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I clear my throat. Darby freezes like she knows it’s coming while her brother eyes me down like he wants to tear me several new assholes with rusty lake life implements. “Is that any way to talk about your new brother-in-law?”
I don’t know who yelps louder. Darby or Nate.
“You—you married him?” Nate points a finger at me.
Oh joy, now his expression is entirely murderous. I’ve really done it this time.Sadly, I am not the least bit sorry.
“Fake married!” Darby hisses.
It’s dark out here in the yard since the car’s headlights finally shut off, and the light from the small log cabin’s windows only goes so far, but there is no mistaking how pissed she is. She looks extra pretty that way, with her cheeks stained pink and her chest heaving up and down. She looks dangerous. Exciting, wild, and enchanting. She’s no meek, mousy assistant, and she doesn’t look like the goddess who showed up at my house earlier today either, which I’m thankful for. What should I not be thankful for? All those thoughts I just had because they are totally wrong.
“How does one get fake married?” Nate’s eyes are bugging out, and the veins in his forearms are popping. He’s older than Darby and probably an inch taller than me, but he’s built wiry. He also probably didn’t have the upbringing I had to make him tough. Not that I’d put him in a fight if he wanted to kick my ass at the moment. I’d actually happily let him knock me into oblivion if it helped the shit storm of pain raging in my brain.
“You go to a JP and—”
“Not the semantics, Darby,” Nate growls. My hackles rise. Literally. The hair on my neck and arms stands up because no one talks to Darby that way, not even her brother.
Thankfully, he doesn’t become threatening with her, and he stands down immediately. The pissing contest was just for me. I could tell he’d never hurt her because they’re a normal family who doesn’t beat the piss out of each other. He wants to protect her from me if anything. I’m the one who needs to stand down. Am I seriously going into full protective mode, getting ready to fight for Darby? What the hell?
“He needed to get married, so we got married. It’s a professional agreement, nothing more. It was legal, but it’s not real.” She holds up a hand. “Look, Nate, I didn’t think anyone would be here, and I’m so happy you are, but I don’t want to talk about that. Maybe…maybe later. Let us get unpacked, and…oh. Oh shit. If you guys are here, that means….”
“Don’t worry, sis.” Nate sets his hand on her shoulder while glaring at me. “He can take the couch.”
Darby whirls around, and her eyes track to mine. They’re so blue, even in the dark of night, but not blue like my eyes, which are kind of pale and washed out. She studies me, frowning, then slowly shakes her head like she’s figured out something about me that I’m nowhere near ready to share. It’s unnerving. It makes me feel seen, like seen in the way that her eyes just blasted a hole straight through me, peeling off skin and bone to find the festering black mass of pain writhing underneath.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll take the couch. It would be awkward for him to sleep out there. The couch sucks. I can handle it. And, Nate, please don’t tell Grandpa and Grandma anything about the fake marriage. I can explain everything to you later, but I don’t want them to know. It would stress them out, and they’re too old to get a shock like that.”
“Damn straight,” Nate agrees. “You just about gave me a heart attack. I won’t tell anyone, but you have to explain everything soon. And, ifhedidn’t go around blurting it, that would be helpful.”
I shrug. “Sorry, sweetheart, sugarplum, angel food cake, it just slipped out.”
Nate rolls his eyes at Darby and gives me a look that says he’d very much like to get me with his brotherly laser vision of destruction eyes right where I stand.Great. This is going to be such a fun trip. Great freaking fun.
“Can you go tell them that we’re here? Me and my boss. Say that the only way I could take holidays was if I made it a work trip, and he agreed to this. Or something. I don’t know.” Darby winces. “Can you work with that? Make something up?”
“You should do it. They’ll be waiting for you. Grandma’s been crazy excited for games all night, but I was busy fixing a leak on the roof all afternoon until it got dark, so she started a puzzle, and now she’s hooked. Grandpa’s helping, but I don’t know how much help he’s giving her, seeing as he’s been hitting the prune juice all night. Don’t worry. If you sit down and help, they’ll probably forget all about Lord Poo over there.”
“Oh my god, Nate! Can you please not go there? I regret ever telling you anything.Ever.”
“She told me that as a compliment,” Nate says dryly. With a huff, Darby turns and heads to the car, and he turns and flips me the bird before he goes back inside.
Yup. So much fun.
Also, is hitting the prune juice a euphemism? Because if so, I like it. I like it a lot.
Darby has the bags out of the car. She’s got her duffel over her shoulder as well as my bag handle popped out, ready to roll. I turn around to take them from her, but she shakes her head and, giving me a look that says she wishes I’d go spontaneously mute for the next day until her family clears out, pushes past me. Is it wrong that I think it’s super hot she’s carrying two bags right now, even if mine is light and has wheels? She looks like a total badass.
Considering who we are, which is boss and assistant, yes, it’s wrong. Very wrong. The fact that I bribed her into marriage doesn’t help either, and the other fact that I can notice her beauty at all while my head feels like someone is carving my brain apart to serve as aperitifs—mmm, a slice of cheese to go with that gray matter, or how about an olive—says all sorts of wrong.
Darby leads me up a porch that is weathered gray but glows gold in the light thrown from the windows. There are white, frilly curtains hanging at the small windows that let out lots of the light. I wince against even that much. The past few days have done a number on my head, and the headlights tonight were brutal. Honestly, I’m actually glad Darby drove the rest of the way.
The cabin is a one-story log, and as soon as we walk in, it loses the weathered gray appearance from outside and is all golden, soft amber woods everywhere, from the floor to the ceiling to the log walls. There is cheerful art, pictures of boats and lakefront scenes, braided area rugs, and comfy pleather furniture in the living room. It’s separated from the kitchen by a short wall, so I can’t make any of it out. The bedrooms are probably hiding around the other corner. I hope this place has a bathroom and not an outhouse outside. That would be really inconvenient if this pain in my head gets any worse. And also extra disgusting.
“Just stay here for a second.” Darby hisses, holding up a hand. I’m keenly aware of Nate just ahead of me, giving me the—hurt my sister, dweeb, and I’ll pound you so far into the ground that you’ll be way more than six feet under—eyes.
I have no choice but to stand and stay. Like a dog. A dog named Lord Poo.
I can hear Darby talking to her grandparents in the kitchen, even if I can’t see them.
