Nuptials in Nevada: An At the Altar Story

by Barton, Keira K.

  Her mind was racing. She was dreaming about, and simultaneously dreading, the new life she would run to—away from all of this. Luckily, she was a master at putting on a pretty smile and faking her way through almost any situation. She was an actress, after all. The crowd was still on their feet when she turned to wave at them, feigning nonchalance.

  When the crowd started to settle, Scarlett turned to take the chair Dr. Simpson had been sitting in, and she felt the doctor’s gaze on her as she sat. She looked up and met her eyes, smiling politely. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, but being closer to the woman just helped to solidify Scarlett’s decision to trust her. The doctor’s kind eyes always seemed to be smiling, and Scarlett’s heart felt full to almost bursting knowing how big of a role this woman was about to play in her life. The pure adventure of it all enchanted Scarlett, and in such a short amount of time. It’s destiny, she thought.

  “So, Scarlett, I heard you just wrapped up filming for the final season of Thrones of the Kingdom. What’s next for our favorite medieval actress? Are there more roles with long braids and swords in your future?” Timmy’s light-hearted tone seemed to bounce around in her ears, and her thoughts about fate and her unknown future fluttered away.

  How am I supposed to answer this now?

  * * *

  The interview with Timmy Callen had been just as painful as Scarlett had anticipated, but she had faked her way through it the way she always did. The only good thing about the whole day was the fact that she had slipped her note into Dr. Simpson’s hand before they had escorted the woman off the stage for yelling, “I need to say hi to my dog, Margarita, my son, Tyson, and my snookums and snuggle bunny, Sam! I’m on TV!” Scarlett smiled as she remembered the woman’s enthusiastic waving at the cameras. Apparently, she didn’t realize they’d be editing the footage before it aired.

  Scarlett had to admit, the doctor’s innocence and naivety about how the entertainment industry worked was amusing, but it also deepened Scarlett’s trust in her. She hated being treated like a super star, and really, she wasn’t. She was a B-list celebrity at best, and she didn’t understand why everyone wanted to know so much about her personal life. The world would be such a better place if people would stop obsessing about the characters she portrayed on screen.

  The most grueling thing about sitting in that chair for almost an hour wasn’t the attention, although she did despise it. No, the worst part about the whole experience was the feeling of losing herself again. When she was a child, she had refused to act because she was shy, but as she grew older, she saw the potential of an acting career, and all she could hear were the voices telling her to do it. She slowly lost herself in those years—her goals and desires becoming only a reflection of what she was told she should want by her parents, her agent, and her friends.

  Scarlett’s stomach turned as she thought about all the years she had spent sinking in a sea of success. The fame and the money had been like an anchor weighing her down, and the deeper she sank, the less she recognized herself. Everyone in her life had been so happy for her, but all she’d felt was desolation.

  Over the past few years, she’d cut out the people in her life who had been exploiting her—well, everyone but her agent, and that was about to change. Although cutting people off had caused her to be more isolated, the void she’d felt inside had begun to fill. It still haunted her, especially when she was home alone, but she had clawed her way out of the hole she’d been in, and was ready to climb the mountain to the other side. She hoped Dr. Simpson would prove to be the shortcut she hoped for, and not another hollow dream.

  It was as if Scarlett’s thoughts had beckoned the woman because at that very moment, she heard a knock at her door. At least Scarlett hoped it was her. What if she decides not to come? Scarlett pushed the thought away. The doctor was running a business—she wouldn’t just ignore a request for help.

  “Hi there, darling!” Dr. Simpson pushed through the door before Scarlett even had a chance to open it all the way and threw her arms around Scarlett’s shoulders.

  “Oh, uh—hi, Dr. Simpson,” Scarlett said, patting the woman’s back lightly and trying to mask her own surprise. No one had ever hugged her so suddenly. The woman smelled of lilacs and body powder, and although it wasn’t a combination of smells that was familiar to Scarlett, it was oddly comforting.

