The Fake Fiance Groom_Texas Titan Romances_The Legendary Kent Brother Romances

by Taylor Hart

  She didn’t turn back to him right away, and he wondered if she was having some kind of emotional breakdown.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he exhaled and unlocked the door. “Listen, I don’t do this stuff. Either you tell them you lied, or I’ll tell them you lied.”

  “Wait.”

  He turned the door handle.

  “Please. I mean, you were trespassing today. I could have you arrested.”

  This was not the response he had expected. Jerking back to face her, he glared. “You’re going to arrest me?”

  She pointed at him. “You were trespassing. That is my lake, and you were on it. I expect to have a certain level of privacy when I’m here. I don’t expect to have some jerk on my lake at five-thirty in the morning interrupting me.”

  This was rich. It didn’t feel like she really cared about that, and he didn’t know why he was still standing in this broom closet, but there was something about her. “You’re making no sense.”

  She snapped her fingers in his face. “I am an Olympic-level breather.”

  Walker’s brows furrowed, not just at what she said, but at her ferocity as she said it. “Still making no sense.”

  Scarlett didn’t speak for a moment. Then she roughly dropped her arm and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, I’m not arresting you.”

  “Well, that’s good news.” He sighed, thinking he would call Grant and ask what kind of crackpot he’d been working with.

  It looked like she might cry, but she only blinked a bit.

  “Why did you stay under the water like that?” It was stupid, but he did want to know. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all day.

  “The truth,” she whispered, swallowing hard and then flashing those beautiful pale green eyes at him, “is that I was having a moment.”

  “A moment?” he said slowly.

  “Mo-ment.” She over-pronounced the word like it was something distasteful. “I was having a very bad moment because I told my father that I had a fiancé.”

  “O-kay.” Yep, she was clearly crazy.

  She ran a hand through her hair. “Not that this is your concern, but I’m supposed to go to a wedding for the next four days and play nice with my micromanaging father and my ex, who just announced his engagement to my best friend, and …” She trailed off and put a hand to her stomach, looking even more pale.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and steady her.

  “I’m fine. It’s just been a couple of hard months.” She put a hand to the wall and sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry to drag you into this. I was in love with Kurt ever since we were children. I’m only telling you this because I feel I owe you an explanation.” She held up her hand, cutting off her own torrent of words, and then rubbed the top of her forehead as if she could knead all of her confusion out of her brain. “I’ll slow it down. This morning, my father called me and told me that Kurt—my ex, who is also my brother’s best friend—just announced he’s engaged to a girl who I once considered my best friend. My father expects me to be fine with it, and he reminded me I needed to have a date for this occasion so I don’t make it weird for my brother.”

  He had caught up with her train of thought. She was in crisis. “O-kay,” he said lamely.

  “Kurt’s new fiancé was my best friend.” She sighed. “Until I found out they’d been cheating together.”

  “Ouch.” He found himself getting sucked in.

  “I don’t know what hurt worse—his betrayal or hers.”

  The pain on her face, the pain that wasn’t part of the mask she showed the world, hit him in the center of his chest.

  “I didn’t want to show up to the wedding alone. So when I was watching you out there and I realized you were Grant’s brother, I just … I got this harebrained idea to buy you and …”

  “Ask me to be your date by announcing to the world that I’m your fiancé?” he asked, a bit out of breath.

  She smiled weakly. “You did kiss me.”

  While he had to admit the attraction between them was out of this world, he let out a light laugh. “Obviously I shouldn’t have done that, because I don’t do relationships.”

  She stood there, pleading with her eyes. “I have put you in a difficult position, Mr. Kent,” she said softly.

  He wanted to smile, even though he never felt that civil and polite. “Yes, you have, but it’s not that. It’s just … I’m sorry, no way. I can’t be your fiancé. I’m sorry.”

  Scarlett was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded. “That’s fine, but hear out my official proposition first.”

