The Fake Bride Loophole - A Mountain Man Romance Read online

  Right now, we’re between seasons. Summer is gently slipping away, making room for September and cooler mornings. Perfect for being up there in the mountains…

  Every other thought takes me away from here.

  “Come on, let’s sit down,” Mom says. “The boys will join us in a bit. It smells like the meat is just about done.”

  She’s right. I don’t know how she does it, but that nose of hers is never wrong. Five minutes later, Dad and the boys come back in with a stainless-steel bowl filled with grilled chicken and pork.

  I don’t eat as much meat as I used to, but the monthly family dinner is a tradition I dare not break. It will be disrespectful if I say no to anything that my mother or my father put on my plate, which is why I stocked the medicine cabinet with enough Tums and Pepto-Bismol to get me through Monday without much suffering.

  Half an hour later, we’re scarfing down a little bit of everything from this enormous feast that Mom insisted on helping me prepare. I usually do the whole dinner thing by myself, but I had complaints last month regarding the quality of my take on Grand-Mama’s empanadas, so I agreed to let Señora Rosetta Perez help out, as she likes to introduce herself to new people.

  “Go easy on the pork, mi amor. Remember what the doctor said,” Mom tells Dad.

  He rolls his eyes but doesn’t go for another rib, now that he’s gotten himself in her crosshairs.

  Dad used to be a handsome devil when he was David’s age. That’s when he and Mom met. Twenty-year-old kids, both of them moved by their parents from Puerto Rico. They worked hard every day of their lives, yet they always made time for each other. Then, when I was born, their first child, they made sure I never missed anything.

  With Matteo, it became an adventure, juggling careers and family at the same time. Even then, Mom and Dad laughed and welcomed life’s challenges with broad smiles. David was an unexpected surprise, and after Ralphie decided to join us, Dad went in and got a vasectomy.

  I remember Ralphie went mute for an entire week a couple of years back, shortly after he accidentally walked in on our parents, still madly in love. I’m chuckling with a mouthful, and that gets Mom’s attention.

  “What’s so funny, mija?”

  “I just remembered that one time Ralphie caught you and Dad doing the you-know-what.”

  “Michelle!” she gasps, face suddenly red as a chili pepper.

  Dad’s about to choke on his food, and Ralphie covers his face with both hands. “Thanks, big sis, I’m sure I’m not gonna dream about it tonight.”

  “Why would you remember something like that in the middle of dinner?” David asks.

  “Was it the sausages?” Matteo piles on top.

  We’re all laughing to the point of tears now, with Mom and Dad reduced to red-faced tears as they realize they no longer have control over us. A few years ago, they might’ve silenced us with a slap on the table, but after Ralphie turned sixteen, it became clear that none of their precious children were children anymore. I suppose it’s a sad thing to come to terms with, but I know they’re both proud of us.

  Truth be told, I’m proud of them. They did the best they could with what they had, and my brothers and I grew up in a healthy and happy family. There is nothing I would change, except perhaps for the pressure that is now on me to get married and have some kids of my own.

  Once the laughter dies down and we move through other similarly embarrassing incidents from our family home, Mom decides to put me in her sights for a minute or two.

  “So, mija, you never told us… How did it go with that investment banker you were dating? What was his name again? Scott?”

  “Your memory is impressive,” I reply, having trouble swallowing at this point. “Scott, yes. That was five months ago.”

  “Aren’t you impressed with how she’s asked the same thing every month since?” Matteo chuckles from the sidelines.

  Mom gives him a nasty look and, all of a sudden, he pretends I no longer exist. Proof that while she cannot control us any longer, Rosetta Perez can still inspire fear and dread and military discipline.

  “We only dated for a little while,” I tell Mom, then switch focus on Matteo in a bid to get her off my back. “And you, Casanova? Any hot new conquests lately? Mom and Dad were already married at your age. If I remember correctly, it was around this time that they had me.”

  “That’s a dirty play,” Matteo growls, trying so hard to make himself sound serious when all he wants to do is laugh.

  “Why didn’t you date for longer?” Mom asks me, unwilling to let go, just yet.

  I give Dad a long look, but it’s obvious he isn’t going to save me tonight.

  “What was wrong with Scott?” Mom asks.

  I stare at her for a second, then at the rest of the family. Black hair and brown eyes reign supreme here, with olive skin and slim noses and broad smiles. We inherited good genes, it seems, though my parents’ old-fashioned views can be a source of strife. In my family, if you’re still unmarried by the time you’re twenty-eight, you’re a complete failure.

  I’m thirty. I suppose that’s meant to say something.

  “Mom, there wasn’t anything wrong with Scott. It just didn’t work out. We had different work hours, different hobbies. We simply didn’t fit together.”

  “Are you sure you tried? You do have a habit of kicking guys to the curb the moment they do something you don’t like,” Dad cuts in.

  It feels like a betrayal because usually he’s the one who tells Mom to let me be, that I’ll find my guy someday. I can’t help but scowl at him.

  “He didn’t do anything, and frankly, this entire conversation is making me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Are you really going to put your career before a man and a family?” Mom replies, her brow furrowed.

  Suddenly, the good-natured tone of our family dinner has slipped into something awkward and annoying. They always do this, but today Mom’s the nail a lot faster and a lot harder than usual.

  “I will, yes. And not because I don’t like what you and Dad had going, but because it’s not me. I put myself through law school to help people. And I’m pretty good at it, as you all know. There’s a big firm downtown that’s interested in me, and if they make me an offer, there’s a chance I’ll be made partner someday.”

  Mom shakes her head slowly. “None of this is worth it if you don’t have a family of your own.”

  “See, this is where we disagree. Last week, I saved a guy from life in prison over a murder he didn’t commit. I work hard, sometimes fourteen hours a day. But it’s worth it because there are people out there who need my help.

  “My only problem is that working as a public defender doesn’t pay well enough in the long term, which is why I’m considering a firm. For that, I’ll have to make myself available, which means no family to hold me back, and I don’t mind. Why rush into something I could very well build later down the road?”

  “Because you want time to enjoy family! What are you going to do, have children when you’re forty-five? Do you have any idea how risky that is?” Mom is taking this personally, mainly because we nearly lost her when she had Ralphie.

  But the truth is, as family-oriented as she and Dad and my brothers are… I’ve grown to become the complete opposite.

  “I love my career, Mom. I love, love, love what I do for a living… Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

  “I am happy, mija. I’d be a lot happier if you found yourself a man to at least take some of the load off. Before you’d know it, the first kid would come along, and you’d realize that your career is nowhere near as amazing as raising a child.”

  David leans in to whisper. “Take it Mom doesn’t know about IUDs, then.”

  “Shush!” I giggle, then give my mother a straight face. “Your concern is sweet, and I’m always thankful for your advice and care, Mom… But please, can we just leave this alone for a while? I don’t want to end up dreading our monthly dinner because I’m worried you’ll ask
about Scott or some other guy I might tell you about.”

  Dad covers her hand with his. “Mi amor, I think Michelle wants to do things in her own way.”

  “And there’s a chance I won’t even have kids,” I reply, only to test the waters, though I instantly regret it as everyone at the table turns white.

  “Mija, don’t even joke about this!” Dad hisses.

  “Sorry. Bad humor,” I reply with a dry smile.

  Mom sighs deeply. “Listen, mija, I understand. I may not like it, but I understand. You’re not ready to talk about marriage and a family. How about we revisit the issue in a year, okay?”

  “A year,” I repeat after her, trying to figure out if she’s serious.

  “Yes. One year, and then I’ll bring it up again.”

  Matteo lets out a chuckle.

  Yep. Mom’s serious. This is the best she can do, and I’m going to have to take it.

  “Okay, Mom. One year,” I concede, and the thick cloud hanging over our dinner table suddenly dissipates.

  We dig into the rest of the food, washing it down with sparkling water and red wine. We laugh and talk about Matteo’s inability to settle down, because it was obvious from the beginning that I wouldn’t be the only one strapped onto a glass plate and forced under the family microscope.

  David and Ralphie are too young, so they get a pass on the relationship side of things, but Mom and Dad still relish addressing their academic performance. One way or another, each of the Perez kids gets put in the spotlight tonight, whether we like it or not. It’s our parents’ tactic of pushing us to do more and better.

  “So, you said you’re going hiking this coming week,” David says, having grown tired of explaining why he joined the lacrosse team at his college instead of basketball. Dad wants him to be the next NBA star, but David has Ivy League ambitions.

  I certainly understand him, which is why he always turns to me in dire times, regardless of his tight bond with Matteo.

  “Where are you off to, then?” David asks.

  “I’ve taken the whole week off for this because it’s a long trail, and I want to make the most of it,” I reply, proud of my earlier research and planning. The bags and equipment are already packed and stuffed in the back of the car. “The Theodore Roosevelt National Park,” I tell them. “It’s a huge swath of wilderness with some of the best hiking paths in the entire country.”

  “Wait, that’s in North Dakota, isn’t it?” Matteo asks.

  Mom looks worried. “You have to be careful, mija.”

  “I always am, don’t worry. The main path is well taken care of, with functional rest stops and supplies. It’ll be okay. The mountain is huge, but hey… that’s part of the challenge.”

  “What about the hike itself. What’s that gonna be like?” David asks.

  “Medium, maybe. It’s not about the terrain itself but the distance I’ll have to cover from the base of the mountain to the top.”

  I go on to tell them more about what I expect from the hike, reassuring my parents that I’ve already spoken to the park rangers and that I’ve been told the park is safe for most hikers, including families with a more adventurous streak. Of course, I’m bending the truth a little, since I’m not going to take the main tourist path but rather the secondary one, which takes me deeper through the wilderness.

  But Mom and Dad don’t need to know that. I’m just going to finish my chili con carne, chug some wine, dig into dessert and pretend like I’ve told the truth and nothing but the truth, despite the curious looks my mom keeps giving me.

  It’s as if she has a lie detector embedded in her head, somewhere, because she’s annoyingly good at picking up on the slightest shred of dishonesty in any conversation with the Perez children.

  Once she chooses to ask Ralphie about his plans for senior year in high school, however, I know that I am finally and momentarily off the hook.

  “So, mijo, who’s gonna be your date to the senior prom?”

  “Mom, that’s next year!” Ralphie laughs.

  “No girlfriend, then?”

  The way she says it makes everyone double over.

  This is the last Sunday of every month at my house, usually right before I go on a hike. The one in North Dakota is going to be my longest yet, but it’s been a while since I’ve had time off, so my boss didn’t mind.

  I’m a bit nervous, I’ll admit, though that is precisely the appeal of such an adventure. Until the morning, however, I’ll keep enjoying the rest of this evening with my loud, loud family.

  Chapter 3

  Daley

  With Monday gone and no sign of the sheriff, I assume that Cline let the gun incident slide. Technically, it wasn’t really an incident. I merely pointed my rifle at his lawyer and threatened to shoot. No biggie. People have done worse on this mountain and barely gotten a slap on the wrist.

  I’ve taken most of today off to work on a piece of wood for Mrs. McClintock. She’s been kind enough to give me some of her chickens in the spring, so I’m thinking she’d appreciate a new bespoke coffee table for her den. Bespoke. What a pretentious word, yet it seems to be selling even in these remote parts of North Dakota. The world is changing, which is why I’m happy to stay right here, away from it.

  Jax is somewhere nearby, roaming through the woods. He’s not as active as he used to be, but that’s what happens with wolfdogs after a certain age.

  My guess is he’s ready to accept another alpha in our pack, but I’m not. He’s been my protector for so long, I can’t imagine a future where I don’t have him in my life. That’s naïve of me, I know. But it will be a while before I bring another pup home. Until then, I’m fine with Jax taking the occasional day off to chase deer through the backwoods.

