Chapter 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

ALIDA

“What the hell , Fox?” I hiss as he pulls into my driveway beside a mangled car I know all too well.

His right brow quirks upward, the corner of his mouth mimicking the gesture. “Would you have rather I left it on the side of the road?”

I want to argue with the man, but I’m too exhausted. Never mind that I had no idea how I was paying for a tow with the balance of my checking account lower than the frigid winter temperatures. Would it be so terrible to be grateful, just this once?

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” I say, pushing open my door.

“Oh, I’m coming with you.”

“What? Why?”

“In case you try to sneak out your bedroom window.”

“You really think—” I lock my gaze with his, and for the briefest moment, I’m tempted to smile. It takes an incredible amount of restraint to make my lips behave. “You make a valid point. I am a flight risk.”

I trudge through the snow-covered sidewalk to the front door, certain my neighbors will hate me for not shoveling like the rest of them. At least I won’t be here through Christmas to endure their disapproving looks.

My heart races as I unlock the door, wondering if this is all a terrible idea. It’s certainly a better alternative than being some sleazy rich man’s sex slave in a dungeon of horrors for a night. But a fake relationship for three whole days poses its own set of problems.

“Where exactly is this family gathering?” I ask, pushing open the door. Meatball lets out a loud yowl from his perch on the top of the couch, followed by a hiss.

“Evergreen Pass.”

“Where?”

“It’s a small town near the mountains.”

Dread whooshes through me at the thought of being anywhere near that sex mansion.

“Couple hours in the opposite direction,” Fox adds, one corner of his mouth lifting in another half smirk. As if the jerk knows exactly what I’d been fearing. I’m still confused why he was at that auction. Though I’ve had plenty of reasons to dislike him, I never would’ve pegged him for the type of man to pay for the company of a woman. Unless he’s into all that BDSM stuff. And why does that intrigue me so much?

“Don’t mind Meatball,” I say about the cat, trying to shove away the confusing thoughts giving me a hell of a headache.

“Meatball?”

The gray and white tomcat shifts his attention to me as he leaps off the couch. No way is he demanding dinner already. I distinctly remember leaving out extra food, anticipating I’d be gone all night. I bend down to scratch the length of his spine, succumbing to his throaty purr and attention whore ways.

“He’s Kayleigh’s cat. She went through a spaghetti and meatball phase when she was nine.”

“Brett got her the cat for Christmas one year, right?”

My entire body seizes, reminding me why I’m supposed to loathe this man. Fox and Brett were deployed together. They were supposed to look out for each other. It’s cruel that Fox made it home, but Brett returned in a casket. What’s worse is that Fox tried to take Brett’s place as big brother and bought Kayleigh a fucking car the day after the funeral. As if we needed his charity or pity. I’d have figured out the car eventually. Probably. Maybe.

“Meatball pretty much hates all men,” I say, heading toward the staircase. “Don’t take it too personal.”

I expect the cat to hiss at Fox. Instead, the traitor trots up to him instead of following me and rubs up against his boots. Fox bends down and offers his hand, which Meatball does not bite—not that I’m in the mood to administer first aid right now, but I wouldn’t have been overly upset—and instead rubs his chin against Fox’s knuckles. The same knuckles that grazed down my back earlier. The memory sends an uninvited chill of desire up my back and straight to my nipples.

“You were saying?” Fox asks, shooting me that shit eating grin from the foot of the stairs as Meatball starts to purr louder than the ancient noisy furnace.

“Meatball, I thought we had an understanding.” I shake my head and hurry up the remainder of the staircase.

Fox trails close behind me, making it impossible to hide the hurricane wreckage that is my bedroom. Clothes are strewn out all over the unmade bed, draped across a sitting chair no one would recognize as a chair, and piled high in the corner near my closet because I haven’t had a day off in almost a week to do laundry.

“I don’t want to hear a word,” I warn Fox. I’ve been taking every extra shift I can get my hands on in hopes that I’ll be able to buy Kayleigh a really nice gift for Christmas this year. The auction money is strictly for her tuition and home repairs.

Fox folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe. Meatball continues to weave through his legs, as though they’re long lost besties. The traitor.

“What do I need to wear?” Despite the bed being covered in half my closet, exhaustion tempts me to crawl right into the sea of clothes and forget all about this almost terrible, really weird day.

“Whatever you want.”

“Do I need something formal?” I hold up a black dress I almost brought to the auction but decided it was too plain. “Can I just wear yoga pants?” I hold up a couple pairs, one black, one candy-cane striped. “Are we going sledding?” Do I even know where my snow pants are?

“Sledding?” Fox chuckles.

“If you want me to be a convincing fake girlfriend, you have to help me out a little here.”

Grabbing the dangling leg of the yoga pants I’m still holding, Fox tugs me to him in one quick yank. My forearm collides against his hard chest, and I’m instantly assaulted by his delicious woodsy cinnamon scent. My heart skips a few beats as I feel his gaze trained on me.

“It’s not what you wear that’ll make you convincing, Alida.” Fox hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my face up until our eyes meet. “It’s how you need to act.”

Ever so gently he caresses the edge of my cheek, and my insides start to thaw. Any attempt to throw out a snarky comment is thwarted by my suddenly fuzzy brain. My gaze drops to his lips, watching them part. Reminding me the physical attraction between us has never been in question.

“At some point, you’ll have to kiss me, Alida.”

“Oh?” I should be mad about that, but for some reason I can’t remember why.

“My family will expect it.”

“Right.” I gulp a swallow as he lowers his face, his forehead pressing against mine. “Of course.” The chemistry that has always simmered beneath the surface with us begins to sizzle. I lick my lips, suddenly not so tired anymore. My eyes fall closed as his warm, rough fingers caress my cheek. His hot breath, a mixture of peppermint and coffee, teases my parted lips. “Maybe we should practice,” I whisper.

I fist the yoga pants still in my grip as he leans a little closer, the heat of him nearly scorching me.

“Nah, we can wing it.”

In a split second, Fox’s warmth is stripped away and I nearly fumble into the hallway.

Standing near the disaster that is my bed, he says, “Get your bags packed. We need to hit the road.”