  Chapter 6

  “You want to proposition me?” Walker sputtered.

  The rough, roguish expression on his face made every part of Scarlett quiver. This was the kind of man not created on a movie set or in an acting class. He was the real deal. The looks he shot her were all real: dark, broody, and tempting. They weren’t for show. In fact, she was pretty sure this man didn’t know the meaning of acting or pretending. It was evident in the way he snapped at the press to go away without explanation.

  He wasn’t Grant, but she didn’t think it was the time to compare the two out loud. He was a Kent. There’d been a huge spread recently done on Grant Kent and one of his Wrecked and Ravaged movies. The highlight had been the fact that he had five brothers. She’d remembered thinking the picture of all of them was like the first half of a firefighter calendar. Every one of them was hot.

  They article had gone over how all of the Kent men were amazing in their own way. A Navy SEAL, a country music singer, two football players, and a firefighter. The Kent Brothers were a thing.

  She cleared her voice. “Yes, I have a proposition.”

  “I assume this isn’t what it’s sounding like.”

  “I mean …” She started babbling, feeing even more nervous. “I could compensate you with money.”

  “Of course.” His gaze hardened. “Why would I want your money?”

  Her mouth went dry.

  “Why would I need your money?” he asked, and he sounded a bit terrifying.

  Dang, the giant man and his intensity made her nervous. “I don’t know what you would want, but I could pay you for your time. The venue is amazing, and you could sit on the beach for some of it.” Her mind rushed through possibilities of things he might like. “You could row in a canoe.”

  His eyes narrowed in disbelief. “I could? I’ve been to L.A. There’s no rowing next to the ocean.”

  She wasn’t yet sure if he was naturally angry or if she’d made him angry every time they’d met. Regardless, she snapped, “I bet no one would even bother you if you went into your yoga poses on the beach.”

  Rolling his eyes, he let out a breath. “I don’t have time for this.”

  She could feel him closing off, but maybe there was chance she could get him to agree. She should have thought this through. If only she were better at selling things. “Look, I can keep you out of most of the activities, except when necessary, and we could count it as our ‘date.’” She made air quotes, trying to be cute.

  “Sweetheart, I think this little stint in the stink closet could count as our ‘date.’” He copied her air quote gesture. “Because either you’re going to go out there and tell the press the truth, or I am. That’s my parting gift to you from our ‘date.’ You get to be the one to explain the truth.”

  She put on the pouty face she used in movies.

  He let out a derisive laugh. “That’s not going to work. Listen, I’ve had enough lies printed about me. I’m done with lies.”

  She held his gaze, realizing this man was stubborn. “Why not?”

  “Why not?” he repeated, flabbergasted.

  “Yeah? Why not?” She knew she sounded a bit spoiled and childish, but she didn’t care. “Why won’t you do it? It’s just four days. Name your price. It’ll be a paid vacation. You can see Grant. I’ll invite him to the wedding.”

  At thi
s, he let out a sputtering laugh. “It feels like Grant’s the one who got me into this somehow, so I think I’ll pass.”

  She tried to think of some other tactic. “What do you want, then? Name it.”

  “Humph. Let’s see … truth, justice, the American way.” He gave her a sarcastic look. “I guess you can’t get that for me, can you?”

  Scarlett was losing this battle. She thought of going to the wedding tomorrow, thought of the smirk Kurt would wear. Her father would torture her with the fact that she had lied. “Please,” she begged Walker, her voice shaky. “I can’t show up by myself. I can’t … everyone else in the wedding party will have someone.” It sounded so stupid and lame, but she didn’t care.

  “Sorry. I don’t do relationships, not even fake ones.” His face hardened with the same stoicism she’d seen when he was in front of the crowd of people. It looked like he was about to be taken down by a firing squad, and he was going to take it like a man. “Hire some other guy.”

