But Kacey wasn't counting on Jake's older brother Travis still being there. She calls him "Satan" for a reason: she's never forgotten the way he teased and taunted her. Yet when they meet again, Travis's gorgeous smile is a direct hit to her heart . . . and Kacey's more confused than ever. As the days pass, only one thing starts to become alarmingly clear-she never should have accepted Jake's deal . . .
“You’re pregnant!” she shouted, nearly dropping her tea to
the floor. “Oh my heavens! Oh dear me. Oh, Grandma’s going to be so delighted!”
“I’m not—” Kacey argued.
“She’s not telling anyone yet,” Travis interrupted with a
devilish smirk. “You know, the media and all that.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” Bets scurried around the room until she
finally stopped in front of a few shelves. “Oh honey, don’t you remember when
you and Jake used to play house? And Travis…” Bets looked at Travis and
pointed. “Didn’t you play with them? Because they needed an extra person to
stand in for the…”
“Dog.” Kacey smiled at Travis and stifled a giggle. “He was
our dog when we played house.”
“Oh, how nice.” Bets winked at Travis and returned to
digging out scrapbooks. “I’m sure I have some pictures we can use for the
wedding.”
Kacey, still trying to gain control of her panic, swallowed
before asking, “Why do we need pictures?”
“You know.” Bets waved her hand in the air. “For the video
montage! You have to have a video montage! They’re all the rage. You know, baby
pictures, prom pictures, that sort of thing. Guests love it!”
“But what about Vegas?” Kacey asked in a hopeful voice.
“Posh.” Bets shook her head vigorously. “We’ll pay for the
entire thing. And you’ll get married here, at Titus Abbey.”
“Swell,” Kacey mumbled, then glared in Travis’s direction.
He was gone. She leaned across the sofa and noticed him in the kitchen opening
a beer. Oh, nectar of the gods! Just when she needed something strong the most,
and Jake’s family thought she was pregnant.
Oh God. She was going to have to be a closet drinker. She
would have to sneak down to the kitchen just to snag some tequila to numb the
guilt and pain. His parents were going to kill her, and they would hate her
forever. Which meant she actually had to marry Jake and then turn a blind eye
to his inability to keep his pecker in his pants. And then she’d start hoarding
and buying cats in order to fill the void in her life.
The drinking would get worse. Jake would hate her, and in a
final desperate attempt to regain her youth, she’d die on the table trying to
get plastic surgery.
This. Could. Not. Happen!
“I, uh, I’m going to see what Travis is up to!” Kacey bolted
from her chair and ran into the kitchen.
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
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