3. Rachel
Chapter 3
Rachel
I hustle through the throngs of people at the Bluebonnet Festival, my boots kicking up dust. The perfume of wildflowers mingles with the aromas of barbecue and roasting corn. Strings of lights hang from poles and tents, like stars dangling from the sky, illuminating faces painted with joy and excitement. This is my first festival in Cupid’s Creek. People have been talking about it for weeks. But underneath its vibrant energy, my nerves are a jumbled mess because I’m spending it with Mom and a pretend lover. She’s mine, and I love her, but I’m constantly on edge when she’s around. And she’s certain to have plenty to say about Travis.
The cheerful atmosphere is at odds with the anxiety in my stomach. I’ve faced down an abusive ex and started over in a new town across the county from where I was born, but somehow, she still has the power to make me feel like an insecure teenager. Part of me wants to turn and run, to escape back to the safety of my studio apartment in one of only two apartment buildings in town. But I can’t. I have to prove to her and myself that I am old enough and capable enough to build the life I want.
“Darling, there you are.” Mom’s voice slices through the hum of conversations and laughter as I finally reach her. She stands poised like a queen among her subjects, her blonde hair perfect even in the evening breeze while her sharp green eyes scan the crowd. Her tailored navy dress hugs a figure many women my age and younger envy, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. At sixty-five, she still commands attention from both sexes like she’s holding court. Her ruby-red lips curve into a tight smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”
She arrived late this afternoon, after a long flight and then a two-hour drive and met me at my apartment. Fortunately, she had already booked a room at the small hotel, so I don’t have to worry about fighting over my bed for the few nights she’s in town. Unfortunately, she insisted we meet again at the festival after she had time to settle into her room and freshen up. I had hoped to take her to dinner and call it a night, but she insisted on the attending the festival, hoping it might give her insight as to why I landed here, of all places. Her words.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat, fighting the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.
“Hey, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”
She scrunches up her face when a group of young children race by, screaming excitedly, stuffed toys tucked under their arms, sparklers in their hands, and their faces painted like butterflies and farm animals. “So, tell me about this man you’ve met. Travis, is it?”
I’ve rehearsed this moment countless times since yesterday. But now that it’s here, my mind is blank. “Uh, yeah. Travis, Travis Kincaid,” I stammer. “We met at the library.” I wince internally. Why didn’t I just tell her the truth? There’s nothing wrong with meeting at a café. People meet at coffee shops all the time in the city.
“Library? You?” Mom’s laugh is sharp, filled with disbelief. “And how long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks,” I lie again. It’s all too quick and fresh, and I’m digging a giant hole for myself.
“And what exactly do you see in him?”
I push my shoulders back, determined not to let her see how much her insinuated doubts affect me. I try to channel Sheila. “His honesty.” The one truth comes out comfortably this time. “He’s straightforward, doesn’t play games, and he’s hardworking.” He’s also damn sexy, but I leave that part out. She’ll see for herself soon enough.
“Sounds charming,” she says.
That’s when I spot him, and his broad shoulders easily parting the sea of locals. Our eyes lock, and butterflies swarm my stomach. Then, I mentally scold myself for the reaction. I lift a hand in greeting, and he returns the gesture with a warm smile that seems to reach deep into my chest and squeeze.
Oh, who am I kidding? I like him.
This is supposed to be pretend, a way to get Mom off my back. But seeing Travis approach, his presence reassuring and thrilling, I’m in danger of crossing a line I swore I wouldn’t. After Matt, I vowed no man would have that kind of power over me again. I hope I’m not making another massive mistake.
“Well,” Mom murmurs, her gaze following mine to where Travis stands. “He is quite the specimen. But isn’t he a little old for you, dear?”
“Mom,” I chide.
“That’s a whole lot of man,” she says unabashedly, her eyes gleaming with something akin to approval.
“I must say, I’m not fond of the motel I’m staying at, or this tiny town, but seeing you—and him—might just make this visit worthwhile.”
The compliment, if that’s what it’s meant to be, is rare and should please me. Instead, it only tightens the knot of unease growing beneath my heart.
