The Maverick Fakes a Bride!

by Christine Rimmer

  “Oh, Brenna,” her mother cried and grabbed the hand Brenna had just used to push her hair back. Maureen made a strangled sound as she gaped at the ring Travis had slipped on her finger last night. “It’s...beautiful.” Maureen’s voice trembled, threatening tears.

  Brenna gently pulled her hand free. “Mom,” she said softly. She started to reach for a hug.

  But Maureen nipped that impulse in the bud. “Travis?” she demanded. “Honestly? I mean, I know he’s handsome and charming and all the girls love him. I know you’ve had a crush on him since you were practically in diapers, but...Travis?”

  Brenna felt annoyance rise again. She straightened and folded her arms across the extra large Bushwacker T-shirt she wore for a nightgown. “You don’t have to say his name like that. It’s just rude.”

  “Rude? You’re engaged to Travis Dalton out of the blue and I’m being rude? This is so...” Maureen ran out of words, but then quickly regrouped. “This is everything you’ve been saying you weren’t going to do anymore. It’s impulsive and crazy and—Oh, Brenna. You promised. After Juárez, you said you’d learned your lesson at last.”

  Juárez. Brenna felt a stab of shame, though what had happened there wasn’t really her fault. Still, Juárez had been awful, and her dad had had to come and bail her out of jail. After Juárez, she really had been trying to keep a lid on her natural propensity to end up in situations that some might call risky.

  But this wasn’t risky. This was actually about settling down, about owning her own business and getting her own place. And no way was she letting it slip through her fingers.

  Her mother wasn’t finished. “What about working hard and keeping both feet on the ground? What about learning to look before you leap? Travis Dalton is a great guy and I’m very fond of him, you know that. Who wouldn’t be? But we both know he’s not a settling-down kind of man.”

  “Mom. I love you,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ve made some mistakes and I admit that I have. But I’m also twenty-six years old and perfectly capable of making my own decisions about how to run my life.”

  Her mother opened her mouth to argue some more—but then her dad called up the stairs, “Maureen, Brenna! Travis is here.”

  Brenna stiffened. How much had the men heard—and had poor Trav slept outside in his truck, after all?

  Maureen shut her mouth over whatever she had been going to say. And then she called down, “We’re coming!”

  Brenna yanked on a pair of jeans and followed her mother down to the front hall.

  Her dad must have come in from doing his morning chores. In stocking feet, he stood by the door with Travis, who wore the same clothes he’d had on last night. Both men looked really uncomfortable. Yep. No doubt about it. They’d heard what had been said upstairs.

  Brenna went right to Travis. Why shouldn’t she? They were supposed to be engaged, after all. He put his arm around her. She leaned into his warmth and strength and liked being there probably more than she should have. “You didn’t go back to the Manor, did you?” she chided.

  He kissed the end of her nose. She loved that—even if the gesture did cause her mother to suck in a sharp breath. “I drove around the first bend in the driveway and waited for you to go in,” he confessed.

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I wanted to be here. And I think it’s a good thing I stayed.” He squeezed her shoulder, pulling her even tighter into the circle of his arm. And then he faced her parents. “Maureen, Paddy, I guess you’ve already figured out that Brenna has made me the happiest man alive and agreed to be my wife. I realize this might seem a little sudden, but—”

  “A little sudden?” Maureen sniffed.

  Travis didn’t miss a beat. “I love your daughter and I hope you will see it in your hearts to wish us well.” Dear Lord, the man was good. He should have been an actor, no doubt about it.

  Her dad, always an easier sell than her mother, gave a slow nod. “Well, now.” He hooked his arm around her mom. “It’s never too early in the morning for good news, right, darlin’?”

  “Oh, Paddy.” Her mother elbowed him gently in the side. She let out a tired-sounding sigh. “Let’s all go on in the kitchen. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.”

