Page 15 of Broncos and Ballads (Healing Springs Ranch #2)

Venus read Reed’s texts again.

Reed: Are you crazy?

Reed: I can’t believe you’re even considering getting engaged to Brock.

Reed: Are you doing this because I told you that you’re afraid of committing?

“It had to be my manager.” Brock pulled out his phone. “He must have planted the photographer at Tiffany’s.”

She wanted to shoot a text back to Reed and tell him she wasn’t engaged and that he was wrong. They’d always had the kind of friendship where she could be honest with him about everything. She wasn’t used to holding back and deceiving him.

But she’d started the whole fake dating because of him. Not only had she needed to prove to him she wasn’t like her mom and afraid of commitment, but maybe in some ways, she wanted to force herself to move on, show him what he was missing in giving her up, and make him regret not choosing her.

Brock started typing out a text on his phone. “I’ll text Harper and ask him to come up with a plan to get rid of this whole engagement thing.”

“Wait.”

He paused and glanced at her.

Her mind was a tumble of confusion. She’d assumed she could pair herself with Brock in theory for a couple of weeks or maybe a month and then move on easily. But already, after just one week, the situation was beginning to spiral out of control.

Brock reached for her hand on the seat between them. He squeezed it gently before letting go.

The move only made her think about his hands, which had been on her a few minutes ago when they’d kissed outside Maxim’s. His fingers had splayed at her back, pressing her tighter as he’d meshed his mouth with hers. And oh, what a meshing it had been.

A sizzling started again in her stomach, just as it had when she’d been kissing him—a sizzling like that of a sparkler all lit up and hissing and spitting out tiny flickers.

She hadn’t been prepared for those mini fireworks going off inside her.

Brock McQuaid was not only the king of country music.

He was obviously the king of kissing too.

He’d kissed her back with a decisiveness and a banked passion that had been both hot and exciting.

She was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t been ready for the kiss to end when it did. If she’d had her way, she might have kissed him longer—although that only would have added to the rumors about them.

Were the rumors really all that bad? They weren’t harming anyone or anything. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let Reed think I’m engaged.”

Brock set his phone on his leg. “Do you think an engagement will make him jealous?”

“He really does love Lexi. But maybe if I’m getting serious, it will make him start to see me as a woman and not just a friend.” Was that what she really wanted now after hearing how much he loved Lexi?

“In other words, you want him to see you as a marriageable option before he rules you out and goes through with marrying Lexi.”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Wow. That’s super clear.”

She couldn’t hold back a laugh.

He chuckled too.

“I’m sorry I’m making this so complicated.”

“I don’t mind. Like I told you, I’m here for whatever you need. And if you want a fake fiancé instead of a fake boyfriend, I can do that.”

She settled her hand on top of his where he’d crossed it over his bicep. “Thank you, Brock. You’ve been great about everything. I couldn’t ask for a better fake boyfriend or fake fiancé.”

“You’re welcome.”

Although she couldn’t see his grin, she could sense it in his words. “We’re technically not engaged yet. You’ve only bought my ring.”

“And technically, I haven’t done that either.”

She gave him a playful shove, then let go of his hand. “We’ll let everyone assume that’s what you were doing at Tiffany’s without confirming or denying the rumors. Eventually, everyone will forget about it.”

“You don’t think they’ll expect a grand proposal?”

“Not if we don’t bring it up.”

“If I were going to propose to you, you’d better believe I wouldn’t do it at a lame party.”

“Reed’s party wasn’t lame.”

“I’d make sure it was a surprise, and I’d do it somewhere meaningful.”

“Reed’s always been more practical and sensible, just like me. That’s one reason why we’ve always gotten along so well.”

“By practical you mean predictable and boring?”

She pushed his arm again. “As opposed to spontaneous and reckless?”

“The way I see it, I get enough spontaneity and recklessness on my own without having someone else to make things worse. What I could really use is a person to balance me out.”

“Oh, so you need my predictability and boringness? Is that what you’re saying, my almost fake fiancé?”

