Charade (A Fake Fiancée Romance)

by Jamison, Jade C.

  She had to get in a jab. “With or without the ski trails that have all the trees carved out?”

  “I forgot you’re not a skier. But it’s beautiful anyway.”

  On that subject, they would have to agree to disagree. But, because she’d never been here before, she really would have to reserve judgment until she saw it. And, so far, what she was seeing on the trip was absolutely beautiful. Of course, she’d always felt that, as long as she was in Colorado’s mountains, she couldn’t go wrong. Evergreen trees and aspens adorning a mountainside were her definition of awe-inspiring splendor, and man’s creations couldn’t touch what nature came up with.

  One thing she could say if he asked was that she loved how the mountains hugged them on both sides, creating a narrow valley of green and white. And finally, through the trees, she could see, below and to the left, signs of the town beneath all the snow.

  She had to admit, even if only to herself, that it really was gorgeous.

  “You like?”

  Damn him for reading her like a street sign. “Yes. It’s pretty up here.”

  “I knew you would. I can’t wait to show you everything I love about this place. And I think my whole family feels the same way—so if we get on each other’s nerves, there are so many things about the village we can enjoy away from each other.” He took a right onto an exit ramp and said, “And I promise—no turkey here unless that’s what you want.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s only once a year.”

  “We’ll have some dining experiences. Even though we’re in a condo, my mom doesn’t cook. She did some when I was little, but I barely remember it. We had a chef by the time I was in school.”

  Brock’s mother seemed nice enough, but it made Erica wonder what the heck the woman did during the day if she didn’t do things like cooking. And she was just assuming that, if his mom didn’t cook, she didn’t clean either.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Brock said, “Mom ran several charities—still does, I think. She feels that donating your money and time is important for the betterment of mankind.”

  Okay, Erica could get behind that. “That’s cool. What are some of her charities?”

  “Hell, I couldn’t tell you. She changes them all the time anyway. You can ask her later.” Brock turned to the right and then said, “Don’t expect to be impressed. There usually isn’t anything in the bunch I’m familiar with but it’s better than her cooking.”

  What a grim assessment of his mother. She could tell there was some sort of fracture in the family makeup—well, obviously, considering the sons were vying for a piece of the pie and their dad had some unorthodox expectations for what would make his sons good lawyers.

  “I wish I could tell you what to expect, but it’s different every time. I do need to warn you that it’s a four-bedroom condo. I can sleep in the chair or on the floor, but I’d appreciate it if you could pretend like we’re sleeping together, just so it seems believable.”

  Ah…he was asking. She was grateful for that—and she hoped her gracious reply would communicate as much. “Of course. Your family is the reason why we’re doing this, so I understand it’s important that they believe we’re actually engaged.”

  “I might have to hug you on occasion, too.”

  Oh, of course. Just because it had hit her wrong, she added, “Would you like me to fake a loud orgasm while I’m at it?”

  Brock was driving down a quiet road surrounded by evergreens. The valley was now shrouded in shadow, making Erica feel chilled to the bone. She was looking out of the passenger side window, but there was no mistaking the amused tone in his voice. “I wouldn’t advise that, unless you really do want me pouncing on you for real.”

  The fact that he found it funny made her smile. She turned her face to him and said, “If a voyeur is a peeping Tom who gets his jollies from watching people, what is the audio version of that?”

  “An audiophile? Is that it? Like a pedophile but a horny listener?”

  Erica started laughing. “You perv.”

  “I’m not actually just into the sound. It’s the overall package. You know, sight, sound, smell, touch.” He pulled his car into a quiet driveway just off the road, right in front of a garage door.

  “Taste.”

  He shut off the engine, enveloping them in sudden and complete silence.

  “I do best when all my senses are stimulated.”

  She tried to keep her cool but she suddenly felt warm all over. “I think we can all say that. We all, uh, enjoy ourselves more when we’re fully immersed.” Gripping the door handle, she pulled it open.

