So You Think You Can Marry an Alien: Stargazer Alien Reality Show Brides #1

by Black, Tasha

  When they were finished moving everything, he hoped she would give him cold sweet tea and a snack cake, and then tell him stories about her adventures traveling on a cruise ship every other Christmas with Ray, before his death a few years ago.

  And if Kent was lucky, Juniper would deign to descend from her box and leap effortlessly onto the counter or his shoulder to share his snack while they listened, making her delightful purring sound, which gave off a green glow of genuine happiness.

  It was going to be a good day.

  3

  Margot

  Margot staked out her quarry, hands trembling slightly from the incoming rush of adrenaline.

  The old bicycle leaned haphazardly against a trashcan.

  Maybe it had been abandoned there on purpose. Or maybe someone had just left it for a minute and would be sad to find it gone when they returned.

  Either way, after hiking through the woods all day and finally finding her way to the road, Margot was eager for a better mode of transportation back to town. The village was clearly farther away from A Slender Start than she had thought.

  She made a mental note of the house number on the mailbox so she could return the bike later, or at least mail them a check when she got back to her real life.

  Then she took a deep breath, darted out of the trees, grabbed the bike, hopped on and pedaled frantically back to the street.

  She held her breath for a moment in anticipation, but no one yelled out for her to stop. She took off down the hillside with the thrill of having pulled off a minor heist.

  The simple joy of riding a bike on a pretty day was surprisingly exhilarating. Margot tilted her head back and enjoyed the feeling of the breeze lifting her hair and fluttering her grass skirt as she flew past the trees and cottages.

  A few minutes later she hit a small dip in the road and landed hard with a jolt, nearly crashing back into the woods.

  Margot dismounted right away and examined the bike.

  The front tire was low, almost flat. It probably had a slow leak that had been sped up by the unexpected bump.

  She looked back in the direction of the house where she had obtained the bike, but it was already well up the hill and out of sight.

  She weighed her options for a moment, then opted to walk the bike down toward the village and hope to find a service station where she could fill and patch the tire when she arrived. It really couldn’t be that much further. And it would be good to have the bike to take her wherever she was going after that.

  Although she knew she should be frustrated, it was impossible not to enjoy the gorgeous day. The sun was shining, birds were singing overhead, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wonderful was about to happen.

  She passed a sprawling family farm with a welcoming, hand-painted sign:

  Welcome to Martin’s Bounty

  Pick-Your-Own-Peaches Season is Here!

  The smell of the ripe fruit was absolutely intoxicating.

  When she came around the next curve, her good mood got even better.

  A small service station with a gravel lot awaited her under the shade of two beech trees. In the far corner was a pump with a placard that said Free Air.

  She walked the bike across the lot toward the store. All she needed was something to patch her tire with and everything would be perfect. Hopefully someone was on duty today.

  As if she had caused it with her thoughts, the door to the service station opened.

  Margot froze in place, her mouth hanging open slightly.

  A man was coming out of the store.

  But not just any man - one that was so gorgeous it defied logic.

  Tall, dark and handsome didn’t begin to describe him. He was enormous, his muscles practically exploding out of his Hawaiian shirt. His dark hair hung long in front of his forehead, drawing her attention to his soulful brown eyes.

  Whoa…

  Margot gripped the handlebars of the bike so hard her fists went a little numb.

  “Hello,” the man called to her in a friendly way, his deep voice sending a little tingle down her spine.

  “Hi,” she squeaked back.

  “Are you having trouble with your bicycle?” he asked, striding up to her confidently.

  “Yes, I have a flat tire,” she said, trying not to ogle him too obviously.

  “That’s too bad,” he told her.

  At first she wasn’t sure what he had said that surprised her. Then she realized it wasn’t what he’d said, but how he said it. There was something so sincere in his words. He was genuinely disappointed at her misfortune.

  And he was closely examining the bicycle now, definitely not trying to look at her boobs.

  While TV audiences might complain about her un-willow-y body, Margot’s experience in real life was that men responded to her curves like kids in a candy shop.

  But this angelic man simply ran his hands down the side of her bicycle in a gentle way that made her want to knock the bike over and hop into his arms herself.

  “Your tire has lost its air,” he noted calmly. “We’ll need to patch it.”

  “That sounds good,” Margot said.

  Just then, a tiny older lady came out of the shop.

  “Looks like you need a patch,” she said, holding up a small repair kit. “Kent and I can help with that.”

  “Thank you,” Margot told the lady.

  Kent - that’s a nice name.

  The lady looked back and forth between Margot and Kent and smiled like she’d just remembered a particularly funny joke.

  “Matter of fact, Kent can handle this himself,” she declared, handing the patch over to the big man.

  “Certainly,” Kent proclaimed. “I can do that.”

  The lady gave a little wave and went back into the station.