Travis moves through the people gathered and with each step, people instinctively shift aside, conversations pausing as heads turn in his direction. The man exudes confidence in every step. I had heard his father and grandfather contributed significantly to the building of one of the schools and the new hospital. And his mother, though I haven’t met her yet, apparently is on the board of the golf and country club. I’m sure a man like Travis Kincaid gives back to his community in many ways. Which only makes me like him more.
Every so often, he pauses to speak to various townspeople so his trip through the crowd is slow at best. I have time to fetch Mom a cold drink. Finally, he’s standing in front of us, and my knees weaken as his eyes widen appreciatively at me before he turns to Mom.
“Good evening, Mrs. Anderson. It’s nice to meet you.” His voice is deep, conveying a particular strength and stability.
“Please, call me Karen. Rachel hasn’t told me much about you, Mr. Kincaid. She certainly did not tell me that you’re much older than her.”
Does she see my eyes rolling? I really hope so. I can’t kick her without Travis noticing.
He ignores the jab and gives her a half-smile. Then, his sexy blue gaze flicks back to me. “Rachel, sweetheart, I’ve missed you.” He kisses my cheek.
“We saw each other yesterday.”
“I know.” He tips his hat and winks.
I’m not sure how to react. Do I kiss him back? Take his hand? Put my arm around his waist?
Travis solves my dilemma by slipping his arm around my shoulders and gently tugging me into his side.
Mom’s gaze jumps from Travis to me and back.
“Travis plans to show me around his place. I’m anxious to learn all I can about country life.”
“Is that so?” Her smile thins instantly. “You have farm, do you?”
“Actually, it’s a cattle ranch Ma’am.”
“Cows?” She looks like she just stepped in manure.
“Cattle, Mom. Lots of cows. And horses too. On a very large ranch. In fact, Travis’s family helped to shape Cupid’s Creek.”
Travis casts me a surprised glance.
With the internet’s help, I researched my pretend boyfriend after I cornered Sheila for as many details as she’d offer. I knew from the gossip mill that he had money, but it appears I managed to snag one of the wealthiest men in Cupid’s Creek. His family goes back generations. He also has two younger brothers and a sister, none currently living in town, though.
“Well, I’m sure there’s much to learn… about cows.”
“Oh, there is, Karen.” Travis nods, ignoring her caustic tone. “But tonight, we’re just here to enjoy the festival. Aren’t we, honey?” He dips his head to kiss my temple.
“Absolutely.”
My heart starts hammering against my ribcage. The word ‘honey’ from his mouth feels like a brand on my skin, and I immediately imagine us in bed together, me all languid after some spectacularly hot sex while he places the sweetest kisses all over my body. Sigh.
Wait! What the hell am I doing? I can’t get emotionally involved. That isn’t part of the deal. We don’t know each other. At best we’re new friends… who are pretending to be lovers.
Can I smack my forehead now?
Speaking of public displays of affection—how far should we go? His hand is already warm on my back, a little too low and intimate. See? I’m already so comfortable with his touch I didn’t notice his palm rubbing up and down my back. His arm was on my shoulder a moment ago. And yet, I find myself leaning into his muscular body, wanting more.
Mom’s eyes narrow, her lips pursing as she studies me. “Dear, you look flushed. Are you feeling okay?”
I shift uncomfortably. “I’m fine. Travis just has that effect on people.”
His thumb traces small circles through the fabric of my shirt, sending shivers across my skin. “Only the special ones.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Careful there, cowboy.” My skin tingles under his touch, and my pulse speeds up whenever he looks at me.
While Mom watches with a keen eye, he shifts so we’re facing each other. His brings up one hand and caresses my cheek, slowly guiding my face toward his. His gaze roams over my features, intense and searching.
Before I can muster a protest—not that I would—his lips brush against mine—a touch as light as a whisper yet blazing with heat.