  “Oh, call me Dr. Lachele, please!” she insisted as she released Scarlett from her embrace. “I’m just so excited that you want to join the Matchrimony family!” She clapped her hands together loudly, and Scarlett jumped a little. The woman was larger than life, and not someone Scarlett would normally choose to involve herself with. But she found that she already loved her for some reason, and she couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on her lips.

  “Okay. Well, then, thank you for the hug, Dr. Lachele. I’m so glad you were willing to come and talk after the show. I was afraid I would chicken out and never call you if I didn’t give you that note and take action now.” The nervousness Scarlett had felt earlier when she’d made her impulsive decision about Matchrimony started to creep up, but she shoved it down.

  “First of all, it’s not a hug. It’s a boobie bump!” Lachele said emphatically.

  Scarlett let out a giggle.

  “And secondly, I’m honored that a celebrity such as yourself would be interested in my help. I’m sure you could have any man you want. You’re a stunner!” Dr. Lachele’s smile eased Scarlett’s nerves.

  It’s impossible to feel uncomfortable around this woman! She couldn’t help but chuckle again before saying, “You must know it’s not always that easy.”

  “I know, I know, but you’d think at least one of the many men who have surely fallen at your feet could get their act together and make you happy!” She winked at Scarlett, but with some difficulty, again eliciting a chuckle from Scarlett, who hadn’t been this entertained by anyone in years, or hadn’t allowed herself to be.

  “You’d think. So, how does this work? What’s the first step?” Scarlett was eager to get started. The sooner she could be out of LA, the better.

  “Well, the first step is to go through my vetting process. Then, once I quantify the results, I can start looking for your match. If I don’t already have a client I feel would be a good match for you, we wait. However, if there is someone on my roster I feel would be your perfect match, the wedding could be very soon.” Dr. Lachele’s playful tone had turned more serious, but the soothing quality of her voice remained.

  “How soon?” Scarlett was asking out of anticipation more than concern, but she was sure the doctor’s answer would determine if that remained to be the case.

  “If the man for you is already on my roster, that means I have interviewed, tested, and scored him already. So to answer your question, anywhere from two weeks to a month. It depends on both of your schedules and when we can book a wedding venue, but it really can be very soon.”

  Scarlett thought the answer would fill her with dread, but was surprised at the hope that rushed in, and how light that hope made her feel. She’d never had the courage to plan such a drastic life-altering course of action, and now that it was underway, the freedom she saw so close buoyed her up from all the years she had spent feeling shackled to her name and her fame.

  Two

  The beast underneath Beau Lawrence’s legs was trembling, and it definitely wasn’t from fear. It was anger. He could almost feel its urge to rid itself of his weight—the unwanted passenger, the unwelcome guest. His heart was beating a million times a minute, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The rush never got old.

  Everything around him sounded like one steady buzz. Moments ago, he’d heard the announcer, the crowd. But now, all he heard was his steady breathing, and the whooshing breaths of the bull beneath him. He felt the good-luck slaps on his back from the guys who had helped him get ready for his ride, but he didn’t hear their words. He had tuned everything out.

  He opened and closed the fist that was g
ripping the bull rope, his only true anchor to this animal. His lucky riding gloves were worn in just right, and everything about the night felt perfect. He was going to last eight seconds—he could feel it.

  The buzzer seemed louder than normal, like it was right above his head, and as it sounded, he heard the click of a latch. The angry bull spun out of the gate and kept spinning as it jumped and bucked. Beau cursed under his breath and his free hand whipped around like crazy—trying to keep his balance and keep from touching the bull took all his focus. The last thing he needed on this ride was a deduction for something stupid.

  Each rider had drawn the name of a bull to determine which animal they would ride tonight, and as soon as he’d read Tornado, he’d known that if he could stay on, he’d get the highest score of all. And the way this ride was going, it was no wonder. This was the toughest ride he’d had all year, but he’d never felt more prepared. His legs clenched the sides of the beast and his hand felt quite near like it was being cut off by the rope, but he gritted his teeth and held on. He’d go down, that was for sure, but not until that buzzer sounded again, marking an eight-second ride.

