Mountain Man's Fake Fiancée

by Kelsey King

  The memory of her eyes on mine and the way she looked me from head to toe comes to mind. Everything about her is beautiful, her high cheekbones and plump lips, the way her waist is smaller than her hips and her breasts are the perfect size. Perky and taut. I turn away from the window because I could stand there all day thinking about Brianna’s body. It sounds crass, but it’s true.

  The letter sits on the counter, taunting me, and it’s drawing me to it. God, probably one of my wealthy cousins getting married. How horrified they would be to see me at the ceremony with this beard. I rip open the cream-colored envelope and what I find is not far off from what I sensed from the beginning.

  Dear Mr. Tate Williams,

  *

  You’re formally invited to the 50th Wedding Anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Lance Williams on July 7th, 2018. The ceremony is at the Ritz Carlton, Chicago, with the reception commencing at Mr. Williams’s Dearborn Park home. Please arrive at five pm. Formal attire required.

  I drop the letter onto the counter and walk away. In all honesty, I’m conflicted for many reasons. The formal attire doesn’t bother me considering I came home from the hospital in a tuxedo. Though I hate wearing them, I can fake it for one night. And truly, I am happy that grandma and gramps are celebrating their 50th. There were a number of years in there where we thought they might kill each other, but they both made it. Their relationship is admirable, and I love them dearly.

  So, I have to go. There’s no question. My family would never speak to me again if I didn’t. There’s one huge problem with all of this, going alone. Not only will our family and my parent’s elite friends and spouses be there, but so will my ex-fiancée and former best friend. The thought of it makes me cringe.

  When I left Chicago, they were merely having an affair, and I didn’t want to know any details. I washed my hands of them both. If they wanted to get married and start a family, so be it, but I wasn’t going to sit around to watch it happen. What if I showed up to the anniversary and encountered them in wedded bliss? It might kill me, or I might kill them.

  I know they’ll be because both of their parents are family friends. My ex’s father is grandpa’s lawyer. Running into them both, together, is inevitable. I should say the invitation got lost, but if I don’t go, I face the chopping block from my family.

  I stand by the window, holding the envelope in my hand. I have to go, and it occurs to me that I should bring a date, to show them that I’ve moved on and I’m over it. To show them that what they did to me didn’t break me. To show them that I don’t give any fucks about them anymore. Having a date is the only answer, and there’s only one name that comes to mind.

  Brianna Carson.

  Would she be willing to do such a crazy thing? I would pay her, of course. Handsomely. But maybe she can’t be bought? It makes me wonder what she thought of the money I’ve left her. It made me feel good to know that I was assisting her in some way. I’d like to do it again, but there’s a chance that she could be offended by me. The last thing that I want to do is give her the wrong impression.

  To bring her with me to Chicago would be delightful, but unfortunately, it would mean I’d have to show her where I come from and my former life. I would be revealing too much to a stranger, I’m afraid, but I’m a different man than I was in Chicago.

  I used to be married to my work. I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps and spend the rest of my days moving decimal points around, watching as my bank account exceeded his. My family was proud, of course, because all they care about is money. But they’d always joke that I’d marry Eden and build her an ivory tower that she’d never come down from.

  Once I had made enough money to retire for good, and Eden deceived me, that’s when I gave up on that life for good. I don’t have to worry about money anymore, which is nice, but I never really had to. I’ve watched people struggle and worry about income, and I’ve been free from all of that because of my family.

  It pisses me off, actually.

  I want to earn my own way, and I don’t want to be privileged. In my new life, I do everything for myself, and I take a lot of satisfaction in all that. If Brianna Carson were to come home with me, would she look down on me? Would she see me as some privileged jerk? I suppose it’s a risk I’d have to face.

  There’s an RSVP letter included in the invitation, and I grab a pen and cross the attending box. Come hell or high water I’ll be there, and Brianna will be by my side, hopefully.

  A new thought comes to me. It’s one thing to have Brianna pretend to be my girlfriend, but what if I convince her to be my fiancée? I could get a ring and announce we’re getting married in Whitefish in a couple months. Not only will they be shocked, but they’ll also be pissed as all hell, and it warms me to think of it. And it brings me no greater joy to do that.

  I’m not ungrateful, but I haven’t had greatest parents in the world. A nanny raised me. A little playful revenge never hurt anyone. I would love to see the look on my mother’s face when she sees that I’m getting married. And to someone that doesn’t wear designer shoes or dresses or plans charity luncheons.

  I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even asked Brianna yet, and I already have the whole thing planned out. The next order of business will be to propose the idea to her. That means going back to the café, of course. It’ll be three times in less than two weeks. All of this is a hell of a surprise to me, to say the least.

  I walk outside with a smile on my face and take off my shirt so I can feel the sun on my chest, shoulders, and back. I treasure these moments outdoors because it takes my mind off things. It’s why I moved to Montana in the first place. The rest of the afternoon passes quickly as I finish cutting the last of the trees that fell and before I know it the sun is setting and the evening is upon me. I planned to grill some fish for dinner, but I’m too tired to cook.

