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.
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.
The Maverick Fakes a Bride! Page 4
