background checked and his blood drawn. He even got interviewed by a shrink, who asked a lot of way-too-personal questions. There were also a series of follow-up meetings with casting people and producers. At the two-week mark, in a Century City office tower, he got a little quality time with a bunch of network suits.
That evening, absolutely certain he’d made the show, he raided the minibar in his room and raised a toast to his success.
Hot damn, he’d done it! He was going to be a contestant on The Great Roundup. He would have his shot at a cool million bucks.
And he would win, too. Damned if he wouldn’t. He would build his own house on the family ranch and get more say in the day-to-day running of the place. His older brother, Anderson, made most of the decisions now. But if Travis had some hard cash to invest, his big brother would take him more seriously. Travis would step up as a real partner in running the ranch.
Being the good-time cowboy of the family had been fun. But there comes a point when every man has to figure out what to do with his life. Travis had reached that point. And The Great Roundup was going to take him where he needed to go.
The next morning, a car arrived to deliver him to the studio, where he sat in another waiting area outside a different soundstage with pretty much the same group of potential contestants he’d sat with two weeks before. One by one, they were called through the door. They all emerged smiling to be swiftly led away by their drivers.
When Travis’s turn came, he walked onto the soundstage to find Giselle and Roxanne and a couple producers waiting at a long table. The camera was rolling. Except for that meeting in the office tower with the suits and a session involving lawyers with papers to sign, a camera had been pointed at him every time they talked to him.
Giselle said, “Have a seat, Travis.” He took the lone chair facing the others at the table. “We have some great news for you.”
He knew it—he was in! He did a mental fist pump.
But then Giselle said, “You’ve made the cut for the final audition.”
What the hell? Another audition?
“You’ll love this, Travis.” Giselle watched him expectantly as she announced, “The final audition will be in Rust Creek Falls.”
Wait. What?
She went on, “As it happens, your hometown is not far from the supersecret location where The Great Roundup will be filmed. And since your first audition, we have been busy...”
Dirk Henley, one of the producers, chimed in, “We’ve been in touch with the mayor and the town council.”
“Of Rust Creek Falls?” Travis asked, feeling dazed. He was still trying to deal with the fact that there was more auditioning to get through. He couldn’t believe she’d just said the audition would be happening in his hometown.
“Of course, of Rust Creek Falls.” Giselle actually smiled, a smile that tried to be indulgent but was much too full of sharp white teeth to be anything but scary.
Dirk took over again. “Mayor Traub and the other council members are excited to welcome Real Deal Entertainment to their charming little Montana town.”
Travis valiantly remained positive. Okay, he hadn’t made the final cut, but he was still in the running and that was what mattered.
As for the final audition happening at home, well, now that he’d had a second or two to deal with that information, he supposed he wasn’t all that surprised.
For a show like The Great Roundup, his hometown was a location scout’s dream come true. And the mayor and the council would say yes to the idea in a New York minute. The movers and shakers of Rust Creek Falls had gotten pretty ambitious in the last few years. They were always open to anything that might bring attention, money and/or jobs to town. Real Deal Entertainment should be good for at least the first two.
Dirk said, “We’ll be sending Giselle, Roxanne, a camera crew and a few production people along with you for a last on-camera group audition.”
Giselle showed more teeth. “We’re going to put you and your fellow finalists in your own milieu, you might say.”
Dirk nodded his approval. “And that milieu is a very atmospheric cowboy bar with which I’m sure you are familiar.”
There was only one bar inside the Rust Creek Falls town limits. Travis named it. “The Ace.”
“That’s right!” Dirk beamed. “The Ace in the Hole, which we love.”
What did that even mean? They loved the name? Must be it. No Hollywood type would actually love the Ace. It was a down-home, no-frills kind of place.
Dirk was still talking. “We’ll be taking over ‘the Ace’—” he actually air quoted it “—for a night of rollicking country fun. You know, burgers and brews and a country-western band. We want to see you get loose, kick over the traces, party in a purely cowboy sort of way. It will be fabulous. You’re going to have a great time.” He nodded at the other producer, who nodded right back. “I’m sure we’ll get footage we can use on the show.”
And then Giselle piped up with, “And, Travis...” Her voice was much too casual, much too smooth. “We want you to bring your fiancée along to the audition. We love what you’ve told us about her, and we can’t wait to meet her.”
Fiancée?
Travis’s heart bounced upward into his throat. He tried not to choke and put all he had into keeping his game face on.
But...
Fiancée? When did his imaginary girlfriend become a fiancée?
He’d never in his life had a fiancée. He hadn’t even been with a woman in almost a year.
Yeah, all right. He had a rep as a ladies’ man and he knew how to play that rep, but all that, with the women and the wild nights? It had gotten really old over time. And then there was what had happened last summer. After that, he’d realized he needed to grow the hell up. He’d sworn off women for a while.
Damn. This was bad. Much worse than finding out there was still another audition to get through. How had he not seen this coming?
Apparently, they’d decided they needed a little romance on the show, a young couple in love and engaged to be married—and he’d let Giselle get the idea that he could give them that. He’d thought he was playing the game, but he’d only played himself.
He tried to put on the brakes a little. “Uh, Giselle. We’re not exactly engaged yet.”
“But you will be.” It was a command. And before he could figure out what to say next, Giselle stood. “So, we’re set then. You’ll be taken back to the hotel for tonight. Pack up. Your plane leaves first thing tomorrow.”
* * *
Travis had come this far, and he wasn’t about to give up now. Somehow, he needed to find himself a temporary fiancée. She had to be outgoing
