Читать книгу The Maverick Fakes A Bride! - Christine Rimmer - Страница 9
ОглавлениеFiancée?
Travis’s heart bounced upward into his throat. He tried not to choke and put all he had into keeping his game face on.
But...
Fiancée? When did his imaginary girlfriend become a fiancée?
He’d never in his life had a fiancée. He hadn’t even been with a woman in almost a year.
Yeah, all right. He had a rep as a ladies’ man and he knew how to play that rep, but all that, with the women and the wild nights? It had gotten really old over time. And then there was what had happened last summer. After that, he’d realized he needed to grow the hell up. He’d sworn off women for a while.
Damn. This was bad. Much worse than finding out there was still another audition to get through. How had he not seen this coming?
Apparently, they’d decided they needed a little romance on the show, a young couple in love and engaged to be married—and he’d let Giselle get the idea that he could give them that. He’d thought he was playing the game, but he’d only played himself.
He tried to put on the brakes a little. “Uh, Giselle. We’re not exactly engaged yet.”
“But you will be.” It was a command. And before he could figure out what to say next, Giselle stood. “So, we’re set then. You’ll be taken back to the hotel for tonight. Pack up. Your plane leaves first thing tomorrow.”
* * *
Travis had come this far, and he wasn’t about to give up now. Somehow, he needed to find himself a temporary fiancée. She had to be outgoing and pretty, someone who could ride a horse, build a campfire and handle a rifle, someone he could trust, someone he wouldn’t mind pretending to be in love with.
And she had to be someone from town.
It was impossible. He knew that. But damn it, he was not giving up. Somehow, he had to find a way to give Giselle and the others what they wanted.
Real Deal Entertainment had a van waiting at the airport in Kalispell. The company had also sent along a production assistant, Gerry, to ride herd on the talent. Gerry made sure everyone and their luggage got on board the van and then drove them to Maverick Manor, a resort a few miles outside the Rust Creek Falls town limits.
Gerry herded them to the front desk. As he passed out the key cards, he announced that he was heading back to the airport to pick up the next group of finalists. They were to rest up and order room service. The producers and casting director would be calling everyone together first thing tomorrow right here in the main lobby.
Travis grabbed Gerry’s arm before he could get away. “I need to go into town.” And rustle up a fiancée.
Gerry frowned—but then he nodded. “Right. You’re Dalton, the local guy. You can get your own ride?”
“Yeah.” A ride was the least of his problems.
Gerry regarded him, narrow eyed. Travis understood. As potential talent, the production company wanted him within reach at all times. He wouldn’t be free again until he was either culled from the final cast list—or the show had finished shooting, whichever happened first.
Travis was determined not to be culled. “I’m supposed to bring my fiancée to the audition tomorrow night. I really need to talk to her about that.” As soon as I can find her.
Gerry, who was about five foot six and weighed maybe 110 soaking wet, glared up at him. “Got it. Don’t mess me up, man.”
“No way. I want this job.”
“Remember your confidentiality agreement. Nothing about the production or your possible part in it gets shared.”
“I remember.”
“Be in your room by seven tonight. I’ll be checking.”
“And I’ll be there.”
Gerry headed for the airport, and Travis called the ranch. His mother, Mary, answered the phone. “Honey, I am on my way,” she said.
He was waiting at the front entrance of the Manor when she pulled up in the battered pickup she’d been driving for as long as he could remember. She jumped out and grabbed him in a bear hug. “Two weeks in Hollywood hasn’t done you any damage that I can see.” She stepped back and clapped him on the arms. “Get in. Let’s go.”
She talked nonstop all the way back to the ranch—mostly about his father’s brother, Phil, who had recently moved to town from Hardin, Montana. Phil Dalton had wanted a new start after the loss of Travis’s aunt Diana. And Uncle Phil hadn’t made the move alone. His and Diana’s five grown sons had packed up and come with him.
At the ranch, Travis’s mom insisted he come inside for a piece of her famous apple pie and some coffee.
“I don’t have that long, Mom.”
“Sit down,” Mary commanded. “It’s not gonna kill you to enjoy a slice of my pie.”
So he had some pie and coffee. He saw his brother Anderson, briefly. His dad, Ben, was still at work at his law office in town.
Zach, one of Uncle Phil’s boys, came in, too. “That pie looks really good, Aunt Mary.”