A maelstrom of sensations floods my body, heading straight to the tips of my limbs, curling my toes. Kissing wasn’t part of my carefully constructed plan for the evening. I had considered every other detail, from the practicality of heels to the simplicity of handholding. But this? This sends my thoughts scattering like tumbleweeds in a windstorm.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips to dance with mine, and a soft moan escapes me, swallowed by his eager mouth.
I don’t know when or how it happens, but I discover my fingers tangled in the silky hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body seeps into mine as we press chest to chest, thigh to thigh, igniting a spark that flares bright and spreads from my core to my fingertips. Part of me wants to run, to hide from the intensity of the feeling coursing through me. But a larger part, the part I’ve been trying to silence, longs to stay right here in Travis’s arms. Where I feel safe.
I forget all about the festival.
I forget all about Mom—until she clears her throat.
Travis pulls back slightly, his breath hot against my lips. “That was…”
Holy shit, this cowboy can fucking kiss. I blink rapidly before swaying back into him. My heart thunders in my chest, threatening to burst free. I struggle to find words, and my mind is hazy with desire. “I... Travis... wow.”
He chuckles low in his throat, the sound sending tremors through my body. “It’s just a kiss, honey.”
I swat his chest playfully, trying to regain my composure and not become embarrassed. How could he brush it off like that? Just a kiss? No, that was a promise, a glimpse of something I convinced myself I don’t deserve. The practical side of my brain screams ‘this is all for show,’ but my traitorous heart whispers… ‘what if?’
Travis’s lips on mine felt so real, so right that for a moment, lost in the warmth of his hands and tenderness of his mouth, I’d forgotten about our arrangement.
But reality comes crashing back, leaving me dizzy and conflicted. I would love to believe this could be more than pretend, but fear holds me back. What if I’m reading too much into it? What if I’m setting myself up for heartbreak all over again? Maybe he’s just good at faking it.
“You are quite the pair,” Mom remarks dryly, eyeing Travis with newfound respect—or is it calculation?
I tense at her scrutiny, feeling like a specimen under a microscope. Her approval should make me happy, but instead, it makes me want to run. I’ve spent a long time trying to escape her expectations, and now here I am, right back where I started. Only this time, it’s all based on a lie.
I know that look all too well—the wheels are turning in her head. If she’s gotten past the farm bit and the age difference, she’s already planning my future. I want to scream that it isn’t real, that she has no right to meddle in my life even if there could be something genuine with Travis. But the words stick in my throat, choking me.
Her gaze continues to flick between us as her lips curve into a sly smile. “Well, aren’t you two just as sweet as peach pie. Isn’t that what they say in the south? Travis, I must say, you’ve certainly charmed my daughter.”
A knot forms in my stomach at her words. How many times have I heard that tone before? That mix of approval and possessiveness makes it seem like I’m a prized mare being auctioned off to the highest bidder. I don’t need her approval.
Travis’s hand finds mine, and I welcome his comforting touch. “Ma’am, I assure you, the charm works both ways.”
His words thrill me, even as I remind myself it’s all part of the act. But oh, how I suddenly wish it were true. Travis’s steady presence beside me feels like an anchor in a storm. Just by leaning into him, I draw strength from his heat.
She stares hard at me but doesn’t comment.
My cheeks burn, and I desperately search for a way to change the subject. “Mom, have you tried the funnel cakes yet? They’re simply divine.”
“Now, Rachel.” She tuts, wagging a finger. “You know I’m watching my figure.” She looks me up and down, eyes narrowing on my waist and hips. “Unlike some people who seem to have forgotten the importance of maintaining appearances.”
The familiar sting of her words makes me wince. As always, her critique cuts deep, reopening old wounds. I shrink as years of insecurity and self-doubt rush in. I should defend myself like Sheila practiced with me, but at heart, I’m still seeking her approval.
Travis’s grip on my hand tightens protectively. “With all due respect, Mrs. Anderson ,” his voice is low and smooth as honey. “I happen to think Rachel looks absolutely stunning not only tonight, but every night.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, and for a moment, I let myself believe him.
Mom’s perfectly plucked eyebrows shoot up. “Oh? And what exactly makes her so stunning, Mr. Kincaid ?”
