The Maverick Fakes a Bride! Read online

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Brenna got her sister a clean cup and they sat down together. “There’s toast,” she offered. “And blackberry jam.”

  “Just the coffee.” Fallon took the cup Brenna handed her and raised it toward the door to Travis’s room. “He’s such a charmer.”

  “Always and forever,” Brenna agreed.

  “Mom told me a cute story. You know Abby Fuller?”

  “Yeah, Marissa Fuller’s nine-year-old.” Marissa was widowed with three girls. Abby was the oldest.

  “Abby’s adorable,” said Fallon. “All three of those little girls are. Anyway, Marissa told Mom that Abby thinks Travis is dreamy—Abby’s word, I kid you not. Abby says she’s going to marry herself a cowboy someday...if she can’t marry the lead singer of 2LOVEU.” The sisters laughed together. “Remind you of anyone?”

  “Oh, yeah. Brings back precious memories.” She saw herself at six, when Travis brought her bike back after Angus McCauley stole it. “I planned to marry a cowboy, too.”

  “A certain cowboy.”

  “Yep.”

  “And just look at you now.”

  “That’s right.” Fake engaged to be legally married—and divorced come the spring.

  Fallon frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you kidding? Not a thing.”

  Fallon sipped her coffee. “Downstairs, I asked for you at the front desk. A short guy with a big smile appeared.”

  “Gerry, the production assistant.”

  “He was sweet. He said he could have guessed that we were sisters and of course I could see you. He gave me your room number.” She set down her cup. “So. Lots going on with you, huh? The Great Roundup, for real?”

  Brenna shared her news. “We found out yesterday that we made the final cut. We go on location tomorrow.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Seriously?”

  “That’s right. We’re in. It’s a big step—but also just the beginning. We’ve got six weeks of filming to get through.”

  “You have to tell me everything as soon as you get back.”

  “Sorry, can’t do that.” She explained about the confidentiality agreement.

  “That’s no fair. Your own sister has to wait to find out what happened?”

  “You know if I could tell anyone, it would be you.” Brenna wanted to grab her and hug her all over again. “Oh, Fallon. It’s so good to see you.”

  “You are amazing,” her sister said. “I admit I’ve envied the way you throw yourself into life. You’ve always been ready for anything. I used to wish that I could be as brave as you.”

  Brenna got misty-eyed. She sniffed. “Don’t you dare make me cry—and I noticed you said ‘used to wish.’”

  “Well, as it so happens, my life is turning out to be pretty amazing, too.” Fallon had loved Jamie Stockton all her life. And now she was married to him. “I’m so happy, Bren. I can’t tell you.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Fallon reached across the table. Her soft fingers brushed Brenna’s. “Just...be careful, okay?”

  Brenna tried to keep it light. “Me? Careful? Never gonna happen.”

  “I think Travis is a great guy, you know that. And he seems really crazy about you...”

  “But...?” Brenna drew out the word.

  “I know you’ve had a thing for him for years. And I’m glad it’s working out for you two. But, well...”

  Brenna couldn’t stand it. “Look. I know what you’re going to say. He’s thirty-four and I’m his first serious relationship.” Or I would be, if it wasn’t all just for the show. “Not to mention, he’s got that rep as a player, right?”

  “I’m your sister. It’s my job to say the hard stuff—or in this case, to make you say it.” Fallon gave a weak laugh.

  “Well, okay then. You’ve done your part. And please don’t worry about me. I can handle myself, and I know what I’m doing. The Great Roundup is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and there is no way I’m passing it up.”

  Fallon stood. She stepped around the table to Brenna’s side.

  Brenna looked at her sister. “What?”

  Fallon pulled her to her feet and looked directly into her eyes. “Bren, what is really going on here?”

  Brenna lied without flinching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, honey.” Fallon stroked her hand down Brenna’s hair. “I notice you haven’t told me how much you love him.”

  Okay, so she’d blown it. At the moment, she felt crappy enough about the whole thing that she didn’t even care. She straightened her shoulders. “That Friday night at the Ace, the night he asked me to marry him? That night I said it a lot of times. You can ask anyone.”

  “But you’re not saying it now, to me. Is this whole engagement thing just a stunt to get you on the show?”

  Brenna didn’t answer. She hated lying to her sister. And right now, she just wasn’t going to do it. Let Fallon think what she wanted.

  “You’re not answering me,” Fallon accused softly. When Brenna still said nothing, Fallon grabbed her in a tight hug. “Bren, please just be careful,” she whispered. “Be careful and try not to get hurt.”

  Chapter Six

  At six on Monday morning, Gerry tapped on Brenna’s door.

  “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, Brenna, m’ love. I need to see your suitcases and go through all the drawers in your room.”

  “Uh. Because?”

  “My darling, some items are not allowed on location. If you have any of those, they’ll be boxed up for you and available as soon as filming wraps.”

  “Items such as...?”

  “Ropes, tack, compasses, fire starters, anything you might use in a challenge. All contestants use the equipment provided on-site. Weapons, drugs, narcotics. Video games, iPods. Medications you didn’t get approved ahead of time. The list goes on.”

  “What about my phone?”