Mary laughed. “Sit down and I’ll cut you a nice big piece.”
Zach poured himself some coffee and took the chair across from Travis. In his late twenties, Zach was a good-looking guy. He asked Travis, “So how’s it going with that reality show you’re gonna be on?”
Travis kept it vague. “We’ll see. I haven’t made the final cut yet.”
Zach shook his head. “Well, good luck. I don’t get the appeal of all that glitzy Hollywood stuff. I’m more interested in settling down, you know? Since we lost Mom...” His voice trailed off, and his blue eyes were mournful.
“Oh, hon.” Trav’s mom patted Zach gently on the back. She returned to the stove and added over her shoulder, “It’s a tough time, I know.”
“So sorry about Aunt Diana,” Travis said quietly.
Zach nodded. “Thank you both—and like I was sayin’, losing Mom has reminded me of what really matters, made me see it’s about time I found the right woman and started my family.”
Travis ate another bite of his mother’s excellent pie and then couldn’t resist playing devil’s advocate on the subject of settling down. “I can’t even begin to understand how tough it’s been for you and your dad and the other boys. But come on, Zach. You’re not even thirty. What’s the big hurry to go tying the knot?”
Zach sipped his coffee. “You would say that. From where I’m sitting, Travis, you’re a little behind the curve. All your brothers and sisters—and more than a few cousins—are married and having babies. A wife and kids, that’s what life’s all about.”
“I’ll say it again. There’s no rush.” Well, okay. For him there kind of was. He needed a fiancée, yesterday or sooner. But a wife? Not anytime soon.
Travis’s mother spoke up from her spot at the stove. “Don’t listen to him, Zach. If a wife is what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place. There are plenty of pretty, smart, marriageable young women in Rust Creek Falls. Marriage is in the air around here.”
Travis grunted. “Or it could be something in the water. Whatever it is, Mom’s right. Marriage is nothing short of contagious in this town. Everybody seems to be coming down with it.”
Zach forked up his last bite of pie. “Sounds like Rust Creek Falls is exactly the place that I want to be.”
* * *
It was almost three in the afternoon when Travis climbed in his Ford F-150 crew cab and went to town.
He drove up and down the streets of Rust Creek Falls with the windows down, waving and calling greetings to people he knew, racking his brain for a likely candidate to play the love of his life on The Great Roundup.
Driving and waving were getting him nowhere. He decided he’d stop in at Daisy’s Donut Shop—just step inside and see if his future fake fiancée might be waiting there, having herself a maple bar and coffee.
He found a spot at the curb in front of Buffalo Bill’s Wings To Go, which was right next door to Daisy’s. As he walked past, he stuck his head in Wings To Go. No prospects there. He went on to the donut shop, but when he peered in the window, he saw only five senior citizens and a young mother with two little ones under five.
Not a potential fiancée in sight.
Trying really hard not to get discouraged, he started to turn back for his truck. But then the door to the adjacent shop opened.
Callie Crawford, a nurse at the local clinic, came out of the beauty parlor. “Thanks, Brenna,” Callie called over her shoulder before letting the door shut. She spotted Travis. “Hey, Travis! I heard about you and that reality show. Exciting stuff.”
“Good to see you, Callie.” He tipped his hat to her. “Final audition is tomorrow night.”
“At the Ace, so I heard. We’re all rooting for you.”
He thanked her and asked her to say hi to her husband, Nate, for him. With a nod and a smile, Callie got in her SUV and drove off.
And that was it. That was when it happened. He watched Callie drive off down the street when it came to him.
Brenna. Brenna O’Reilly.
Good-looking, smart as a whip and raised on a ranch. She’d taken some ribbons barrel racing during the three or four summers she worked the local rodeo circuit. She was bold, too. Stood up for herself and didn’t take any guff.
But he’d always considered himself too old for her. Plus, he kind of thought of himself as a guy who looked out for her. He would never make a move on her.
However, this wouldn’t be a move.
Uh-uh. This would be...an opportunity.
If she was interested and if it was something she could actually handle.
Brenna.
Did he have any other prospects for this?
Hell, no.
He had less than three hours to find someone. At this point, it was pretty much Brenna or bust.
By then, he was already opening the door to the beauty shop. A bell tinkled overhead as he went in.
Brenna was standing right there, behind the reception counter with the cash register on it, facing the door. She looked kind of surprised at the sight of him.
