Chapter One
Macey
It is a truth universally acknowledged in the town of Darcy, Texas that Macey Henwood and Logan Wild will never get married—to each other or anyone else.
And that’s the way Logan and I like it.
We enjoy our best-friends-with-benefits status to the fullest, and the reason why it works? We have rules.
Only once a year (okay, close to once a year).
Never in a bed.
No after-sex cuddling.
No strings.
Don’t break the rules.
Ever.
I stand behind the bar of The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel and stare out at the empty booths and tables. Daddy’s due to check in any minute, and not one customer’s here to calm his nerves. We need to stay out of the red this month, and without a single wedding on the calendar, I don’t think we stand a chance.
The door of The Cowherd bursts open, and Ginny, my best friend since I was in diapers, calls out as she races up to the bar.
“Macey, you didn’t tell me you’re about to get hitched!”
I nearly drop the glass I’m cleaning. “What the hell…”
“Your daddy didn’t fill you in?” Her face falls. “I kind of wish I hadn’t beaten him here. I don’t want to be the one to break the news.”
My gaze narrows on her suspiciously. “What do you mean about me getting hitched? Is this some kind of a joke?”
“Not exactly.” She jumps off the barstool. “Maybe we should wait for your parents to arrive.”
“Virginia Rattles.” I grab Ginny’s purse strap and pull her back into the bar stool as she tries to make a quick getaway. “What exactly is this ‘getting hitched’ news that my daddy didn’t care to share with his oldest daughter, the one who runs his bar for him and makes sure he has enough money to pay his mortgage and his rehab bills each month?”
“You’re getting fake married!” Ginny covers her mouth with her hand, but not fast enough for me to catch the wide smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
I stare at her, waiting for the punch line.
When she just keeps smiling at me behind her hand, I reach for her wrist and pull at it so I can look her full in the face. “What are you talking about?”
“Your parents are throwing a Wild Darcy Derby this weekend, and the winner of the race gets thrown a symbolic wedding and reception, with you!”
“What the heck is a Wild Darcy Derby?”
“Oh, Mace, it’s going to be spectacular!” Ginny bounces up and down on the stool, causing her dark hair to fly off her neck. “All the single men in town are going to race on horseback. They’ll be riding to win a date with one of Darcy’s local singles. Mr. Wild has agreed to set up a course on Wild Ranch. Each time a contestant crosses the finish line, they’ll choose someone to have drinks and dinner with here at The Cowherd that night. And you’re the main prize—the winner of the race gets you as his date, but even more exciting? You and the winner will re-enact a Jane Austen-themed wedding right here at The Cowherd Whiskey Chapel. Your daddy swears it will make more residents want to sign up to have their own weddings here. Which will…”
“Help our bottom line,” I finish for her.
“Precisely.”
Oh, God.
“Everyone who participates has to be twenty-one, and there’s no maximum age limit,” Ginny continues. “Or prejudice. Anyone—male or female—who’s single and looking for a man will wait at the finish line. Your mama’s calling it a modern version of Jane Austen’s romantic tales.”
“I’m not doing it.” I throw my dishtowel on the bartop.
“I know you’re never marrying,” Ginny begins in a soothing tone. “But that’s why I’m so excited about this event. Think about it, Macey—you can experience a wedding without having to actually become somebody’s wife for real. It’s like the best of both.”
Before I can argue her further, the door bangs open, and my parents hustle toward us with big smiles.
“I’m glad you two are getting along so swimmingly,” I say. “But just because you remarried—again—doesn’t mean you can outvote me. I won’t go along with the Wild Darcy Derby. I run this bar, and I get the final say.”
“Baby.” Daddy’s blue eyes plead with me. “Everything’s all set up. And it’s only a few days away. We can’t let the town down now.”
Mama’s lips are painted her customary bright red as she brings them to my cheek. “I love the idea. Your daddy outdid himself when he came up with this one. It could be very profitable for The Cowherd.”
I wipe her lipstick off my face. “I don’t want to make a profit with a gimmick.”
Daddy frowns at me. “But that’s what our Jane Austen-themed weddings are! We’re the little forgotten town in the middle of the Texas hills with only one claim to fame—we’re the place Jane Austen practically founded on Independence Day.”
“She didn’t found it!” I nearly shout. “Everyone knows the town founder was a British asshole who cheated on his wife. And the only way he could drag her to America with him was to appease her bitter heart. So he made up some crap about kidnapping Jane Austen’s ghost and bringing her along with them.”
“Watch your language, Macey,” Mama tsks me before adding, “The founder was an asshole. But Jane Austen’s ghost legend isn’t made up. It’s all true.”
“I don’t want to be a part of the derby,” I say again.
My father gives me a stern look. “Our family survives off the perks of having a ghost—real or not—” he says, glancing first at Mama and then at me, “In our bar. So whether we mix drinks in her name or throw a Wild Darcy Derby in her honor, what’s the difference?”
“One big difference is that I don’t have to fake marry someone when I mix drinks,” I say. “I’ll serve the couples, but that’s it.”
“Oh, Macey, leading off the Derby with a wedding is so romantic!” Ginny says. “I would participate if Dave and I weren’t together. Since you’re my best friend, I can live vicariously through you.”
“And it’s not a real marriage,” Daddy says, eyeing me knowingly. “The legend states that the marriage must be legal in order for the ghost to be freed. This event is just a way to attract more real weddings to be held here. The deadline for the soul mates to marry is next July fourth. That’s less than a year from now, which means we need to get things moving.”
“So the July fourth deadline is the only reason we’re doing it?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Something tells me that’s not all this is about.”
My parents look at each other and then at me. Their guilty expressions say everything.
“Your daddy made a small mistake,” he whispers.
My stomach plummets. “What is it this time?”
“When I was at a low point the other month…”
“You mean a binge.”
“Right. I spent our rainy day fund on whiskey.”
“What?!” I rush to the safe and punch in the combo.