  “You can bring it on location, but you’ll turn it in there. We’ll keep it charged for you and return it to you for approved phone calls and other special circumstances—and just FYI, it’s all in the contract, my sweet.”

  She vaguely remembered all that. “All righty, then.” She let him in and he went through all the drawers, both of her suitcases and her makeup kit, too, confiscating a bottle of aspirin, her old iPod and her iPad. He bagged and labeled them, stuck them in the pack he had with him and then went and knocked on Travis’s door.

  Once she was packed, dressed and ready to go, Travis joined her in her room and they ordered up some breakfast.

  As they ate, they went over the series of simple signals they’d worked out. A tug on the left ear meant one thing, on the right, another. On set, they would be wearing body mics. Anything they said would be recorded, so they needed ways to communicate without words until they could steal a little privacy for a real conversation.

  Their signals memorized, they left their rooms for the last time.

  “This is it,” Travis warned. “From now on, assume we’re being filmed and recorded at all times. We’re madly in love and engaged to be married. Play that for all you’re worth and don’t say or do anything to give our game away.”

  She clutched his arm and gazed up at him adoringly. “I love you with every fiber of my being and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

  He gave a nod of approval. “Sell it, Bren.”

  “Oh, just you watch me.”

  * * *

  Downstairs, they loaded their gear into a large, no-frills white van and Gerry drove them and half the contestants the twenty-five miles to High Lonesome Guest Ranch. The other half of the cast followed an hour later in an identical van. The whole idea, Gerry said, was to transport the contestants without drawing attention to them and gi
ving away their supersecret shooting location.

  In a rolling valley surrounded by mountains blanketed in thick evergreen, the ranch had been leased to Real Deal for the duration of filming. Gerry said the owners were in the process of converting the place from a working ranch to a guest facility. They were still building guest cottages and doing finish work on various interiors and wouldn’t open for business until next spring. Real Deal had gotten an excellent rate for the exclusive use of the property during filming, and High Lonesome would reap the benefit of all that free publicity for its opening season.

  It was a beautiful site, acres and acres of gorgeous land, all those tall trees with a few craggy, snow-capped, cloud-ringed peaks looming in the distance. There were stables, two barns and a series of linked corrals and paddocks. Green pastures dotted with patches of bright wildflowers were home to a herd of grazing cattle. Besides a number of cozy log cottages, the property boasted a fancy main lodge.

  Inside the lodge they got their room assignments. Again, Brenna and Travis ended up side by side with a connecting door.

  Summer Knight had the room on Travis’s other side, so they rode up in the elevator together. Summer dimpled and fluttered her eyelashes at Travis, the way she’d done every chance she got during their stay at the Manor. Brenna tried not to be too aggravated with the woman. Summer flirted with all the guys, even old Wally Wilson and the seventeen-year-old Franklin twins, Rob and Joey, who had joined the cast with their father, Fred.

  “Don’t let her get you alone,” she teased Travis a few minutes later, after they’d dropped their bags on their beds and opened the adjoining door. “She might try anything.”

  He moved in close. “Jealous?”

  She was, just a little. And that annoyed her almost as much as Summer did. “Let Summer put a move on you and you’ll find out.”

  He actually smirked. “You can’t fool me. You’re jealous. I kind of like that.”

  Saying she wasn’t would only serve to convince him that she was. So she rolled with it. “As your adoring fiancée, it’s my job to act jealous—of Summer, especially.”

  “Why Summer?”

  “She’s a man-eater.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Oh, please. Take my word for it. And stay away from her.”

  “Or...?”

  “Really? Seriously? You’re doubling down?”

  Now he put on his wounded face. “Oh, come on. You know I was only kidding.”

  “I do?”

  “As your husband-to-be, I would never even look at another woman.”

  “Travis. Get real. You were pretty much born to flirt.”

  He faked a look of pure longing. “Not since you stole my heart.”

  She pantomimed gagging with her hands to her throat as the phone by the bed rang. He picked it up. “We’ll be right down,” he said and hung up. “They want us in the lobby—and we have to bring our phones.”

  Downstairs, production assistants bagged and tagged their cell phones. Then Anthony Locke and Roger DelRay welcomed them all to High Lonesome and introduced them to the show’s host, Jasper Ridge, who would narrate the various challenges and run the eliminations.

  Jasper clearly had a thing for black. He looked like some old-time bad guy, in black jeans, a black shirt, a black bandanna and a black hat. When he tipped his hat, the hair underneath was patent-leather black, too. He had actual sideburns and a black handlebar mustache.

  “Enjoy today and tonight at the lodge. But remember,” Roger warned them all, “The Great Roundup is not a luxury vacation. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be living outside—mic’d up and on camera twelve to eighteen hours a day.” He introduced some of the crew, including the story editor, associate directors and various assistants.

  “Hospitality services will keep a buffet available until ten tonight in the dining room.” Roger pointed toward a hallway. “Through there. Spend the day getting acquainted with the property. Check out the canteen. Ride the horses if you want to. Stable grooms are there to help you. Everyone take a backpack.” He indicated the stacks of them on a long table against an interior wall. “Fill them with the basics in clothing and toiletries. Just what will fit in the packs. Everything else you’ll turn in to the concierge desk before call time tomorrow.”