  “We should all be that fortunate to have that kind of lover.”

  In silence, they met at the trunk. Brock handed Erica her luggage and said, “Sorry. No warm welcome here like at your parents’.”

  “That’s okay. It’s cold out here. I’m sure they’re just wanting to stay warm.”

  His dry tone said it all. “Oh, I’m sure that’s it.”

  If Brock’s family was half as bad as he’d been making it sound, she was going to be miserable this entire time. Erica was grateful they’d be leaving Sunday morning—first thing if she had any say in the matter.

  Chapter Nine

  HE’D TRIED TO warn her. And now she was sitting on the edge of that queen-size bed acting sad and forlorn—and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  They’d walked inside the condo late in the afternoon. Elle and Bret were out doing something. Brandon, Lisa, and Saffy were eating dinner alone somewhere. His father was working on something (or at least that was what Brock’s mother said)—so much for being a vacation—and she was already snifting the brandy, so to speak. The remnants of an argument hung in the air like a lead balloon, so Brock kissed his mom on the cheek and then peeked in the study and said hello to his father before showing Erica the way up the stairs.

  “We should have stayed with your family, eh?”

  Erica was a trooper—Brock could appreciate that much. “It’s all right. Maybe I’ll just go to bed, if it’s all right with you.”

  “No. No, it’s not. You haven’t eaten since your tiny salad at Mario’s. We’ll walk through the village, hop on the bus, and we’ll have dinner some place. Everything will be decorated for Christmas and covered in snow. I promise you’ll love it.”

  Oh…maybe he was overselling it. He didn’t want Erica to know that if anything brought out the boy in him, it was the town of Vail. Yes, she was right in that it was a rich kid kind of place, but as a child, he hadn’t known that. He’d loved the cool, quiet summers there and the beginning of ski season—all the Christmas lights in town glittering against the snow.

  Although Erica arched a beautiful eyebrow, she paused, considering his words. “I guess that’s what your fiancée would do, isn’t it?”

  “My fiancée? Hell, yes.”

  She nodded, and he didn’t even care that the way her shoulders slumped communicated reluctance. “All right. Let me just change clothes.”

  “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

  “I want something warmer—a sweater and boots.” She held up a hand, fingers splayed. “Five minutes.”

  While it was a good idea that she be warm, he was itching to get out of the condo—no matter that they’d just arrived. The atmosphere was oppressive, negative…stifling. Somehow, it felt just a little more bearable with Erica in tow—but he wanted to save her from it, keep her happy. She was pure bliss to be around, even as feisty as she’d get, when she was enjoying herself. He hated seeing her reflection of the general mood of this place.

  They’d have enough to battle tomorrow. Tonight was theirs.

  A real fiancée would change her clothes in front of him with no qualms—but she wasn’t a real bride-to-be. And, much as he wanted to tell her how they’d follow through with his ruse, she was helping him, so he wanted her to have some say in the matter. “Do you want me to turn around or wait for you downstairs?”

  “You can
just turn around while I put on this sweater,” she said, pulling a burgundy one out of her suitcase. “We don’t want to give them a reason to be suspicious, right?”

  He nodded and smiled, glad they were on the same page. He turned around and looked in the direction of the television. When they talked strategy over the next day, they’d have to turn it on. He didn’t think his parents would eavesdrop, but he’d put nothing past his brothers. Its noise should easily drown out a quiet conversation.

  Looking around, he noticed there was no furniture other than a wooden chair and desk. He supposed he’d be sleeping on the floor for two nights…unless he could talk Erica into sharing the bed.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  But first he had to help her fall in love with Vail. She loved her hometown Gunnison, so Vail should be easy.

  They bounded down the stairs and Brock said in the general direction of his parents, “I’ve got the keycard. We’re going out for dinner. Be back later.”