  “Good idea,” said her dad. With a hard huff of a sigh, her mom left them. That was when Paddy took a step forward and offered Travis his hand. They shook. “You be good to my girl, now.”

  “I will, sir. You have my word on it.”

  Her dad held out his arms. Brenna went into them, feeling dewy eyed and grateful to both of her parents. Her mom could drive her crazy, but there’d never been any shortage of love in the O’Reilly house. “You be happy,” Paddy whispered in her ear. “You hear me?”

  “I love you, Dad. So much.” She hugged him back, good and tight.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later the four of them sat around the old kitchen table, each with a comforting mug of morning coffee to sip. Too soon, her older sister, Fiona, would be coming downstairs and her brothers, Ronan and Keegan, would appear from the barn, ready for breakfast.

  Brenna wanted to tell her parents her other news before her siblings joined them. Travis must have been thinking the same thing, because when she glanced his way, he threw her an opening.

  “I suppose you’ve both heard that I’ve made the finals in the national auditions for The Great Roundup...”

  Brenna’s mom looked a little pinched around the mouth. “Lately it seems like that show is all anybody in town ever talks about.”

  “Everyone’s excited about it,” said her dad.

  If only Fallon were there. Brenna missed her younger sister desperately right then. Fallon had always understood her, was always on her side. But just a week before, Fallon had married the love of her life, Jamie Stockton. Fallon, Jamie and his adorable triplet toddlers were all off in Florida on a Disney World honeymoon.

  Travis kept sending her questioning looks, waiting for her to either share her news or signal that she wanted him to do it. He was being much too wonderful, but she needed to step up and deal.

  She drew a deep breath. “Mom. Dad. We have something else we, um, can’t wait to tell you.” She tried to inject excitement into her voice, but somehow it came out sounding squeaky and scared.

  And why shouldn’t she be scared? Running off for weeks to do The Great Roundup was every bit as wild and outrageous a plan as suddenly getting engaged to Travis. It fell squarely into the Brenna Does More Crazy Things category.

  Her mother would not be thrilled.

  A frown creased Maureen’s brow. “What now?”

  Brenna made herself say it. “It just so happens I’m a finalist to be on The Great Roundup, too.”

  Her mother sat very still. She did not say a word. Her dad knocked back a big gulp of coffee.

  Swiftly, eager to get it over with now, Brenna told them what had happened at the Ace in the Hole the night before—that not only had Travis proposed, the casting director had said Brenna would be perfect for the show. “And so I’m moving to Maverick Manor for the next week or two. There will be more interviews before I find out for certain if I’ve made the final cast list.”

  “B-but what about your job?” her mom sputtered.

  “Bee says she’ll hold my booth for me.”

  “But this is just crazy.” Maureen had more questions. A thousand of them.

  Brenna answered them patiently.

  Until her mom finally just gave up. “You’ll do what you want to do. You always have.” Wearily, as though she bore the weight of the world on her shoulders, Maureen pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s get the breakfast started. You’ll at least have a last home-cooked meal before you run off with Travis to be on TV.”

  * * *

  At a little after eight, way ahead of
schedule, Brenna’s suitcases were packed and stowed in Travis’s truck. Her older sister and brothers had all wished her well and she and Travis were on the road, headed for a stop at the Dalton Ranch before surrendering to the watchful custody of Giselle and crew.

  “You’re way too quiet.” Travis glanced over at her.

  She put on a wobbly smile for him. “It’s my mother. I love her so much, but there’s just not enough room in that house for the both of us. I need my own place.”

  “And you’ll get it when we win The Great Roundup.” He took her hand, tugged it across the console and pressed his lips to the back of it. She didn’t pull away. So what if no one was watching? His lips were so warm and his short beard felt silky, but a little scratchy, too. He made everything better, always had. He said, “All things considered, I thought it went well.”

  Shaking her head, she took her hand back. “You always did look on the bright side.”

  “That’s me. Chock-full of happy thoughts.”