Before either of them could say anything, the owner, Bee, spotted him. “Travis Dalton!” She waved at him with the giant blow-dryer in her left hand. “What do you know? It’s our local celebrity.”
Every woman in the shop turned to stare at him. He took off his hat and put on his best smile. “Not a celebrity yet, Bee. Ladies, how you doing?”
A chorus of greetings followed. He nodded and kept right on smiling.
Bee asked, “What can we do for you, darlin’?”
He thought fast. “The big final audition’s tomorrow night.”
“So we heard.”
“Figured I could maybe use a haircut—just a trim.” He hooked his hat on the rack by the door. “So, Brenna, you available?”
Brenna’s blue eyes met his. “You’re in luck. I’ve got an hour before my next appointment.” She came out from behind the counter, looking smart and sassy in snug jeans, ankle boots and a silky red shirt. Red worked for her. Matched her hair, which used to be a riot of springy curls way back when. Now she wore it straight and smooth, a waterfall of fire to just below her shoulders.
She waited until he’d hung up his denim jacket next to his hat then led him to her station. “Have a seat.”
He dropped into the padded swivel chair and faced his own image in the mirror.
Brenna put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in. He got a whiff of her perfume. Nice. She caught his eye in the mirror and then ran her fingers up into his hair, her touch light, professional. “This looks pretty good.”
It should. He’d paid a lot to a Hollywood stylist right before that first audition two weeks ago. “I was thinking just a trim.”
She stood back, nodding, a dimple tucking into her velvety cheek as she smiled. “Well, all right. You want a shampoo first?”
What he wanted was to talk to her alone. He cast a glance to either side and lowered his voice. “Say, Brenna...”
She knew instantly that he was up to something. He could tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes and the way the bow of her upper lip flattened just a little. And then she leaned in again and whispered, “What’s going on?”
He went for it. “I was wondering if I could talk to you in private.”
Her sleek red-brown eyebrows drew together. “Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
He cast a quick glance around and spotted the hallway that led to the parking area in back. “Outside?”
She folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head to the side. “Sure. Go on out back. I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks.” He got right up and headed for the back door, not even pausing to collect his jacket and hat. It wasn’t that cold out, and he could get them later.
“What’s going on?” Bee asked as he strode past her station.
Brenna answered for him. “Travis and I need to talk.”
Somebody giggled.
Somebody else said, “Oh, I’ll just bet you do.”
Travis kept walking. It was okay with him if everyone at the beauty shop assumed he was finally making a move on Brenna—because he was.
Just not exactly in the way that they thought.
Outside, he looked for a secluded spot and settled on the three-walled nook where Bee stored her Dumpster. It didn’t smell too bad, and the walls would give them privacy.
He heard the back door open again and stuck his head out to watch Brenna emerge. “Psst.”
She spotted him and laughed. “Travis, what is this?”
He waved her forward. “Come on. We don’t have all day.”
For that he got an eye roll, but she did hustle on over to the enclosure. “All right, I’m here. Now what is it?”
He had no idea where to even start. “I...I have a proposal.”
Her eyelashes swept down and then back up again. “Excuse me?”
“This... What I’m about to say. I need your solemn word you won’t tell a soul about any of it, or I’ll get sued for breach of contract. Understand?”
“Not really.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “But okay. I’m game. I won’t tell a soul. You have my sworn word on that.” She hooked her pinkie at him. He gave it a blank look. “Pinkie promise, Trav. You know that is the most solemn of promises and can never be broken.”
“What are we, twelve?”
She made a little snorting sound. “Oh, come on.”
He gave in and hooked his pinkie with hers. “Satisfied?”
“Are you? Because that is the question.” She laughed, a sweet, musical sound, and tightened her pinkie against his briefly before letting go.
“As long as you promise me.”
“Travis. I promise. I will tell no one, no matter what happens. Now what is going on?”
“How’d you like to be on The Great Roundup?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “What? How? You’re making no sense.”
“Just listen, okay? Just give me a chance. I...well, I really thought I had it, you know? I thought I was on the show. But it turns out they want a young couple. A young, engaged couple. And the casting director sort of asked me if there was anyone special back home and I sort of said yes. And then, all of a sudden, they tell me there’s one final audition, that it will be at the Ace and I should bring my fiancée.”
Brenna’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. “You told them you were engaged?”