  He heard his mother say, “I think Brandon and Lisa are at—” but he closed the door quickly enough that he could honestly say he missed it. There would be no fucking running into his brother. They’d have to deal with him soon enough. For now, it was just him and Erica.

  Out of instinct, he was sure, Erica walked to the passenger side of his car, but he came up behind her, placing his hand on her back, and said, “Not taking the car. We have just a little way to walk to where the bus will pick us up.” He began to lead her in the right direction, his hand still on her back, and asked, “You okay with walking?”

  “Yeah, that’s okay.”

  “Do you jog?”

  Erica laughed. “Not if I can help it.”

  She wasn’t throwing his hand off, so he left it there. In case any family members saw them, they’d be convincing. “Well, if you decide to give it a try, there are some nice places to run here. I love jogging along the creek when I can.”

  “I don’t mind walking.”

  “Then maybe tomorrow morning I can slow down my jog and we can walk to Starbucks.”

  Even in the dusk, he could see her eyes light up—or maybe he was just imagining it. “You’re on.”

  “In the meantime, I’m going to take you to one of my favorite restaurants here.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll just have to wait. But what I like about this place is they’re really into serving local organic food. Ever eaten elk at a restaurant?”

  “What? Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, I haven’t eaten elk at a restaurant—but I don’t think I want to.”

  “If they still have it on the menu, I recommend it.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Fine. Will you have a bite of mine if I get it?”

  He could hear her sigh, but he could also see her breath rushing out in front of her, thanks to the cold air surrounding them. “All right. But please tell me they have some kind of chocolate for dessert.”

  “They should. Want me to check their menu on my phone?”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “Right up there—see?” He pointed to where he knew the bus would be stopping, and as if it arrived solely by his thought, he heard it close. “Shit. Are you up to running?”

  “You really want me on the jogging bandwagon, don’t you?”

  He laughed. “No, but if we don’t hurry, we’ll have to wait for the next bus.” He wasn’t going to divulge to her that another one would probably arrive in twenty minutes, even if she felt warm. The restaurant wasn’t too far away if they needed to walk, but the bus was truly the way to go. “Race ya.” There wasn’t any snow on the sidewalk, so he wasn’t worried about sprinting in the dark. He glanced behind himself and saw that she wasn’t in any big hurry. “Come on, Erica. The bus’ll be here any second.” Facing her, he continued running backward.

  “Shit, Brock. You’re going to hurt yourself!” She started running then—at a decent clip even—and caught up with him. Once she caught up, he turned, grabbing her hand, and they raced the rest of the way together, just as the bus stopped and opened its doors for three people already standing and waiting.

  By the time the two of them boarded the bus, they were laughing. Finding a seat near the front, they sat down and he said, “See? You never know when that kind of training is going to come in handy.”

  She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

  The lights on the bus dimmed. After a few seconds, he saw that she, too, was looking out the windshield. “See? Christmas lights and trees everywhere. Like the North Pole, eh?”

  Erica nodded and smiled but just kept looking. The driver stopped the bus again, letting on two people while the majority of the passengers that had already been onboard got off. “It is pretty,” she said.

  “Yeah. I knew you’d think so.”

  And either she hadn’t noticed or she didn’t care that his arm was around her shoulders…but he wasn’t removing it unless she told him to, because something about her seemed more like family than his own flesh and blood, and he was beginning to think he didn’t want to lose that feeling.

  * * *

  Dammit. Erica was way out of her element and she even felt underdressed, but she wasn’t going to complain. The creek side restaurant was indeed beautiful…but it felt way too high class for her. While she’d never felt inferior to wealthy people, she’d also never been comfortable around displays of luxury and riches—and this certainly was one. Yes, sure, they were serving “common” elk and trout on the menu, but those entrees didn’t come out on the plate like her mom would have made. The food here wasn’t what she was accustomed to. If, for instance, it wasn’t served with a demi glace, it had a reduction or a vinaigrette—and appearance was key, which was probably why all the servings of meat seemed to have little bunches of greens on top. The only time that happened in Erica’s world was when she ordered a cheeseburger and they put lettuce and tomato on it. And the portions here seemed skimpy. But she and Brock had an appetizer and some amazing wine to go with the meal, and she was feeling warm and just shy of giddy, in spite of being a fish out of water.

