Chapter 2
Chapter Two
IRIS
“Raven Angelica Clarke, I swear to the high heavens, when I find you, I will hogtie you to the tree by the creek behind the house for a full night and allow you to think about what you did. I’ll leave Bernie there to protect you.
Obviously. And make sure you get water every couple of hours.
I’m not a monster. But you,” I emphasize, taking a much-needed breath.
“I don’t care that you’re six years older than me, Ray.
You left me with no choice here. I hope you have an exceptional excuse like…
pirates kidnapped you and your clothes in the middle of the night or amnesia, or something. ”
I tighten my grip on the worn leather steering wheel cover, but still feel the tremble in my bones.
“Please just tell me you’re okay. I love you.” My anger deflates.
I end the call and switch back to the GPS on my phone that’s mounted on the dash.
“Five minutes. Holy shit,” I whisper, bouncing my left leg. “Everything will be okay. I could pass for Raven. I mean, we kind of look alike. But I can’t lie and call myself Raven. Shit, shit, shit.”
The moment I say I do to this stranger, he deposits the ten thousand into our account.
That’ll be enough to take a chunk off the debt and pay the backpay for the farmers.
I’ll be able to repair some of the equipment.
We’ll be back to running order. This is a great idea. No, brilliant! I can do this.
He has a daughter. They vetted him. He can’t be a psycho, right?
I love my sister. I swear I do, but right now, I’m thinking back to all the true crime podcasts I’ve heard and all the creative ways to hide her body. This whole thing was her idea!
“You promised, Ray. You promised,” I mumble, pulling up into a two-story, charming, wooden ranch house.
The area is beautiful. Only about twenty-five minutes from our farm outside of this town, but surprisingly, I’ve never been here before. Raven argued it was too close to home. Another small town. I think it’s perfect. I can swing by the farm on the weekends and make sure we’re catching up.
“Don’t think. Just jump,” I quietly repeat my mother’s advice that still echoes five years later.
The memory of being seventeen and losing our parents in a car crash hasn’t eased. I inhale sharply, pushing the grief away.
Please don’t turn me away.
I get out of my father’s old truck and quietly shut the door, hoping for a few minutes before I have to face what awaits inside that house. Before my entire life changes.
I wore my best summer dress—yellow with tiny daisies dotted throughout. I even combed my wild hair and curled the ends. Light makeup and a homemade baked pie in hand have to do the trick. Right?
Raven, I’ve decided. You’re losing your middle toes for this. I marry a stranger and mother another stranger, you get to lose your toes. Seems perfectly fair to me.
Deep inhale, and I step up the porch steps. Before my knuckles rap on the wooden door, it opens.
I gasp involuntarily, taking in the burly beast in front of me.
Holy shit. So tall. Rugged, thick, slightly unkempt beard.
A mess of dark brown hair that’s sticking every which way.
Straight, serious brows over dark green eyes.
Skin kissed by hours, no, years in the sun.
And a fresh from the summer rain scent that for some ungodly reason has me wanting to nudge my nose into his neck.
Okay. My sister’s new husband—wait, nope—MY new husband-to-be is very attractive. Wasn’t counting on that.
He’s also…not happy.
“Can I help you?” Deep, guttural baritone causes a wave of tingles to rush up my body.
Focus!
“Morning,” I smile wide. I might look deranged.
Pull it back some, Iris. “I’m…Miss Clarke. Glad to finally meet you.” Silence. Bewilderment? “I brought pie,” I hold it up, hoping he can’t see my unsteady grip. “May I come in?” I ask when he still doesn’t say a word or move from blocking the door.
“No,” he grunts.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not Raven Clarke.”
Right.
“Well. Yes, I’m not Raven Clarke, per se.”
“You’re either her or you’re not. There’s no…per se. Fuck. I need to call the agency.” He reaches into his pocket.
“Wait!” I rush, holding my free hand over his phone screen. “Hear me out.” I place the pie on the ground with my oversized purse.
“Okay. Let’s start over.” I wipe my sweaty palms over my sundress, which he glares at, and straighten my shoulders.
“Good morning. My name is Iris Clarke. Yes, Raven is my sister. This is not a trick. No one is getting catfished. Per se.” His left eye twitches. “Right. Not using that term ever again. Sorry.”
His file said his name is Ellis Michaels. He looks over his shoulder before closing the door at his back, faces me, and crosses his arms over his very wide chest covered in a thin, well-loved jean button-down.
“Why is your sister not standing here instead of you?” he plainly asks.
“Great question.” I glance at the two rocking chairs on the right. “May we?” I ask.
“No time. Make this quick. My daughter is finishing her breakfast soon. I don’t like having her out of sight this long.”
That’s good. He’s a good father then. Check.
“My sister…she—”
“Is she even widowed?” he asks, narrowing those dark green eyes further.
“Yes,” I insist. “We lost Jed last year. Equipment accident. Out on the field. He got to the hospital too late. Lost too much blood.” That late day in May was an all-too-familiar pain all over again.
