Читать книгу The Maverick Fakes A Bride! - Christine Rimmer - Страница 10

Chapter Three

The heavy door swung shut behind Brenna, and the racket from inside dimmed a little. She’d emerged into a loading area, with the packed dirt parking lot spread out beyond. Under the light of a few lamps on tall wooden poles, the rows of empty cars waited, not a soul in sight. Brenna shivered at the eeriness of it after the crush of people inside.

With no idea what to do next, she kept walking, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her head tipped down, not knowing where she was going—until she ran right into someone coming the other way.

“Whoa, now...” said a raspy male voice.

She blinked and looked up—first at the dirty top half of a union suit. The shirt was frayed around the wattled neck of an old man with bristly gray whiskers and thinning, scraggly white hair. “Homer,” she said in a dazed whisper. “Homer Gilmore.”

The old man smiled, showing crooked, yellowed teeth. “If it isn’t Brenna O’Reilly. Where you headin’ in such an all-fired hurry?”

“I was just...”

“Runnin’ away?” he finished for her.

Homer was famous in Rust Creek Falls for a number of reasons. He made moonshine that made people throw off their inhibitions. He tended to show up when you least expected him. And he knew things. Travis might scoff at her for saying it, but that didn’t make it any less true. Homer really could read things about people. He always seemed to know intuitively what folks were going through.

She started to deny that she was running anywhere. “I was just—”

“Scared, is what you were. And that is not like you.”

“I got—”

“Stage fright. I know. Sometimes it happens.”

“Homer, how do you—”

“Know things?” He only laughed, a sound every bit as ragged and rusty as the rest of him. And then he lowered his head. Brenna followed his gaze to his gnarled right hand, in which he held a jar of clear liquid.

“Homer, is that—”

“Just what you need about now? Yeah, Brenna. It is.”

She looked up into his watery eyes again. “But I don’t want to get—”

“Drunk? Uh-uh. You won’t be. This is just a little magic for you, that’s all. A little nudge in the right direction for this one time. Look at me, Brenna.” His voice was softer now. She could just wrap it around her, it sounded so soothing and good. She looked right into his eyes.

“Say what you’re thinking,” he instructed.

And she did. “I’m still afraid, but it’s okay. I’m bigger than my fear.”

“That’s right. That’s the spirit.” He held out the jar. “Take one long drink, Brenna O’Reilly. And then get back in there and show them what you’re made of.”

She took the jar and unscrewed the lid.

* * *

Travis was getting really worried.

And not only about the fact that Giselle kept shooting him dirty looks and mouthing, “Where is she?” across the crowded dance floor at him.

He was worried about Brenna. She’d looked so upset when she took off for the restroom. He shouldn’t have let her go like that. He should have gone with her, made sure she got there safe, made sure she was okay.

She’d seemed so cocky and confident yesterday, so completely Brenna, out there behind the beauty shop. He’d really believed she could handle anything The Great Roundup could throw at her. So he’d gotten her into this.

Travis had pulled some crazy stunts in his life, but one thing he’d always done right was to look out for Brenna O’Reilly. He’d protected her from more than one potential disaster.

Not tonight, though. Something was really bothering her, and he knew it. And still, he’d let her leave his side.

It was an error in judgment on his part, and he needed to rectify that. He needed to stop standing here like a damn fool and go after her.

He started for the hallway that led to the restrooms. People pushed in around him, and he just pushed back. Nodding, forcing a smile when anyone spoke to him, he kept going until he reached the hallway, where a line of women waited to get into the restroom. Brenna was not among them.

He was just trying to decide whether or not to barge into the ladies’ room shouting her name when the door all the way down at the end of the hallway opened—and there she was.

“Brenna!”

She tipped her chin high so he could see her face clearly under the brim of her hat. She spotted him—and she smiled, a bright, glowing smile. Hot damn, she was gorgeous.

And apparently, she’d gotten over whatever had been bothering her.

“Travis!” She gave him a jaunty wave and started toward him.

“’Scuse me, ladies.” He eased his way between two women at the front of the restroom line and went for her, not stopping till he stood in front of her a few feet from the door. “Brenna, are you okay?”

She grinned up at him. “Never better.” She really did seem fine now, brimming with her usual bright confidence.

But he had to be sure. He leaned close and said for her ears alone, “We don’t have to do this. I can take you home.”

