Page 45 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

“Good girl.”

I craved his mouth on me. No matter how much I mentally justified the exact opposite. Regardless of whether he might move across the country. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but his touch. I didn't want anything to get in his way. Nothing did. He moved from one hardened nipple to the other all the while pinning me in place with his big hand pressed against the curve of my back. I couldn't push him away with my hands busy.

“Food's almost ready. Get a move on, everyone!” Jubal shouted from the bowels of the house.

“Shit,” Mike whispered, resting his forehead against my belly. “It's like we're in high school again.”

I was too flustered to process much, other than my nipples were damp and tightening into hard little points from the cool air. Mike tugged down my top, frustrating us both.

“Go take your shower. Alone.” As I turned toward the bathroom, he gave me a light swat on the ass. “Lock the door so I can't change my mind about joining you.”

16

We showered—separately—and twenty minutes later, were having brunch with the entire family. Everyone had slept in, returning from Seward either by car or train and returning late. Before us were blueberry pancakes, hash brown potatoes, caribou sausage—it seemed Jubal had shot, no, taken, a very large caribou—scrambled eggs, toast, OJ and coffee. The only seat vacant was Goldie's, who'd received a phone call as we were setting the table.

For this meal, Jubal left the saber behind but wore his confederate pants with a white shirt and maroon vest, adorned with large brass buttons. Everyone else was dressed more traditionally in jeans and fleece, worn to ward off the cooler temperatures. To be polite, I once again threw the Civil War religious bling over top of my hot pink pullover. It was quite the combination.

“Jefferson, that's rude!” Goldie said from the kitchen. The door between the rooms swung wide. “Violet, you're not going to believe this!” She came into the room, heels clacking on the wood floor as she wiped at the front of her skinny jeans. Besides the jeans, she wore a sweatshirt with a very large embroideredmoose on the front. It worked because she was in Alaska, but I would make sure it never made an appearance again once she left the state.

Everyone stopped eating once again. I had a forkful of pancake halfway to my mouth.

Mike took a sip of his coffee. “Now what?” he murmured over the top of his mug.

“I know you wanted me to keep this to ourselves, but this is too big not to share. That book of yours?—”

Oh, no. This was going nowhere good. I felt my breakfast turn to lead in my stomach. I put my fork down with a clatter. It was possible I might puke again, validating the morning sickness story even more. “Goldie,” I scolded.

“It's a bestseller!”

I stared at her, trying to process her words. “A bestseller where?”

“Online. MeMe finished the cover and my neighbor's nephew's girlfriend volunteered to format the book and she helped me publish it for you online. You will not believe how many copies it's sold!”

“The new panties book?” Mike whispered.

I nodded my head numbly. I wondered if that was the title.The New Panties Book by Violet Miller.

“Goldie, how do people evenknowabout the book? There are so many online these days,” I wondered.

“You think I know people in Bozeman, but my reach ismuchfurther. How many”—Goldie glanced at Alex—“stores like mine do you think there are out there? I just sent out a group email telling everyone, then they told everyone, and they told...well, you get the idea. It's like a prayer chain for grown up things.”

“Now everyone online—God, the entire world—is going to know I wrote that. Olive Perlnutter is going to have me fired, for sure.”

“What's this about a book?” Mrs. O asked, stirring cream into her coffee. Nothing seemed to faze her. I had a feeling if Goldie announced I was chosen for the next NASA shuttle, Mrs. O would remain calm.

“You wrote a book, Violet? That's great!” Jubal added. “Is it about fishing?”

“Wow, that's amazing. I didn't know you were a writer,” Trish said, clearly impressed.

The twins were trying to figure out what was going on, and obviously Goldie noticed. “Tell Jean-Luc and Paul what we're talking about, Violet. It's rude to keep them in the dark.”

“I am not telling them about my books!” They might be the only two in the world who didn't know about it.

“You speak French, Violet?” Jubal asked.

“I didn't know you spoke French,” Mrs. O said at the same time, clearly impressed.

“Yes, a year abroad in college.” I was distracted, and my mind was overwhelmed by Goldie's actions.

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