We didn’t have time to rehearse compliments or declarations of attraction for our fake relationship. What if he can’t come up with anything? What if his silence exposes our charade? I brace myself for disappointment, ready to laugh it off as a joke if necessary.
Travis’s thumb continues to trace lazy circles on my hip as he speaks as if he has all the time in the world. “Well, for starters, there’s that sparkle in her gaze when she talks about… well, just about anything. I adore how her whole face lights up when she laughs, which I happen to love the sound of. And let’s not forget how she can put a smile on just about anyone’s face with her quick wit and easy banter at the diner. Everyone likes Rachel.”
My heart does a little flip. It’s just an act, I remind myself. But damn, if Travis isn’t a good actor.
For a pretend moment, I see myself through his eyes—not as the flawed, insecure woman I often feel like, but as someone worthy of admiration. I want to believe him so badly, but fear holds me back. How can I trust this feeling when it’s all built on pretense?
Mom’s expression softens slightly as she glances over at me. “I suppose she does have her moments.”
“Mom.” I groan, mortified.
“Now, now, darling. No need to be modest. It’s about time you were snagged by a real good catch.”
I bristle at her words. I’ve fought hard for my independence, clawing my way out of Matt’s suffocating grip. The last thing I need is to be reduced to a conquest.
Travis simply smiles at her. “I’d say it’s more like we caught each other, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. The sincerity in his makes me wonder if there is more to his words. But I push the thought away, afraid to examine it too closely.
Mom’s sharp gaze zeroes in on Travis. “And what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”
Now, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Leave it to Mom to bulldoze through any semblance of social grace.
Travis, however, doesn’t miss a beat. “My intentions? Well, Ma’am, right now my intention is to show Rachel the best night of her life at this charming little festival. Maybe win her a stuffed animal at one of those rigged carnival games. And if I’m lucky, steal another kiss under the stars.”
His smooth response sends me off kilter. The idea of a perfect night, stolen kisses, and even a tacky stuffed animal sounds like a dream. I can’t help laughing at his quick response. “Aren’t you just full of surprises, cowboy?”
Mom’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Well, I must say, I like you, Travis. And, Rachel, honey, you could do worse than a man who knows how to sweet-talk your mother.”
Relieved that she finally seems appeased, my irritation at her backhanded compliment fizzles, and a confusing warmth at the idea of Travis and me as a pair settles over me. It’s all getting complicated, a tangle of truth and lies that I’m struggling to process.
I roll my eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind the gesture. “Gee, thanks for the stamp of approval, Mom.”
Travis just laughs it off. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I watch her preen under his attention, and a part of me aches. Why doesn’t she ever look at me with that same approval? Why am I never enough on my own?
As I watch Travis charm my mother, a realization hits me. This is precisely what I’d wanted—Mom off my back. So why does it leave me feeling so hollow? Maybe because deep down, I know this isn’t real, and a growing part of me wishes it were.
“See, Rachel? This is the kind of gentleman I hoped you’d find. Ma?—”
“Mom,” I cut her off sharply, panic rising in my chest. “Let’s not dwell on the past, okay?”
Travis’s arm tightens around me. “Come on, let’s try some of the food.” He steers us toward the vendors’ stalls lit up along Main Street, effectively ending the discussion about our relationship, or my past one.
We stroll through the center of town, checking out all the various booths of delicious food, baked and canned goods, and artisans’ treasures. Darkness begins to settle in, and the white lights overhead casts a soft glow over the people of Cupid’s Creek. Country music plays through speakers and the aroma of grilled meat and sweet pies coats the air.
“Here, you have to try this.” Travis hands me a bite of cheese from one of the local farmers’ stands, his fingers brushing mine causing a sizzling zing to race up my arm.
I pop it into my mouth and close my eyes, the scrumptious flavor melting on my tongue. “God, that’s good.”
He grins. “Knew you’d like it. Want me to get you a wheel?”
