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“What are you driving?”
“My car,” I snapped, instantly hating my terse tone.
“You mean the sports car that shouldn’t be on snowy mountain roads?”
“I like my Trans Am.”
She snorted. “You could buy anything in the world, yet you drive an old Trans Am. Why?”
Because I adored muscle cars and always had, even tinkering under their hoods from time to time. “Relax, Cammie. I’ll be there before you know it. Is everything ready to go?”
“You know how Mother is, always making a change here and there.”
Our mother had a penchant for detail, especially when she threw one of her lavish parties, which had been far too often considering our father required maintaining a certain image. He was a United States Congressman, after all. How many times had he reminded us of that fact?
“It’ll be over soon. Where’s the honeymoon?” While I realized that avoiding the subject couldn’t last for long, my mind was already conjuring up how I could avoid being forced to endure the unwanted attention. As I gritted my teeth, I turned up the defroster. The scenic route had taken me through Billings, Montana, which had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Italy. A whole month. Can you believe it?” she squealed.
I knew my father had checked out her fiancé top to bottom, likely hiring a private investigator to ensure he was the right man for his precious daughter. Marcus Owens was from a very wealthy, powerful family out of Texas. Since I worked in Dallas, I knew just how influential they were. The coupling would allow both families to become even more powerful, owning dozens of corporations in the west. Their meeting had been arranged, Cammie encouraged to accept his marriage proposal, even if she didn’t want to admit to it. “Good for you.”
“He’s not bad.”
“Who?”
“The guy Daddy set you up with.”
She was baiting me, which Cammie was good at doing. “Who is he?”
“Lincoln Daniels.”
“Lincoln Daniels? Are you freaking kidding me? He’s fifty years old.” Dear God, my father had dropped to the bottom of the barrel. Lincoln had also made one too many passes at me, acting as if I’d be lucky to get him. The thought of spending a single minute of time with him made my stomach turn.
“But he’s rich.”
“I don’t care about money.” Even as I said the words, I knew they sounded ridiculous. I had a trust fund worth millions of dollars that I could access either when I married or the day I turned twenty-eight. That was over three years away and good ole Mom and Dad were insistent I find a husband before then. Perfect.
“Well, I don’t think you can avoid it unless…” She laughed, the tone changing into her conniving tone. We’d both learned to be little deviants when necessary.
“What are you thinking?”
“Bring a date. Maybe he could be your fiancé. Fake dating is all the rage. Find a hunk with huge muscles and absolute sex appeal. He doesn’t have to talk, just…”
“Camille!”
She laughed hysterically.
Oh. My. God. I’d been reduced down to finding a fake date? My life was obviously in shambles.
Huffing, I almost retched just thinking about her idea. “What am I supposed to do, call one eight hundred rent a date?”
“I’m certain there are male escort services. At least it would get Daddy off your back for a little while.”
As much as I hated the idea, she had a point. Seeing my father twisting in his greed and pompousness would make me as happy as a little bird. It could work. Maybe I could find a glorious movie star or a famous racecar driver. No, what if I found a regular guy who was down on his luck? Wouldn’t that turn my father’s stomach? Ugh. I had two days to come up with somebody. The problem was that he’d need to be a stranger since Mother and Father knew every family in town. “I’ll think about it.”
“I just thought I’d warn you.” Her voice now sounded like a soft drink commercial.
When she sighed, I knew she was about to drop another bomb and it always involved our parents and a new rule that had to be followed.
