He’s in light brown ostrich cowboy boots, formfitting jeans that literally hug leg muscles I never knew were possible to have—again, I’ve only ever dated the studious pricks in suits who likely do Pilates in the park with Mom. Asolid black tee hugs his upper frame, while a thick denim jacket with tan fur lining wraps him in warmth.
He’s delectable.
And a motherfucking lineman. That explains his tree trunk legs. I may never get this kind of opportunity again, and I intend to take the moose by its horns and ride with it.
Literally.
One thing is for sure: Easton Voss has no idea what he’s gotten himself into. I just need to convince him I’m worth having some harmless fun with.
“Let’s head back. Maybe Sheila dropped off the schedule by now.”
I smile. “Lead the way, Ranger.”
For now, at least.
12
EASTON
“Let’s hear a bear-iffic cheer,married campers. Welcome to Yellowstone’s most established—and most likely to get you pregnant—marriage retreat!” Sheila, Dirty Dan’s right-hand woman, greets us at the start of the campfire sing-along.
“What in the actual fuck is happening right now?” A forceful nudge at my side alerts me that I said that out loud.
“Down, brown bear.”This woman and her wilderness puns.
I swing my head toward Collie. “She just said bear-iffic, Collie. So, yeah. What in the actual fuck is happening and why are we here?”
She waves me off. “We don’t have to stay long. It just seemed important that we show our faces. Besides, we aren’t the only married couple here. It’s a marriage retreat, remember?”
“We aren’t fucking married.” Surely I’m not crazy for thinking this is nuts.
A giggle escapes her. “Shhhh. Only you and I know that,Ranger. Don’t tell our secret. Pretty sure Dirty Dan would be crushed.”
Does this woman find humor in everything?
I shake my head and use this moment to observe the other couples. There are roughly eight couples in total, and not a single person looks excited to be here. Dirty Dan dances his way around the circle of us, body flailing like a giant ape with a fur coat. Not one person joins him…but I have a feeling my fake wife will be the first to do it.
Feels weird even calling Collie and me a couple. Although, she doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, the girl looks next to giddy.
“We need a game plan.”
“Stop being a poor sport,” Collie whispers in my ear. I’m so caught up in my own annoyance, I didn’t realize how close she is. “Follow my lead, okay? We’re in this together, remember? Don’t overthink it.”
She must sense I’m no good at faking it because she has no problem taking charge, and honestly, I hate that. I like to know what comes next. So to be here and feel completely out of my wheelhouse drives me mad.
We stand back listening to Sheila give us the rundown on what to expect moving forward.Two weeks.Just two weeks of pretending Collie is my wife. I can do that. At this point, I’m a chameleon.
Catching me off guard, a soft hand reaches to grasp mine, and I instantly go still. My insides freeze, and my chest grows tight.
She’s holding my hand.
It looks completely normal amidst the other couples. Theyareon their honeymoons, after all.
We, however, are not. This is us playing the part.
My body must have forgotten that because it’s on highalert, overwhelmed with an unfamiliar feeling, all from a beautiful woman holding my fucking hand. I can’t count the number of times I held Sydney’s hand. Hundreds of thousands. But it never felt like this.
Electric.
