Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Maisey
“You’re so lucky! He’s so hot!” the woman who had apparently been assigned to turn me into a bride in under two minutes gushes. “If I’d known Travis Dean was going to volunteer to be the groom, I would have signed up for this myself.”
She pushes me down into a stool and tries to tame my hair. “He’s the hottest cowboy on the circuit. Don’t you think?”
“What circuit?”
The girl only laughs and continues her attempts to make me look presentable enough for a wedding. Secretly, I wish her luck. “The rodeo circuit.” She looks at me as if I’m missing a few brain cells. “And the Vegas rodeo is a huge deal. It’s like the Super Bowl of rodeo. And Travis is the champion.”
“Wow.” It’s all I can manage because I’m still trying to wrap my head around what is about to happen. Am I really about to do this?
“Thirty seconds!” a voice behind us yells.
The girl steps back and assesses me. “That’ll have to do,” she says with a shake of her head. “We’re out of time.”
I blink at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t even recognize myself. Somehow, in just over a minute, this girl has managed to make me look almost pretty.
Like the magician she clearly is, she appears behind me with a veil and secures it easily in my hair, which has been pulled back from my face. “There. You’re ready to get married.”
I don’t have time to even consider how crazy those words are before someone shoves a clipboard in my face.
“Here. Sign this.”
“What is—”
“Just the details to claim your prize.”
I pause, pen in hand, and try to scan the paperwork, but the lighting is so bad, and they’re rushing me.
“It’s literally just the stupid fine print so you can get your money,” the guy says. “Hurry. They need you on stage.”
I scrawl my signature on the line where he’s pointing, and then I’m being hauled back out to the stage where Travis is waiting. He’s been given a ridiculous bow tie to wear over his button-up denim shirt. But it’s the giant belt buckle at his waist that I can’t take my eyes off.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. It’s massive, shiny, and gold.
A champion bareback bronc rider.
My eyes travel up the length of him. I swallow hard because the makeup girl was right.
He’s very, very hot. He’s easily over a foot taller than me, muscular in a way that tells me he’s earned his muscles through a lifetime of hard work, not from hours in the gym.
His skin is warm and tanned from a life lived outside, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes confirming it and suggesting that he’s obviously at least fifteen years older than me.
I’m only twenty-two, fresh out of college. I have barely any experience with men at all, and…
What am I doing?
A wave of panic rolls through me. The stage tilts as I almost pass out.
A strong arm wraps around my waist, holding me upright. “Are you okay?”
I look up into his green eyes and, for a moment, forget where I am. All I can do is stare.
“Maisey?” My name on his lips snaps me out of my daze. “We don’t have to do this. We can walk away right now.”
He’s close enough that only I can hear what he’s saying. His voice is deep but calm and soothing, too. He won’t hold it against me if I want to back out. Hell, I didn’t even sign up for this.
But before I can say anything or make any decisions, everything starts.
“Yee-haw, ladies and gents!” the announcer, who now has a matching rhinestone-studded cowboy hat on, steps up behind us, yelling into the microphone.
He throws his arms up in the air as if he’s summoning the spirit of the Wild West, and if I weren’t already so overwhelmed by it all, I’d probably be rolling my eyes.
“Welcome to the most rootin’-tootin’, heart-stealing union this side of the Strip!”
Travis stiffens beside me, but his hand reaches out to grab mine. It’s grounding and warm.
The crowd roars as he goes on to tell us all the prizes we are about to win.
A list of drinks, dinner, and other items that the bar’s sponsors have provided.
A bar tab for the night.
A night in the honeymoon suite of the hotel that’s probably a lot more comfortable than the pull-out bed in Patty’s hotel room that I’d been assigned.
And the main attraction: fifty thousand dollars.
I swallow hard and look up at Travis. “It’s a lot of money.”
“It is.” He nods. “But we don’t—”
“Our bride,” the officiant says, turning to me with a flourish, “has been wrangled from the wilds of the dance floor. Ain’t she a vision?”
Spotlights sweep over me. Once again, I resist the urge to melt into the stage. The girl backstage worked her magic, but despite her handiwork and the stupid veil on my head, this is not how a bride is supposed to look.
