Her mouth became a determined line before she swooped back into her bag to retrieve the notebook and also a folder. She placed both on the couch cushion between us with a demure control that made me nervous.
“Do you remember when I first started coming to book club? I had both you and Carol sign something.” She raised one eyebrow at me.
The stabbing behind my eyes moved to my temples. I nodded. Was it getting hot in here or was it just me?
“And do you remember what it was you signed?”
I swallowed. “A release for you to use anything we say or do in your writing.” My mouth gaped open. “But I thought you were joking.”
Her expression remained stony. “I never joke about research.”
Carol waved a hand. “Just take notes for her, Ashleigh. Authors are peculiar people. I’m sure she’s even searched the internet before on how to dispose of a body.”
Harper grinned, but my stomach felt sloshy. I snatched the notebook off the couch and threw it in my purse.
She settled against the back of the couch. “Now, we need to start a list of questions to ask your potential fake husband.” Her lips pursed to the side. “What kind of personality type do you think would do it?” She reached for her bag again. “I’m sure I have a character worksheet in here somewhere that could help us out.”
“I’ll do it,” a deep voice said from behind my shoulder.
Okay, I have to pause here and state for the record all the facts that I knew about Carol’s son. I knew he worked in IT. I knew he’d designed a few apps, but I didn’t know which ones. I knew that Carol had required him to participate in her book clubs as part of his homeschool literature curriculum. Sum of my knowledge right there.
Your turn. Close your eyes and take in all that information. IT guy. App designer. Homeschool book club attendee. Got it? Now, what is your mental picture of said man?
No, this is important, because if you don’t have a picture in your mind now, then you’re going to go all judgy-judgy on me in a minute. Carol didn’t have any pictures of her son anywhere on her walls that I’d ever seen, so I had no idea what Landon looked like. I’d always figured he’d be thin, because Carol had a very athletic build, even for a woman half her age. I also may have thought he’d be pale (hello, office job) and wouldn’t have been surprised to see a pocket protector (because IT guys are smart, and who wants pen ink on their shirt pockets?).
Back to the story…
I turned, and the echo of my stereotypical mental image bursting into flames could be heard around the world. My eyes tracked upward.
He was tall. Yes, I was still sitting on that ridiculous fainting couch, but even if I was standing, he’d still be a head taller than my own 5’6” frame. He was not skinny. In fact, he looked nothing like any computer nerd—I mean tech guy—I’d ever seen. Dressed in plaid with sleeves rolled up corded forearms, he looked like he knew his way around an ax and a pile of wood better than a keyboard and operating system. The full beard, trimmed as neatly as his hair—which was cut short on the sides and long on top, styled in a sweeping wave, and held in place with just the right amount of gel—sealed the deal. This man couldn’t be Carol’s son. Landon must have brought a very handsome, very outdoorsy buddy along with him.
I could see Harper’s grin out of the corner of my eye. Was she…? Yes, the daft woman was rubbing her hands together with glee. I seriously needed to reevaluate my impression of authors. Had Elizabeth Gaskell also had such a maniacal side?
My gaze shot to Carol. Her hands gripped the sides of her chair, her face blanched. She stared at Landon’s friend.
I followed her line of sight, taking in the man again. His hands were loose at his sides, his lips tilted in amusement. I rose slowly, embarrassed to find he stood closer than I’d first thought. So close, in fact, I could smell the faint scent of pine that clung to him, convincing me that he had, in fact, spent his morning in the woods chopping firewood.
I took a half step back to clear my senses. Not to mention I needed an extra moment to think of some sort of reply. Thank you for your offer of counterfeit marriage. I accept. Oh, by the way, what’s your name?
I looked up into his eyes, surprised to see they were green. Not surprised because so few people have green eyes, but surprised because, hello, he smelled like pine and had pine-green eyes.
I thrust out my hand. “I promise I’m not crazy.” Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
His brow quirked.
Yeah, I didn’t believe it either. “Fine. My straitjacket is on order. Should be here in about three days.”
He chuckled. When not covered by a cough, the sound was rich and deep. A bit carefree. Familiar, like he was acquainted with his laugh and they were good friends. I smiled, kind of wanting to be friends with him as well.
“Landon, you can’t be serious.” Carol bolted from her throne without a hint of regality. She looked at me, then Harper, and finally allowed her gaze to rest on the interloper. She didn’t say anything...with her mouth. Her eyes, on the other hand, spoke volumes.
I looked away.
She snatched her bowl of pretzels off the table and marched past us and into the kitchen muttering, “They’ve all lost their blasted minds.”