“No, I didn’t tell them that. They assumed it. And now I need a fake fiancée, okay? I need someone who doesn’t mind putting herself out there, if you know what I mean. Someone who’s not going to be afraid to speak up and hold her head high when the cameras are rolling. Someone good-looking who’s familiar with ranch work, who can ride a horse and handle a rifle.”
Brenna grinned then. “So you think I’m good-looking, huh?”
“Brenna, you’re gorgeous.”
“Travis.” She looked like she was having a really good time. “Say that again.”
Why not? It was only the truth. “Brenna, you are superfine.”
And she threw back her red head and let her laughter chime out. He stood there and watched her and thought how he’d known her since she was knee-high to a gnat. And that she was perfect, just what he needed to make Giselle happy—and earn him his spot on The Great Roundup.
But then she stopped laughing. She lowered her head and she regarded him steadily. “So say that it worked—say I go to the Ace with you tomorrow night and we convince them that we’re together, that we’re going to get married. Then what?”
“Then you belong to them for the next eight to ten weeks. First while they run checks on you and make sure you’re healthy, mentally stable and have never murdered anyone or anything.”
“You’re not serious.”
“As a rattler on a hot rock. And as soon as all that’s over, we start filming. That’s happening at some so far undisclosed Montana location. We’re there until they’re through filming.”
“But what if I get eliminated? Then can I come home?”
He shook his head. “Everyone stays. So they can bring you back on camera if they want to, and also because if you come home early, everyone who knows you will know you’ve been eliminated. They want to keep the suspense going as to who the big winner is until the final show airs. Also, when the filming’s over and you come home, you and I would still be pretending to be engaged.”
“Until?”
“The episodes where we’ve each been eliminated have aired—or the final episode, where one of us wins. The show airs once a week, August through December. Bottom line, you could be my fake fiancée straight through till Christmas.”
She leaned against the wall next to the Dumpster and wrapped her arms around herself. “Wow. I...don’t know what to say.”
He resisted the burning need to promise her that they would win and that she was going to love it. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”
She slanted him a glance. “I’d have to check with Bee, see if she’d hold my station for two months.”
He refused to consider that Bee might say anything but yes. “I get that, sure.”
“And then there’s the money. I heard the winner gets a million dollars.”
“Actually, once you get on the show, there’s a graduated fee scale. The million is the top prize, but everybody gets something.”
She leaned toward him a little, definitely interested. “Graduated how?”
“The first one eliminated gets twenty-five hundred. The longer you stay in the game, the more you get. For instance, if you last through the sixth show, you get ten thousand. And if you’re the last to go before the winner, you get a hundred K.”
She actually chuckled. “Good to know. So, Travis, if we’re in this together, I say we split everything fifty-fifty.”
He’d figured on giving her something, but he’d been kind of hoping she’d settle for much less. After all, he had big plans for his new house, for the ranch. He cleared his throat. “Would you take twenty percent?”
“Travis,” she chided.
“Thirty?” he asked hopefully.
“Look at it this way. If they like me and want me on the show, you double your chances to win. Not to mention, the longer we both stay on, the more we both make.” She spoke way too patiently. He found himself wistfully recalling the little girl she’d once been, the little girl who’d considered him her own personal hero and would have done anything he asked her to do, instantly, without question. Where had that little girl gone?
“True, but I’m your ticket in,” he reminded her. “I’m the one who worked my ass off getting this far, you know?”
“I see that. And I admire that. I sincerely do. But without me, you won’t make the cast.”
She was probably right. He argued, anyway. “I’m not sure of that.”
Brenna was silent, leaning there against the wall, her head tipped down. The seconds ticked by. He waited, trying to look easy and unconcerned, playing it like he didn’t have a care in the world. Too bad that inside he was a nervous wreck.
Finally, she looked up and spoke again. “I’m trying not to be so impulsive in my life, to settle down a little, you know what I mean?”
Their eyes met and they gazed at each other for a long count of ten. “Bren. I know exactly what you mean.”
She gave a chuckle, sweet and low. “I kind of thought that you might. The thing is, playing your fake fiancée on a reality show is not exactly what I would call settling down. And what are the odds against us, anyway? How many will end up competing with us?”
“I think there are twenty-two contestants total, so it’s you and me and twenty others.”
“Meaning that however we split the money, odds are someone else will take home the big prize.”