The intense stare eases a fraction. “I’m sorry for that loss.”
“Thank you.” I nod. He’s not unkind. Check. “As you can imagine…having…lost—”
“Yes,” his voice rasps.
“The last year has been very difficult for Raven. Life hasn’t been kind to the Clarke sisters,” I attempt to joke, but my heart is heavy. I shake it off. “Mr. Michaels,” I begin.
“Ellis,” he grunts.
“Yes. Ellis. Nothing has to change. You still get a Clarke sister for the same reasons. I’m not a widow.
I get that was one of your specifications, but consider that, while she was a hundred percent committed to this arrangement, the reality must have hit her as the day grew closer.
But I’m here. And I am fully aware of what is expected. ”
“How old are you? You look like a baby yourself.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do not patronize me, Ellis Michaels. I am an adult woman who manages a home and farm, as well as my sister does. I cook,” I gesture at the pie, “and clean, and mend fences, ride and care for our horses, and have babysat the farm's kids since I was fifteen.”
“How long ago was that?” he sasses.
“Seven years ago.”
“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “Twenty-two? Absolutely not. No.”
“Ellis, wait. Listen—”
“You realize you’d have to marry me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Your life is just starting. You’d tie yourself to a strange man and child at your age? Perhaps that’s a sign of your mental state, and I should definitely cancel this whole thing.”
“Daddy?” we hear before the front door opens.
“Olive, please go back inside. I’ll be right—”
Too late.
“Hi,” she enthusiastically greets, tilting her head. “Is she my new nanny?”
“No.”
“Nanny?” I ask. Is that what he told her?
“I like your dress. It’s pretty,” she says.
This kid is adorable! I kneel as she approaches. “Hi. I’m Iris.” I reach my hand out.
“I’m Olive,” she says, shaking my hand. “I hate Olives. I tell Daddy to change my name. He doesn’t.”
“Olive is a beautiful name,” I enthuse. “That color green is one of my favorites.”
“Green?” She tilts her head.
“Olive,” Ellis calls, gently pulling his daughter back toward him by her shoulder. “Head inside, kiddo. Let me finish talking with Miss Clarke here.”
“I thought her name was Iris?”
“It is. Inside, please.”
Her sweet, docile face suddenly shifts and scrunches. “Fine. I don’t wanna. But I will.”
“Appreciate the sacrifice. Inside, baby girl.”
She dramatically stomps inside. My chest aches in a good way as I laugh. Ellis faces me and grunts, giving me that intense stare again.
I swallow the rest of my laugh and get serious.
I’m a fan of that kid already.
“What’s your plan then?” I ask. “From what I gathered, you needed this arrangement yesterday. We lost our parents when I was seventeen. I’ve had to grow up faster than most, Ellis. I do not take this arrangement lightly, and I will not flake on you down the line.”
“You have no desire to one day fall in love and get married for real?” he questions.
“We would be getting married for real. And no, life isn’t kind to those who love.
I plan on living a practical life. Not to say I won’t grow to love that little girl fiercely, but beyond that, no.
As sweet as the idea of traversing the wild world of dating in hopes of landing the one cosmic dust chance you find an equal, life consists of more than that.
And not all of us are granted the luxury of spending it wistfully when there are mouths to feed and bills to pay. ”
Ellis’ stare throughout my monologue morphs into various emotions I can’t read yet. His silent assessment is unnerving, but I remain confident in my conviction.
“My daughter, Olive, is very smart. She’s also currently displaying a love for art. Would you nurture that curiosity and creativity or discourage it for practical thinking?”
Good question, Ellis Michaels. Check.
The slow grin is unavoidable. “No matter what else life throws at her, I will feed, water, and light whatever whim she desires and convince her to not think, just jump. I’ll be sure she’s the best swimmer in the PNW.”
The thin line of his lips softens, revealing fuller lips framed by that thick, brown beard. “You’re still young, Iris. You still have plenty of time to dream and fail and love.”
Damn, don’t make me like you, Ellis.
“I appreciate that. Spoken as a good father would to his daughter. Though, ew. I’m to be your wife, remember?” I smile, and the heavens open up when I get a laugh out of him.
It’s small and quiet, but that’s a win in my book. “I have my reasons and life experiences, Ellis. Everyone gets dealt different cards. I don’t resent mine. So, what do you say? Marry me today?”
I hold my breath.
He releases a heavy exhale. “Where’s your sister now?”
“I…don’t know,” I admit quietly. His brows furrow. “I’m leaving voice messages threatening bodily harm if she doesn’t give me signs of life. As I said…it’s been a rough few years for the Clarke sisters.”
Finally, Ellis’ arms drop. He stuffs them into his jean pockets and stares over my shoulder.
“That your truck?” he asks.
I look back at the old, faded, baby blue Dodge wagon. “Now it is. Used to be my father’s.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off it as he nods. “Let’s unpack your stuff then.”
He passes me, heads down the steps, and goes to the truck.
Holy shit. I did it. I got him to agree.
Now…I have to marry a stranger.