“This ain’t your usual Vegas bride, ladies and gents,” the officiant continues. “No, ma’am. This one’s got some spunk.”
I glance at Travis, beyond mortified. “You don’t have to go through with this.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I—”
“And our groom!” The officiant interrupts, making the crowd lose their minds. “Ain’t he a fine specimen of a cowboy?”
Much louder cheering.
I feel Travis relax a little, like he’s resigned himself to this. “I just want you to know that—”
“Now hold your horses, sweetheart!” the officiant says, wagging a finger at me. “The bride only speaks when spoken to. That’s tradition.”
“Excuse me?” I tense and rise up on my toes, ready to go to war.
“Kidding!” he bellows into the mic. “Mostly.” He shoots me a look. “But we do have a ceremony to get through.”
The crowd loses it.
“Now, let’s get this started.”
Travis raises a brow in question, his eyes pinning me.
“It’s not real,” I tell him. “It’s just a promo. It’s—”
“Repeat after me, cowboy. I, Travis, promise to ride hard, love true, and never leave my bride stranded at the saloon.”
Is this for real?
Travis does as instructed, repeating the ridiculous words and sliding a simple band on my left hand. The crowd cheers wildly.
“Now you, bride.” He turns to me and puts a ring in my hand. “Repeat after me.” I swallow hard. “I, Maisey—”
I hesitate, the ring a heavy weight in my hand. “I—”
“—promise to stand by my cowboy,” he barrels on, not waiting for me to catch up, “through buckles, bar fights, and bad hangovers.”
“I—”
“—to support his rodeo dreams,” he continues, “and to look damn good doing it.”
The words tumble out of me before my brain can catch up, and I slide the band on his finger.
From somewhere in the audience, I hear Patty yell something, but I don’t quite catch it, which is probably for the best because I already know it won’t be supportive or encouraging.
The crowd explodes. Caught up in it all, I laugh and look at Travis. This whole thing is ridiculous and so far from real life.
“Now, by the powers vested in me, this bar, and the state of Nevada, I declare these two hitched.”
That’s it.
“Kiss your cowgirl, cowboy.”
Travis tugs on my hand, turning me so I’m facing him. Before I can protest, or even think, his hand comes up to my waist, warm and steady. He leans in.
When his lips meet mine, suddenly, nothing about this feels pretend.
Travis
She melts under my kiss.
Her lips are soft as they part under mine, like her body already knows what my brain is working double-time to catch up to.
The crowd’s cheering fades to a dull roar that turns into nothing more than background noise. I slide one hand up behind her head, tangling my fingers through that wild, untamed hair, and pull her closer.
I know we just met; I know there’s nothing about this that’s real.
Except… it is.
For better or worse, this woman is my wife.
At least for the time being.
And every part of me is ready to make the most of that time.
I try to keep the kiss chaste and respectful, but the ridiculous man in the rhinestones leans in close to my ear and says, “That’s all you got for her, cowboy?”
Not. Even. Close.
I pull back to look at her. Really look at this woman who just agreed to marry me. Her cheeks are flushed, her breath a little unsteady, her eyes bright with a mix of nerves and something else I can’t figure out.
She offers me a small smile, the tiniest token of permission.
It’s all I need to pull her close and kiss my new wife properly.
My lips crush hers. This time, there’s nothing tentative or controlled about the kiss. I hear it when a soft groan slips from her lips. I feel it when her body curves into mine, just like it belongs there.
Her hand comes up and clutches at my shirt, pulling me to her.
As if I’m going to let her go now.
“Woo-ee!” Rhinestone Man screams into the mic. “What do you say, ladies and gents? Do these two need to get a room or what?”
A room?
Fuck yes.
I want to take this woman upstairs, lay her down on the bed and—
A firm grip on my arm pulls me away from my sweet little wifey. “But not yet,” the man says to me, wagging a finger in my face.
I bite back a growl and the urge to tear his finger off completely.
“Thanks to our extensive list of sponsors, the celebrations are just getting started,” the rhinestone cowboy sings into the mic. “First up, a test for the happy couple brought to you by Bodacious Bubbles.”
