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“I mean, the thought briefly crossed my mind. However, it would be sorta hard to get away with a crime like that being as famous as he is, ya know?”
“I suppose that’s true.” She sighs. “I mean, he is super hot … and you’ve never been one to turn down an adventure…” Her voice trails off. “So when and where is this wedding?”
“It’s this weekend. In Texas. And we’re leaving now.”
“What?! That’s so soon.”
“Look, I know this is absolutely insane. But … if I don’t go, I’ll probably regret it for the rest of my life, ya know? It’s not every day a rockstar comes waltzing into your town needing a fake fiancée.” I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“You’re right … you have to go. And you better tell me everything,” she gushes. “But please be safe, sis. Better yet, send me your phone location, so I can track you.”
“Okay, sis. Will do. Love you.”
“Love you, more.”
Chapter Three
Wade
My mom is gonna love her, I think to myself as I climb into my truck.
I can’t believe I’m at the point in my life where I need to convince a stranger to pretend to be my fiancée.
But here we are.
Roger came up with the idea to hire a fake fiancée to “win over the hearts and minds of the fans.” But I’m the one who just impulsively decided to bring one home with me.
Not at all for the same reasons.
And I have no intentions of telling Roger anything about this, because the only hearts and minds I’m interested in “winning over” are my family’s…
…and maybe that Texas judge.
I watch Callie get into an old Ford Bronco, somewhat surprised she drives one. I mean, Ford Broncos are awesome, but ... hers looks like it might not make it a mile down the road. When she fires it up, a huge cloud of white smoke rolls out of the back tailpipe.
Must have a head gasket issue.
I make a mental note to take a look at it when we get back from Texas, then follow the sputtering Bronco out of the parking lot, heading north. It’s a cool morning, and while I might live in Nashville part of the time, the rest of the time, I stay in Los Angeles. I’ve always preferred the weather on the West Coast. This chilly October morning in Arkansas is something I’m not used to.
“Callie Walker,” I say to myself as she keeps heading north—out of town. It’s a pretty name, but nothing that stands out in any way.
It’s perfect—she’s perfect—for someone I need to bring home.
There’s something simple about her, too. She doesn’t look like she’ll be a bunch of drama, and the all-natural look works for her—like really works for her.
But she’s not my type.
Which means she will be my family’s type.
“It’s perfect.” I chuckle to myself, turning off onto a gravel road. I glance around, realizing that we’re literally in the middle of nowhere now, surrounded by thick woods. “Where in the world does this woman live?”
The trees lining the road are ablaze with autumn colors, which are stunning against the backdrop of the clear blue sky.
Over two miles later, I follow her down a dirt and grass driveway—with zero gravel—hidden amongst the trees. I’m really glad I decided to drive my truck for this road trip now as I’m bumping over the uneven ground. The Lamborghini would’ve bottomed out already.
After a few moments of off-roading, a spectacular log cabin comes into view. The yard looks freshly mowed and there’s a landscaped flower bed with towering Crape Myrtles and lots of Mums.
So. Many. Mums.
