Page 53 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

They were both very serious. It really was just like in the movies. They weren't wearing full suits with ties, but they were clearly G-Men by their stances, their bearing. Even the FBI was more relaxed in Alaska.

“He went to Katmai. We're in town visiting—family reunion—so some of us flew down to see the bears earlier. He plans to be back tomorrow. Is there a problem?”

They were giving nothing away. “We just need to talk with him.”

“Is he in trouble?” It seemed Mike was doing his own fishing expedition.

Both men shook their heads. I think I saw a smile on Humpty's face. “No. We'll stop by again tomorrow. Have a nice day.”

We stood there and watched them drive off. I hadn't moved, nor spoken through the whole thing. “Tell me that was a little weird.”

Mike opened his door to the clown car—Jubal having reclaimed his truck—and leaned against the roof. “Everything is weird about this trip.”

Like that wasn't obvious to me. He wasn't the pregnant, word porn bestselling author. “What do you think that was all about?”

Mike shook his head. “I have no idea.” Realizing we weren't going to discover anything new standing there, he climbed in. I followed and we were off.

Instead of heading into town, we turned and headed up the hill, up the mountainside. Higher and higher the road went through comfortable neighborhoods, houses on big lots with leafy trees everywhere. We moved to roads a little less maintained, where Mike had to dodge potholes, avoid overgrown foliage—high wild shrubs and bushes—edging into the road and blind curves. We took one at about five miles an hour, but Mike still had to slam on the brakes to avoid a moose that jumped out of nowhere.

I put my hands on the dash. Mike gripped the steering wheel like a life ring. My heart was pounding in my chest at the surprise appearance. I wasn't used to moose appearing in the road. Squirrels, dogs, an occasional deer outside of town. But moose, never.

He didn't have a rack on his head and he wasn't a baby. He eyed us as if we were inhisway. It was a complete standoff because we couldn't go around him and I wasn't planning on getting out to yell at him for jaywalking.

Soon, he found us boring and clomped across the road and disappeared once again into the dense greenery.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked.

“Yeah. That was great.” I grinned.

Continuing on, we wound our way above the tree line until about ten minutes later, without any more confrontations with the wildlife, we pulled into a large parking lot. It was compact dirt so the clown car bumped over all of the little ruts. The wood sign at the entrance read: Glen Alps Trail.

“Glen Alps. Sounds...Swissy,” I commented, looking around. The size of the parking area itself said this was a well-used starting point for various trails. A newer building for bathrooms was at one end, a kiosk with a map and information next to it. The lot was half full. Above the tree line as we were, I could see to the west; the buildings of Anchorage far below, the water beyond, and in the distance, another mountain range.

Mike stared at me for a moment. “Swissy?”

I shrugged.

“We're actually going to go up Flattop.” He pointed out the front windshield. Not straight out as if he was pointing to the bathrooms, but up, toward space. “It's that mountain right there. This is a really popular hike so there shouldn't be any problems with bears.”

I looked out my window. Up. I didn't see any bears. Or moose.

Per the area map on display at the kiosk, the climb, although really steep, was less than two miles. It was a narrow path, which meant single file walking, so we didn't chat much, only pointing out interesting things on the way. By the time we got to the top, and it was flat like the mountain's name, I was ready to sit, take a break and enjoy the view. It was surprisingly clear and warm considering the weather we'd had. From our vantage point, we could see in all directions. If I had binoculars, I'dprobably see Hope, my new favorite fishing spot. Mountains, water, mountains and more mountains as far as I could see.

We found a suitable rock to sit on and pulled out our water bottles, comfortable in our companionable silence, until...

“So, will you let me read it?”

I un-squeezed my water bottle midstream. Swallowed. Took my time. I was cornered. In the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, with nothing but open space all around me, I was trapped.

“Nicely played,” I said. The wind at the top was stronger and it blew my hair into my face.

Mike smiled, tucked a strand behind my ear. “Thanks. So. Can I?”

“Do you really want to or are you just interested in word porn?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Word porn? Is that what you call it? I like it.” When he saw me just staring at him, he must have realized I was serious. “If you wrote it, I'd really like to read it.”

“Why?”

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