I park behind my store, The Outpost, entering through the back to avoid the Christmas shoppers. The store is busier than usual, which isn't saying much for a town with a population of 2,347. Tourists passing through on their way to the ski resorts up north, probably.
My assistant manager, Chloe, spots me and waves. "Thought you were taking the whole day off, boss."
"Change of plans." I head straight to my office, but Chloe follows me.
"Everything okay? You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says you're about to murder the next person who mentions Christmas."
I drop into my chair, running a hand over my face. "My aunt Mildred is coming for Christmas."
"The rich one you never talk about?"
"That's her. And she thinks I'm married."
Chloe's eyebrows shoot up. "Married? To who?"
"No one. That's the problem. My aunt Beverly told her I got married last year to get her off my back."
Chloe leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "So you need a fake wife."
"I need a miracle."
She taps her chin thoughtfully. "What about Jennifer Walsh?"
"Who?"
"Jennifer Walsh. Ridge's foster sister? You know, your ‘best buddy’ Ridge? The one you went hunting with last month? His foster sister just moved back to town."
I vaguely remember Ridge mentioning his foster sister was coming back to Whisper Vale after some bad breakup in the city. Wait. Jennifer Walsh. The name finally clicks.
"The scrawny girl with braces who used to follow us around when we went fishing? The one from his foster family?"
Chloe snorts. "She's twenty eight now, Jared. Not exactly a kid anymore. And definitely not scrawny. She came in yesterday for supplies. Smart as a whip and pretty too, in that curvy, sassy way. You'd like her."
"I'm not looking to actually date anyone."
"No, you're looking for someone to pretend to be your wife for two weeks so your rich aunt doesn't cut you out of her will or whatever."
I glare at her. "That's not why I care what Aunt Mildred thinks."
It's not. Probably. The truth is, Aunt Mildred is dying. Cancer. Hence her increasingly urgent attempts to get me to visit. This might be the last Christmas Aunt Mildred has and despite her judgmental nature, she's still family. The thought of disappointing her in her final days sits like a stone in my gut.
"Look," Chloe continues, "Jennifer's staying at Ridge's cabin temporarily while he's away guiding that hunting expedition. She's a freelance graphic designer, so she works from home. Perfect candidate for your fake wife scheme."
"It's not a scheme." But it's not a terrible idea either. Ridge and I go way back. He'd understand. Maybe. If I explained about Aunt Mildred being sick. And offered his foster sister a significant amount of money for her trouble.
"It's definitely a scheme," Chloe says, grinning. "A holiday scheme. Like something out of a Hallmark movie."
"I'm not living in a Hallmark movie."
"Says the grumpy mountain man who needs a fake wife for Christmas." She winks and heads back to the front of the store, calling over her shoulder, "Her number's in the customer database. She ordered some art supplies yesterday."
I sit in my office for a long time, staring at the wall. This is ridiculous. I'm a thirty seven year old ex-wildland firefighter who's been hiding in these mountains for a reason. I don't do relationships, real or fake. The scar on my cheekbone is just one of many physical reminders of why I keep to myself.
Then my phone buzzes again. A picture from Beverly. Aunt Mildred in a hospital bed, thin and frail but smiling. The message reads:
