“Thought maybe you’d chickened out,” Levi whispers when he gets close, but there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.
“Not a chance,” Calder replies, smooth and casual. “Saint was just making sure she looked perfect.”
Levi’s gaze shifts to me, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “Mission accomplished. You look beautiful, Saint. Blue’s definitely your color.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Of all the Bishop brothers, Levi’s been the kindest—or at least the least threatening over the years. Closer to my own age. “Thank you.”
But Levi’s attention is already back on Calder, his voice dropping low. “Listen, I need to warn you. Dad’s here as we expected, and he’s, of course, royally pissed off.”
Calder’s hand tightens around mine.
“Where?” Calder asks, voice carefully neutral.
“VIP section. Been there since the gates opened.” Levi glances around, making sure no one’s close enough to hear. “Iain’t ever seen him as mad as he was when he looked at that wedding photo.”
All I can hear is the heavy thud of my own heartbeat in my ears. I know the plan. I know what’s going to happen. I know Calder’s father is here and that we need to look as convincing as possible, but suddenly, that feels like an incredible feat.
“Has he said anything?” Calder asks.
“Not yet. But you know Dad. He’s planning something.” Levi’s eyes find mine, and there’s genuine concern there. “Just be careful, yeah? Both of you.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Levi jogs off toward the livestock pens, leaving us standing in the parking lot. Around us, families stream toward the entrance, normal people, living everyday lives, excited for a day at the rodeo. I used to be one of them. Used to be the preacher’s daughter, known for baking cookies for church functions and helping at the community center. Used to have a future that stretched before me like an open road. Now I’m Mrs. Calder Bishop. And my future ends at the edge of whatever plans his father has for me.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper.
“You can, and you will.” Calder starts walking, keeping me anchored to his side. “Your life and everyone you care about count on it.”
If that was supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t. We pass through the entrance gates, and the rodeo grounds sprawl before us. The smell of fried food and livestock hangs heavy in the air. Carnival games line the walkways. The arena sits at the center of it all, already filling with spectators. And everywhere I look, people are staring at us.
The whispers follow us like a shadow. I only catch fragments—”preacher’s daughter”—”married a Bishop”—”saw it in thepaper”—”can you believe”—yet each word is a small knife, cutting away at whatever dignity I have left.
Before I can process what he’s doing, his hand cups my face, and he leans down.
His lips brush mine, soft, almost gentle, nothing like the rough, claiming kisses from the cabin. This is the kind of kiss that makes people sigh and smile, the kind that says he’s so in love he can’t help himself. It’s all performance. All lie.But no, it’s not.Not after what he told me, how he made me feel in that cabin.
My body responds to his kiss regardless of the situation. My breath hitches. My heart pounds. For just a second, I forget where we are and why we’re here.
Then he pulls back, and reality returns.
“What was that?” I hiss, my face burning.
“That was selling it.” His voice is low, meant only for me. “All eyes were on us, and there wasn’t a better time than that moment for everyone to see us like that.”
“But did we have to do it so passionately, in public?”
He brushes his thumb across my cheekbone in a gesture that probably looks more tender than it really is. “We’re young. It’s supposed to be all about passion right now.”
We start walking again, his hand in mine. The crowd thickens as we walk deeper into the arena, and Calder steps into his role, playing the part of the attentive husband, pointing out attractions, keeping me close, and looking at me with an expression that might fool anyone who doesn’t know the truth.
That’s fine because I know the truth.
We pass a group of women clustered near the cotton candy stand. One of them has a newspaper tucked under her arm, theBlack Hollow Creek Gazette. As we walk by, I catch a glimpse of the front page.
The wedding photo.
There it is, in black and white. Calder and I standing outside the courthouse, me in a white dress I never wore, smiling like I’m the happiest woman alive. The caption reads: “Local Couple Ties the Knot—Bishop and James Families Unite.”