  She admired the ring he’d given her. How could she help it? “I know you spent way too much on this ring.”

  “You’re worth it.”

  “I give up.” She let her head fall against the seat back. “There’s just no wrecking your positive attitude.”

  He laughed, a deep, manly sound that sent a sweet little shiver dancing all through her. “Come on. Your eyes are sparkling as bright as that ring you’re wearing. You know as well I do that what we’re doing...well, it’s who we are. We’re the ones who take the dares, the ones who go for the gold ring against all the odds. This is what we were born to do. And your mom? No matter how much she begs you to be someone you’re not, she loves you for your guts and your gumption. Don’t you doubt for a minute that she loves how you shine.”

  Brenna’s throat clutched at his words. “Trav. That was beautiful.”

  “It’s only the truth.” He turned the truck into the long driveway that led to his parents’ house. “Now brace yourself. We’ll deal with my family and then we’ll head for Maverick Manor, where the room service is 24/7 and all the mattresses have pillow tops. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to sneak in a nap before Giselle comes knocking, ready to make you a star.”

  * * *

  The visit with Ben and Mary Dalton went pretty well. If Travis’s parents had their doubts about this engagement, they also had the grace to keep it to themselves. There were hugs and well-wishing all around.

  Ben said, “Proud of you, son.”

  Mary warned, “You’d better treat this sweet girl right.”

  Travis wrapped his arm around Brenna, pressed a kiss to her temple and promised that he would.

  * * *

  At Maverick Manor, Gerry had already arranged for Brenna’s room—next to Travis’s, with an adjoining door between. “Because we know you two will want to be close.” Gerry mimed a racing heartbeat with a hand against his chest—and then burst into “People Will Say We’re in Love” from Oklahoma.

  He belted out two verses, standing right there in the hallway. And then he blushed. “Musical theater. Always my first love. I played Curly at Kansas City Rep back before I decided to move to LA.” He drew his shoulders back. “I may not be tall, but I have a tall presence. I mean, Tom Cruise is only five-seven, right?”

  “Right.” Brenna gave him a big smile. “And your voice is amazing.”

  “Thank you.” Gerry granted her a regal nod. Then he stuck the key card in the reader and swung the door wide. “Milady. Your chamber awaits.”

  Brenna put her stuff in the drawers and then fell across the wide bed. It was a pillow top, just as Travis had promised. She kicked off her boots, closed her eyes and slept for five full hours—until Travis tapped on the door between their rooms.

  She let him in and they ordered room service. As they ate, he gave her more tips on how to handle Giselle, what kind of footage they were going to want on her and what to say at her psych evaluation.

  * * *

  The next days were busy ones. Brenna rode a horse and roped a calf for the cameras. She gave more interviews and Skyped with network executives. She met the other finalists and liked most of them, especially Roberta Hinckes, who was in her midforties and coming off a bad divorce from some corporate bigwig who’d dumped her for his executive assistant. Tall and slim with thick brown hair, Roberta was not only levelheaded and smart, she was gorgeous. The guy who’d traded her in for a younger model had to be a complete fool.

  Travis, meanwhile, made friends with Steve Simons, who had lost a leg from the knee down in Iraq. The former soldier was black and heartthrob handsome. He’d just turned thirty. The four of them—Travis and Brenna, Roberta and Steve—hung out every chance they got.

  On Friday, six days after Brenna first checked in at the Manor, all forty-six finalists were ordered down to the conference room. Twenty were sent packing.

  Travis, Brenna, Steve and Roberta, along with Wally Wilson and Summer Knight, the rodeo star, were among the twenty-six finalists still in the running.

  Travis touched the back of Brenna’s hand. She laced her fingers with his and held on tight. They were so close now. Only four more finalists would be eliminated. Brenna just knew that she and Trav would both make the cut. She felt it in her bones.