Maisey and I are pushed and pulled around the stage, made to pose for one ridiculous photo after another, while Rhinestone Man runs through all the prizes from the various sponsors that are responsible for this crazy event.
After what feels like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the music starts up again, and we’re shoved back together and out into the crowd.
I grip Maisey’s hand before she’s swept off into the throng of people on the dance floor. “How about a dance?” I whisper into her ear. “After all, it is our wedding.”
She tips her head back in a laugh, and I swear, it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. Moments later, she holds her hand to her mouth to cover a little burp. Her eyes are wide with mortification.
“Oops. Maybe mixing tequila shots with Bodacious Bubbles was a bad idea.”
I keep a hand on her back as she stumbles backward a bit. “I’ve got you, little filly.”
She stares at me, her mouth open, as if she might object to the nickname. Instead, she laughs.
“Come on,” I say, leading her to the dance floor, where I pull her into an easy two-step.
She lets me lead her around for a few minutes, her feet moving to the beat in a way that tells me she’s not a stranger to dancing.
The alcohol makes her stumble a little, but I’ve had plenty of experience leading women who’ve had a few more than they should have.
After a few minutes, she stands up on her tiptoes and says, “I can’t believe we just did that.” Her eyes are wide with wonder. “Did we just do that?”
“We sure did.”
She throws her head back, the wild mass of her curls breaking free from whatever clips they’d tried to tame them with for the ceremony, so they spill down her back in a way I find a whole lot sexier.
“Ha!” she says. “I bet my stepsister is freaking out right now.”
“Stepsister?”
She nods. “Yup. I’m here for her stagette.
” The way she rolls her eyes lets me know exactly what she thinks about that.
“She signed me up for that little stunt to embarrass me.” Instantly, I flash back to the blonde with the stupid pink bride sash on who’d been cheering and laughing the loudest. That tracks.
“I bet she didn’t actually think you’d go through with it.”
“Nope.” Maisey laughs again with a tipsy smile. “She’s probably freaking out, thinking it’s real.”
I stop dancing, hold her by the shoulders, and look her in the eyes. “Maisey. How much tequila did you have before all that?” I wave toward the stage.
“Just a few shots.” She shrugs vaguely. “Why?”
I stare at her for a beat. She clearly doesn’t realize that what we just did was very, very real.
Backstage, they had me sign paperwork that looked very much like a wedding certificate.
I’m not sure how to tell her the truth, but there really is no other option. “Maisey, I don’t know how to tell you—”
“There’s the happy couple,” Rhinestone Dude interrupts us before I can break it to her. “You forgot to take your prize packet.”
Maisey’s eyes light up as I take the envelope for us and slide it into my breast pocket.
“There are all kinds of vouchers in there for free meals, a helicopter ride, and of course your keycards to the honeymoon suite,” he says. “Oh, and the contracts you signed with all the important details about how to claim the rest of your prizes.”
“The rest?” Maisey sways a little, and I hold her tight to my side.
“All the details are in there.” Rhinestone Man points to the envelope in my pocket. “Now, enjoy your new married life.”
“Right.” Maisey laughs. “Except it’s not real, right?”
“It’s only as real as you want it to be, sweetheart,” Rhinestone Guy says.
Something in the way he says it must catch her attention because she stands up a bit straighter by my side.
“But it’s not real real?” I hear the waver in her voice the moment she sees the look on his face.
She looks to me for confirmation, but there’s nothing I can say that will make her feel better in this moment.
Her head swings back to the man responsible for this mess, all signs of intoxication gone, when she says, “But you said it wasn’t real. ”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I said that it’s Vegas. Everything in this town is some level of illusion.”
“Including this marriage, right?” There’s an edge of desperation in her voice as she demands the answer.
“Nope,” he says with a smile. “You two are legally married.”
“What?”
She lunges for him, but I hold her back and tighten my grip around my new wife’s shoulders before she commits murder in the middle of the bar.
The sleazy asshole shrugs with a laugh. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart. But like I said, it’s not a big deal. Just get an annulment in the morning. No harm, no foul.” He turns to walk away but, before he leaves, adds, “But make sure you read the fine print first.”