  Embarrassment washed over her, and she turned for the door, pushing past him and opening it. “I’m sorry. I never should have done this.” She flung the door back as he stepped out of the way. She rushed out, breathing in fresh air. Her mind was confused, and all she wanted to do was get away from this man.

  It didn’t suit to have a man look so committed to not being her fiancé. For all of her wealth and fame, she felt vulnerable.

  She rushed down the hallway toward the parking lot. There would be no way she would be staying and talking to these press piranhas.

  But as she turned a corner, they saw her. “Hey, there she is!” one of them yelled, and they all stampeded toward her.

  She turned and ran, but her heel broke, and she found herself falling. Right before she hit the pavement, strong hands pulled her up and she found herself cradled in Walker Kent’s arms.

  He didn’t slow down, didn’t look at her, just held her close and navigated her through a crowd of people.

  She heard the piranhas calling behind her. “Scarlett! Walker! Let’s have a quick interview!”

  It was humbling to feel this man’s strength. The sweep-you-off-your-feet vibe was something she’d only experienced acting in her movies.

  She stared up at him, catching a whiff of his soap-ish scent. No cologne. She inhaled deeper and thought it was some kind of shaving cream. Was it Irish Spring? Whatever it was, she loved it.

  They stopped at a blue car. Oh, strike that—not just a car, a Camaro. He put her down and opened the door. “Get in.”

  Without hesitating, she did as he commanded. How come being around this man made her feel like she was in the best scenes of a movie?

  He dashed around the car and climbed in, pressed a button to turn the car on, and then shifted into reverse, all seemingly in one motion. “This doesn’t mean I’m accepting your offer. It just means I’m getting us away from the vultures.”

  She turned and saw a horde of press running toward the car, cameras held up to capture the getaway. “Sounds good to me.”

  He gunned it, and she was forced back against the seat. “Get buckled,” he said.

  Her heart was racing, and she heard herself laugh. She clicked the seat belt into place. “Done!” The thrill of it all made her giddy.

  The side of Walker’s lips went up. “You like fast cars?”

  She let out another laugh as he shifted the stick and revved the engine. “Yes, I do.”

  “I guess we have that in common.” He focused on exiting and then floored it onto the freeway.

  Unable to stop herself, she rolled the window down, feeling the wind in her hair and the freedom of escaping that event. “Whoo!” she yelled out the window.

  His window went down too, and he roared out a laugh. “Ah yeah!”

  It was dark, and the wind put a chill in the air. Their eyes connected. She saw Walker Kent and that bad-boy expression and the wicked glint in his eyes. The lower pit of her gut fluttered. She wished he would have agreed to be her fake fiancé. It could have been fun.

  Chapter 7

  Half an hour later, Walker arrived back at the very lake he’d been at that morning. He slowed in front of her house, parked the car, and killed the engine.

  They hadn’t spoken the whole ride out here, which Walker didn’t mind. The only thing that had been annoying to him as he drove the media princess back out here was the disconcerting way her “proposition,” as she’d called it, made him feel.

  Being anybody’s fiancé wasn’t his thing. Especially a fake one. What benefit did that have for him? And at a wedding? Whew, he could hardly handle those kinds of events when he had to. He’d been to too many of them recently with his own family.

  He thought of the pain on this woman’s face, and … okay, the attraction he had to her was potent. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like the concept of feminine wiles, never had.

  She didn’t move.

  After a beat, he turned to her. “Can you see yourself in?” Sure, maybe he was being rude, but this whole situation was too ticky-tacky. Since the incident on the lake that morning, he’d been thinking of the princess. Her brattiness, her stubbornness. The way she was too skinny. When she’d appeared at that auction and bought him, it’d felt unreal, like a dream. And then he imagined her lips on his. He needed her to leave.

  Scarlett blinked, as if emerging from her thoughts. “What?”

  He met those pale green temptress eyes he’d seen too many times on the big screen. “Nothing.” He turned away. No way was he going to be her little cabana boy for four days. Not in a million years.

  “Sooooo?”