“Maybe that’s the blessing of marriage,” he said with a sincerity that surprised her. “That two imperfect people come together and are able to help each other in their weaknesses.”

The more time she spent with Brock, the more she realized she hadn’t really known him, that he was deeper and more insightful than a lot of people she knew.

Their limo had come to a halt in front of their hotel, and in some ways she was a little sad their date was coming to an end.

A part of her wanted to suggest going for a walk.

However, she didn’t want to mislead him into thinking she felt anything for him beyond their friendship.

Yes, they’d kissed. And they might have to kiss again at some future date in order to continue to make their relationship believable.

But it was all practical, and they couldn’t let it lead to anything more.

As the chauffeur opened their door, Brock looked at her and held out a hand. “Ready to put on one last show for the evening?”

She placed her hand in his. “Of course I am. Don’t forget I’m the one who kissed you first.”

“Oh, believe me”—his voice turned to a low growl—“I won’t be forgetting that kiss.”

Something in his tone sent delicious tingles up her spine. As she allowed him to assist her from the limo into the well-lit hotel entrance, he intertwined their fingers and gave her a smoldering look that brought the sizzling sparklers back to life in her stomach.

Was this all for show? Or was any of it real?

She glanced around at the few guests standing in the outside courtyard as well as some tourists passing by. From what she could tell, there were no paparazzi or photographers. Brock didn’t need to be laying on the charm so thick. But if she was honest, she didn’t really mind.

Hand in hand with Brock, she walked into the hotel lobby and then to the elevators. Once inside and with the door closed, Brock released her hand and grinned. “How’d I do, darlin’?”

“You did great.” She had the urge to slip her hand back into his and rest her head against his shoulder.

She had the feeling he would be a strong person to lean on, that he’d be there and hold her up no matter what she was going through.

Reed had once been that person for her. But when was the last time he’d really been there for her?

Yes, they’d kept in contact and remained friends, but if she was honest, there had been a shifting apart, visiting less often and not sharing as deeply.

She couldn’t pinpoint when that distance had started.

It had probably been gradual for both of them.

Not to mention that he had Lexi and didn’t need anyone else in the same way.

Now, with Brock by her side, the distance with Reed seemed even greater and left her feeling emptier.

As tempting as it was to open up to Brock and let him into her life, the trouble was that Brock was only filling in.

All that they had was based on a lie. It wasn’t permanent. And she couldn’t forget that.

***

After four days in Cannes for her photo shoot for Fitzsimmons, she flew to Berlin. Even though she’d tried to get out of going to Brock’s concert there, he’d already made arrangements with his manager to have her come.

His assistant, Ella Mae, met her at a side door of the Uber Arena and led her through a maze of hallways.

Venus had dressed more casually for the concert, in vintage Levi’s, knee-high brown boots, and a brown leather jacket over a white eyelet crop top. She’d left her hair down and had parted it in the middle and straightened it.

“He’s already taken the stage.” Ella Mae’s high ponytail swished with each step she took. She wore an oversized T-shirt with Brock’s logo, simple black leggings, and high-top Converse.

Venus had met Ella Mae previously but had never really interacted with her.

Now, as she followed after the young woman, she couldn’t stop a twinge of jealousy from surfacing.

Why? Venus didn’t understand it. Because Ella Mae had access to Brock all the time?

Was in charge of his schedule? Knew everything about him, so much so that she picked out his clothing every day?

“He’s been looking forward to your visit.” Ella Mae tossed her a smile over her shoulder.

“He has?” Ella Mae knew the relationship with Brock was fake, didn’t she?

“For the past hour, all he’s done is ask if you’re here yet.”

“Really?” Why did that bit of information make Venus’s heart patter faster?

“He’ll be glad to see you.”

Venus wanted to deny that she would be glad to see him too.

But she couldn’t. During her flight there, she’d flipped through the pictures on social media of him at his concert earlier in the week in Reykjavík.

There were a few photos of him on stage in faded jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, and a tight black T-shirt that showed off all his muscles.

