could balance his checkbook. Research for authors and edit their work. Outside of delivering firewood for Zachariah, he didn’t have many ways to earn a living. The few dollars he earned for each delivery didn’t go far.

  “Tilden Cool.” She said his name like she was tasting it. “That’s an interesting name.” She looked down at his papers. His truck payment was at the top of the pile. “Bills, they’re evil.”

  His brows lifted. “Is there something you needed from me, Goldie?”

  She pulled a plump red lip between her teeth. When it popped free, she turned on her hundred-watt smile. “Well, yes, there is. I’m glad you asked.” She looked around the diner for a second and then tucked the billowing material under her thighs. “I think you and I could help each other.” She raised her left hand to show the crumpled hundred-dollar bills in her grasp.

  “What did that money do to compel you to choke it to death?”

  She giggled. It was a sweet sound.

  He stared into eyes that weren’t brown per se, but more of a cognac color or a melted caramel. Her blonde hair was streaked with different hues, from straw to coffee latte.

  “I’m in a bind.” She leaned into the center of the table. “I’m supposed to be married in fifteen minutes, but my groom is missing.”

  He nodded his head. “Problematic.”

  “I’ll say.” She flattened the bills onto the table, pushing the creases to the sides with trembling fingers. “I hoped I could pay you to stand in for him.”