Page 33 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

Mike just smiled and went over to his suitcase and rummaged through, pulling out a shirt.

Pounding the water, I slogged to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror. I stifled a scream. My dark hair had been styled by a scarecrow, my makeup by a raccoon. I could've jumped Mike's bones in his jean-clad body and he most likely wouldn't have responded. I was a man's worst nightmare come to life. Would he ever think I was borderline attractive, let alone sexy, ever again?

I moved to the shower and stood beneath the hot spray. And stood. Waiting for the fog to clear, for my hangover nausea to fade. How had I gotten myself into this mess? I'd partially agreed to Mike's ruse just to get out of Bozeman and away from Goldie. But that was just to be a girlfriend. Plans had changed, and the engagement ratcheted up the chaos. Now, I had the insanity of being the fiancée, Mike's family,plusGoldie. And here in Alaska, there was no escape. No hourly punch card where I could clock out and walk away. With the ridiculous hours we were keeping, it seemed like a twenty-four-seven kind of job.

Mike knocked on the door, shouted. “Come on, Vi, we've got a train to catch.”

I groaned and reached for the shampoo.

“Explain what we're doing again,”I said.

Mike and I drove back into town alone since we were running behind. This time to the train station. The others had left before us. I had on my sunglasses to block out the brightness of the sun, high in the sky even at six in the morning. The rain had blown away along with the heavy clouds, and for the first time, I could see the tall mountains that flanked Anchorage. They were vivid green with craggy peaks at the top, some still snowcapped. The mountains were taller than I was used to in Bozeman and it wasmore green and lush. The amount of rain that had fallen since my arrival could easily have been the same as the annual quota for Montana.

It was beautiful. A perfect day for a scenic train ride. If I wasn't hungover.

It was already warm, soft with humidity, and I was ready to strip off my blue hoodie for just my T-shirt. I figured the jeans and sneakers look was the uniform for an Alaskan train ride. My hair was still damp and pulled back in a ponytail. I'd even swiped on some eyeliner and mascara and shoved the lip glass into my shoulder bag with my camera.

As we worked our way down the hillside from the house toward town, I could see the water in front of us.

“That's Cook Inlet. It leads out to the Pacific,” Mike said, as if reading my thoughts.

I gave a head bob of understanding.

“I'm sorry you didn't know what we were doing today. We're taking a sightseeing train to Seward. The town's toward the bottom of the Kenai Peninsula. You, me, Goldie, my mom and dad are taking the train down now. Uncle Bob?—”

“Jubal.”

Mike sighed. “Jubal, the twins, Banks, Trish and Alex will drive down later, meet us for lunch, and take the train back tonight. We'll drive their cars back. Our cars will be at the train station waiting for them.”

“That's pretty complicated, but I think I got it.”

“Oh, um...Susan's joining us on the train.” He did not sound enthusiastic.

Yippee. “How'd Susan get included in this little family outing?”

Mike looked grim. “While we were out last night, she stopped by. My mom invited her along.”

Susan, Goldie, Mrs. O, hangover from hell. Moving train. It was going to be great. “Nice. This is going to be lots of fun.”

Mike glanced at me, probably trying to gauge if I was being sarcastic or not.

Minutes later, we pulled up in front of the station. It was wide, white and three stories tall with windows spaced symmetrically down the length. It looked dense and solid enough with its concrete construction to handle even the worst of arctic weather.

We parked next to Mr. O's rental car, which happened to be a full-sized model, in the lot across the street from the station. We must not have been too far behind, or Mr. O was a slow driver, because they were still in the car. I could hear Goldie chattering away even with the doors closed. Susan was in the back with her and didn't look too keen on the seating arrangement. I had a feeling she wanted to be riding with Mike.

More like riding Mike himself.

They all piled out, greeted us both with squeezes and air kisses. Susan aimed her kiss for Mike's mouth but he turned his head at the last second, her lips brushing his cheek instead. He quickly stepped away as if they were in elementary school and she had cooties. Turning my way, she gave me a wicked smile.

She was a total bitch. I didn't use that term very often because I like to think the best of people, but she was. She knew it, and didn't care. Wearing teeny shorts that barely covered her rear end with a stretchy, scooped neck red T-shirt, she left little to the imagination. Wedge-heeled sandals made her at least four inches taller than normal. Her hair was long and sleek and she didn't need make-up to look good. She was drop-dead gorgeous in a slutty way. Even before seven in the morning.

I, on the other hand, felt like roadkill. At least I wasn't slutty roadkill.

I lifted my left hand up, gaudy ring and all, pretending to run my hand over my hair, flaunting what she didn't have.

Her eyes flared in anger at the glaring reminder of Mike's relationship status before she stomped off.

I inwardly grinned.

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