Graham

Maybe I should’ve softened the proposal blow. I’ve been told I’m too blunt, maybe it’s true. I have no experience in the fiancée department, but It can’t be good that Zoe is now the same color as the snow beneath our feet. Silent and owl eyed, she stares at me as if I’ve just grown another head. Which, I guess she would. On the romantic side, however, a light snow falls all around her, and if this were a real proposal, it’d be perfect.

“We’re not really getting married,” I explain. “I need someone…” I trail off, rubbing my thumb along my jaw. “I need someone to come home with me for the holidays.”

After what seems like an eternity, she finally squeaks out a “Why?”

For some reason, it reminds me of the helmet wearing little mouse approaching a trap on a demotivational poster in one of my employee’s office.

“It’s my mother. It’s complicated.” I smile, hoping my charm will help land my proposal. “Come on, you in? You did lose, after all.”

My charm must be rusty, because she gives me a little eye roll. “What would I have to do...exactly?”

“Just pretend to be my fiancée. My mother thinks I’m engaged.”

“Why does she think you are?”

“Maybe because I told her I was?” It sounds ridiculous coming out of my mouth, but my mother is relentless. “You’ll understand when you meet her.”

As a little Jedi mind trick I learned along the path to success, I speak in certainties so she’s already envisioning it as a done deal.

“You mean if I meet your mother?”

Of course, it wouldn’t work on someone like Zoe. “I know this is crazy. Really, I do. It would be a simple meet my family, and after, we can break up.” And then I throw in the clincher, because she doesn’t look sold just yet, “And your soaps will be in every cabin on this mountain.” Her eyes shine at that, and I tuck away the unfamiliar feel of disappointment that she clearly doesn’t like me enough to just go along with this insane idea. “We’ll just need to get you a ring.”

She glances at her glove-covered left hand. “A ring?”

“Yes, you know, an engagement ring.”

“Why?”

“No mother would believe her son is getting married without a ring on her finger.”

“Can’t we just say we wanted to wait?”

I step closer. “Look, we want to sell this engagement, right? Make it look real? So, you need a big fat rock.”

She laughs a little. “Ok, but I’m returning it to you after this is over.”

The non-business part of me is kind of fucking pleased that Zoe isn’t the type to milk this for all its worth. I like that. It says a lot about her character. The women I’ve dealt with in the past have all been about the money. “I’ll have Jean select something. What’s your ring size?” I grab my cell, ready to make the call.

“Oh, hmm. If we’re really going all in, we should pick it out. For authenticity.”

I blow out a breath. I swear the way this girl stares at me makes this all harder. And not just the situation, my dick swells at the thought of spending a long weekend with her. But I throw the sexual thoughts in the trash bin of my mind and try to focus on this ring situation. The thought of actually stepping into a ring store leaves a fine sheen of sweat on my forehead. “I have a jeweler friend, Charles, whose shop is on the way. And after that I’ll buy you some clothes to save time. So, that’s a yes?”

“I’m not loving the idea of pretending to marry someone who hates Christmas.” She pauses, worrying her lip. “This is only business, though. So, we shouldn't have sex again.”

“Of course,” I agree.

She taps a red-tipped nail against her plump bottom lip. “Ok, yes. I’ll marry you.”

Thank God. Before she can change her mind, I whisk her away from the ski slope and head inside the warm cafe nestled under snow laden pine trees. While Zoe waltzes to the counter to grab a hot chocolate, I put a call in to my mother and tell her Zoe will be joining us this holiday. Needless to say, she’s shocked, but it’s not like I haven’t shocked her before. After we hang up, I dial the highway patrol to check on the conditions of the roads. The patrolmen lets me know it’ll be any time now. Thank God. As soon as we’re given the all-clear, I want to be headed to Charles’s and then to my mother’s to get this holiday over with. When I hang up, I walk with Zoe back to her cabin. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” I almost ask it like a question, because more than anything I want to ask her to dinner. I want a repeat of last night. But, I keep my wits about me, remembering not to mix business with pleasure, and I say goodnight.

She smiles a soft smile, and whispers her goodnight, almost as if she’s thinking the same thing as me. Like she wants the repeat too.

Once she’s inside, I head back to my cabin, alone. I check my emails, and do some push-ups, but nothing calms the lust swimming around in my veins. Zoe isn’t too far away. I could go knock on her door and just get a kiss. Instead, I pretend I’m not going out of my mind insane with desire for this girl.

When my mother invited me for Christmas, I wanted to decline just like I did for the Fourth of July. During the summer, I holed up away at this mountain resort, and pretended the world didn’t exist. It’s not that I hate my family. I don’t hate them at all. It’s my mother’s incessant pushing of the neighbor’s daughter, Trudy.

So, to appease my sanity and deal with the holidays in semi-peace, I’m bringing Zoe.

I head to bed, and after tossing and turning half the night, finally pass out.

The next morning, I get the ok from the highway patrol that the roads are open.

“You ready to get this show on the road?” I ask Zoe after she opens the door.

“Sure.” She’s dressed in a baggy off-white sweater with dark, skinny jeans and the same calf-high boots she wore yesterday. Never knew boots could be so sexy, but these are.

Once the Range Rover is loaded, and my fake fiancée is buckled in, I head off down the road.

I wish I could say I hated everything about this, but I’m actually kind of enjoying it. Which is probably not a good thing. But, I’ve always been a little bad. I’ll just have to keep my hands to myself. Easiest deal I’ve ever made.