Chapter 5
Fact or Fiction?
Best friends make good husbands.
Addison
“Let me know when you’re ready to discuss,” Luke says before turning on his heel and walking out to my front deck like he’s conducting a damn business meeting and
not hitting me with his second marriage proposal in only a few months.
“Shit, shit shit,” I hiss under my breath, irritation crawling up my back. We just got past the last marriage proposal and
things were finally starting to feel normal again between the two of us. Why does he keep doing this to me?
My hand shakes as I hold up the white printer paper, terrified of what I’ll find inside. Another awkward letter. I thought
the last one he gave me in my office at the lumberyard was a joke and I started laughing instantly.
It wasn’t until he hightailed it out of there that I realized he was serious. I know it was mean to laugh, but it’s what I
do when I’m uncomfortable. But marry Luke? Let him see all my flaws up close and personal? My God, if I wanted that, then I’d want a real marriage. But that’s not what I want.
The idea of marrying my closest guy friend makes me uncomfortable. Stir-crazy. Unsettled. All the not comfy feelings I can
think of. We’d cross a boundary that can never be uncrossed, and he could discover that he can’t stand me and then simply . . .
Leave me.
Which is why I’d rather marry a stranger, so that after a year, when no deep and meaningful friendship has been formed, we simply part ways.
I’ve told Luke this. What the hell is he having trouble comprehending about that?
Doesn’t he like just being my friend? Isn’t that easier?
God, when he walked into my apartment tonight, I wanted to hug the shit out of him.
He’s like . . . my favorite person in the world and that’s saying a lot because I don’t like most people.
But he makes me feel at ease. Watching him sweat while eating my jambalaya was the highlight of my night—even if he was quieter than normal—and now that’s all out the window.
With a deep growl, I unfold the paper to see what he’s written and get this shit over with. My brows furrow when I notice
it’s not a letter but a pros and cons list.
Okay . . . that’s different.
Pros & Cons to Marrying Your Friend
Pros:
I have my own job and am part owner of my own company. I neither want nor need your lumberyard dynasty and recognize the general
badassery of you being the sole owner of a business in a male-dominated industry. Slay, Queen.
I own a large cabin we can cohabitate in with spectacular views and a spare bedroom you can sleep in, so this marriage will
remain one of convenience and not one of nakedness.
I put the toilet seat down . . . no exceptions.
I am a food enthusiast and whilst I do not possess the abilities to make the international delicacies you excel at, I vow
to clean up after every meal and give you a five-star rating. I will also happily run to the store for missing ingredients
that inevitably pop up with culinary experiments.
You’d be safe from all the creeps out there.
And most importantly, I am your friend. If you can’t marry your friend, who can you marry?
Cons:
I have a big cock. He roosts on my front porch and sometimes comes inside my cabin. His name is Rufus, and he crows at 6:04
a.m. every day. If he shows any cock-like aggression towards you, I will move him back to the barn. You will be my number
one hen.
Moving to Fletcher Mountain means a small commute to Boulder for work every day but you can join the Fletcher Brother carpool.
Wyatt is a stickler about our carbon footprint.
Your father hates me. No good workaround for that reality I’m afraid.
I have brothers who are my neighbors. They are obnoxious and nosy and will most likely be pains in our asses. You’ve been
warned.
With all this said, I believe with perseverance we can work through these difficulties and form a happy, platonic union. Let
us merge our families at your earliest convenience so you can fulfill the feminist destiny you were born to achieve.
Your friend,
Luke Fletcher
Okay, I’m not laughing this time. Not laughing at all.
Not . . . laughing . . . A nervous giggle bubbles up my throat and I slap my hand over my mouth to try to hide it.
Fuck! Stop laughing, Addison. You’re going to push him away again and he’s the only man in the world who seems to be able to tolerate you these days.
Get your shit together, Monroe!
I blow out a slow breath and attempt to look at this list more critically. He wants me to move onto Fletcher Mountain for
a year? Is he unhinged? I’ve only been up there, like, twice in my life. And didn’t he tell me once they can get snowed in
for days up there? I won’t survive that kind of isolation. What would we even do for days together? I’m a tomboy for the most
part but I can’t do off-grid. I need groceries and snow removal and signs of life around me.
But if I said yes to this and we lived here, I know for a fact Luke wouldn’t take my bedroom and let me have the couch. He’s
too noble and shit. Damn him.
Rereading the list, I snicker at the big cock comment. Luke is a good writer. Not something I would have suspected of a burly
mountain man. Then again, he has cinnamon roll energy. He’s sweet and sensitive and gooey on the inside. No wonder he’s good
at expressing himself.
Ugh, no heart eyes happening. This is Luke we’re talking about. He’s annoying! He’s obviously a bad listener if he’s proposing
to me twice now. He’s being an overprotective pain in my ass.
But God, imagine having someone to cook for every single night.
That would be so much fun. I could maybe even do food for his brothers and Dakota and Trista.
They were so much fun at the wedding in Mexico.
I could do a street taco theme night to bring us back to our trip.
I could make everyone a weekly fresh loaf of sourdough.
I guess that mountain compound is a bit of civilization now that Dakota and Trista are living up there, so I wouldn’t be completely isolated.
Hell, if a baby can survive up there, surely I can too.
Shit . . . stop this, Addison. You’re not marrying Luke. This is not smart.