She’d come across some pictures of him greeting fans, his crooked smile in place.

Then there had been one of him entering a hotel alone.

No more playing around for Brock McQuaid.

Does this mean the hottest country music star has really given his heart away to just one lady?

The post had gone on to say that he’d last been seen with her in Paris and no other women since.

The article had also mentioned the rumors about him purchasing an engagement ring but speculated that was only hearsay and it was probably too soon for the world’s most eligible bachelor to be thinking about settling down.

The first day or two in Cannes, Venus had faced questions about the supposed ring purchase. She just shrugged her shoulders and answered vaguely with lines like “If he has, he’s keeping it a surprise.”

She’d answered Reed’s text with the same reasoning. He’d proceeded to caution her not to rush into anything, and she’d been snarky back. Oh, like you?

They’d only exchanged a few texts since, mostly details for his wedding.

She’d thought about sending him another text today and apologizing for getting angry and being abrupt. But she was hoping to see him next week in New York City and had decided she could try to make peace with him then.

Ella Mae picked up her pace. “We’re almost there.”

The music had grown louder with each turn of a corner. Ahead, security stood with arms braced at the foot of a set of metal stairs that led to a curtained-off stage. People clustered around, most wearing lanyards. Were they press? Fans with backstage passes? Or perhaps some of his employees?

Whatever the case, they moved aside for Ella Mae, and as they took in Venus, their eyes widened.

The security officer nodded at Ella Mae and unhooked a cord to let them pass.

Ella Mae started up the steps, but Venus didn’t move. She’d been backstage before for Reed’s concerts and knew what to expect and how things operated. But it felt strange to be walking up to watch Brock from such a personal area.

At the top, Ella Mae halted. “You coming?”

“Maybe I should watch from the arena.”

“Brock would chew me out if I let you do that.”

Venus hesitated. As far as everyone else was concerned, she belonged right here, as close to Brock as possible. Besides, if he wanted her there, then she couldn’t refuse him.

She hurried after Ella Mae. They passed beyond the curtain, and the stage came into view, where even more people were congregated to the side and out of sight of the audience—more band members, sound technicians, and arena crew.

Once again, the workers stepped aside at the sight of her and Ella Mae, until at last they were standing along the front row of onlookers, with a perfect view of Brock and the band behind him.

He was in the middle of rapid finger work on the strings, moving expertly and swiftly.

The crowd was going wild, cheering and screaming and encouraging him on.

When he finished and glanced up with one of his happy grins, the crowd gave a deafening roar.

With his easy smiles and handsome charm, it was obvious why he was one of country music fans’ favorite performers and why his shows drew more people than Reed’s and sold out within minutes of tickets going on sale.

In the next instant, Brock launched into the words of a song, his gritty voice ringing out and making him all the more enticing.

If he’d been having trouble with fans, they’d forgotten all about his breakup with Ainsley Rose.

Or maybe they’d forgiven him, and it no longer mattered.

Either way, Brock wouldn’t need to be in a fake relationship with her for much longer before his reputation was restored.

It was possible their relationship had already put him back on solid ground.

It was even possible he’d never needed it.

As he played and sang the last half of the song, she found herself being drawn in by his charisma too. He was an easy guy to like. At least for as long as their relationship lasted, she wanted to just enjoy their time together as friends. She could let herself do that, couldn’t she?

At the last note of the song, his gaze darted to the side stage and landed on her. His eyes seemed to light up more, and that cocky smile of his slipped into place.

She smiled back and gave a tiny wave.

He winked at her. Then he was facing the crowd again, talking to them over the clapping and cheering.

“He likes you.” Ella Mae leaned in so that the words echoed in Venus’s ears.

“I like him too.”

“No.” Ella Mae moved closer so that their conversation was private. “He really likes you. More than I’ve seen him like any other woman.”

A flutter of soft wings took to flight in Venus’s stomach. But she pressed her hand there to keep them from rising too high. She was here for her weekly date with Brock. That’s all this would be.