“Travis, I don’t even have a fridge?—”
I’m cut off by my mom’s snort. “She’s still living like a college student in a studio apartment smaller than her bedroom back home.” Her tone is sharp and designed to cut.
And here I thought we’d gotten past her complaints for the night.
The harmony I’d been feeling evaporates instantly. She never misses an opportunity. I had thought Travis was winning her over, but now she’s back to her curt remarks.
I wince and feel Travis tense beside me, his jaw clenching. His gaze is dark; he clearly wants to step in but is holding back. I wish he’d tell her off, but I’m grateful he doesn’t make a scene.
“Let’s not worry about that now.” I grab another chunk of cheese, shoving it in my mouth to avoid saying something I will regret.
As we wander through the festival grounds, her jabs continue, and with each snide remark, I find myself inching closer to Travis. His presence is a comforting buffer with his hand resting on my lower back, warm and steady. It sends a rush of heat through me, and I find myself leaning into his side.
Is it wrong that I enjoy his attention? Is it bad that my heart seems to skip a beat every time he looks at me? And he looks at me often. Is it so terrible to crave his arms around me?
I’m playing a dangerous game, and I know it. Yet standing here, with Travis by my side, I can’t bring myself to care. Not tonight, anyway. Even with Mom being Mom.
“I never asked, how long have you and Travis been an item?”
My stomach clenches, the familiar tension creeping up my spine. Shit. We hadn’t discussed this part of our story. I smile casually, buying time as I scramble for a believable answer.
“Oh, you know,” I say, aiming for nonchalance. “It’s still new, I guess. We’ve been taking things slow.”
Her lips purse, her gaze sharp as a scalpel. “I’d expect my only daughter to remember such an important detail.”
I should’ve known better than to leave an opening for her to pounce. Travis’s deep voice rumbles from behind me before I fumble for a more specific response.
“It’s hasn’t been too long, Ma’am. But I’ve been sweet on Rachel since the day she drove into town, and I spotted her at the diner.”
I’m grateful for the save, but Mom is searching for cracks in our facade.
“Ya know, Karen…” His voice rolls like thunder, clear and calm over the hum of the festival. “I’d love to have you over at the ranch sometime. There’s plenty of space, and the sunsets are worth the trip alone.”
It was a smooth diversion, his offer drawing my mother’s hawkish attention away from the timeline she seems so eager to dissect. I watch her face, that eyebrow still cocked in suspicion, but she seems intrigued by the invitation.
“I might just take you up on that. On my next visit though. Unfortunately, I’m heading back home tomorrow.” She appraises Travis as if he’s a prize stallion. “I’ve never been on a ranch. It must take quite the finances to run something as large as you’ve described.”
I stifle a groan. Leave it to Mom to turn a friendly invitation into a fishing expedition.
Beside me, he chuckles, not missing a beat. It’s impossible not to admire his unflappable nature.
“Ma’am,” he replies with a tip of his hat, “I assure you, I can cover the expenses.”
Travis rocks back on his heels. “Well, I better get goin’, ladies. Us farmers get up early to feed the horses and tend the cattle.” His grin is devilish.
Before I can say a word, he cups my face with his rough hands and kisses me again. Really kisses me. His lips move against mine with a hunger that sends every nerve in my body dancing, sending a jolt to my toes. His mouth tastes like the spicy tang of barbecue and the sweet burn of whiskey—flavors of the festival, flavors of him. His strong arms encircle my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I melt into his embrace while my hands explore the firm planes of his chest. The kiss is everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more. It’s tender yet fierce, gentle yet demanding. It speaks of longing, desire, and a passion that I want to believe is not one-sided.
Too soon, he pulls back just when I’m starting to think he might not be pretending at all. His gaze holds mine, and I feel more than a little dizzy.
“Goodnight, Rachel. Nice to meet you, Karen. Safe travels back to New York.” He turns to leave, his silhouette blending with the shadows of the festival lights.
“Goodnight, Travis,” I whisper to the empty space he left behind, my lips tingling from his kiss.
I stand there and watch him walk away, knowing that whatever this is between us, it can’t end here. It simply can’t.