Chapter 1
Kate
“Good morning, Mrs. Carter.”
I sit bolt upright.
Holy shit.
I’m married.
I’m.
Married.
I wince as my husband (ohmygosh!) tugs open the drapes, letting brilliant sunlight bathe my hotel bed. He gives me a Cheshire cat grin and stretches, making sure I am given the opportunity to fully appreciate his perfect body—what parts I can see. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants, so the vitals are covered.
But there’s still plenty to admire. Plen-ty.
Broad shoulders.
Sculpted chest.
Ripped abs.
And then there’s his face. Ohmygosh, that face.
Strong jaw, stubbled to perfection. Angled cheekbones. Make-a-girl-swoon lips. And eyes that turn every female in the whole freaking country to goo.
That, in a nutshell, is my new husband, movie star, Reid Carter.
Yes, you heard that right. My husband is a freaking movie star. Not a huge movie star, so I’ve been told. But he has done movies, and he has worked with some A-list stars. And he has some more projects in the works. He told me he agreed to do this show to try to help his film career. It was his agent’s idea.
So, yeah, I’m married to a movie star.
Me.
Little ex-Amish me.
I still can’t believe it.
Why am I so stunned? Well, just yesterday I was one of twenty girls competing for this man.
And, what do you know, I won the prize.
But here’s the catch: the game is just beginning.
You see, I was encouraged (read: cajoled, coerced, practically forced by my bestie) into auditioning for this reality television show called, Married to the Movie Star.
It was a long shot.
Loooooong.
But, here I am.
Married.
The ceremony was yesterday. Now I’m in for three months of insanity.
But before you ask…no. We did not. He slept on the couch last night.
“The crew will be here in about fifteen minutes, to film the morning-after scene. Did you need to use the bathroom?” my movie star husband asks.
“Yes!” I catapult myself out of the ginormous bed I had all to myself last night and scramble to the bathroom, locking myself in for some emergency primping. I take one look in the mirror and groan.
“It isn’t as bad as you think!” he shouts through the door.
I don’t know what he means by that. And I have no time to ponder it. I break every record ever made in brushing teeth, fixing hair, applying a little makeup, and taking care of the essentials. I exit the bathroom exactly six minutes later smelling like hair product and cosmetics.
My husband (Will I ever get used to calling Reid Carter that? I doubt it. Even if, by some miracle, we stay married beyond three months.) gives me an appreciative up and down look as I fling myself back into bed.
He’s definitely playing his part (of the hot, heart-breaker movie star newlywed husband) believably. But I expected no less, since he is a pro.
Me, I’m so out of my league here it isn’t even funny.
I’m guessing you want to hear more about how an Amish girl--who has never watched reality TV--ended up on a reality show. But it’s a long story, and I don’t have time to get into it right now.
He saunters out of the bathroom just as someone knocks on the door.
Wishing it was winter, and I was wearing something that actually covers my boobs--which this flimsy lace scrap the show’s wardrobe director gave me last night does not--I yank the sheets up to my chin.
Reid lets the gang inside.
“Hey!” he greets, cheerily. “Where’s the coffee?”
“Alexis has gotcha covered,” the director, John Something (I’m really bad with names), says as he ushers the troops inside our suite.
While the camera and sound people surround the bed with gear, Reid stomps over to Alexis, who is toting a cardboard tray full of cups with a red logo printed on them. “Which one is mine?” he asks.
“All of them,” she answers, grinning.
“If I wasn’t married already, I’d marry you,” he jokes, taking one of the cups. He downs its contents. “Now that’s some good coffee.”
Me, I lay there watching the bedlam.
“Okay,” John says to Reid. “Now that you’ve had one dose of caffeine, this is what I need. You’re going to give your new wife breakfast in bed.” To me, he says, “Kate, we’ll start the scene with you sleeping. Reid will wake you with his surprise.”
“O-okay,” I say, nodding. I have to admit, this television stuff is strange to me. We’re making what they call a “reality” show. But it’s all staged. There’s nothing real about it. Do people actually believe it’s real, I wonder?
“Fifteen minutes,” John announces. “You have fifteen minutes.”
My makeup and hair people hurry into the room and give me a once-over, fixing my less than stellar efforts. When they’re done, I take my position, and they even arrange my hair on the pillow.
“Don’t move,” the hairdresser tells me.
“Got it.” I shut my eyes and try to relax while the crew cranks on the lights, starts up the cameras, and makes my husband look even more beautiful than he already is. Before I know it, John is shouting for the clapboard and silence on the set.
Clack.
“Hey, Mrs. Carter. Good morning,” my husband coos.
I open my eyes and try not to look at the massive camera lens in my face. The lights are blinding, and I feel myself squinting.