He pushed off the wall, took her by the shoulders and looked deeply into those ocean-blue eyes. “First rule. Never, ever say we might not win. We will win. Half the battle is the mental game. Defeat is not an option. Winning is the only acceptable outcome.”
She got it, she really did. He could feel it in the sudden straightening of her shoulders beneath his hands, see it in the bright gleam that lit those wide eyes. “Yeah. You’re right. We will win.”
“That’s it. Hold that thought.” He let go of her shoulders but held her gaze.
She said, “We really would be increasing our chances, the two of us together. Together, we can work out strategies, you know? We can plan how to handle whatever they throw at us.”
“Exactly. We would have each other’s backs. So what do you say, Bren?”
“I still want half the money.” A gust of wind slipped into the three-sided enclosure and stirred her hair, blowing a few fiery strands across her mouth.
He smoothed them out of the way, guiding them behind her ear, thinking how soft her pale skin was and marveling at how she’d grown up to be downright hot. It was a good thing he’d always promised himself he’d never make a move on her. Add that promise to the fact that he’d sworn off women and he should be able to keep from getting any romantic ideas about her.
“Travis?” She searched his face. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“I heard.” He ordered his mind off her inconvenient hotness and set it on coming up with more reasons she should take less than half the prize.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a single one.
So all right, then. His new house and his investment in the ranch would be smaller. But his chances of winning had just doubled—more than doubled. Because Brenna was a fighter, and together they would go all the way to the win.
“Fair enough, Bren. Fifty-fifty, you and me.” He held up his hand.
She slapped a high five on it. “I’ll be right back.”
He caught her before she could get away. “There’s more we need to talk about.”
“Not until I get the okay from Bee, we don’t.” She glanced down at his fingers wrapped around her upper arm.
He let go. “What will you say to her?”
“That I might have a chance on The Great Roundup, but to try for it, I need to know that she’ll let me have my booth back on August 1.”
“Good. That’s good. Don’t mention the engagement yet. We still need to decide how to handle that.”
She let out another sweet, happy laugh—and then mimed locking her mouth and tossing away the key. “My lips are sealed,” she whispered, then whirled on her heel and headed for the back door.
Five endless minutes later, she returned.
“Well?” he asked, his heart pounding a worried rhythm beneath his ribs.
Her smile burst wide open. “Bee wished us luck.”
“And?”
“Yes, she’ll hold my booth for me.”
He almost grabbed her and hugged her, but caught himself in time. “Excellent.”
“Yeah—and is there some reason we need to hang around out here? Let’s go in. I’ll give you that trim you pretended you needed.”
He heard a scratching sound, boots crunching gravel. “What’s that?”
He signaled for silence and stuck his head out of the enclosure in time to see the back of crazy old Homer Gilmore as he scuttled away across the parking lot toward the community center on Main, the next street over.
Brenna stuck her head out, too. “It’s just Homer.”
They retreated together back into the enclosure. He asked, “You think he heard us?”
She was completely unconcerned. “Even if he did, Homer’s not going to say anything.”
“And you know this how?”
“He’s a little odd, but he minds his own business.”
“A little odd? He’s the one who spiked the punch with moonshine at Braden and Jennifer’s wedding two years ago.”
“So?” The wind stirred her hair again. She combed it back off her forehead with her fingers. “He never gossips or carries tales. To tell you the truth, I trust him.”
“Because...?”
“It’s just, well, I don’t know. I have this feeling that he looks out for me, like a guardian angel or a fairy godmother.”
Travis couldn’t help scoffing, “One who just happens to be a peculiar old homeless man.”
“He’s not homeless. People just assume he is. He’s got a shack on Falls Mountain he stays in.”
“Who told you that?”
“He did. And he’s not going to say anything. I guarantee it. Now, let’s go in and—”
Travis put up a hand. “Just a minute. A couple more things. Starting tomorrow night, we’re madly in love. You’ll need to convince a bunch of LA TV people that I’m the only guy for you.”
“Well, that’s a lot to ask,” she teased. “But I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll need to make everyone in town believe it, too—including your family. They all have to think we’re for real.”
“Trav, I can do it.” She was all determination now. “You can count on me.”
“That’s what I needed to hear.”
“Then, can we go in?”
“There’s one more thing...”
“What?”