You need to marry a lumberjack. Someone dumb who smokes weed all day and you can’t hurt with your weird closed-off, messed-up
heart. You know this. Luke is just too nice for his own good.
“Be strong, be strong, be strong,” I whisper to myself as I make my way outside to join Luke so we can discuss this.
He’s pacing across the wooden decking, and the warm late summer air does little to cool the anxiety I feel swirling in my
gut over letting him down for a second time. But I’m not letting him down. He’s not professing his feelings for me, he’s just . . .
being Luke. A golden retriever people pleaser who would sacrifice a year of his life if I say yes to this. I can’t do this
to him. I can’t do this to him. And what if he met someone in that year? I couldn’t stop him from getting together with the
love of his life. God, that would be hell.
His head jerks toward me as I stand awkwardly in the doorframe. I hold the paper up, trying not to notice how the twilight
sun casts a warm glow on his bronze skin. “This was . . . really something.”
“Something good or something bad?” Luke tilts his head, trying to read me like we’re playing poker.
“It’s funny. Were you really good at writing in school?” I ask as I walk over to the railing and lean on it for support.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, looking highly annoyed at my sidetracked thoughts.
I need to lay it out there for him. Tell him it’s a firm no and we need to stop discussing this, but first I ask, “Can you tell me why you care so much?” I turn to look at him, my eyes raking over his face for some sign of the feelings that I thought he was showing me in Mexico.
If this is about wanting to be more than friends, then that’s even more reason we shouldn’t be considering this.
“I’d do anything for you, Roe,” he replies, his eyes dark and piercing on me as he adds, “You’re my best friend.”
My breath escapes my lungs at those words he just said so easily, and without being able to stop it, my chin begins to wobble.
I turn to look away so he doesn’t see the overwhelming emotion that hits me with that declaration. He’s never called me his
best friend before. Only one other person in my life has called me that, and the memory of that hits me like a ton of bricks.
Luke steps closer to me, and I feel the heat of his arm brush against mine, sending a riot of goose bumps up my back. “I’d
rather you saddle yourself with me for a year than put yourself at risk with a stranger, Roe. I will lose my mind worrying
about you.”
“This is too much to ask though,” I reply, all humor draining from my face. “It’s a whole year. And what do you get out of
it? I know you said in your first letter that your family is on your ass, but that’s not enough of a reason to marry me, is
it?”
“The comfort of knowing you’re safe and I don’t have to text you every two hours to make sure a logger hasn’t ax-murdered
you seems like a pretty good reason to me.”
I shake my head and glance down at the list, terrified that I could be holding the worst—or best—idea ever.
“Let me put it to you this way,” he says, turning my attention back to him. “Would you help me if I needed it?”
“I don’t know if I’d marry you,” I reply with a laugh.
He bobs his head from side to side. “Well, I always have been nicer than you. Fact or fiction?”
He repeats the phrase that I only ever use with him, causing me to smile. I shove him playfully, my hand lingering on his abs for a moment before I whisper, “Fact.”
“Then that’s all this is. I’m just trying to be your best friend. You should let me.”
I jut my chin out, shaking it adamantly. “The fact that you called me your best friend means we shouldn’t do this.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t lose you, Luke,” my voice breaks at the end as I have to blink rapidly to fight back the unexpected tears
threatening to spill. “My dad has already hightailed it out of Boulder. Chuck and Bullhead barely tolerate me at the yard.
You’re the only guy who actually likes me in this town and I need you. I need you around. I need us to be good. I’ve missed
you these past couple of months and I worry this could ruin everything. If you marry me, and live with me, you’re going to
get sick of me.”
And want to leave too.
I turn away to hide the tears welling in my eyes and sigh when Luke’s big arms wrap around me. He rests his chin on my head
and squeezes me for a moment, not saying anything, just giving me a minute to pull myself together.
I hate change. And this “best friend” of mine keeps trying to push me into a situation that terrifies the shit out of me.
I know he cares about me, and he wants to protect me, but I want to protect him too. And the only way I know how to do that
is by saying no to this proposal.
I press my face into his chest and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging his strong hard body back with everything I have.
“I hate my dad for putting me in this position so much.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, rubbing the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in the hairs falling out of my clip as I feel his
chest rise against my face and he inhales deeply. “Your dad hates me. But you don’t hate your dad.”
“I hate that you know me so well,” I murmur into his shirt.
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” I sigh heavily. “You’re my best friend too, you asshole.”
He shakes with silent laughter that just makes me squeeze him harder. After a long pause I pull back and look up at him, nodding
with a renewed sense of determination. His brows lift as I say, “If I can’t find anyone at Man of the Mountain that feels
safe, then I’ll take you up on your offer. But only as my last resort.”
I smile up at him and can’t help but notice the tight set of his jaw. It’s not what Luke wants. But it’s what’s best for both
of us.
I hug him one more time. “Thank you, Luke. Thank you for offering. It means a lot that you care so much.” I stand on my tiptoes
and press a kiss to his spikey cheek before shoving him away from me in that playful way we have with each other. “Let’s go
back inside. I’ve got ice cream to go with the brownies that I bet are still warm.”
“Right behind you,” he replies flatly, and I do my best not to look back at him because I’m not sure I’d like what I’d see.
I fear I could have broken my best friend’s heart.