Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
JEN
Iwake up disoriented before the events of last night flood back. Dinner by the fireplace. Practicing "couple behavior." The almost kiss that has my stomach doing gymnastics even now. The way Jared's eyes darkened right before he pulled away, leaving me breathless and confused.
"Get it together, Jen," I mutter to myself, pressing cool palms to my warm cheeks.
The bedroom is massive, dominated by a king sized bed with a simple but elegant wooden frame that looks handmade. The sheets are expensive, high thread count cotton that feels amazing against my skin. Not what I expected from a mountain hermit.
The clock reads 8:47 AM. Early for me, but I smell coffee brewing downstairs. Motivation to face the day and my fake husband.
I take extra time with my appearance, which I tell myself is professional commitment to my role as loving wife, not because I want to see Jared's eyes widen like they did yesterday.
I choose leggings and an oversized sweater that slips off one shoulder.
Comfortable but cute. I run my fingers through my curls, apply tinted lip balm, and head downstairs.
Jared stands at the kitchen island reading something on his tablet, a steaming mug beside him. He's freshly showered, hair still damp at the temples, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. My mouth goes inexplicably dry.
"Morning," I say, making my way to the coffee pot.
He looks up, and there it is. That slight widening of his eyes, the quick once over that he thinks I don't notice. "You're up early."
"The smell of coffee is my siren call." I pour myself a mug, doctor it with sugar and cream. "Have you been up for hours doing manly mountain things?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Just a short run. Four miles."
"Four miles is short? In this snow?" I gesture to the windows where at least six inches of fresh powder blankets everything.
"It's a good way to start the day."
"So is sleeping until ten, but to each their own." I take a sip of coffee, closing my eyes in appreciation. "This is good. Like, really good."
"Italian roast. I get it shipped from a small producer outside Florence."
"Of course you do." I hop onto a bar stool, studying him over the rim of my mug. "So what's on the agenda today, husband?"
He seems more composed this morning, less affected by my presence. It's slightly disappointing.
"I need to go into town. Check on the store, pick up some supplies. You're welcome to join me."
"Is that your way of showing me off to the locals? Start establishing our cover story?"
"People will talk regardless. Might as well give them something accurate to talk about."
"So strategic." I drain half my coffee. "I'll come. I need to scope out the coffee shops for potential work spaces. As much as I love your cabin, I'll go stir crazy if I don't get out occasionally."
He nods. "We leave in thirty minutes."
"So bossy." But I'm already heading back upstairs to finish getting ready.
When we step outside, I'm struck again by the beauty of Jared's property. Fresh snow covers everything, pristine and glittering in the morning sunlight. Pine trees laden with white stretch in all directions. The mountains rise majestically in the distance.
"It's like a Christmas card," I breathe, taking it all in.
"It's just snow," Jared says, but there's fondness in his voice as he surveys his land.
"Not just snow. It's perfect. Untouched." I bend down and scoop up a handful. "Well, almost untouched."
Before he can react, I toss the snowball at him. It hits his chest and explodes in a puff of white.
He stares at me in disbelief. "Did you just throw a snowball at me?"
"Scientific experiment. Testing your reflexes." I back up slowly as he narrows his eyes. "For the record, they need work."
In one fluid motion, he scoops up snow and forms a perfect projectile. I shriek and duck, but it still grazes my shoulder.
"Rude!" I gather more snow, packing it quickly. "This means war, Mountain Man!"
What follows is the most intense snowball fight of my life. Jared moves with surprising speed and agility for such a large man. His aim is terrifyingly accurate. But I'm scrappy and unpredictable, dodging and weaving between trees.
When I dive behind his truck for cover, I don't immediately realize he's disappeared. The attack comes from above a small snow ledge behind me. He drops down almost soundlessly, a snowball in each hand.
"Surrender," he says, voice low and dangerous in a way that sends pleasant shivers down my spine.
"Never." I clutch my own snowball, knowing I'm cornered.
We face off, both breathing hard, cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. His blue eyes are bright with something I've never seen in them before. Playfulness. Maybe even joy.