  A couple of assistants passed out call sheets that showed who had to be where at which times for the next day’s work. A glance at her copy told Brenna they were mostly for the crew, who had a somewhat staggered schedule. For the cast, it was pretty much show up in the lobby at 5:00 a.m. armed with your full pack and ready to roll.

  After they were dismissed and they stowed their backpacks upstairs, Brenna and Travis took a tour of the ranch with Steve and Roberta.

  They checked out the available horses, looked over the equipment in the tack room and visited the canteen, a glorified tent set up out of sight of the lodge. Inside the canteen, long tables were piled with foodstuffs, cooking utensils, a few basic tools and various outdoor gear, including tents and camping stuff.

  After lunch, they chose horses, tacked them up and rode out to get a better look at the property.

  Brenna was impressed by Steve’s abilities. Though he’d lost his left leg below the knee and wore a prosthesis, she’d never guess it to see him on a horse. He’d been raised on a West Texas cattle ranch, where his dad, stepmom and three little half brothers still lived.

  When Brenna complimented his riding skill, Steve flashed his gorgeous smile. “Six weeks out from my last surgery, soon as I got my doctor’s approval, I moved back to the ranch and started riding again.”

  Roberta knew her way around a horse, too. She might have been living in the city for the past twenty years, but she’d grown up on a horse ranch near Santa Barbara.

  Brenna realized they’d both present some serious competition.

  It was past six when they returned to the stables. They took care of their horses and went in to eat.

  Later that evening, Wally Wilson got out his battered old guitar—the rules allowed musical instruments as long as they weren’t amplified or electronic. The old man sat by the big stone fireplace in the lodge’s great room and played country songs that had been popular back when Brenna’s folks were kids.

  It was nice, kind of homey, with everyone gathered around the fire. Some knew the words to the old songs and sang along.

  Travis led Brenna to a club chair by the window. Brenna played her part, sitting crossways on his lap, letting her boots dangle over the chair arm. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. As he idly stroked her hair, she settled in with a contented sigh and decided that reality TV wasn’t bad, really. Not bad at all.

  There were no cameras that she noticed at first, but Anthony Locke and his minions must have seen the opportunity and grabbed it. She looked over and spotted a cameraman in one corner and a guy with a boom mic homing in on old Wally. And now that she was paying attention, she noticed the cameras mounted in the rafters.

  She must have stiffened, because Trav leaned down to kiss the top of her head and asked, “What is it?”

  She snuggled her face into his neck and pretended to kiss him there. He smelled so good, of leather and man. “Cameras,” she whispered. “Everywhere.”

  He chuckled as though she’d said something really amusing. “Get used to it,” he whispered back.

  “It’s creepy.”

  He tipped up her chin. They shared a long look. Oh, really, she could pretend to be Travis’s girl for the rest of her life, easy-peasy. He kissed her, his warm lips so soft, his beard thrillingly scratchy. “Embrace the creepy.”

  “More reality show wisdom?”

  “You said it.”

  “Next you’ll be reminding me that I signed on for this.”

  Travis said nothing. He just kissed her again.

>   “Get a room!” one of the Franklin boys heckled. Somebody else snickered.

  Brenna smiled to herself as she settled her head back on Travis’s shoulder. If she had to play a bride-to-be who couldn’t keep her hands off her man, at least she got to do it with the best kisser in Montana.

  * * *

  At five the next morning, they all gathered downstairs in the lobby to get their body mics. The mics came in two pieces connected by a wire—a microphone, which you hooked to your shirt or pinned in your hair, and a transmitter, which went in a pocket. The mics could record a whisper at three feet away. Contestants were expected to wear them throughout the working day.

  Before they went outside, Roger introduced the wranglers—crew members who wrangled the cast. Dressed in jeans, boots and dark shirts, the wranglers would help to keep track of who was doing what and where, all while keeping themselves mostly invisible. They wore headsets to get instructions from Roger, Anthony and the story editors. They would also consult off camera with the judges when it came time to determine winners and losers.

  Hospitality served them all breakfast outside at picnic tables. And then, as the sun came up, with the cameras rolling, Anthony had the contestants grouped at the entrance to the canteen. Brenna, next to Travis, played her part for the camera, holding his arm, glancing up at him adoringly, staying in good and close.

  Jasper emerged from within and started talking. It was an intro to the show. For the benefit of the TV audience, Jasper explained the rules that all of the contestants had already read and agreed to. There were to be major challenges and minor ones. If you won a minor challenge, you got some small perk. If you won a major challenge, you got immunity from elimination in the next round.

  And if you didn’t have immunity and the judges gave you the lowest score on a major challenge? Bye-bye.

  Jasper introduced the judges, three old cowpunchers, each with a hat bigger than the one before. The one with the biggest hat explained in a lazy drawl that points would be given for skill, daring, teamwork and the successful accomplishment of each major challenge. The points didn’t accumulate. Once the judging of any given challenge was over, everyone still in the game started fresh. All you had to do was survive each major challenge to remain in the running.