Chapter 15
Fact or Fiction?
Fletcher Mountain is doing too much.
Addison
It’s Sunday morning and my stomach swirls with anxiety as we drive Luke’s truck up the winding gravel lane leading to the
top of Fletcher Mountain. Autumn is in full effect as it’s nearly the end of October, so it feels like I’m driving straight
into a damn Hallmark movie as a kaleidoscope of burgundy, gold, and yellow leaves blanket the ground while we weave through
the thick forestry.
The air is cool and carries hints of incoming snow. Snow in Boulder is always a possibility in the fall and the spring, but
I expect it’s even worse up here as our elevation climbs with each winding turn.
“So is winter really brutal up here like my dad said?” I ask, biting my lip and glancing up at the large green pines clinging
to the hills.
“We have a tractor for snow removal parked in the Morton building behind my place, but when it’s really bad we have to wait
until the private plow company we pay for can carve us out.”
My eyes widen with that bit of information. “How long do you usually have to wait it out?”
Luke shrugs. “Depends on the storm. We had four days up here with no power last year.”
“Four days!” My hands tighten on my seat belt. “How did you not freeze?”
“All of our cabins have woodburning fireplaces, so it’s not the heat we worry about. It’s our refrigerators and phones and stuff that are a problem, but we have generators for those.”
“Oh my God,” I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Maybe moving up here is a bad idea.”
“Little late to back out now.” Luke laughs and glances into the bed of his truck where nearly my whole life is packed up.
Okay, obviously not my whole life. I spent all of Friday night and Saturday packing up what I thought I might need for the
next year, choosing to leave all of my big furniture behind as Luke has all of those types of things. So really, I just needed
my clothes and my kitchen supplies.
Either way, I’m not giving up my apartment just yet. Who knows how this thing with Luke is going to go. It might be nice to
have a space that I can get away to if living with him ever becomes . . . too much. That is if I’m not snowed in with him.
Good God.
The thought of being trapped with Luke didn’t bother me so much until I was a fool and decided it would be a good idea to
kiss him on our wedding day. What was I thinking? Friends don’t kiss friends on the lips. Friends give each other shit and
bail each other out of jail. They don’t . . . smooch. They don’t run their fingers through thick, silky hair. They don’t almost
lift their leg and wrap it around said friend’s hip . . . or try to count whether there’s a six- or eight-pack under said
best friend’s shirt.
All those muscles under my fingertips.
My body hums with memories of that embrace that I’ve been struggling to forget. It was tender and intimate and managed to
light up an arousal in me that even my vibrator couldn’t satiate on Saturday night. And you bet your ass I dedicated plenty
of time to “kneading the dough” if you know what I mean. Who knows how easy it will be to have alone time when I’ll be living
with my guy best friend for the next twelve months.
Luke and I haven’t exactly talked about what our love lives will be like during this marriage of convenience, but I think it goes without saying, we won’t be sleeping with other people while we’re together. Not if his whole family thinks this marriage is real.
Plus, if word ever got back to my dad that Luke was sleeping around on me, he wouldn’t just come for Luke. He’d burn down
Fletcher Mountain just to dance on its ashes.
I frown as the idea of Luke with another woman needles something deep inside me. Thinking of him with other girls never bothered
me before, but now, it definitely does. I guess that sheet of paper we paid thirty dollars for does something to my mental
disposition. Hopefully in a year, that won’t be a thing, and we can go back to being just regular old Luke and Addison and
forget about that time we had to kiss in front of a clerk at the county courthouse.
Either way, I have to live with him to make this seem real to everyone. And I need to show my dad that I’m really doing this
or he’ll use it as an excuse to sell the yard out from under me. That old man of mine doesn’t seem to have any faith that
I can do it on my own, which just makes me want to prove him wrong even more.
Luke drives past the red barn and my head jerks when I see his sister-in-law Trista standing outside filling a bucket out
of a spicket. She waves and then frowns as her eyes move to the back of the truck.
“Have you still not told your family about us yet?”
Luke makes a noise in his throat.
“Luke!”
“What?”
“What are you waiting for?”
He grumbles and yanks his hat off, running a frustrated hand through his shaggy hair. “I just don’t want to hear it from them.”
“Hear what?”
“Just . . . everything.” He cuts me a grave look. “You’re going to learn real quick that my family is never short of opinions.