  “Let’s find this leak,” Kent said, heading toward the air pump with the bike.

  “Wait,” Margot said, feeling suddenly mortified. “I don’t have my wallet with me. I can’t pay you. Maybe I’d better walk. I can come back later for the bike.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kent said kindly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, no,” Margot said. “I can’t let you do that. I’m fine to walk. I like walking.”

  But Kent was already popping the tire off her bike.

  “What did you drive the bike over?” he asked politely.

  “I’m, um, I’m not sure,” she said. “I went over a bump and it seemed to be flat when I landed.”

  She couldn’t exactly tell him that it might have had the hole when she lifted it from someone else’s trash can area.

  “I found it,” he exclaimed, holding up what looked like a tiny piece of a rusted nail.

  She watched as his big hands worked on the tire, prepping the troubled spot and applying the little patch.

  They were quiet for a moment.

  “It’s funny that we’re both dressed for a luau,” she told him, smiling at the thought of their matching outfits. If there had been someone like him at the party, she might not have been in such a hurry to leave.

  He looked up into her eyes, startling her with the intensity of his expression.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Oh,” she said, wondering if he was messing with her. “Just that you have the Hawaiian shirt and I have the grass skirt. We look like we should both be at a Hawaiian party.”

  He smiled at her and it was like the sun shining out from between the clouds.

  “I see,” he said. “I like your skirt. Do you have to water it?”

  She laughed, knowing now that he was kidding.

  “You’re pretty funny,” she told him.

  “Thank you,” he said politely.

  He finished his work and straightened.

  She noticed how big he was all over again. He towered over her in a way that she might have found intimidating if he weren’t so obviously gentle.

  She watched him fill the tire with air.

  “Here you
are,” he said proudly, presenting her with the bicycle again.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’m absolutely going to come back and pay you.”

  “It’s not necessary to pay,” he said, smiling down at her.

  She felt that smile, a warm sensation washing over her. It made her bold.

  “If you want to give me your number, I can be sure to come back when you’re working,” she said.

  He blinked at her.

  “I don’t have a phone,” he said sadly.

  Wow. Margot had been rejected before, but never with so little effort to hide the fact that it was a rejection. Who didn’t have a phone?

  “Why don’t you give me your phone number?” he suggested. “Then perhaps I can use my friend’s phone to contact you.”

  Margot opened her mouth and closed it again.

  Her phone was back at A Slender Start in the manager’s safe.

  Damn.

  “I, um, don’t have a phone right now either,” she said.

  They stood looking at each other a moment longer, until the sound of a car coming quickly down the road above broke the spell.

  Margot pictured the manager of A Slender Start, a formidable woman who might be the type to stop at nothing to recapture a lost charge.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Margot said to Kent, hopping onto the bike and taking off without looking back.

  She pedaled downhill as fast as she could, her hair and skirt flying out behind her.

  When the sound of the car engine got closer she veered off into the trees and dismounted, her heart pounding in her ears.

  A moment later a dark sedan passed. She couldn’t see the driver, and had no idea what kind of car the manager drove, but she was glad she had avoided a potential catastrophe.

  She paused a moment, half-tempted to go back to see the man at the gas station.

  But the position of the sun told her that it was late afternoon. She didn’t have extra time to drool over a hot guy. It would be much better to reach town before dark.

  She walked the bike back to the street and mounted it again, heading downhill.

  4

  Margot

  Margot arrived in town about half an hour later. She rode slowly past the little shops and restaurants. She was trying to decide her next move, though she couldn’t help but be a little distracted by her surroundings.

  Stargazer, Pennsylvania.

  Of course Margot knew the tiny town was the site where aliens had first arrived on Earth - everyone knew that, even the conspiracy nuts that thought the whole thing had been staged by the government. But she had only driven through Stargazer once, at dusk on her way to A Slender Start, and she had been too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention. So she definitely hadn’t taken in the extent to which the town had embraced its identity.

  It seemed that every storefront she passed was named after a planet or a galaxy, and references to aliens were everywhere - shop windows, banners over the street, even the mailboxes had stars painted on them.

  She wondered idly if she might actually see one of the aliens. Rumor had it that a bunch of them had coupled up with “mates” and settled into town.

  Focus, Margot.

  She had a choice to make.

  She could always just tell someone who she was and allow her celebrity identity to clear obstacles from her path. She wasn’t exactly Tom Hanks, so they weren’t going to hand her the key to the city or anything, but she figured being Margot Lane might earn her enough goodwill for a meal and a phone call.

  On the other hand, she could try and use her wits instead of her name, and maybe hang onto some shred of dignity.

  The second option was a lot more appealing.

  Besides, she didn’t know which townsperson might be involved with A Slender Start. She wouldn’t put it past that place to have half the town on the lookout for celebrity runaways.

  A bicycle rack outside the town grocery store caught her eye and she decided to park and continue her explorations on foot.

