AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He paused at her use of the nickname. No one called him that anymore. He preferred his full name usually. Coming from Lucy, though, he didn’t mind the nickname. Hell, he even enjoyed it. He tugged off the jacket to his tuxedo to lay it across the side of the truck bed.
“That the best you can do?” Sleeves rolled, he put pressure on a tight lug nut.
“I wasn’t exactly a cheerleader.”
“No?” That’s the most information he’d gotten from her so far.
“Ha. No. Go, Will is the extent of my?—”
A particularly large SUV picked that moment to pass them. A sheet of water from one of the abundant potholes drenched his back.
He looked to Lucy. She was soaked. Shit. Damn.
He was on his feet in a second. The wall of water got them both, but he had his head down by the tire. A full-frontal attack hit her. Head to toe.
He tagged his jacket to wipe at her cheeks.
“Sonofabitch, Lucy. I’m so sorry.” The last time he tried to help clean her up—after the whole coffee debacle—he accidentally felt her up. No way was he going to make that mistake again. This time, he kept his attention to the neck up.
She shrugged off her blazer, revealing a sleeveless blouse that exposed the creamy skin of her shoulders and arms.
“I’ll grab your suitcase. Get you something to change into.” He reached into the bed of the truck and grabbed her bag.
The damn thing was soaked through.
Fake or not, this was not how he meant to start their honeymoon.
* * *
Lucy was covered in flakes of mud, dried road water, and William’s tuxedo jacket when they pulled into the parking lot at Twin Lakes. Her suitcase was a mushy pile of laundry, so she had nothing else to change into.
The Twin Lakes lodge appeared to sprout out of the side of the mountain. Nestled among pine trees and stunning blue reservoirs, primitive log cabins surrounded the out-of-place hotel. A couple of fishermen cast their lines as they stood perched along the banks of the lake. In the parking lot, a few hikers headed toward a trailhead.
William opened her door and helped her down to the dirt parking lot. His slacks also had mud smeared on them, his shirt was wrinkled, and his hair was a mess. Rolling around in the dirt and sweating while changing a tire suited him. She’d never seen him in anything but put together. Normally he looked good, but messy suited him nicely.
He had the disheveled James Bond thing down pat. The dust of stubble on his face and the bow tie tossed over his shoulder bumped his hotness factor up a solid ten degrees. And he did not need that raise.
Lucy handed him his jacket and smoothed her skirt. “This place is amazing.”
He slipped on the suit coat in one smooth movement. “Mrs. Monroe?” He held his hand to her.
“Monroe?” Her belly flipped when his fingers gripped hers.
“We’re using Parker’s last name to check-in.”
Lucy and Will Monroe.
“Mrs. Monroe,” she said under her breath as they walked across the lot to the lodge entrance. “Got it.”
“Ever done undercover reporting before?” William asked, releasing her hand.
She shook her head.
No. Her stories were generally straightforward. She showed up with a camera man, a script, and her reporter armor—a smart suit with sensible pumps and perfect makeup. Her weapon of choice? A handheld microphone, which she used as a tool of intimidation by pushing it closer when someone got too aggressive or started to twist the truth.
This undercover wedding assignment was new territory. They made it a few steps before he slipped on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “Smile.” He pointed to one side of the rims. “Camera.”
He extended a hand to her. She took it.