  I’m in a good mood, and it seems like the perfect evening to travel to the Mountain Brewery. Fish and chips, beer, and sports, what’s not to like? I jump in the shower, change into some clean clothes, then grab the keys to my truck and move toward the door. Shark barks in protest.

  “You can’t come, buddy.” He lays his head down on the hardwood floor, and I feed him treat before I leave.

  Before I know it, I’m in my truck and racing down the dirt road toward town. I don’t think I’ve ventured into civilization this much since moving to Whitefish, and it feels good.

  6

  Brianna

  “It’s cheaper to drink at my place,” I tell Callie, but she’s not having it.

  “Come on. We never go out.”

  “That’s because there’s absolutely no nightlife in Whitefish and we’re broke,” I remind her, chuckling.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Callie says. “During the ski season, this place is epic.”

  “I’ve been told you’re very popular among the ski instructors.” I’m joking with her, only because Callie told me that she has a thing for ski instructors, and they seem to have a thing for her too.

  “Why are men so sexy when they’re wearing goggles and being bossy?”

  “You do have a point,” I give her a wink as she practically drags me out of the house to her car. It’s like we’re magically on our way to the Mountain Brewery. Like I mentioned to Callie, I don’t like the extra expense, but every once in a while a girl needs to get out of the house and get off the couch. We rarely go out, but since I still have some of Tate’s generous tip left, I agree. The situation will probably go like this: Callie will start chatting it up with a bunch of guys, and I’ll be left alone with my beer, but that’s fine by me. At least one of us will be having fun.

  We pull up to the Mountain Brewery, and I notice how it’s nothing more than a pub with TVs playing sports, darts, pool, and more. But I like it, mainly because it’s the only place like this in our little town.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Hal, one of the bartenders says.

  “Hey, baby!” Callie replies, looking
over her shoulder as we pass him. It’s been awhile since I’ve visited the brewery and I admire the charm and beauty of it all. Townies are drinking and playing games, and there’s a steel beer fermenter off in the corner where they brew their own beer.

  “Look, there’s room at the bar,” Callie says, pointing to two stools off in the corner. We make our way over to the empty seats, and I greet a few people that I recognize from the café. Colored lights hang from the ceiling in the Brewery year-round, along with neon beer signs hung on the wall.

  We seat ourselves and are greeted by Hank, a bartender who has tattoos on his arms and has worked here for over a decade. It’s always easy to remember Hank and the other bartender Hal, because they go together like bread and butter, in a pub-employee sort of way.

  “Hey, Hank,” I greet.

  “Hello, ladies. What’s your pleasure this evening?” he asks. Hank has one of those vintage, twisty mustaches that were popular in the early 1900s.

  “Couple of IPAs,” I say, knowing what Callie likes.

  “Coming right up,” he replies.

  “And nachos,” Callie chimes in.

  “Got it.”

  “This place is pretty busy tonight,” Callie says, looking around the room.

  “I know, I’m surprised. It’s typically dead during the week, but it’s summer, so it’s understandable.”

  I examine the room that’s full of mostly men, ambling about, watching sports and chatting. I look down the bar, and I don’t see anything of much interest until I lock eyes with him. Tate.

  I become frozen in place just as my beer is placed in front of me. I blink hard, trying to make sure I’m not imagining him. My heart is pounding hard in my chest, and I open my mouth to say something then close it. He smirks at me, lifts his beer in the air, takes a sip, and I look away because I can feel blush hitting my cheeks.

  “You alright?” Callie asks, noticing me stiffen.

  “Callie, if I tell you something do you promise not to stare?”

  “No.”

  At least she’s honest.

  “Okay, well, over at the other end of the bar— don’t look!” I say.

  “I won’t look. Just tell me.”

  “Well, over at the other end of the bar is the guy that I was telling you about.”

  “What?” I can tell she wants to look around me, but she stays focused on my eyes until I give her permission.

  “Don’t get too excited. Just look over your shoulder casually,” I instruct.

  Callie does as I say, and she slightly leans her body past me to get a good view of the other end of the bar. She takes a quick glance then looks me back at me.

  “Damn, those biceps,” she gawks, swallowing hard. If she were an emoji right now, she’d be the one with the big heart eyes mixed with the drool face emoji.

  “I know.” I sigh. “He looks sexy as hell.”

  “I can’t believe he’s here. Considering he’s lived here for years and no one has barely seen him. Wonder why he decided to come out of his cave?” Callie wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “He was probably hoping to run into you.” Callie playfully elbows me.

  “Oh, come on. He’s probably just tired of being on the mountainside alone with his big ass dog,” I say it out loud, but I secretly hope it’s because of me.

  “Riiiighhhtttttttt.” Callie continues teasing me under her breath. I wish I could say I’m immune to it, but it’s making me blush even more. I’m not sure if I should go over to where Tate is sitting or wait for him to come over here. In fact, I have no clue what I should be doing. I don’t know what’s more awkward, us greeting one another or not.

  “You have to go over there,” Callie tells me.

  “I can’t. Seriously. What if it’s awkward?” I take a sip of my beer and look at the food menu as if I’m studying it.