I’ll tell them, I swear. Obviously they’re going to notice you moving in today so it’ll come out today. Probably.”
I frown, puzzled over his resistance to sharing the news after he was the one so adamant about us getting married in the first
place. I found it better to rip it off like a Band-Aid with my dad, though him making me plan a damn formal wedding feels
like he’s inflicting a punishment on me for figuring out how to get around this stupid business trust. But he’s the one who
forced this on me. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
We drive past Wyatt’s and Calder’s cabins, and as Luke backs his truck up to the front door of his cute cedar-sided house
that I’ve only been in a couple times, I see an SUV barreling toward us at a terrifying speed.
Luke jumps out of the car, concern etched all over his face as he makes his way over while the vehicle skids to a stop, kicking
up gravel and dust all over him.
“Lucas William Fletcher!” a voice screams and I move to the front of the truck to see Luke’s mom standing there.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Luke asks, his voice full of fear.
“Tell me it isn’t true.”
“What?”
“Tell me it’s some sort of sick prank.”
“What’s a sick prank?”
“Did you get married and not tell me?” she screeches so loud, it echoes off the mountainside.
My jaw drops and I fight the urge to run and hide as I watch Luke stand before her, all six foot two of him, hunched with
head hanging low as his five-foot-nothing mom tears him a new asshole.
“I couldn’t believe my ears when John Monroe called me on the phone this morning to discuss the particulars of this big wedding.”
“John called you?” Luke asks and cuts me a wary look as my hands form fists at my side. Of course my dad called her. He’s
going to do everything in his power to make this as painful as possible for the two of us.
Movement draws my eyes down the hill and I spot Calder and Dakota standing out on their front porch watching the show. Trista
is making her way up the lane from the barn as well and, sure enough, Wyatt emerges from his cabin, baby in tow.
News sure travels fast on Fletcher Mountain.
“You bet your ass John called me and it should have been you!” She jabs her finger into Luke’s chest, her short blond bob falling into her face with the aggressive movement. Johanna
is small, but has some weight to her, so you know she’s capable of wielding that finger with purpose. “I raised you better
than this, Lucas. To elope and not even tell me is unforgivable. I’m heartbroken. If your father were here right now, I would
make him kick your sorry ass!”
My heart lurches at the stricken look on Luke’s face at the mention of his dad and before I know it, my feet are moving toward
both of them, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m sorry, Johanna. I’m afraid this is all my fault,” I say, tucking my hair
behind my ears to try to take some of the rage off of Luke and put it on me.
Johanna’s stormy eyes turn to me and soften instantly. “Honey, this isn’t about you. You are positively lovely. I could tell
that from our time with you in Mexico.”
“Thank you,” I state, sparing a glance at Luke.
“Which is how I know you deserve so much better than a son who doesn’t tell his own mother when he got married.” She cuts
a menacing look back to her son.
Luke grips the back of his neck and stares up at the sky. “Jesus, Mom, it’s been like three days.”
“I don’t give a shit!” she exclaims, stomping her Dr. Scholl’s shoe into the gravel. “I should have been the first one you
called. John said you came to the house to see him on Friday. Did you forget where your family home was?”
Luke winces and yanks his hat off, running his fingers through his hair as he murmurs, “No.”
“We were going to surprise you,” I sputter out, my body tense with anxiety as I grab Luke’s palm with one hand and wrap my
other around his arm as a sign of unity. “It was my idea,” I continue, my brain wracking itself for what to say next. “We
were going to surprise your whole family. Tell you when we were all together.”
Johanna’s rage turns to confusion. “Is that right?”
“Absolutely,” I reply firmly, forcing a toothy smile back at her. “We just had to tell my dad earlier because he was heading
back to Florida.”
“I see,” Johanna tuts, crossing her arms over her chest, her chin dropping as her lips curl down.
“This is so exciting, you guys,” Trista exclaims, coming up around the car and standing beside Johanna. She wraps her arm
around Luke’s mom and begins rubbing her back in a soothing, comforting motion. “Isn’t this great, Jo? You were just saying
how worried you were for Luke to be all alone up here. This is so amazing. Congratulations!”
“Did you guys seriously get married?” Dakota squeals from their deck before grabbing Calder and dragging him up the hill toward
us.