"Your move, Walsh," he growls.
I throw my snowball directly at his face. He ducks easily, which is exactly what I counted on. While he's distracted, I lunge forward and tackle him around the waist. We both go down in a tangle of limbs, landing in a deep snowdrift.
For a moment we just lay there, me sprawled across his chest, both of us panting. Then his body starts shaking. At first I think he's cold, but then I realize he's laughing. Deep, rumbling laughter that I feel more than hear.
"Are you actually laughing?" I push up onto my elbows to see his face. "The Mountain Hermit knows how to laugh?"
"You caught me off guard." His smile transforms his entire face. Makes him look younger. Lighter.
"I'll add tackling to my list of wife skills. Right after snowball marksmanship and coffee appreciation."
Our position suddenly registers. I'm literally laying on top of him, our faces inches apart. His hands rest naturally on my hips, either to steady me or keep me from escaping, I'm not sure. His laughter fades, replaced by something more intense. More heated.
"Jennifer," he says, voice rough.
"Jen," I correct automatically. "My husband would call me Jen."
His hands tighten slightly on my hips. "Jen."
The way he says my name does things to my insides. Fluttery, warm things that have no place in a business arrangement.
"We should go," I say, reluctantly pulling away. "Town awaits. Supplies to get. Cover story to establish."
He helps me up, his large hand engulfing mine. Even through our gloves, the contact sends warmth up my arm.
"You have snow in your hair," he says, reaching out to brush it away. His fingers linger for a moment at my temple, a touch so gentle it makes my breath catch.
"So do you." I resist the urge to run my hands through his dark hair. "It's a good look for you."
The drive to town is quiet but not uncomfortable.
The snow has been plowed from the main roads, and Jared's truck handles the mountain curves with ease.
I find myself stealing glances at his profile.
The strong jaw covered in scruff. The scar that cuts across his cheekbone.
The intensity in his eyes as he focuses on the road.
Whisper Vale looks like a Hallmark movie set. The main street is decorated with twinkling lights and pine garlands. Shop windows display festive scenes. A giant Christmas tree dominates the town square. It's almost aggressively cheerful.
"You really weren't kidding about this place going all out for Christmas," I say as we park in front of The Outpost.
"The town depends on holiday tourism. Skiers passing through on their way to the resorts, families looking for that small town Christmas experience."
"And you participate in this festive extravaganza how exactly? Let me guess. Extra grumpy scowling? Perhaps some strategic 'bah humbug' muttering?"
He snorts. "I stock extra wool socks and emergency supplies for the tourists who show up unprepared for mountain winter."
"Such a humanitarian," I tease as we enter the store.
The Outpost is larger than it appears from outside, with an impressive array of outdoor gear, camping supplies, groceries, and home goods. It smells pleasantly of pine, leather, and coffee.
"Boss!" A woman with short spiky hair and multiple ear piercings spots us from behind the counter. "And the fake wife! Nice to finally meet you."
"Chloe," Jared warns.
"What? She knows she's the fake wife. You know she's the fake wife. I know she's the fake wife. No secrets here."
I like her immediately. "The fake wife has a name. Jen Walsh." I extend my hand.
"Chloe Martinez. Assistant manager and keeper of all Jared's secrets." She shakes my hand with a firm grip. "Like the fact that he special ordered those fancy German colored pencils you bought just because he overheard you telling Darlene at the diner that you couldn't find them anywhere."
Jared's ears redden. "They're a standard stock item."
"That takes eight weeks to special order and costs three times what we charge for them? Sure, boss." Chloe winks at me. "He's a softie under all that mountain man gruffness."
"I'm standing right here," Jared grumbles.
"I'm aware." Chloe grins. "So, how's married life treating you two? Honeymoon phase still going strong?"
"We've only been living together for a day," I point out.
"And what a day it's been." I loop my arm through Jared's, enjoying his look of surprise. "My husband made me dinner last night. Salmon. It was divine."
