Page 12 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

If I hadn't had to pee, I would have rolled over and thrown the blanket over my head for a few more hours.

I needed to make an appearance at some point, and I thought it better to do it on my own terms than to have Mike walk in and see me like this. Throwing back the covers, I rummaged through my open suitcase on the floor, found some clothes and locked myself in the en suite bathroom.

It was a flashback to 1980. Mud brown tub, toilet and sink. One entire wall—floor to ceiling—was a mural of a fall foliage mountain scene; yellowed Aspens, snowcapped peaks, babbling brook. It was an in-your-face reminder of the locale. It was so retro that it had gone full circle from being cool to being ridiculous to being cool all over again.

I stood there staring at the super-sized image; stunned I hadn't even noticed it the night before when I'd brushed my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I barely squelched a scream. My usually sleek dark hair was like straw, sticking up every which way. My makeup was long gone. Dark circles under my eyes indicated my long day and late night. I was a hot mess, all right. It was a good thing I was already engaged to Mike. He couldn't back out now, regardless of what I looked like. Hell, Crazy Susan had to look better than this.

Rummaging through my toiletry case, I found my shampoo, conditioner, razor and other shower paraphernalia, placed it on the tub rim and turned on the water. I stepped under the hot spray and got busy preparing myself for my role of fiancée extraordinaire. Mrs. O, nor Susan, would believe Mike and I were engaged if my legs weren't shaved.

I had my back to the spray, my head tilted up to rinse out the conditioner, when the metal slide of the shower curtain startled me. My eyes darted open and there, staring at me with probably an equally surprised expression, was a tall, voluptuous woman somewhere in her early thirties. It was easy to confirm she was a natural blonde since she stood there completely naked, one hand still on the white plastic curtain.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, her voice high-pitched.

For a weird moment, I had a silly thought that maybe I was the one to ask that question.

“Um, Violet,” I replied, the steam from the hot water swirling around me. “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

For just such situations, I thought.

She casually shrugged. “I have my ways.” Her eyes raked down my body, assessing. This wasn't a look of interest, but of scoping out the competition. “I'm Susan. I thought you were somebody else.”

“I figured,” I said sarcastically as I wiped water out of my eyes. So this was Susan. This was the woman who had Mike so scared he had to drag me to the wilds of Alaska.

I wanted to cover my nakedness, but there was nowhere to go and my washcloth wasn't going to cover much. It wasn't that often, okay never, that I had a conversation in the buff and I felt awkward. Perhaps Susan was a member of an Alaskan nudist colony. “Who were you looking for?”

Mike might be afraid of her, but I wasn't.

Susan continued to hold the curtain but put her other hand on her hip. It only accentuated her incredible figure.Playboy-worthy breasts, narrow waist, trim hips and a trimmed— “My boyfriend, Mike.”

Wow. Other than the fact that Susan had picked a lock, undressed, and hoped to surprise Mike in the shower, she was a good catch. Most women would give their right arm for a body like hers. Most men would put up with almost anything to see a body like hers naked. Unfortunately, hercharmswere lost on me, and my escape route was blocked.

“That's interesting, because I know Mike, and he's my fiancé.” I held up my left hand and showed her the ring, even wiggled my fingers a bit to get the point across. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined I would be glad to have that ring on my finger. But I was. Thrilled, in fact.

It was catty, it was bitchy, and I didn't care.

Susan got the point because her mouth fell open, then closed with a click of straight white teeth. She took another look, longer this time, at my body. “Well, I'm not sure what Mike could see in you.” She looked pointedly at my B-cups. “A man like him prefers them a little bigger.”

“It's what you do with them that counts,” I replied tartly. Now wasn't the time to put Mrs. O's karate moves to use, no matter how much I wanted to kick Susan's perfect ass.

If I didn't know about Mike's complete disinterest in the woman, I would have believed her lie. She was good. Really good. And a real bitch. I'd like to think I was just pretending to be one. Regardless, I was mad. I was wet, I was naked and I was with a crazy woman. Okay, I could up that statement to crazy bitch and no one would argue. My shower fantasy had never played out this way before.

I yanked the shower curtain out of her grip and climbed out of the tub, water dripping onto the bath mat. “If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to finish in private. Mike is obviously not here, so you might want to check the kitchen.” I had absolutely no idea where Mike was, but the kitchen was as good a place for her to go as anywhere. As long as it wasn't in my shower. Or bathroom. “Tell him his fiancée pointed you to him.”

Susan pursed her lips and stared at me for a few moments, stooped to pick up her clothes she'd clearly stripped off, and stomped out of the room, her fake double D's barely moving.

I slammed the door behind her, contemplating the marvel of modern plastic surgery.

5

Thirty minutes later, I wore jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt, turquoise blue hoodie and sneakers. My hair was dry and loose down my back. I put on the basics for makeup: mascara, brown eyeliner and colored lip gloss. This was Alaska, not New York City. I'd stalled as long as I could. Carefully, I opened the door and peeked out. No sign of Susan. No sign of Mike, either.

Walking to the bedroom window, I pulled the string on the metal blinds and looked out at my first real glimpse of the Last Frontier.

There, standing right in the big backyard, was a moose. I gasped. For a second, I thought it was a horse because I was used to seeing horses. But this was no horse. He was big. Moose big.

I stared dumbly at it for a minute or two. He—it was definitely ahe—didn't even know he had an audience as he chomped on the grass. Mike. I had to show Bullwinkle to Mike. Now where was he?

Letting the string go, the blinds slid back into place with a clang. Dashing out of the bedroom, I raced down the hall, looked left and right in the front foyer, went to the right and found myself in the kitchen.

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