  “No.” He said it quickly, not bothering to elaborate. She knew what he was talking about.

  She looked at him in that broken way he’d seen in the cleaning closet. The same way she’d looked at him this morning. It was a way that called to him. “Why not?”

  Letting out a soft laugh, he shook his head. “Why don’t I want to be your fake fiancé at a prissy prima donna wedding, with a bunch of rich society types who expect … what?” His mind was going in circles. “Why me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He pointed back toward the highway. “You could have had your pick of guys back there, and I can say they would have loved being bought by you. So why me?”

  She frowned. “I told you: because I know Grant, and he’s talked about all of you, and …”

  Suddenly, it clicked. “You want to stick it to them, don’t you?”

  “What?” she said with exasperation, meeting his gaze. He caught the pink cheeks. She was busted.

  He let out a loud, barking laugh, slapping the side of his leg. “Dang, woman, you want to stick it to the ex-boyfriend, stick it to your old man, stick it to everyone in that wedding.” Part of him was flattered. She thought he was that much of a bad boy, that much of the kind that doesn’t come from her prissy society. To be fair, it was true. His mind clouded for a moment. “My dishonorable discharge is perfect for you.”

  “No.”

  He pointed at her. “Don’t lie.”

  Her hands fluttered. “When I realized who you were, yes, I thought you’d be the perfect guy to tick my father off.”

  The pain seared through the center of his chest like a red-hot poker, leaving him breathless. He put his hand over his heart to calm it.

  Her eyes were on him, sharper than he would have liked. “What’s wrong with you?”

  But he was already underwater. That’s what the psychologist had explained to him. Sometimes, you come back from war and have an underwater feeling and start gasping for air. Unbuckling himself, he pushed the door and kicked it open. He pulled himself out of the car and sucked in a ragged breath of fresh air.

  It all rushed back. He was there, seeing the bomb and the light, feeling the shock, and trying to hold to the steering wheel of the helicopter. Gasping for breath, he thought of landing the bird with guns shooting, thought of Tams and how he had turned and seen her take the bullet before she slumped and the
gun fell out of her hand. He sucked in more air. His vision was closing in. He’d yelled out, but the special ops team was already climbing in, giving cover, telling him wheels up.

  He stumbled some more and then found the top of the car with his hands. He gripped it, sucking in another breath, and started counting backward. Twenty, nineteen. He saw Tams’s body lying on the ground and the guys swarming around it. He’d had to focus on getting them out of there. Emotion clogged his throat. Eighteen. Breathe.

  Suddenly he was a kid with his grandfather at the hunting cabin. They were rowing on the lake. His grandfather smiled at him. Seventeen, sixteen. Yes, he was calming.

  A fluttery hand had found its way to his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Her voice pulled him back to the present, her arms wrapping around his waist. “Shh, it’s okay.”

  The firmness of her pressed against his side anchored. Her fruity smell was better than the tranquility of a canoe. Bam. He was back. He straightened to his full height, grounded here in the present.

  Turning, he found himself wrapping his arms around her, moving her head to his chest and letting himself feel the human contact. When was the last time he’d had a hug like this? Nonsexual, grounding, just plain good human contact?

  His mother. In the hospital, before she’d passed, she’d said, “I know you, and I know whatever happened, you did it for the right reasons. I know that.”

  He misted up just thinking about that moment. About his mother. He pushed Scarlett away, unbearable emotions roiling within him.

  “It’s okay.” Her eyes were soft, and she looked confused. She shook her head and said, “I’m sorry for whatever just happened to you. I had an uncle that served and had problems after … I’m sorry.”

  Walker wasn’t that steady to begin with, but she’d just shaken him even harder. It was like she actually cared. All the thoughts and feelings that had come tumbling out of him intensified the moment. “I have to go,” he said, reaching for the car door. He stumbled in and started it, swerving so he didn’t hit her.

  She didn’t flinch, still looking at him with those haunting green eyes.