Do You Take This (Faux) Fiancée?
Rust Creek Ramblings
All the single ladies in Rust Creek Falls know Travis Dalton. And they all know the sexy, rascally rancher is not the marrying kind. So how is it that our town’s most notorious bachelor has wound up engaged on a Western reality TV show?
We here at the Gazette are pleased The Great Roundup has chosen our hometown heartbreaker as a contestant. And we are definitely rooting for Travis’s unexpected union with childhood friend Brenna O’Reilly, the one girl we believe can keep this cowboy on his toes. But is it true this betrothal is strictly a fabrication for the cameras? Pass the popcorn, dear readers. We suspect this made-for-TV romance could be headed straight for a Hollywood happy ending!
“We’re not giving up now,” Brenna said. “Don’t even think it.”
“But are you…?”
“We are doing this.” Her eyes had stars in them. “And we are taking home the prize.”
“Brenna…” She smelled of flowers and fresh-cut grass. Travis really wanted to kiss her.
“Do it,” she whispered, clearly reading his mind. “We need to do it. How can we pretend that we’re headed for forever when you’ve never even put your lips on mine?”
Was she right? Did he really need to kiss her to make their fake relationship seem real? All he could think was that he’d never kissed her—and he had to kiss her.
He lowered his head a fraction closer and she surged up.
His mouth touched hers.
With a sigh, she let go of his shirtfront. Her hands slid up to clasp the back of his neck. “Travis…” She stroked his nape with her soft fingers as she whispered his name, kissing it onto his lips.
So good. So right. She tasted of honey, of ripe summer fruit—peaches and blackberries, watermelon. Cherries. She tasted of promises, sweet hopes and big dreams. She tasted of home.
Someone yelled, “Kiss her, cowboy!”
Neither Travis nor Brenna paid their hecklers any mind. The brims of their hats collided. His fell and then hers. Neither of them cared.
* * *
Montana Mavericks:
The Great Family Roundup—
Real cowboys and real love in Rust Creek Falls!
The Maverick Fakes a Bride!
Christine Rimmer
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at www.christinerimmer.com.
For MSR,
always.
Contents
It was a warm day for March. And everyone in Bee’s Beauty Parlor that afternoon had gathered at the wide front windows to watch as Travis Dalton rode his favorite bay gelding down Broomtail Road.
The guy was every cowgirl’s fantasy in a snug Western shirt, butt-hugging jeans, Tony Lama Boots and a black hat. One of those film school graduates from the little theater in nearby Kalispell, a video camera stuck to his face, walked backward ahead of him, recording his every move. Travis talked and gestured broadly as he went.
“My, my, my.” Bee smoothed her brassy blond hair, though it didn’t need it. Even in a high wind, Bee’s hair never moved. “Travis does have one fine seat on a horse.”
There were soft, low sounds of agreement and appreciation from the women at the window—and then, out of nowhere, Travis tossed his hat in the air and flipped to a handstand right there on that horse in the middle of the street.
The women applauded. There was more than one outright cry of delight.
Only Brenna O’Reilly stood still and silent. She had her arms wrapped around her middle to keep from clapping, and she’d firmly tucked her lips between her teeth in order not to let out a single sound.
Because no way was Brenna sighing over Travis Dalton. Yes, he was one hot cowboy, with that almost-black hair and those dangerous blue eyes, that hard, lean body and that grin that could make a girl’s lady parts spontaneously combust.
And it wasn’t