  The cats are lounging on my porch chair, wrapped around one another like pretzels—one’s a three-color calico and the other a raven black, blacker than the night itself. I can hear their rumbling purr all the way here, at my workbench, beneath the textile canopy. When winter comes, I’ll move all my work tools upstairs to the extra bedroom, but for now, I plan on making the most of this warm side of autumn.

  The wood is my old friend, its texture known to me. I understand it. I run my hands along a trunk, and I know what will become of it.

  My head is a mess, though. It’s been a mess since Sykes’s visit. That whole Bachelor Amendment thing is eating into my nights, too. It’s a thing. It’s an actual thing that the local legislators have completely forgotten about. Since no one ever enforced it—not since the early 1920s, apparently—it has slipped through the cracks, only to be taken advantage of now.

  Cline be damned with his greed. This is my ancestral land. He’s not touching it. But I still don’t know how the hell I’m going to get him off my back this time.

  I catch a glimpse of Jax rushing through the trees to my left. He’s staying close, and I can see why. At the bottom of the trail leading up to my cabin, the sheriff’s SUV just pulled up next to mine, its markings clear and red-blue lights on. The folks in the police department know me well enough, I suppose.

  Setting the saw tool aside, I leave Mrs. McClintock’s table for later. It only looks like a chopped log, so far, as I’ve yet to bring out the best in it.

  Cautious in my demeanor, I head to the top of the trail, watching as Sheriff Lauren Dunn and her deputy, Dean Banner, walk up. He’s a head shorter and stocky. Lauren was the homecoming queen at the local high school—tall and blond, the girl-next-door kind of beautiful that appears harmless until she pulls a Glock on you.

  “Sheriff Dunn,” I say, adding a polite bow for good measure.

  “You’re in deep trouble, Daley.”

  We used to be best friends when we were kids. I was also supposed to be her date for the prom until Jerry Manners tied me to a tree behind my cabin and left me there through the night so he could take Lauren to the dance instead.

  It was the last time I let anybody get close to me. Jerry was the last disappointment I allowed myself. He was pro
of that people were awful. The forest and the wilderness… it’s pure. It’s honest. I don’t need anything else. Well, except Lauren on my side when it comes to Cline. Thank the stars she said she’d never stop being my friend after she kicked Jerry’s ass six ways till Sunday for the prom shenanigans.

  “Let me guess. Marvin Sykes,” I reply, unable to hold back my grin. There’s a childlike satisfaction that stems from knowing I made that little weasel skittish.

  “You’re lucky I convinced him not to press charges,” Lauren says with her no-nonsense tone. “It took me two hours to get him off your back.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, he’s still gnawing at my brain as we speak,” I tell her, crossing my arms.

  It makes Deputy Banner chuckle. “What, they’re not done hounding you for your land?”

  “Either of you ever heard of the Bachelor Amendment?” I ask.

  The three of us stand in the clearing, a blue sky stretching lazily overhead. Jax watches us from between two old pine trees about twenty yards right. He’s never still for more than a few minutes, always moving, as if stopping might kill him. That’s a good wolfdog, but if I’m forced off my land, where will we go? Who will take him? He’s used to the woods. His whole life, he has known nothing else but freedom.

  When neither the sheriff nor her deputy responds, I give them a couple more details. “Article 492, sponsored by the honorable Samuel Morris and passed by the North Dakota state legislature back in 1889. Still doesn’t ring a bell?”

  “Nope,” Lauren shoots back.

  “Of course. Because it’s an obscure law that our current local governing body completely ignored until Marvin Sykes, the little prick, dug it up and decided it could be used against me. The article states that unless I am married by the time I’m thirty, my land ownership in the state, no matter how big or small, will be reverted back to the federal government, which then has the right to auction it to the highest bidder.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Banner gasps, eyes as big as cue balls.

  “I kid you not. Why else would I want Sykes gone? Why else would I even feel the need to point a rifle at him? He made me mad. For that, I will only apologize to you, Sheriff Dunn. Well, and you, Deputy Banner.”