The Maverick Fakes A Bride!. Christine Rimmer
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Anderson, briefly. His dad, Ben, was still at work at his law office in town.
Zach, one of Uncle Phil’s boys, came in, too. “That pie looks really good, Aunt Mary.”
Mary laughed. “Sit down and I’ll cut you a nice big piece.”
Zach poured himself some coffee and took the chair across from Travis. In his late twenties, Zach was a good-looking guy. He asked Travis, “So how’s it going with that reality show you’re gonna be on?”
Travis kept it vague. “We’ll see. I haven’t made the final cut yet.”
Zach shook his head. “Well, good luck. I don’t get the appeal of all that glitzy Hollywood stuff. I’m more interested in settling down, you know? Since we lost Mom...” His voice trailed off, and his blue eyes were mournful.
“Oh, hon.” Trav’s mom patted Zach gently on the back. She returned to the stove and added over her shoulder, “It’s a tough time, I know.”
“So sorry about Aunt Diana,” Travis said quietly.
Zach nodded. “Thank you both—and like I was sayin’, losing Mom has reminded me of what really matters, made me see it’s about time I found the right woman and started my family.”
Travis ate another bite of his mother’s excellent pie and then couldn’t resist playing devil’s advocate on the subject of settling down. “I can’t even begin to understand how tough it’s been for you and your dad and the other boys. But come on, Zach. You’re not even thirty. What’s the big hurry to go tying the knot?”
Zach sipped his coffee. “You would say that. From where I’m sitting, Travis, you’re a little behind the curve. All your brothers and sisters—and more than a few cousins—are married and having babies. A wife and kids, that’s what life’s all about.”
“I’ll say it again. There’s no rush.” Well, okay. For him there kind of was. He needed a fiancée, yesterday or sooner. But a wife? Not anytime soon.
Travis’s mother spoke up from her spot at the stove. “Don’t listen to him, Zach. If a wife is what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place. There are plenty of pretty, smart, marriageable young women in Rust Creek Falls. Marriage is in the air around here.”
Travis grunted. “Or it could be something in the water. Whatever it is, Mom’s right. Marriage is nothing short of contagious in this town. Everybody seems to be coming down with it.”
Zach forked up his last bite of pie. “Sounds like Rust Creek Falls is exactly the place that I want to be.”
* * *
It was almost three in the afternoon when Travis climbed in his Ford F-150 crew cab and went to town.
He drove up and down the streets of Rust Creek Falls with the windows down, waving and calling greetings to people he knew, racking his brain for a likely candidate to play the love of his life on The Great Roundup.
Driving and waving were getting him nowhere. He decided he’d stop in at Daisy’s Donut Shop—just step inside and see if his future fake fiancée might be waiting there, having herself a maple bar and coffee.
He found a spot at the curb in front of Buffalo Bill’s Wings To Go, which was right next door to Daisy’s. As he walked past, he stuck his head in Wings To Go. No prospects there. He went on to the donut shop, but when he peered in the window, he saw only five senior citizens and a young mother with two little ones under five.
Not a potential fiancée in sight.
Trying really hard not to get discouraged, he started to turn back for his truck. But then the door to the adjacent shop opened.
Callie Crawford, a nurse at the local clinic, came out of the beauty parlor. “Thanks, Brenna,” Callie called over her shoulder before letting the door shut. She spotted Travis. “Hey, Travis! I heard about you and that reality show. Exciting stuff.”
“Good to see you, Callie.” He tipped his hat to her. “Final audition is tomorrow night.”
“At the Ace, so I heard. We’re all rooting for you.”
He thanked her and asked her to say hi to her husband, Nate, for him. With a nod and a smile, Callie got in her SUV and drove off.
And that was it. That was when it happened. He watched Callie drive off down the street when it came to him.
Brenna. Brenna O’Reilly.
Good-looking, smart as a whip and raised on a ranch. She’d taken some ribbons barrel racing during the three or four summers she worked the local rodeo circuit. She was bold, too. Stood up for herself and didn’t take any guff.
But he’d always considered himself too old for her. Plus, he kind of thought of himself as a guy who looked out for her. He would never make a move on her.
However, this wouldn’t be a move.
Uh-uh. This would be...an opportunity.
If she was interested and if it was something she could actually handle.
Brenna.
Did he have any other prospects for this?
Hell, no.
He had less than three hours to find someone. At this point, it was pretty much Brenna or bust.
By then, he was already opening the door to the beauty shop. A bell tinkled overhead as he went in.
Brenna was standing right there, behind the reception counter with the cash register on it, facing the door. She looked kind of surprised at the sight of him.
Before either of them could say anything, the owner, Bee, spotted him. “Travis Dalton!” She waved at him with the giant blow-dryer in her left hand. “What do you know? It’s our local celebrity.”
Every woman in the shop turned to stare at him. He took off his hat and put on his best smile. “Not a celebrity yet, Bee. Ladies, how you doing?”
A chorus of greetings followed. He nodded and kept right on smiling.
Bee asked, “What can we do for you, darlin’?”
He thought fast. “The big final audition’s tomorrow night.”
“So we heard.”
“Figured I could maybe use a haircut—just a trim.” He hooked his hat on the rack by the door. “So, Brenna, you available?”
Brenna’s blue eyes met his. “You’re in luck. I’ve got an hour before my next appointment.” She came out from behind the counter, looking smart and sassy in snug jeans, ankle boots and a silky red shirt. Red worked for her. Matched her hair, which used to be a riot of springy curls way back when. Now she wore it straight and smooth, a waterfall of fire to just below her shoulders.
She waited until he’d hung up his denim jacket next to his hat then led him to her station. “Have a seat.”
He dropped into the padded swivel chair and faced his own image in the mirror.
Brenna put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in. He got a whiff of her perfume. Nice. She caught his eye in the mirror and then ran her fingers up into his hair, her touch light, professional. “This looks pretty good.”
It should. He’d paid a lot to a Hollywood stylist right before that first audition two weeks ago. “I was thinking just a trim.”
She stood back, nodding, a dimple tucking into her velvety cheek as she smiled. “Well, all right. You want a shampoo first?”
What he wanted was to talk to her alone. He cast a glance to either side and lowered his voice. “Say, Brenna...”
She knew instantly that he was up to something. He could tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes and the way the bow of her upper lip flattened just a little. And then she leaned in again and whispered, “What’s