“It’s important tomorrow night that you be on. You need to show them your most outgoing self. Sell your own personality.” When she nodded up at him, he went on, “I did a lot of research on reality shows before I went into this. What I learned is that the show is a story, Bren. A story told in weekly episodes. And a good story is all about big personalities, characters you can’t forget, over-the-top emotions. What I’m saying is, you can’t be shy. It’s better to embarrass yourself than to be all bottled up and boring. Are you hearing what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I am. And let me ask you something. When have you ever known me to be boring?”
Her various escapades over the years scrolled through his mind. At the age of nine, she’d gotten mad at her mom and run away. She got all the way to Portland, Oregon, before they caught up with her. At twelve, she’d coldcocked one of the Peabody boys when she caught him picking on a younger kid. Peabody hit the ground hard. It took thirty stitches to sew him back up. At sixteen, she’d rolled her pickup over a cliff because she never could resist a challenge and Leonie Parker had dared her to race up Falls Mountain. Only the good Lord knew how she’d survived that crash without major injury.
The more Travis thought of all the crazy things she’d done, the more certain he became that Brenna O’Reilly would have no problem selling herself to Giselle and the rest of them. “All right. I hear you.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m a lot of things, Travis Dalton. But I am never shy or boring.”
* * *
The next night, Real Deal Entertainment had assigned Gerry to drive the finalists to the Ace in the Hole.
All except for Travis. They let him make a quick trip to Kalispell in the afternoon and then, in the evening, he drove his F-150 out to the O’Reilly place to pick up his supposed fiancée.
Brenna’s mom answered his knock. Travis had always liked Maureen O’Reilly. She loved her life on the family ranch, and her kitchen was the heart of her home. She’d always treated Travis with warmth and affection.
Tonight, however? Not so much. When he swept off his hat and gave her a big smile, she didn’t smile back.
“Hello, Travis.” Maureen pulled back the door and then hustled him into the living room, where she offered him a seat on the sofa. “Brenna will be right down.”
“Great. Thanks.”
She leaned toward him a little and asked in a low voice, “Travis, I need you to be honest with me. What’s going on here?”
Before he left Brenna at the beauty shop yesterday, they’d agreed on how to handle things with her parents and his. Right now, Maureen needed to know that there was something going on between him and her middle daughter. The news of their engagement, however, would come a little bit later. “Brenna and I have a whole lot in common. She’s agreed to come out to the audition at the Ace with me tonight.”
“What does that mean, ‘a whole lot in common’?”
“I care for her. I care for her deeply.” It was surprisingly easy to say. Probably because it was true. He did care for Brenna. Always had. “She’s one of a kind. There’s no other girl like her.”
Maureen scowled. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she got a word out, her husband, Paddy, appeared in the archway that led to the kitchen.
“Travis. How you doin’?”
“Great, Paddy.” He popped to his feet, and he and Paddy shook hands. “Real good to see you.”
“Heard about you and that reality show.”
“Final audition is tonight.”
“Well, good luck to you, son.”
Maureen started to speak again, but Brenna’s arrival cut her off. “It’s show business, Dad,” she scolded with a playful smile. “In show business, you say ‘break a leg.’”
Travis tried not to stare as she came down the stairs wearing dark-wash jeans that hugged her strong legs and a sleeveless lace-trimmed purple top that clung to every curve. Damn, she was fine. Purple suede dress boots and a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat completed the perfect picture she made.
Again, Travis reminded himself that she was spunky little Brenna O’Reilly and this so-called relationship they were going to have when they got on the show was just that—all show. Brenna didn’t need to be messing with a troublesome cowboy like him.
And he knew very well that Maureen thought so, too.
Still, he could almost start having real ideas about Brenna and him and what they might get up to together pretending to be engaged during The Great Roundup.
Brenna kissed her mom on the cheek and then her dad, too. She handed Travis her rhinestone-trimmed jean jacket and he helped her into it.
They managed to get out the door and into the pickup without Maureen asking any more uncomfortable questions.
“It’s time,” she said in a low and angry tone as he turned off the dirt road from the ranch and onto the highway heading toward town. “Scratch that. It’s past time I got my own place.” Rentals in Rust Creek Falls were hard to come by. A lot of young women like Brenna lived with their parents until they got married or finally scraped together enough to buy something of their own. “Bee offered me her apartment over the beauty shop. She’s been living in Kalispell, anyway, with her new guy. So when we win The Great Roundup, I’m moving. I love my mom, but she’s driving me crazy.”
