Page 65 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

“Okay, sure. How come you can't just help them yourself?” Just what I needed. A visit from the Feds. It was only a matter of time before that tidbit, one made out of actual fact, not fiction, got circulated on the Bozeman grapevine.

“I'm Jubal Early in Maryland. It's the march toward Gettysburg. What can I do from here?”

He had a point. The feds probably thought he was crazy, anyway.

“Fine. No problem. Have a good battle.”

“Thanks, honey. You take care of yourself, the baby, and that man of yours.”

So much for sleep. I was wide awake now. I'd tried to avoid any thoughts aboutthat manof mine, especially since it didn't seem like he wasmy manat all. It would be impossible to do anything but think of Mike. And, of course, the imaginary baby. Since Jubal mentioned it, it was pretty obvious Mike hadn't fixed things yet. I was still engaged. I was still having his baby.

On the flip side, he had to resolve that problem. Somehow. It had been three days since I'd been back. Four, since I'd seen Mike. No word. No action of any kind. When he did do something, he'd have to catch up with me, at a minimum explain how he did it so we could keep our stories straight. Would he come back to Bozeman to do it? Would he do it over the phone to his mother? To me? No. Mike wasn't the kind of guy to do that kind of job over the phone. He'd show up. Eventually. And he'd have to make things right.

Would making things right include staying with me? He'd used the word 'mine' on more than one occasion. How could a guy be so possessive one minute, then consider moving two time zones away the next? How could I be his, yet be alone?

23

That night, I finally got around to emptying my suitcases. I made piles of clean versus dirty clothes and a pile of fishing gear to go back out in the garage. My cell rang.

“Violet? Hi, this is Mrs. Ostranski.”

Oh, shit.

“Hi, Mrs. O. How are you?”

“Fine. Fine, sweetheart. Listen, Violet. I'm with Goldie and Veronica at the store. We were talking about how lovely that necklace you got from Bob was. Goldie was thinking it might be something your sister could wear with that new dress she bought.”

Mrs. O didn't sound right. This was the first time she’d called me. Ever. And she never called me 'sweetheart.' Besides, what was Goldie thinking that Veronica would like the necklace? My sister didn't even own a dress, let alone want to wear one. Unless she was going to be taking communion classes or entering a convent, Veronica wouldnotwant to wear a necklace with a large cross dangling from it.

I needed to test the situation. “I didn't know she got a new dress. She's such a clothes horse.”

“Your sister certainly got the high maintenance genes in the family.” Mrs. O laughed shrilly.

Something was officially wrong. Way wrong. She was telling me that and it came through loud and clear. At least to me. Veronica's idea of high maintenance was getting the oil changed on her plumbing van every three thousand miles.

“Goldie and I would love to see the necklace again and show Veronica. Do you think you can bring it to the store so we can see it?”

“Right now?” I asked. The clock on the wall said eight-thirty.

“Right now would be perfect.”

Someone was there who wanted the necklace. They could have it. I hadn't wanted it in the first place. Jubal had said the FBI was going to contact me. I guess they found Goldie and Mrs. O instead. If something wasn't right, though, I needed to tell someone where I was going.

“But, Mrs. O, Mike is supposed to stop by.” Not. He probably was still in New York.

She must have covered the phone with her hand because I heard muffled voices for a moment. “Mike won't care about girl talk. Just send him a text to meet you later.”

“No problem. I'll see you in a few.”

After I hung up,I dashed to my closet for some clean clothes. I pulled out the first things I grabbed, a pair of brown shorts, an MSU T-shirt, pink hoodie. I didn't think now was the time to prove I was the high-maintenance one in the family.

I called Mike first thing. Voicemail.

“Oz, it's me. Listen, something weird is going on at Goldilocks.” I rummaged through my toiletry case for thenecklace, found it tangled around a tube of toothpaste. “Not the usual kind of strange. Your mother is there and saying Veronica is going to wear a dress and they want to see the necklace Jubal gave me. I guess the FBI has been talking to Jubal again.” I took a deep breath. “I wanted you to know because something's not right. Okay. You're probably in New York and when you get this I'll be laughing over drinks with your mom about some stupid prank she and Goldie are pulling on me. Whatever.” I found my keys and dashed for the car, necklace dangling from my fingers. “Never mind. Have a nice life.”

I clicked off and drove the ten blocks to the store. Living downtown had its perks. Convenience to all the activities on Main Street and, tonight, to Goldilocks. After riding in the clown car for a week, my older model Audi felt like a stretch limo.

Ten minutes after hanging up on Mrs. O, I walked through the doors of the town's only adult store. I'd only been through the doors as a temporary employee, never a customer. I didn't need Goldie knowing my secrets. That was what the Internet was for. Although, writing a romance novel certainly laid all that out there and my secrets were exposed to not just Goldie, but now the entire world.

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