by Cara Colter
It was as if there had been way too much sadness of late, and the laughter had been waiting. Once uncorked, it wasn’t going to be shoved back in.
Finally, they were back at the cottage.
He handed her the leash.
“Thank you,” she said.
They stood there in awkward silence for a moment. He looked at her in a way that made her uncharacteristic giddiness dry up and her heart stop.
“I have to go,” he growled.
“Yes, you do,” she said. Even though it was insanely late, and she had to teach in the morning, she had been thinking of asking him in for a drink.
He hesitated. “I was just thinking, that maybe we could make it work.”
“Make what work?”
“You know. Fake mate.”
So he didn’t want whatever had sprung up between them to end, either. Which made the potential for complications seem extremely high.
And at the moment, Krissy, bathed in moonlight and laughter and dog kisses, found she just didn’t care.
CHAPTER SIX
“I THINK MY sister and Mike would find you believable. A girl with a dog.”
Oh. It was about Mike. And his sister. And the dog. In a roundabout way, the car. It was about everything except what had just leaped in the air, sizzling, between them.
There was no reason to be insulted by that! It reduced the possibility of complications, didn’t it?
“Plus, it’s evident to me,” Jonas said, “you need some help with the dog. There is nothing funny about such a big dog being so poorly behaved. You could have been badly hurt when he knocked you down. What if you’d smacked your head on the pavers? What if that had been a child he leaped on like that?”
These were, of course, valid points, but Krissy’s feeling of being insulted grew.
“Crusher is a rescue,” she said defensively. “I haven’t really had him long enough to work on his, er, issues.”
“Well, start with the name. Because a dog will always live up to whatever name you give it.”
“He came with that name.”
“You can change it.”
“I thought that was bad luck.”
“For boats!”
“What would you suggest? Pansy?”
“Better,” he said, deliberately missing her sarcasm.
He moved away from her and over to Pansy-Crusher, who was wriggling in anticipation of attention. Jonas studied the dog, touching that one ear torn off in a long-ago battle and taking in that the face was badly scarred.
Jonas turned back to her. “You know it’s a possibility this dog is too much for you, don’t you?”
That very thought had been niggling at the back of her mind almost since Crush—Pansy’s—arrival. But she hated that he saw it.
“I’m prepared to do what it takes,” Krissy said firmly.
Jonas studied her, then lifted a shoulder. “I guess we’ll see,” he said. “It would be a trade. I could show you a few things about handling the dog, and if it looks like we’re compatible, you could be my fiancée at the reunion. It happens to coincide with my thirtieth birthday.”
Krissy had never been to a family reunion. Neither her mother or father had enjoyed good relations with their extended families. Their family of three had lived on a desert island, but not the idyllic kind. Aunt Jane had been the only respite, the only rescue.
So this casual reference to happy family events made Krissy feel an uneasy sense of longing.
He cocked his head at her. “It’s at our family resort in the Catskills. My sister and Mike run it now. It’s always a fun time.”
That uneasy longing grew in the pit of her stomach.
“Family and fun going together,” she said, before she could stop herself. “There’s a novel concept.”
“Your family wasn’t fun?” he asked, as if it was shocking news to him that families weren’t fun.
Shut up, she ordered herself. “Just Aunt Jane. The rest of it was pretty much a war zone.”
His gaze was deep and stripping, loaded with unwanted sympathy. Krissy tilted her chin proudly at him. “Your family doesn’t fight?”
“Of course they fight. My sister is downright mean with a water balloon.”
That kind of fight seemed so innocent. Krissy felt a longing she had suppressed push against the lid she had put on top of it.
“I’m not sure about the reunion,” she said.
“We’ll take it one step at a time,” he said, his surprisingly gentle tone making another longing leap up deep inside of her.
“Homework,” Jonas said, as if it were all settled, “Find a new name for the dog. I’ll drop by Saturday. Early afternoon. One-ish, okay?”
He didn’t wait for her answer. “If things go well, we’ll take a walk downtown with him for ice cream at Moo-Moo’s. Who knows? Maybe you’ll order something exciting.”
He said that as if there was hope for both her and the dog.
Say no, Krissy ordered herself. If she didn’t, Jonas would take over her whole life before she even knew what had happened. She’d be renaming her dog and breathlessly anticipating going for ice cream with him and even thinking about ordering something different. She’d be looking forward to a family reunion, to that tantalizing glimpse of what normal was.
She didn’t say no.
Instead, she watched in silence as he turned away from her, stopped at his car door to remove the jacket tied at his waist, then slipped inside and drove away.
“I feel as if I’ve just survived a hurricane,” Krissy confided in Crusher.
And that, she told herself, explained the euphoria. Completely.
A few days later, on Saturday, getting ready for Jonas’s arrival, Krissy told herself firmly it was not a date.
So how did she explain the pile of clothes on her bed, tried on, reviewed, discarded? The dog was now nestled in the middle of them.