“When we win. That’s the spirit.” As for Maureen, he played the diplomat. “Your mom’s a wonderful woman.”
Brenna shook her head and stared out the window. He almost asked her exactly what Maureen might have said to upset her—but then again, it was probably about him and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Travis wanted to give Brenna a little more coaching on how to become a reality TV star, but the closer they got to town, the more withdrawn she seemed. He started to worry that something was really bothering her—something more than annoyance with her mom. And he had no idea what to say to ease whatever weighed on her mind.
The parking lot at the Ace was full. Music poured out of the ramshackle wooden building at the front of the lot. They were playing a fast one, something with a driving beat. Travis drove up and down the rows of parked vehicles, looking for a free space. Finally, in the last row at the very back of the lot, he found one.
He pulled in and turned off the engine. “You okay, Brenna?”
She aimed a blinding smile at him. “Great. Let’s get going.” Shoving open her door, she got out.
So he jumped out on his side and hustled around to her. He offered his hand. She gave him the strangest wild-eyed sort of look, but then she took it. Hers was ice-cold. He laced their fingers together and considered pulling her back, demanding to know if she was all right.
“Let’s do this.” She started walking, head high, that red hair shining down her back, rhinestones glittering on her hat, along the cuffs, hem and collar of her pretty denim jacket.
He fell in step with her, though he had a scary premonition they were headed straight for disaster. She seemed completely determined to go forward. He was afraid to slow her down, afraid that would finish her somehow, that calling a halt until she told him what was wrong would only make her turn and run. Their chance on The Great Roundup would be lost before they even got inside to try for it.
They went around to the front of the building and up the wooden steps. A couple of cowboys came out and held the door for them. Both men looked at Brenna with interest, and Travis felt a buzz of irritation under his skin. He gave them each a warning glare. The men tipped their hats and kept on walking.
Inside, it was loud and wall-to-wall with partiers. Travis had never seen the Ace this packed. He spotted a couple of cameramen filming the crowd. Over by the bar, he caught sight of old Wally Wilson, a fellow finalist who’d grown up on the Oklahoma prairie and ridden the rodeos all over the West. Wally was talking the ear off one of the bartenders. And another finalist, that platinum blonde rodeo star, Summer Knight, was surrounded by cowboys. He knew it was her by the shine of her almost-white hair and that sexy laugh of hers.
“Come on.” He pulled Brenna in closer so she could hear him. “We’ll find the casting director, Giselle. I’ll introduce you.”
She blinked and stared at him through those now-enormous eyes. What was going on with her?
She looked terrified and he had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
Brenna was terrified.
She was totally freaking out. Brenna never freaked out.
And that freaked her out even more.
She’d been so sure she knew how to handle herself. She did know how to handle herself. She was bold. Fearless. Nothing scared her. Ever.
Except this, the Ace packed to bursting, the music so loud. All these people pressing in around her, a casting director waiting to meet her.
And Travis.
Travis, who was counting on her to win them both a spot on The Great Roundup.
Dear Lord, she didn’t want to blow this. She would never forgive herself if she let Travis down.
“There’s Giselle.” Travis waved at a tall, model-skinny woman on the other side of the room. The woman lifted a hand and signaled them to join her. “This way.” His fingers still laced with hers, he started working his way through the crowd, leading her toward the tall woman with cheekbones so sharp they threatened to poke right through her skin.
“Wait.” Brenna dug in her boot heels.
He stopped and turned back to her, a worried frown between his eyebrows. “Bren?” He said her name softly, gently. He knew she was losing it. “What? Tell me.”
She blasted a smile at him and forced a brittle laugh. “Can you just give me a minute?” She tipped her head toward the hallway that led to the ladies’ room. “I’ll be right back.” She tugged free of his grip.
“Brenna—”
“I need to check my lip gloss.”
“But—”
“Right back.” She sent him a quick wave over her shoulder and made for the hallway, scattering Excuse mes as she went, weaving her way as fast as she could through the tight knots of people, ignoring anyone who spoke to her or glanced her way.
When she reached the hallway, she kept on going, her eyes on the glowing green exit sign down at the end. She got to the ladies’ room and she didn’t even slow down. She just kept right on walking down to the end of the hall.
And out the back door.
