Page 14 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

His jaw clenched. “If she wasn't a complete nut job, I'd think that was hot.”

“The only thing hot was the water. You're right. She's a complete nut job. Obviously, she was looking for you. The good thing to remember is that she didn't join me in the shower swinging a knife.”

“Jesus, Vi.”

I put my elbow on the counter and rested my chin in my hand. Mike didn't want anything to do with Susan, that much was obvious. He didn't want to have me near her either, or at least only when we had clothes on. “Can I have my sandwich now?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He opened the fridge door and glanced over at me. “Now, you see why I was so desperate on the call the other day. Why I had to tell my mom we were engaged. My mom means well, but she doesn't see the crazy inside Susan.” He held a hand up by his ear and circled it around. “I'm sorry to say this, but I'm really glad I wasn't in the shower. God, that would have been awkward.”

“It was awkward, all right. I can officially say she's gorgeous and any man would want her surprising him in the shower.”

“Not this one. Hell, no. She'd probably spin the tale to my mother that I lured her there and had my way with her. That would not be good.” His voice was grim, as if being naked in the shower with a sexy woman like Susan was a death sentence.

“She has that wily look in her eyes. She's not as blonde as she lets on.”

“No fucking kidding.” Mike placed a package of deli meat on the counter, returned to the fridge.

“She told me she was your girlfriend and insinuated you'd seen her naked before. And done naked things together.”

Mike let out a dry laugh and popped back out behind the fridge door. “Seriously?”

I nodded.

He shook his head in disbelief. “I told you I found her naked in my bed. That part's true. I had on my boxers. I was out of bed and back into my jeans faster than when I'm on call and have to hurry to the hospital. I kicked her out and she was less than pleased. No kissing, no touching, nonaked thingshappened. Obviously, she's escalating her tactics.” He pointed at me and winked. “But so have I. What did you tell her?”

When had a wink become sexy?

I held up my left hand just like I did for Susan, only this time dressed. “I told her that it was odd she was your girlfriend because I was your fiancée.”

Mike's broad shoulders relaxed and an easy smile softened his face. “Good girl.” He put his head back into the fridge. “Enough about Susan. We have the afternoon to ourselves. My mom's out with Banks and family at the Alaska Zoo. Some kind of special bear feeding. Uncle Bob's with the twins fishing. He saw a Tweet that some Kings were caught at Ship Creek. I dropped him off down there to meet Jean-Luc and Marc and just got back. Mustard?”

“Holy shit.” I stood up so abruptly, the stool scraped across the floor.

Mike looked down at the squeeze bottle of mustard. “What, you don't like spicy?” He leaned into the fridge again, most likely to find the yellow kind.

I ignored him. “The Kings are in?” King salmon! Just down the road. I had no idea where Ship Creek was but it had to be nearby. I could practically hear the fish calling my name.

Mike looked around the open fridge door once again and grinned. “That's right, fish lady. After lunch, we'll go get your license and you can catch us some dinner. Wheat or white?”

“Wheat.” I was impressed he remembered I loved to fish. As a kid, Veronica went with my dad to his job as a plumber and helped him...plumb. I'd gone with him fishing the Madison or the Gallatin practically every summer night. Back in high school, Mike and I had gone fishing together a few times. Two pals with only inklings of attraction at that point. At least on my side.

Bozeman was a fishing Mecca. It had the trifecta of rivers: the Madison, Gallatin and the Jefferson just down the road. It might not mean much to the average resident or tourist driving to Yellowstone, but for those who love to fish, it was like a pilgrimage to the fish promise land. My little neck of the woods was trout fishing heaven. I even used to teach a fly-fishing basics class to tourists over the summers during college. Since then, I spent many summer evenings out on the water. I found it relaxing to stand in water that was snow melt, listen to it fight over rocks and boulders moving downstream, to watch the sun shift over the mountains and hills surrounding me. There was no stress, no life pressures while fishing.

I'd dusted off my rod a few times last month during the caddis fly hatch on the Yellowstone, but I itched to catch some salmon—King Salmon, specifically. They were the biggest ones of all and easily three feet long. Not something to be found inMontana. But in Alaska, it was prime time for them to come in to spawn. It was a fisherman's dream. Mine, too.

Alaskan salmon were out there waiting for me to catch them. Susan could find someone else to talk to naked. I had some fishing to do. “Can you make that sandwich to go?”

“Maybe it'stime to talk about this whole fiancée thing,” Mike said to me an hour later. We were in line in the sporting goods department at Wal-Mart waiting to get my fishing license. In Alaska, once over the age of sixteen, you didn't pick up a fishing rod within fifty feet of a river without one. I'd never been to the state before and even I knew they were ruthless enforcers when it came to protecting their wildlife as we were in Montana.

Every kind of fishing, hunting and outdoor gear loomed over us from the tall aisles. Canned music piped from some magical place in the ceiling to add to the gluttonous-consumer ambiance. The Anchorage store wastheplace to be. While we waited, people with carts full of food, coolers, waders, sunscreen, and fishing rods sticking out like antennae strolled by. Many people actually wore their rubber rain boots, a few even still had on their waders as if they'd dashed in to pick up some more lures before returning to their fishing spot. Most sported some garment with a camouflage motif.

There were several people in front of us, so we had some time.

“Yeah, about that. I've been wondering. Why didn't you just call me first to come up here? Why Veronica?” I asked. Yeah, I wasn't invincible emotionally. I was as vulnerable as anyone else, maybe a little more so since Mike was friends with someone who looked exactly like me. But not me.

Piercing me with his blue eyes, he said, “You were the first one I thought of. Hell, you're always the first one I think of.”

I flushed at the idea, but it also made me angry. “That's surprising. I figured you'd forgotten all about me. Except every time you hang out with my sister.”

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