  It felt as if he had been on the bull for an eternity, but from years of experience, he knew that it had probably been closer to six seconds, and the remaining two were the hardest. His muscles ached, and everything inside him told his brain to start planning his dismount strategy, but he knew as soon as he took his focus off staying on, he’d fall. Just wait, he told himself. Just wait.

  The world felt slower on the back of a bull, but the moment the buzzer sounded, it was like everything started to happen at normal speed again, and it happened all at once. The crowd was going crazy, and the roar of their cheers seemed to match the roar in his chest. Some people said they felt butterflies when they were nervous, but in Beau’s case, at least on a bull, it felt more like angry lions. His free hand flew to the bull rope. He yanked out the hand he was gripping it with, then lunged to his right. He’d noticed during his ride that Tornado only spun one direction, and that was to his left. Hopefully, the bull kept up that pattern or he’d get trampled when he hit the ground.

  Beau landed feet first, but he couldn’t stick the landing and fell onto his hands and knees. He scrambled farther to the right, trying to get back on his feet as quickly as possible. His legs felt weak from the strain they’d just endured squeezing that bucking bull, and his steps were wobbly on the uneven dirt in the arena. Still, he pushed himself with all the grit he had left to get away. He knew the bullfighters would be coming in, trying to get the animal’s attention away from him, but in this game, your life was at the mercy of the bull until you crawled over that fence.

  His hands crashed against the gate, and the metal vibrated under his grip as he hoisted himself up and over the top. Sucking in breath like only someone who had just run for their life could, he leaned his back against the gate and let himself slide down until the back pockets of his Wranglers were firmly on the ground. He was safe. He removed his helmet and set it down next to him, then unzipped his vest. His chest heaved once the pressure of it was released, and his breaths deepened.

  What a ride. He couldn’t help but smile. It had been exactly what he’d hoped for. The Fourth of July rodeo in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, was no picnic, but he was pretty sure he’d just won it all. He pushed his fingers through his sweaty hair. Luckily, he’d been one of the last riders. Once the next couple of cowboys finished, he wouldn’t have to wait long to know exactly where he’d end up in the standings for the night. His heart leaped up to his throat thinking about scores—they hadn’t announced his yet.

  Maybe you didn’t do as well as you think, hotshot. His dad’s voice flitted through his mind, and he smirked. Even though his dad wasn’t always around to watch his rides anymore, Beau felt his presence during every single one. A pang of regret shot through his belly as Beau remembered the last time his dad had come to watch him. It hadn’t ended well.

  A few minutes later, the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off, and his backside was aching from sitting in the dirt, but he wouldn’t move until they announced his score. He’d had the same ritual of sitting on the opposite side of the fence until his score was announced ever since his very first ride almost fifteen years ago, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

  Beau closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the gate. A second later, the announcer’s voice came through the speaker. “And the score for Beau Lawrence, who just finished his ride on Tornado—one of the toughest bulls in the business—is an even ninety! Let’s hear it for Beau Lawrence! Show him some love, people. That was one heck of a ride.”

  The announcer’s voice was drowned out by the thundering cheers of the people in the stands. Whoops and hollers filled his ears, but his heart didn’t soar like it had when that buzzer went off. Beau cared about riding a full eight, and getting a score—hopefully a good one—but not the applause.

  He pressed his lips into a hard line and stood without turning to look at the raucous crowd. With his helmet in his arms, he walked to his trailer. He didn’t need to watch the last riders. With the bulls those poor guys had drawn, there was no way they were coming close to his ninety. There was no need to be mauled by the crowds when the event was over. If he went to his trailer now, he could avoid at least some of the people who would come searching for his autograph.

  Gravel crunched under his boots, the sound almost like a familiar song to him after all these years. A giant wave of relief washed over him when he walked around a trailer and saw that no one was standing by his. He was too exhausted to be cordial to fans tonight—unless they were kids. He had a soft spot for boys who dreamed of being bull riders someday.