Jared's arm tenses under my touch, but after a moment he relaxes, even shifting slightly closer. "Jen's moving in has gone smoothly."
"I'll bet." Chloe's expression is knowing. "Nothing like sharing close quarters to really get to know someone."
"We need supplies," Jared says abruptly. "Extra groceries. And more coffee."
"Sure thing, boss. Take your time shopping. Your store and all."
I release Jared's arm, but not before giving it a squeeze. "I'm going to browse. See what treasures your store holds."
As I wander the aisles, I notice Jared watching me. Not obviously, but I catch his reflection in a display glass, his eyes tracking my movements as he speaks with Chloe. It sends a little thrill through me that I absolutely should not be feeling.
The bell over the door chimes as another customer enters. An older man with a trimmed white beard and kind eyes.
"Calloway!" he booms. "Thought that was your truck outside."
"Dr. Matthews." Jared shakes the man's hand. "Just checking on things."
"And who is this lovely young lady?" Dr. Matthews spots me examining a display of handmade candles.
"This is Jennifer," Jared says, coming to stand beside me. His hand settles naturally at the small of my back. "My wife."
The word sends an unexpected flutter through me, even knowing it's just for show.
"Wife?" Dr. Matthews looks genuinely shocked. "When did this happen? How did you keep it so quiet?"
"A year ago actual, during one of my visits. I've been living in San Diego until last week, so we've been long-distance until now. We kept it quiet since I wasn't even living here yet."
"Well I'll be." The doctor's smile is warm. "Congratulations to you both. About time this young man found someone special."
"I'm very lucky," Jared says, and something in his tone makes me look up at him. His expression is softer than I've seen it, almost tender as he meets my eyes.
"The luckiest," I agree, playing along. But my heart beats a little faster at the intensity of his gaze.
"You must both come to the Christmas festival next weekend," Dr. Matthews insists. "The whole town will want to meet Jared's mystery wife."
"We'll be there," I promise before Jared can object.
After Dr. Matthews leaves with his purchases, I turn to Jared. "You never mentioned a Christmas festival."
"Because I never go."
"Well, we're going this year. It'll cement our cover story." I poke his chest gently. "Plus, I love festivals. Cotton candy. Rigged carnival games. Awkward community performances."
"You're enjoying this too much," he mutters.
"That was the deal. I pretend to be madly in love with you, you pay me twelve thousand dollars." I lower my voice. "And you did very well just now. The hand on my back? The besotted look? Almost convinced me."
"I wasn't giving you a besotted look."
"You absolutely were. Like I hung the moon and stars." I pat his chest. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. You're actually a decent actor under all that grumpiness."
His jaw tightens. "We should finish shopping. More people will be coming in soon."
"Can't wait to meet all the neighbors. I have so many embarrassing stories to share about my husband."
"Jennifer."
"Sorry. Jen. Your loving wife who thinks you're just the dreamiest mountain man ever." I bat my eyelashes dramatically.
He sighs, but I catch the slight upward curve of his lips before he turns away. I'm getting to him. Breaking through that carefully constructed wall one crack at a time.
And that should feel like victory. Like progress toward our goal of convincing everyone we're happily married.
Instead it feels dangerous. Because each crack in his armor reveals something that draws me in deeper. The way his eyes crinkle when he almost smiles. The gentleness of his hands. The unexpected laugh that rumbled through his chest during our snowball fight.
I watch him move through his store, confident and competent, and acknowledge the truth I've been avoiding since that almost kiss by the fireplace.
I'm attracted to Jared Calloway. Not just physically, though that's certainly part of it.
I'm attracted to his complexity. The gruff exterior that protects a thoughtful, generous interior.
The man who special orders art supplies just because he overheard me mention them.
Who cooks gourmet meals in a mountain cabin.
Who carries the weight of his aunt's happiness on his broad shoulders.
This is bad. Very bad. Catching feelings for my fake husband wasn't part of our deal.
But as he turns and catches my eye across the store, something warm and electric passing between us, I realize it might already be too late to guard my heart.