“Cut!” John shouts.
Reid sighs. “Already?”
“Kate, can you look a little happier and less…squinty?” John demands.
“Sorry. The lights.” I point at the enormous spotlight glaring in my face.
“Yeah. Can’t do anything about that,” John barks. “You don’t want raccoon eyes, do you? From one! Let’s go!”
I lay back down and my hairdresser arranges my hair before the scene starts again.
The tech person with the little clapboard thing rattles off his spiel and… Clap!
“Hey, Mrs. Carter. Wake up, sleepyhead,” my husband says.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter.” I open my eyes, smile and face him. “What’s this?”
“Breakfast.” My husband beams. He’s standing next to the bed, holding a tray. And his smile is brighter than the freaking light blazing in my face.
I concentrate on not squinting as I sit up. “Wow, thanks. That’s so sweet.”
He sets the tray on my lap. “Since you’re ex-Amish, I ordered eggs and pancakes. Is that good?” He sits beside me, looking every bit the movie star that he is.
“Sure!” I lift the lid and find a mountain of eggs and an even taller mountain of pancakes. “Um, there’s enough food here for a whole family,” I say over a giggle.
“Speaking of which,” he leans closer. “Will you tell me about your family? What was it like growing up Amish?” He takes the small glass of orange juice from the tray and dumps the contents down his throat. “Mmm. Good juice.”
“Sure.” I nibble a piece of toast. “Um, well my mother and father were born and raised in the small town where I grew up. Mamm quit school at the age of thirteen. Datt at twelve. He worked his family’s farm until he inherited it.” I scoop some eggs into my mouth. Maybe most of this show is make-believe, but not my appetite. I’m starving.
“Did you really live without electricity?” Reid asks.
Chewing, I nod. “I did.”
“No movies?” He helps himself to a scoop of eggs.
“No movies.”
“No radio, even?” He takes another scoop.
“No radio.”
“Really?” he asks, chewing.
“Really. Honestly, I don’t know that I missed much.”
“Have you ever watched TV?” he asks, eyes huge. Massive. And so, so gorgeous.
“Nope. Never.”
“That blows my mind.”
And all of this blows mine.
“You really don’t think you’ve missed much?” He practically stutters.
I shrug and my hair flops over my face. Staring into my eyes, he catches a strand in his hand and smooths it back, tucking it behind my ear.
My heart flip-flops in my chest.
Oh gosh, I’m buying into this reality thing.
Already.
Too quickly.
I can’t let that happen.
This is a fake marriage. A temporary fake marriage.
“You have.” My pretend husband tells me, “I want to show you all the things you’ve missed, Kate.”
“Cut!” John shouts. He waves his arms. “Good work!”
The crew jumps into action, breaking down their equipment. No longer fascinated by my stories, Reid jogs over to where he’d set his coffees and guzzles the remaining cups while I eat and muse about how surreal this whole thing is.
I’m a television star. Me.
The girl who has never watched a television show in her life. Not once.
Could that be why I was chosen, I wonder?
“Jumping in the shower,” my husband announces after he’s emptied his last cup. On the way to the bathroom gives me a wink. “Great work.”
I have no idea what he means by that. So I wave. “T-thanks?”
The shower cranks on. I hear the ziiiing of the little metal rings sliding across the rod.
Then my caffeine-addicted, movie star husband starts singing.
Wow.
It’s not what I was expecting.
He is a bad singer.
B. A. D.
With him “serenading” me, I eat my fill of eggs and pancakes then rummage through my wardrobe, hanging on a metal rack. I have no idea what to wear. At this point, all I know about today is that we’re supposed to be doing some traveling. I don’t know where we’re going. I do, however, know that we may be flying in a plane and we are probably going out of the country. I was required to have a passport with me when I arrived for the first day of shooting.
That was no small feat for me.
Having left my Amish community only about a year ago, I’m still in the process of getting on my feet. I didn’t have a lot of the required documents needed to file for a passport. It took some help from the show’s producers, and several tense weeks of waiting, before I finally held my passport in my hands.
I pick the most comfortable-looking outfit in the bunch and wait for my husband to finish up his morning ritual so I can take my shower. It’s awkward, sharing a hotel suite and bathroom with a stranger. And then you add the whole television thing and it’s plain nuts.
But I will say one thing: Even though I know, for a fact, that this is all make-believe, I’ve never felt such a strong and immediate connection to any man like I have with Reid Carter. When he touches me…the strangest sensations buzz through my whole body. It’s…thrilling. And confusing.
Yeah, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a television star. But I will say that when it comes to acting like I’m attracted to Reid, it may not take much acting.
If only this whole thing was truly real.
Because I can already tell it’s going to be super hard to keep from falling for this guy.