  “Hey!” Callie stands and calls across the bar toward Tate. She motions with her hand for him to join us and I’m mortified. I can’t believe that she is doing this to me. I grab her arm and sit her down. I want to sink into the bar and disappear.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask in a hushed tone.

  “Taking matters into my own hands.” She smirks.

  Gaining an inch of courage, I glance across the bar, and I see Tate is smiling. He seems amused by the whole situation, thankfully. He lifts his eyebrows as if he’s silently asking me if it’s okay to come over toward us. I nod my head, and he walks our way causing a smile meets my lips. I happy he’s going to joining us, but somewhat pissed Callie had to force it.

  “Is it alright if I join you?” Tate asks over my shoulder.

  His cologne smells so damn good.

  “We would be delighted,” Callie answers with a big smile.

  “This is a crazy coincidence,” Tate says, sitting in the bar stool next to me.

  I nod and smile because I’m still trying to find my words.

  “Do you come here often?” Callie asks, leaning forward trying to start the conversation.

  “From time to time. Not too often.”

  “We don’t come here that often, either. But we just sensed that this night, we were supposed to be here. Like something was calling us,” Callie says dramatically. I nudge her with my elbow because she’s being over-the-top obvious.

  “Funny, I felt that, too,” Tate adds humorously.

  “We come here once or twice a month,” I say, finally making eye contact with Tate. His eyes are warm and inviting. For a moment I want to dive into them and get lost.

  “Same. Crazy we’ve never run into each other,” Tate replies, and I’m thinking the same thing.

  At the café, I was full of questions and comments for Tate, and now I’m tongue-tied. It’s weird for me, and I eat my nachos and drink my beer in silence while Callie carries on a conversation about the supermarket, the history of Whitefish, and skiing in the winter. It’s only when the nachos are finished that Callie orders another beer and makes an excuse to leave.

  “There’s a game of darts going on over there that I’m going to dominate,” she says, winking at me. I’m grateful for being left along with him but also anxious. I haven’t been able to get him off my mind, and here we are, face to face. My attraction to him is intense, and now our physical proximity is closer than we’ve ever been.

  “She’s cool,” Tate says as Callie walks across the room.

  “Sometimes she can be a little much, but that’s my best friend,” I tell him, tucking pieces of hair behind my ear.

  “That’s wonderful. I wish that I had a best friend like that here.”

  “You have a best friend though, right?” The question just slips out.

  “Not really. I had some close friends back in Chicago, but no one I keep in touch with regularly. I never made close friends here because I’m not in town much.”

  That sounds sad to me, but Tate doesn’t seem to care. He utters it as though it were merely a fact.

  “It’s never too late to make friends,” I reply.

  “True.”

  “It’s funny—” we both say at the same time.

  “I’m sorry,” Tate says.

  “No, good ahead,” I reply. I can’t even remember what I was going to say.

  “Well, I was going to say that it’s funny that you’re here tonight. I was thinking about you earlier,” Tate admits, and his words cause blood to pump faster through my body. I swallow hard, almost willing to admit I was thinking about him too, but decide not to.

  “Really?” I ask, trying not to sound too excited.

  “Well—” I have a feeling he’s choosing his words wisely. Tate laughs to himself, and he might be just as nervous as I am. “I don’t even know how to say this, so I’m just going to put it out there.”

  “Okay.” I take a nervous sip of my beer.

  “I have a proposition for you,” he says.

  “A proposition for me?” I raise a brow, my curiosity piqued.

&n
bsp; He looks at me and the connection between us is undeniable. His gaze holds mine and when I lower my eyes and stare at his mouth, I catch him doing the same.

  We both blink and swallow nervously.

  “It sounds kinda crazy, but I have an event to go to, and I’m in need of a date,” he sheepishly explains.

  I nearly fall off my barstool at his words. Is Tate asking me to be his date?

  “What kind of event?” I ask, trying once again to contain my excitement.

  “My grandparents are having a fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration. I received the invitation in the mail today.”

  I can’t stop smiling. “Wow, fifty years. That’s crazy.”

  “I know. It’s pretty amazing that that kind of relationship is still possible.” Our eyes meet, and I’m struck again by how gorgeous he is. Our forearms brush against one another’s, and even that simple touch makes me long for more of him.

  “Why do you need a date to an anniversary party?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation casual, even though my feelings for Tate are far from casual.

  “It’s difficult to explain,” he says, taking another swig of his beer. “But the long and short of it is…I can’t go alone. I have to be there but if I show up alone it won’t look good.”

  It doesn’t explain why he can’t but I don’t push him on it either.

  “Okay,” I say. “I can understand that,” I add. “I know how it feels to attend big events alone.” Considering my dating life has been in the pits, I’ve gone alone several times.

  “There’s one issue though. Well, two. It’s in Chicago, and you’ll need to take off of work to travel there and back. It’s only a few Saturdays away.”

  I swallow hard, knowing I can’t afford to take off that long. Tate notices my mood shift.

  “I’d pay for your time,” he adds. “I wouldn’t expect you to take off work for nothing.”

  I freeze instantly. Does he really believe he has to pay me? It makes me feel cheap thinking about it.

  “I don’t know about that,” I try to keep my tone light.