Page 11 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

Mrs. O sighed. Mike gave me the evil eye in the rearview mirror.

“The biggest ones fall the hardest,” Mrs. O commented.

Turning into a dark driveway, Mike replied, “Oh good, we're here.”

4

“Engaged? Are you insane?” I whispered into the cool darkness as Mike yanked my suitcase from the back of the rental. Mrs. O had said goodnight and gone in to sleep. We stood in the circular driveway in front of the house. It was pitch black, only a small light by the front door lit the area. The house, from what I could see, was Tudor style, completely not what I had in mind for Alaska. A two-story, massive box of a home, with dark beams and white stucco. The front door, lit by brass sconces, was made of dark wood and recessed beneath a small covered porch. Several pairs of rubber rain boots stood in a neat row to the left of the front door. Medieval, meet tundra.

The hatchback shut with a loudthunkthat disturbed the quiet. Crickets chirped and leaves stirred gently in the woods that all but obscured the house from the road. Goose bumps rose on my arms. I was expecting chilly nights, but not the dampness. I was loaded once again with my carry-on and Mike balanced himself with the two heavy suitcases. They weighed close to fifty pounds each, but he lifted them like my sister's plumbing toolboxes.

“Actually, Vi, I think I might be. It's three in the morning and I just gave a woman an ugly-ass ring to fake an engagement so I wouldn't hurt my mother's feelings.”

“Thank God.”

Mike put the bags down. Even in the darkness I could see his eyebrows go up in confusion.

I held up my left hand. “The ugly-ass ring part. Sorry, Mike, but it is ugly.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I did it on purpose. I wasn't going to give you a ring like that if it was the real deal.”

I sighed with relief. He'd put a little thought into the ring, although why he wasn't smart enough to avoid a fake engagement in the first place was still confusing. “I'm so glad you haven't lost your sense of style.”

Mike smiled. A small dimple appeared in his cheek. I'd forgotten—no, more like blocked out—that dimple. “My mom's been trying to fix me up ever since I finished my residency and moved back to Bozeman. It hasn't been too bad. But this week…” He did the whole hair rubbing thing again, his sign for frustration. “I avoid the house as much as possible. I came to Alaska to dosomefishing, but I hadn't expected to be doing it practically twenty-four-seven to avoid Susan.”

“Right, Susan.”

“I really am glad you're here, Vi, and I'm sorry I didn't give you notice on the whole relationship upgrade. I didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings by telling her off. She means well, but Susan, she's literally insane. I did a six-week rotation in psych and I can officially say she's mental.”

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “She's not going to be in your bed, is she?”

Mike quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Ourbed. It would be pretty crowded since you and I are sharing a room.”

I swallowed.Our bed.Oh shit. I hadn't thought this through. Over ten years, no foreplay and I was going to share his bed? Could I do this? Could I sleep in a bed with Mike withoutsleepingwith him? I cocked my head toward the house. “Your mother doesn't believe in the whole separate bedrooms before marriage thing?”

He shot me a look that screamed,Are you kidding me?“I'm thirty years old. My mother knows I've had sex.”

“Yeah, but with me?” I thought I saw his jaw clench and his eyes flare withsomething,but it was dark, late, and I didn't have the energy to read into it. “I'm too tired to even think about sex. We can deal with the details of this whole”—I circled my finger around in circles—“boyfriend/girlfriend?—”

“Fiancée,” Mike corrected.

“Fine.” I felt the heavy weight of the ring. It was going to be a constant reminder of the farce I was in now. “This whole fiancée thing in the morning. It's bad enough your mother thinks we're having sex in the same house as her. I'm going to have nightmares.”

Mike made a sound like a groan and a grunt, very bear-like. At least, I hoped it was Mike. Bears weren't hibernating now and I was sure we looked like a pretty decent meal.

“You and me both.” He sighed as he lifted the bags once again and led me toward the front door. “You and me both.”

I awoke confused,not knowing where I was. The room was sparsely furnished: bed, end table with lamp, wood dresser with a vintage TV on top, the kind that had a dial on it to change the channel.

The walls were white. Wall-to-wall dark blue carpet. Navy, no-frills curtains hung at the window, their white metal blinds closed, making the room dim. The bed was king-sized and the sheets white, with a comforter that matched the curtains and the rug. It screamed bachelor male.

Alaska. Oh, yeah.

Mike's side of the bed was empty, but the comforter was thrown back and a dent in the pillow indicated he'd been there at some point. I'd gone first in the bathroom when we'd come in from the airport, then let Mike have a turn. Before he'd come out, I must have conked out. Great, the first time I actually shared a bed with Mike and I remembered nothing.

I listened carefully for any type of noise to indicate if anyone else was around, but all was quiet. No TV sounds, no street noise. No Mike.

The alarm clock on the dresser read eleven-thirty. I hadn't seen much of the house when we came in from the airport. It had been late, the rooms dark. Uncle Bob could have lived in a cave and I wouldn't have cared. Exhaustion had dulled my curiosity and my new relationship status had me sidetracked.

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