  She had barely gone a block when she heard a siren.

  She ducked into the first storefront she saw, inwardly cursing herself for being so paranoid as the door closed behind her. It was highly unlikely that the police would be looking for her. It wasn’t like she’d committed a crime.

  But she supposed it was better to be safe than sorry and all that.

  As soon as she turned away from the door, she realized the gravity of her mistake.

  The tiny store was packed with people, all of whom had turned to her as one.

  A man in a plaid flannel shirt sat awkwardly on a stool by the cash register, holding a book.

  Next to him was a small handwritten sign:

  This Week’s Reading: Local poet Earl Road shares from his upcoming publication - Words from Another World.

  She had walked into a poetry reading.

  Suddenly, jail didn’t seem quite as bad.

  But there was no getting out now. The store was too small to just leave without drawing even more attention.

  She mouthed the word sorry and tried to look as if she had been meaning to come to this reading, and only been late by accident.

  Earl looked back at his book and the small crowd looked back at Earl.

  “Ahem,” Earl said. “Neither here, nor there. Neither flesh, nor air. Torn between two worlds, creating new Earls. Fast rockets, fast friends. New beginnings, no ends. Not lost but found, as the new world spins ‘round…”

  Margot let her mind wander as she looked around the little store, trying to find some indication of when the reading might be over.

  Now that she had blended safely into the crowd, the adrenaline that had kept her going all day was fading, and she was beginning to see the reality of her situation.

  She had just effectively resigned from the best acting job she’d ever had - the only one that paid well enough that she didn’t have to go back to waiting tables during the break between shooting seasons.

  Her agent would be disappointed. He hadn’t wanted to tell her she needed to lose weight, but she was pretty sure he expected her to do it.

  By the time she got back home, she might not even have representation.

  But the idea didn’t upset her as much as she would have thought, even though she had no clue what she would have to do next, or even what she wanted to do.

  Margot had always wanted to be an actress. Everything in her life from her morning exercise routine to her evening moisturizing routine, to the long days of shooting or acting classes, and even her bedside reading material had all focused around that goal for as long as she could remember. Had there ever been a time when she hadn’t been acting or thinking about acting?

  “New beginnings, no ends. New beginnings, no ends,” Earl Road said in a final sort of way.

  The little shop broke out in applause and Margot clapped along with them.

  Maybe Earl’s poetry was better than she had first suspected.

  She slipped out as the crowd dissipated and headed back onto the sidewalk, heading toward what looked like a hair salon down the street a little ways.

  She figured the ladies at the salon might be willing to help, and might be less likely to turn on one of their own and notify the fat camp.

  “Margot,” a man yelled from behind her.

  She spun around, heart in her mouth. This wasn’t an eager fan, this guy sounded angry.

  “You’re not going to do this,” the man insisted.

  But he wasn’t looking at her at all - he was yelling at a young woman.

  Margot stared, unbelieving.

  The girl was a little younger than Margot, but she could have easily been her little sister. They shared a very similar build and the same long, dark hair.

  The girl had a piece of paper taped to her chest with a big number seven on it.

  “It’s too late, Dad,” the girl said, indicating the paper. “I’m in. They already picked me.”

  “I don’t care, Margot,”
he said, ripping the number off her chest. “You’re not going to be part of that trash.”

  Wow. Between the name and the eerily similar looks, Margot almost felt she was the one getting berated in the middle of the sidewalk.

  Margot watched in amazement as the girl followed her father back to his car.

  The number fluttered to the ground.

  Margot bent to grab it and offer it back. Maybe the other Margot would want a memento of whatever she had just missed out on.

  But by the time she caught it and straightened, the car was already speeding away.

  “Number seven,” someone said in a bored voice.

  Margot turned back to see that a man in an elegant scarf, reading from a clipboard in the doorway of what appeared to be an old movie theater.

  “Number seven,” he said again, finally looking up and meeting her gaze. “Margot Chase. Let’s go. You’re up.”

  He spoke and looked at her with such confident expectation that Margot found herself following him into the theater without giving it much thought.

  Whatever was going on inside had to be better than being out on the street.

  5

  Kent

  Kent sat in the darkened theater, trying to concentrate on the proceedings at hand.

  Usually the cool temperature of the room and the activity of the crew onstage kept him focused, in spite of the sedentary nature of the work.

  The problem was that his encounter with the woman at the gas station had shaken him to his core.

  No matter how much he wanted to listen to the producer’s comments about the last contestant’s interview, all he could think of was long dark hair moving in the breeze, and the way the woman with the bicycle had smiled at him when he helped her.

  He wondered fleetingly if she would go back to the service station to look for him. His heart was filled with sadness at the idea that if she did, he would probably be here instead.

  And the reason he was here made things so much worse.

  “Number seven, Margot Chase,” the PA announced.