"Your directions were very thorough." I grab my bag and make my way up the steps. "Though you might have forgotten to mentioned the part where your 'cabin' is actually a small resort."
One corner of his mouth quirks up. Not quite a smile, but close. "My grandfather built it. I added the east wing a few years ago."
Up close, he's even more intimidating. His plain black henley can't quite disguise the muscle underneath, and when he steps back to let me in, I catch a whiff of sandalwood and pine. He smells like the forest.
The interior of the cabin is just as impressive as the outside. Soaring ceilings. A stone fireplace you could roast a whole deer in. Comfortable but masculine furniture. And surprisingly clean for a bachelor mountain man.
"This is..." I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. "Not what I expected."
"What did you expect? Animal skins and unwashed dishes?"
"Maybe a skull or two mounted on the wall. Some mysterious bloodstains. The typical serial killer decor."
There it is again. That almost smile. "The bloodstains are in the basement."
"Excellent. I like a man who keeps his murder tidy."
He gestures toward the kitchen. "I made lunch. No pickles, as requested."
The kitchen is a chef's dream. Gleaming stainless steel appliances. Granite countertops. A center island where he's laid out a spread of sandwiches, chips, and what looks like homemade potato salad.
"You cook?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice.
"I live alone on a mountain. It was either learn to cook or survive on beef jerky."
"I see you chose wisely."
We sit at the island, and I notice how he positions himself slightly sideways, never fully turning his back to the windows or doorways. Old military habits, maybe? Ridge does the same thing sometimes.
"So," I say, taking a bite of what turns out to be an excellent turkey sandwich. "Let's talk details. What exactly does this fake marriage entail? Hand holding? Cheek kisses? Synchronized bathroom schedules?"
He chokes slightly on his water. "My aunt Mildred believes we've been married for a year. She's very traditional, so yes, we'd need to act like a couple. But nothing... excessive."
"Define excessive."
His cheeks actually redden slightly. It's weirdly adorable on such an intimidating man.
"We share a room," he says gruffly. "You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch or floor. We act affectionate in front of her. Use pet names or whatever couples do."
"Whatever couples do?" I repeat. "Have you never been in a relationship?"
The look he gives me could freeze water. "I've been in relationships."
"Recently?"
"Define recently."
I grin. "This decade."
He focuses intently on his sandwich. "I've been busy."
"Busy growing a beard and glaring at woodland creatures?"
"Among other things."
I decide to have mercy on him. "Okay, so we pretend to be happily married. How did we meet? How long did we date before getting hitched? These are details your aunt will want to know."
He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in attractive disarray. "I hadn't thought that far ahead."