She reached up and got a handful of the front of his shirt. “We’re not giving up now. Don’t even think it.”

“But are you—”

She cut him off by jerking him down to her and lifting her mouth to within an inch from his. “We are doing this.” Her eyes had stars in them. “And we are taking home the prize.”

“Brenna...” She smelled of flowers and fresh-cut grass. He really wanted to kiss her.

“Do it,” she whispered, clearly reading his mind. “We need to do it. How can we pretend that we’re headed for forever when you’ve never even put your lips on mine?”

Was she right? Did he really need to kiss her to make their fake relationship seem real for Giselle and the others? Hell if he knew. All he could think was that he’d never kissed her—and he had to kiss her.

Finally. At last.

He lowered his head a fraction closer, and she surged up.

His mouth touched hers.

With a sigh, she let go of his shirtfront and her hands slid up to clasp the back of his neck. “Travis...” She stroked his nape with her soft fingers as she whispered his name, kissing it onto his lips.

So good. So right. She tasted of honey, of ripe summer fruit—peaches and blackberries, watermelon. Cherries. She tasted of promises, sweet hopes and big dreams. She tasted of home.

Someone up the hall a ways let out a whoop, while someone else yelled, “Kiss her, cowboy!”

Neither Travis nor Brenna paid their hecklers any mind. The brims of their hats collided as they deepened the kiss. His fell and then hers, but neither of them cared.

That kiss went on forever.

And still, it was too short.

She ended it, finally, by dropping back down to her heels again. Dazed, reluctant to lose the hot spell of her kiss, he opened his eyes to find her staring up at him, her mouth as plump and red as the cherries she tasted like.

“Brenna...” he whispered like some kind of long-gone fool. At that moment, her name was the only word he knew.

She gave a low laugh and dipped to the floor, grabbing both their hats and passing him his. He slid it on his head as she held out her hand. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s go have ourselves some fun.”

* * *

How did she do it?

Travis had no idea.

But that night, Brenna was a natural, a reality TV show dream come true.

He took her to Giselle first. She shook Giselle’s hand, leaned in close and whispered something.

Giselle laughed out loud. In the weeks he’d been dealing with her, Travis had never seen Giselle laugh.

It went on like that all night. Brenna was sexy and funny and so good at pretending to be in love with him, he almost believed it himself. She rubbed up against him and pulled him down to whisper naughty things in his ear. And the way she smiled at him? You’d have thought he was the only guy in the place.

All the other guys wanted to dance with her, but Travis kept her close. After the way he’d lost her there at first, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight again tonight.

She was so relaxed and easy, mugging for the cameras, but not too much. Just enough to be charming and playful and fun. She was drinking Coca-Cola, hadn’t had a single beer. Still, he couldn’t help wondering if she’d knocked back a little liquid courage when he wasn’t looking.

Once he even whispered, “Are you drunk?”

She laughed that magical, joyful laugh of hers. And then she kissed him—a deep, wet, amazing kiss that made him acutely aware of exactly how long it had been since he’d had sex with a woman.

And the way she felt in his arms when they danced?

So good. Just right. He could almost start wishing the night would never end.

At a little past midnight, with the band on a break, Giselle signaled them over again. She had two of the cameramen with her that time.

Travis knew what the casting director was up to. They were getting interviewed, an on-the-fly interview to test them both, to see if they had chemistry up close and personal, and to find out if Brenna could really shine with the camera focused right on her.

Giselle asked, “Brenna, how long have you two been together?”

Travis wanted to grab her and whisper that no matter what, she was amazing. If they made it or not, he’d owe her forever for this fine night at the Ace.

But then Brenna laughed. And he knew that she had them. “How long have Travis and I been together? Not nearly long enough, if you ask me.” She grabbed his arm and snuggled up close. “I have loved Travis Dalton since I was six years old,” she said dreamily. “That was the day that my mom let me ride my new bike on the Cedar Street sidewalk while she was shopping at Crawford’s General Store. It was the day that Angus McCauley pushed me off my bike and then rode away on it. I called Angus some bad names, but he didn’t come back. So I sat down on the sidewalk and burst into tears...”

It seemed to Travis at that moment that the whole place had gone quiet. People pressed close, but only so they could hear better as Brenna told them how Travis had appeared out of nowhere that day.

“He came like a knight in shining armor—except, you know, in dusty boots, jeans and a snap-front shirt.” She looked up at him with a glowing smile.

He brushed her lips with his, the light kiss so easy and natural, exactly right. He looked at the nearest camera. “I hate to see a little girl cry.”

Brenna went on with her story. “He picked me up and asked me if I was hurt. I showed him the scrape on my elbow where I’d hit the sidewalk when Angus pushed me down. Travis looked at it, all serious and frowning. He said, ‘You are a very brave little girl. Stay right here. I’ll get your bike.’ And he did just that. Not five minutes later, he came back around the corner of Cedar and North Buckskin Road, walking my bike. I ran to meet him, and that was when I told him I loved him and would marry him someday.”

“What did he say to that?” Giselle asked downright breathlessly.

Brenna let out a put-upon sigh. “He acted like I hadn’t said it. He did that a lot for the next twenty years or so.”

“She was too young for me,” Travis insisted, as he’d done more than once during the twenty years in question.

Brenna made a face at him. “The second time I said I loved him, I was eight and he was sixteen. That time, as it so happened, he’d just saved me from drowning in Rust Creek. I said, ‘Oh, Travis. I love you and I can’t wait to marry you!’ He just wrapped me in a blanket and drove me home. And then, when I was ten...”

He knew what was coming and couldn’t hold back a groan.

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Aurelia won’t mind. Remember, she got married and moved to Sioux Falls?”

Giselle, looking more eager than Travis had ever seen her, prompted, “So tell us what happened.”

“I caught them kissing, Travis and Aurelia.”

“Oh, no!” Gerry, the production assistant who stood at Giselle’s elbow, gave Travis a dirty look.

“Oh, yes,” said Brenna. “And okay, I was only ten, but still it destroyed me. It was in the summer, out at the county rodeo. Aurelia and Travis were both eighteen. Aurelia was so annoying. She had breasts and everything. I took one look at the two of them squishing their mouths together and felt my poor heart break clean in two.”

“Heartbreak?” Travis teased her. “Come on, admit it, Brenna. You were mad, not heartbroken.”

She gave a sniff, her cute nose in the air. “That was not anger, that was pure heartbreak, just like I said. Heartbreak that caused me to pick up a rock and throw it at Aurelia. I hit her in the shoulder.”

Travis elaborated, “Aurelia let out a yelp you could hear all the way to Kalispell.” He scolded Brenna gently, “You hit her pretty hard.”

“Well, I was upset and it seemed to me at the time that she deserved it.”

He shook his head. “You always did have a good arm on you, even when you were ten.”

“I remember she called me an evil little brat. And I turned to you and said, ‘Travis Dalton, what is the matter with you? You’re supposed to be waiting for me.’ I reminded you that I was already ten and it wouldn’t be long now—or it wouldn’t have been.”

“Except that you were so mad—”

“Correction. Brokenhearted. I was so brokenhearted, I ended it between us.”

“Bren. Come on. You were ten. I was eighteen. There was nothing to end.”

She put her finger to his lips. “Shh. I’m tellin’ this story.” And then she spoke to the camera again. “I said that on second thought, I hated him and I wasn’t going to marry him, after all, no matter if he crawled on his knees to me through razor blades and broken glass.”

He leaned in and told the camera confidentially, “She was always a bloodthirsty little thing.”

“Maybe. Now and then.” Brenna let out a rueful sigh. “Especially when the guy I love goes and breaks my heart.” Slowly, she grinned. “But then, look at us now.” She grabbed Travis closer. He went willingly. “Travis Dalton, I forgive you.”

“For...?”

“Not taking me seriously when I was six and breaking my poor heart when I was ten.”

He would have delivered a clever comeback for that one, but she went and offered up her sweet mouth. Comebacks could wait. He claimed her lips in another long, bone-melting kiss that brought a volley of applause and appreciative laughter from the circle of contestants and locals surrounding them.

When he lifted his head, she said, “Finally together, forever and ever.”

It was the perfect moment, the one Travis had been waiting for.

He dropped to his knees, reached in his pocket and took out the ring he’d slipped in there before driving out to the O’Reilly place to pick her up that night. That ring, bought in Kalispell that afternoon, had cost him more than half of his hard-earned savings. But he’d spent that money anyway, because the ring was as beautiful as she was and because it was important that they come across as the real thing.