  When the waiter came by, he asked, “Can I interest you in some dessert?”

  Brock said, “I believe the lady would love something with chocolate.”

  “I have just the thing. And for you, sir?”

  He looked at Erica. “Want to share dessert?”

  Oh, did he look devilishly handsome right now. She’d share almost anything with that man at this moment. “As long as it’s chocolate, you bet.”

  Brock raised an eyebrow at the waiter, who nodded his head and whisked away to fetch it.

  “It’s too bad we’re here in the winter.”

  “Actually, we’re not, Brock. It’s still fall till next month.”

  “You know what I mean. The snow’s on the ground—feels like winter to me. But I’d love to take you to the Alpine Gardens. It’s a shame we won’t be together next summer or I would.”

  Erica frowned, because he was almost making it sound like they were really engaged.

  “But there’s a really cool skiing museum in town. If it’s open tomorrow, I could take you there.”

  She couldn’t help the scowl still plastered on her face. “Shouldn’t we be spending time with your family while we’re here?”

  “You tellin’ me you’re not sick of them already?”

  Forcing a smile as the waiter approached them, she said, “I don’t see them nearly as much as you do.”

  The waiter set the plate between them on the table, and it was indeed chocolatey. It looked like a brownie with caramel and chocolate drizzled over it, topped with whipped cream, much like how the mountains here were covered in snow. Erica began salivating as her eyes caressed it.

  “Enjoy.”

  “It’s a lot easier to avoid blowing our cover if we’re not in the condo.”

  She dug her fork into the side of the dessert, loading it up with a healthy amount of
gooey chocolate goodness. “True, Brock, but I feel completely out of sorts here. The bus was the closest thing that felt normal to me, but even that couldn’t compare because it was free. I’m a stranger in a strange land here—in culture shock. Yes, the surroundings are lovely, but I still don’t get how felling dozens of trees so rich people can glide down a cold mountain trumps the beauty of nature unscathed. We’re deep in the Rockies, but there’s no sense of roughing it.”

  “You’re not supposed to be roughing it in Vail.”

  She sighed and closed her mouth over the fork. She shut her eyes, letting her taste buds take in the sensation of being jolted by chocolate and sugar. Mmm. It was amazing and helped her forget for five short seconds how she really did feel like the trout that had been on Brock’s plate—not just a fish out of water but completely fucked as well.

  Swallowing, she opened her eyes to see Brock tasting the dessert. “Yeah, that’s obvious.”

  “What can I do to make you feel better about being here?”

  If he’d been having a good time, she would have felt guilty about ruining it, but even though he loved the town, she knew he was miserable thanks to his family. What was saddest was they hadn’t seen anyone other than his parents today and that hardly even counted.

  At least they’d both be miserable. Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.

  * * *

  “Trust me. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll see this place in a whole new light.” Part of Brock wished he could understand how she felt, but he’d grown up this way. Nothing about the town or what Erica perceived as its wealth had ever bothered him, but it was getting under her skin. Maybe she misunderstood.

  But, as they walked toward the bus stop in the chill dark evening, he thought maybe he could see things a little through her eyes. Unlike, say, east Colfax Avenue, there was no hint of poverty or even struggle here—meaning she was right about one thing: Wealth kept this town going—so if the good citizens wanted a Starbucks latte, by God, they got one.

  She was missing the bigger picture, though, and it was that they were surrounded by natural beauty. Fine, if she hated looking at the slopes, she could look at the mountains on the other side of I-70, the ones where man had only built homes and roads but the majority of trees stood tall and proud.