“Get off the bed, Hans,” she said to Crusher, trying out yet another name. The dog did not respond, and she shook her head. “Maybe better for a German shepherd,” she decided.
The explanation for the number of clothes discarded was actually quite easy.
“It’s like a job interview,” Krissy told herself. “If you’re going to be a fake mate to a man like Jonas Boyden, you have to look the part.”
Of course, it was complicated, just as he had somehow known all along it would be. Because it was very difficult to find an outfit that was absolutely beguiling while looking like it was not trying to be, and that was also appropriate for a session of dog training.
And added to all that, it had to be appropriate for eating ice cream afterward, the outfit of a girl who was not afraid to be bold in her choices.
Krissy finally settled on a pair of wildly flower-patterned end-at-the-calf leggings and an oversize white T-shirt. She put on a pair of hot pink running shoes that matched one of the flowers in the leggings. She added a chunky, colorful necklace and earrings.
Then she took a curling iron to her hair, hated how it looked—trying way too hard—and scooped it back into a ponytail. Disliking herself for it, she added just a touch of makeup, a bit of mascara, a dusting of blush and hint of lip gloss.
She regarded herself in the mirror and thought she had hit just the right note: spontaneous, sporty, fun, someone not at all concerned about the complications of a fake match.
“What are you doing to me?” she told the urn of her aunt’s ashes as she passed the mantel in her small living room.
Jonas arrived promptly, and she peeked out her front window as he came down the walk. The spring sunlight glinted off the wheat gold of his hair. He carried himself with the supreme confidence of a person who would never give a second thought to outfit choice.
And of course, he had that just right, casual in a short-sleeved navy blue butto
n-down shirt, chinos and canvas loafers. The sunglasses gave him a bit of a film star aura.
She was aware, as she opened the door, she felt extremely nervous.
However, all the effort she had put into making a great first impression on their second meeting was for naught, because the dog bounded out the door.
“Louie,” she cried, as the dog leaped up and placed its paws on Jonas’s substantial shoulders, “stop it.”
Neither the dog nor Jonas even glanced at her.
“Off,” he said sternly. “Now.”
The dog, shocked and confused by this rejection of his enthusiasm, lowered himself to all fours and then gazed at Jonas with some consternation.
“Sit,” Jonas commanded.
The dog sat in three stages: his huge hind end swayed, then inched down, hovering, and then, finally, plopped all the way onto the ground.
“Is Louie what you’ve decided on?”
She frowned. All that work on the perfect look and not even a Hello, Krissy, how are you? Looking lovely today, I must say.
“Not really. I’m just trying it.”
“Hmm. It sounds like a name for a dog that would trip over his ears, like a basset hound.”
“Well, it won’t do for him, then.” They both looked at the dog’s ears, the one in tatters.
The dog looked like it was considering getting up, and Jonas snapped a finger at him. He nestled back down.
Jonas cast her a glance, finally. “What did they tell you about him at the rescue center?”
He was being so all business. She longed for the laughter they had shared the other night. Should she remind him of his ripped pants?
No! She should keep it all business, too. Even the fiancée part, when they got to that? Especially the fiancée part, when they got to that! But how could you pretend to be someone’s fiancée with this businesslike attitude?
She thought of her parents. Civil, but distant, would be an improvement in some relationships!
“I didn’t exactly get him directly from the rescue center,” she admitted. “One of the other teachers at school had taken him, and it wasn’t working out.”
He looked exasperated by that. Where was the man who had made her laugh so hard? For both their safety, wasn’t this coolness so much better?
“He wasn’t working out for someone else, and so you took him?”
“Artie Calhoun, the fifth-grade teacher, brought him to the staff room one Monday morning. His wife had told him not to come home after work if the dog was still with him.”
“The dog was being bad enough it was breaking up a marriage. That would compel you to step in, why?”
A question she had asked herself several hundred times!
“Look at that face.”
They both looked at the dog. Hans-Louie, the pansy crusher, lolled out his tongue in a silly grin and did that thing with his eyes where he looked up at them with a certain forlorn hope.
“How could you not fall in love with it?” Krissy asked.
Jonas made a low sound partway between a sigh and a groan. She looked at him. True enough, Jonas did not look like he was a falling-in-love kind of guy. In fact, he did not look like a man who would give his heart easily. To anyone. Or anything.
Not that that was any of her business. Not that she wanted to even think about Jonas falling in love!
That would make their arrangement impossibly complex.
“Anyway,” Krissy said, “I couldn’t resist him, and he’s here and I’m committed now.”
Jonas winced at the very word and looked at her warily, as if he had discovered she was the superhero of lost causes.
The dog tried again to get his legs under himself.
“No,” Jonas said with the authority of a drill sergeant. Crusher plopped back down, ducked his head and looked contrite as he sneaked looks at Jonas’s face.
Jonas sighed again. “I didn’t think a rescue center would match him with you. Don’t look insulted! It’s not personal. The dog may have been a fighting dog, which means he has aggression built into him. It’s not a good thing for an inexperienced owner.”