  He reached under the metal pull-out stairs and removed the magnetic hide-a-key box that was stuck there. When he opened the door to his trailer, the darkness that welcomed him seemed to mimic what he felt inside.

  The road was lonely lately. When he was younger, he’d had siblings at home, and his parents had dragged them to almost all of his rodeos, but as they got older and started families, they came less and less. He didn’t want to think about why his parents didn’t come anymore, but he couldn’t stop the memory of the fight he’d had with his dad two years ago from replaying in his head.

  He swore and finally willed it away, but the pain in his chest didn’t ease. His dad had only been trying to comfort him after a bad ride, but Beau was a different guy back then—he was selfish and hardheaded, with a temper that blazed just under the surface, ready to scorch anyone who said the wrong thing to him at any time. He’d blown up at his dad that day, and things had never really been the same since.

  He only had a few minutes to wash his hands and face before he would have to return to the arena and accept his prize in front of the crowd. His stomach churned. He’d been lucky to avoid people after his ride, but he knew he wouldn’t escape unscathed from the award ceremony. A shudder ran down his back as he thought of the pretty girls who would hold his hand for just a second too long after shaking it, their eyes tracing over him like a trophy.

  He was drying his face on a towel in the cramped bathroom, trying to shove aside the images of his early career that had flooded his mind, when he heard a knock at his door.

  “Coming.” His voice sounded more harsh than he’d meant, but his nerves were on edge. They always were at bigger rodeos like this one. There were far too many people around for him to relax.

  The door creaked as he swung it open to reveal Josh, his only remaining friend from the very beginning, standing just beyond the steps.

  “You coming, man? They’re about to announce you!” A huge grin spread across his friend’s face, and even in the low light, that smile couldn’t be dimmed. Josh’s tone was always upbeat, but he seemed genuinely ecstatic tonight. It was a big win.

  “Yeah, I was just washing up a little bit. I was about to walk over.” Beau ran his hands through his hair and grabbed his black cowboy hat off a hook by the door, pu
shing it onto his head as he descended the two small steps of his trailer.

  “Well, you’d better run, not walk. They’ll be announcing you any second.” Josh was clearly excited, and for a moment, Beau wished he could feel like that about winning again. He wondered how much trouble he’d get in from the rodeo commission if he skipped out on accepting his award. The prospect of getting out of there without having to talk to anyone definitely tempted him, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll hurry, then.” Beau quickly locked his trailer door, and this time he pocketed the small silver key. He wouldn’t be at such a risk of losing it now. No more bulls to ride tonight.

  The two men ran toward the announcer stand and arrived in the nick of time. Beau only paused for a moment before walking out into the arena as they announced his name. Champion, again. Another buckle, another check. Winning had never felt so hollow, but it was how he made his living, and he wasn’t about to stop because winning didn’t feel so shiny anymore.

  He was a great bull rider. He had a truck and a house and his own piece of land that testified to that. But as they handed him the envelope with his check, he wondered if it would ever fulfill him as it once had. When he lifted his hat off his head to wave it at all the people who stood and cheered to congratulate him, he felt more vulnerable than ever. He shot one camera-worthy smile at the crowd, then lowered his head and put his hat back on as quickly as possible. Time to get out of here.

  Josh was leaning on the gate where Beau had entered the arena when he turned around to head back to his trailer. Dread pooled like lead in his belly as he watched people flock to the entrance. Josh noticed them too, and a sick smile spread across his face. He knew Beau would hate this, and Josh reveled in watching him squirm.

  “Let’s go now.” Beau told Josh under his breath.

  The laughter that came from Josh made Beau want to sock him right in the gut. This guy—why do I let him hang around again? Although, he had to admit, just hearing Josh’s laugh helped ease the tension that had been pinched in his shoulders since he’d walked back out of his trailer a few minutes ago.