“I know, it’s just… it would be better if we were face to face, Nash. Everyone misses you—Ireally miss you…” The admission shocked Nash to silence. “Shut up,” Porter said with a reluctant laugh. “I don’t want to hear you say, ‘I told you so.’”
Nash knew the feeling. Porter had warned him that going to Nashville with West meant trouble. “You’ll be getting more of me than you want,” Nash said, “really soon, I think. Thanks for the advice. Who knows? Maybe I’ll take it.”
“Me too,” Porter said. “Tell me how it goes, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Neither of them were that great with communicating, though strangely Porter had gotten worse. Still feeling like his twin wasn’t being completely upfront about everything happening over at Harvest Ranch, Nash clicked off his phone, deeply unsettled.
West must really think he was an idiot to fall for his arguments—or, even more realistically—too greedy for his cut.
Maybe Nash had wanted that money too much.
Not maybe, yeah, I let my greed get in my way.
But it was more than that. Now that Nash had decided to look at this more seriously, he turned his reasons over in his mind, peeling back the layers of his reluctance.
Turning against Trout would be dangerous. Nash had sensed that danger and had hoped to leave Nashville before he got in too deep, but now he’d officially fallen into a six-foot hole—no matter what he chose. The full consequences that he’d been hiding from his own mind now came crashing down on him as he examined the dead end at every turn in thisChoose Your Own Adventure.
He could do the wrong thing and be a slave like West was, or he could do the right thing and be hunted down… and then what? He wasn’t sure. Threatened? Blackmailed? Ruined? Nash knew exactly what the hardest thing would be; it would mean giving up everything and getting beaten down in return—did he have the guts to do it?
And just like clockwork, he got a text. It was from an unknown number:
“That pretty little girl of yours might not want you to stain her reputation… or does she? We’ve got a little something that I bet you don’t want to go viral.”
His heart lurched.
A video popped up next. Nash was almost afraid to click on it. He was sorry the instant that he did. An image of him and Emily popped up on the screen. They sat together on that white couch in her bedroom, her hands around him as if she’d roped his heart like a calf.
The moment felt too private, or too distant, reminding him of a scene in a play. Strange that it was him and Emily there; they could be actors in a country music video with that kind of intense emotion.
He swallowed uncomfortably. Was he really holding her that close? She still looked tempting. Her legs were so long in those pajama shorts, her dark hair swirling around her shoulders. Even now his heart constricted at her beauty. He’d thought this moment was only for him. When had someone caught this on video?
Last night.
He tried to figure out the angle. Was the window open or were there cameras inside the house? Somehow, someone had gotten footage of them last night. Raw anger scorched through his veins at the violation, burning him with rage.
In the video, Nash stroked her sleeve. He’d promised himself last night that he wouldn’t leave that room until he’d coaxed another kiss from those full lips. “How are you going to thank me?” he’d asked her.
“Oh, really?” Emily’s laugh was bright, uninhibited. “Why don’t you tell me how much you charge for your fake boyfriend services? The world still needs to be tricked into believing that I’ve got what it takes to go big.”
That sounded awful out of context. Whatever they said after that, the camera didn’t pick up… or it had been muted because it cleared up who they really are, until Nash asked, “What about that payment?”
Emily looked every inch the seductress as she leaned into him. Her arms wound around his neck. He watched her with love-struck eyes. “I’m sure we can work something out,” she said.
“One fake boyfriend coming up.” He slid her closer, catching her in his embrace like a passionate lover. He winced. Dang, that was a hot kiss. He knew what an outside observer would see. They looked like evil schemers working out a con against Emily’s fans, except it wasn’t like that.
None of this was to dupe her fans into believing that she was something that she wasn’t, but to get them to finally see who she was. Because of their back and forth teasing in a perfectly private setting,noneof that would come out… and no one would believe a follow-up press conference protesting their innocence, either. Who would believe their practiced apologies? He wasn’t one to apologize to any crowd, but Emily? This was her career. How would she recover?
Another text popped up under the video:
“We can’t wait for your appraisal tomorrow. It’s up to you whether we use this to make or break #LittleMissHarvestRanch.”
His stomach plummeted. Nash knew exactly where this video had come from. Lynch didn’t have the decency to own up to his own threats. Only a guy who cheated on his pregnant girlfriend could be this low.
He rubbed at his face. Doing the hard thing just got harder… no, impossible. Now that Emily was involved, he couldn’t budge from his course of cheating Millie out of her oil.
Would Emily ever forgive him?