“He’s not aggressive,” she said firmly. “If he was a fighting dog, I think he probably washed out of fight class. He just hasn’t had enough love.”
Jonas actually groaned. “He doesn’t need love. He needs discipline. Do you see how I’m greeting him? I’m not feeding his excitement. When you come home, don’t even greet him. Don’t even look at him.”
“Really?” she asked, appalled.
“When you get home, get a leash and take him for a walk. Don’t even go in the door until you’ve done that. Every single time. Because he’s got way too much energy and it’s a bad idea to reward that by letting him jump all over you. The affection should always be initiated by you, after he’s earned it. And it should never involve him jumping on you.”
Krissy could feel her back going up. He hadn’t even noticed her outfit! Was Jonas always so bossy? Of course he was! He had that look of a man quite accustomed to being in authority.
Still, she bit back her irritation. She’d agreed to this trade. And really, she was being offered what she most needed right now. Which was not a fiancée, fake or otherwise. It was a well-behaved dog.
The kind of companion she could walk into her old age with.
“You seem to know quite a bit about dogs,” she conceded.
“We bred, raised and trained hunting dogs when I was growing up. It was our off-season business.”
“Oh, dear,” she said. It was time to remind him of the other part of their deal. “I don’t know how this is going to be a fair trade when you know quite a bit about dogs. I, on the other hand, know nothing about being a fiancée. Your fiancée.”
“What’s to know?” he said. “I’ll put a ring on your finger. We’ll gaze at each other adoringly.”
A ring? She hadn’t even considered that. And the gazing adoringly part seemed very dangerous, indeed.
“I think the family reunion would be too much,” Krissy said carefully, “A whole weekend? It just gives too many opportunities to expose the fact we don’t know each other.”
“But by then, we will.”
“We will?”
“Sure. We’ll do a few dog training excursions, I’ll take you out for dinner a couple of times. We’ll know everything there is to know about each other.”
That sounded scary!
“Then we’ll go to the reunion, we’ll cream all the competition in the water fight, eat too many hot dogs, sing by the campfire, show off your ring.”
The picture he painted called to a little girl inside her who had craved exactly that kind of family and that kind of gathering. She had seen such things in movies and read about it in books. Kids at school talked about lives that made her aware that her life—her parents’ battles followed by periods of crushing silence—was not normal.
Aunt Jane had known how wrong it all was. She had taken Krissy out of that situation as often as possible. Overnight sleepovers at her great little NYC apartment, trips, excursions, outings. And she had always assured Krissy, whenever they were alone together, that the home situation was not her fault. And yet how could it not be?
How could it not be, when Krissy had been the reason—the accidental pregnancy—that had brought her parents together?
“Besides,” he continued, oblivious to Krissy embroiling herself in distressing thoughts, “we’ll bring the dog. You’d be amazed how a dog becomes the center of attention. My sister won’t notice much else.”
Krissy was not convinced the reunion could be a good idea. “I think maybe just dinner to introduce me to Mike and Theresa,” she said. “Show them the ring. You can claim I had a previous engagement for the reunion dates.”
“Let’s just see how it plays out,” he said. “Go get that le
ash and we’ll start.”
It was all wrong. Everything about this whole encounter was wrong. He was taking charge completely. He was triggering forbidden longings in her. She had thought it would be fun, but she felt tense. It was supposed to be the prelude to their engagement, but it felt businesslike and calculated. She had dressed up for it!
What was troubling her was it felt as if Jonas Boyden was here out of some unfathomable sense of responsibility for her.
He had been 100 percent correct in his assessment of their situation when he had refused her initial offer to be his fake mate.
It could get complicated between them. Fast.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KRISSY WONDERED IF Moo-Moo’s was still on the table? It was such a small thing. It already felt way too large. If it was still on the table, she planned to be shocking. She planned to order the most exciting thing on the menu. She seemed to recall, vaguely, there was an item called Earth Orgasm on the menu, a concoction of organic yogurt, nuts and bananas.
That was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. Embarrassingly so. She didn’t even like nuts! And she wasn’t all that fond of yogurt, especially in an ice cream shop.
But it was just more evidence you could not keep things uncomplicated with a man like Jonas Boyden. Particularly if you let your mind wander to orgasms in any form. Krissy did not like being ridiculous.
She was already nervous about the family reunion and it was nearly a month away!
So the best thing to do would be to tell him the deal was off. She needed to put an end to this now. She didn’t need him to help her with the dog. There were thousands of books out there. And videos. She could ask him to recommend a few.
She opened her mouth to say it.
“See?” Jonas said quietly. “This is what you want. Do you see how relaxed he is? That’s what you reward.”
He dropped down on his haunches in front of the dog and took the big mug between both his hands. He massaged with his palms and his thumbs, pressing deep circles into the scarred face of the dog. Crusher-Pansy-Hans-Louie’s tongue fell out of his mouth and he closed his eyes. A moan of pure bliss escaped him.