  “I won’t congratulate any of you yet,” said the field producer, Roger DelRay, who would be going with the final cast when they left for location to begin filming. “We’ll be meeting with a few of you privately to discuss certain necessary contract clauses before the final four cuts can be made.”

  Brenna leaned close to Travis. “‘Necessary contract clauses’? What does that even mean?”

  “Got me.”

  When Roger dismissed them, Giselle’s assistant grabbed Brenna’s arm as she and Travis were following the others out of the conference room. “This way, you two,” Roxanne said. “We have a few things we need to go over with you.”

  Brenna kept hold of Travis’s hand as Roxanne led them into a smaller meeting room. Giselle, Roger DelRay and another producer were there, along with a tall, intense-looking bearded guy Brenna hadn’t met before. There were blue file folders waiting on the table in front of two of the chairs.

  “Welcome, you two,” said Roger. “We would like you to meet Anthony Locke. He’ll be directing The Great Roundup.”

  Anthony Locke shook their hands. “Let’s have a seat, shall we?”

  Giselle led them to the chairs in front of the blue folders.

  “Travis, Brenna,” said Locke, “we’re all beyond sold. You each have the skill sets to excel in the challenges that will face you in the show—which means you each have a good chance to stay in the game once filming is under way. The camera loves both of you, and your chemistry together is off the charts. We want you both.”

  We’re in! Brenna groped for Travis’s hand again. As his strong fingers closed around hers, she somehow managed to suppress a gleeful shout of triumph.

  “So let’s get right down to business here,” said Roger. “Your contracts are in front of you. Most of what you’ll find there isn’t going to surprise you. Travis, you’ve already signed your confidentiality agreement. Brenna, we’ll need one from you, and it’s in the folder before you.”

  Travis had already explained to her that all the contestants had to agree to total confidentiality concerning the show until after the last episode aired at the end of the year. That meant that even when filming ended and they all went home, they still wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what had happened during shooting. No one could know who won, who lost, who came close—not until the series played out on national TV.

  “I understand about the confidentiality clause,” said Brenna.

  “Excellent,” said Roger. “And I’m sure you’re both wondering why we’ve called you in together.”

  Travis made a low sou
nd in the affirmative. Brenna nodded.

  Roger smiled indulgently. “The truth is, you two have an extra clause in your contract that none of the other contestants will have to sign. It’s on page twelve. We’ll need you to take the agreement to your rooms with you and read it over carefully. You would both have to sign the clause, so talk it over with each other. Should either of you be eliminated early, the clause will most likely not be activated.” Roger gave a smug little snort. “Because, frankly, if you’re eliminated early, who’s gonna care? Thus you’ll note that the clause is activated at the sole discretion of Real Deal Entertainment. Meaning we decide to activate. Or not.”

  Brenna wasn’t getting it. She sent Travis a sideways glance. He looked as confused as she felt.

  Roger kept talking. “On a brighter note, if you both last on the show, if you both keep coming out ahead in the challenges, if we feel, as filming continues, that America will end up falling as hard for you young lovebirds as we at Real Deal have, then we’re throwing you a wedding.” He beamed at them proudly.

  Brenna almost choked. “Urgh,” she squeaked. “Did you just say...a wedding?”

  “Yes, you heard me right, Brenna. If all goes as we hope it will, you and Travis will be married on camera at the end of the show.”

  Chapter Five

  Married?

  They would have to get married on the show?

  A numbness stole through Brenna.

  No. She couldn’t do it.

  It was one thing to pretend they were engaged. An engagement, after all, could be broken by a simple and private decision, just between two people. With an engagement, all you had to say was that it didn’t work out.

  But marriage? A real, legal marriage, before God and a national audience? To break a marriage, you had to do a lot more than just decide to call it off. They would have to divorce each other. Or at least get an annulment.

  Yeah, okay, she’d made a few questionable choices in her life, but she’d always been absolutely certain that when she got married, it would be forever. She might be the wild child of her family, but she still shared a bedrock foundation of O’Reilly family values.