His Counterfeit Campfire Bride Read online

  Figures. She didn’t muss, after all. That should have been enough to calm him down right?

  She turned back around. That wouldn’t do. Blond Asshole was still watching. And Miguel didn’t like being dismissed. He leaned down, close to her ear, inhaling her scent. Pears. “Her name was Shelly. She was thirteen. I got to second base.”

  Sera had stiffened while he spoke in her ear, but she couldn’t cover up the little shiver. And the little shiver gave him pause. Just a twinge. Nothing really. So she was sensitive near her ear. Who wasn’t?

  She tilted her chin slightly, but didn’t turn her whole body this time. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I figure we should get to know each other better. Part of the team building process, you know? Who was your first kiss?”

  “How is that going to help us, exactly?”

  He sighed. “We need to be more comfortable with each other. And if you’ve never been to camp, you’ve probably never done a three-legged race. If I’m going to be tied to your leg, you need to get to know me better.”

  Her turn to sigh as they shuffled forward, getting closer to the counselors doing paperwork. Counselors—he’d had a crush on just about all of the teen girls when he went to camp as a kid. Maybe he could fulfill a fantasy or two while they were stuck here.

  Summer camp for grownups. It was ingenious really. And he could already see the marketing opportunities as he looked around. All the things a person loved about childhood with the added freedom of being an adult. He was sorry he hadn’t thought of the idea himself. He tried to imagine what it would be like to work outside all day instead of being cooped up in an office. Playing volleyball, going canoeing, telling ghost stories around a campfire...it sounded like his idea of a perfect retirement. All the things he loved.

  But retirement, the kind he was looking forward to, cost way more than he could make working at a summer camp. So he’d have to deal with a few more years of traffic and people and noise to fund the life he wanted in fifteen years.

  Someone came around with red cups of beer to make standing in line a little easier. He wasn’t surprised when Sera turned one down. Nor was he surprised when she huffed disdainfully when he gladly took one for himself.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s barely noon yet.”

  “So?”

  “So? It’s a little early for drinking.”

  “Are you going to be like this the whole week or do you think you’ll mellow out eventually?” The second the words tumbled out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

  Sera flushed a pretty pink as she bit back the retort he deserved. He really couldn’t blame her for getting mad. They were supposed to be getting along, building a team, and he shouldn’t have picked on her like that. He hated that she was better at not giving in to a petty argument than he was. But she held it in.

  “I’m sorry, Sera.”

  The eyebrow winged up as she waited for another zinger. When nothing came, she nodded. “I don’t mean to be prickly. I’m not always, you know.”

  “I just bring it out in you, huh?”

  She studied him for a moment. She looked more vulnerable without her red lipstick. Without the makeup covering her freckles. “I don’t know why you do, but yes. For some reason, I am not my very best self around you.”

  He wanted to say he wasn’t either. He wanted to acknowledge that he appreciated the moment of honesty they were having. He wanted to tug on her ponytail. But then it was their turn to sign in and the moment vanished like the light of a firefly.

  They signed the waivers, took their maps, listened to the speech.

  “Great!” the sunny blonde said, handing them each a key and pointing to the map on the table. “You’re in cabin nine. There is a pre-dinner cocktail reception in the boathouse at five o’clock. Hope to see you there.”

  “We’re in the same cabin?” Sera asked. “Aren’t the boys and girls separated? Like ...at camp?”

  “Usually, yes. But for Rediscover Marital Intimacy sessions, we put the married couples together. It’s all about romance.” She winked.

  “What?” Sera asked and looked at Miguel.

  “Did you say Rediscover Marital Intimacy?” His mind wasn’t processing. That was—well it didn’t sound like any corporate team building he’d ever been to. “There’s been a mistake.”

  “Oh,” Blondie said. “They renamed it in February. If you signed up before that, it was called Marriage Booster. But don’t worry, it’s all the same great stuff. You’re going to leave here feeling just as good about life as you did after your honeymoon. We promise. This week will strengthen your marriage

  “Our marriage,” Sera repeated slowly. Like saying it at a reduced speed would clear up the misunderstanding.

  “It’s a week-long love fest, I promise. Sometimes it borders on hedonistic. You’re gonna feel just a little naughty all week. And, if you’re really good, you two could win the grand prize.”

  Oh shit. Mr. Martin’s demands came rippling back through his mind. Certificates, awards...prizes...How does one “win” a grand prize at being married?

  Sera started to panic. He could tell because she was losing her icy exterior. Like a snow sculpture with one good crack, the ice princess was losing her cool. And sputtering a little. “There has been a terrible misunderstanding. We can’t possibly—”

  “Lose,” Miguel interrupted her. “We can’t possibly lose.” He slung an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Sweetheart, we are going to mop up the competition. The grand prize is in the bag.”

  “The grand prize...” She paled. “One...two...three...” she replied.

  Okay then. His wife was no longer coherent. It was up to Miguel to get this circus back under the big top. He gathered their bags and moved her in the direction of the cabins.

  “Six...seven...eight.”

  “That’s it, dear.”

  Luckily, she’d packed light. Efficient as always, he supposed. She counted to ten again and he didn’t try to interrupt. His mind was racing too. He’d expected corporate types doing team building exercises forced on them by upper management. Maybe some role playing. He hadn’t expected to have to play the part of a husband.

  Ever.

  “Do you think Mr. Martin made a mistake or is he really this evil?” She’d managed to pull herself together in time to unlock the door since his arms were full.

  He really needed to set this stuff...down. He looked around a blew out a long whistle before dropping the bags.

  The cabin decor was rustic, yet he noted the a/c unit in the window. But it wasn’t the log walls or plaid curtains that kept his attention. It was the bed.

  The not very big bed in the center of the room. The bed covered in rose petals. Four Mylar heart balloons were tied to the posts. And a bucket of ice was chilling a bottle on the bedside table.

  “Wow.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  She barked out a single, harsh laugh. “See, Mr. Castillo? It’s already working.”

  THE WALLS SEEMED TO SHRINK THE longer Sera looked at that bed in the middle of the room.

  “I don’t understand how this happened,” she said aloud, though not directly to Miguel because he couldn’t help. They were stuck. For a whole week. “Should we call Mr. Martin? Tell him he signed us up for the wrong session?”

  He lowered into one of the two chairs in the cabin. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He was pretty adamant that we find a way to handle things. I think we should show him we can.”

  “They think we’re married.”

  “I realize that.”

  She took the other chair across the tiny table and started to look over their itinerary. Sunrise couples yoga. Ballroom dancing. Canoe trips. “Marriage counseling!”

  “What?” He took the paper from her hands. “We have to go to marriage counseling?”

  “I think we need to tell the staff there has been a mistake. We’ll never make it through marriage counsel
ing without them figuring it out anyway.”

  “Sure we can. We’ll just pretend to be completely happy together. They’ll realize we don’t need counseling. Maybe we can win ‘Most in love’ or something. Martin told us to come back with every award they offered. That counselor mentioned a grand prize.”

  She took the agenda back. “I’m pretty sure they don’t offer prizes in therapy. If we are going to do this, we need to figure out our cover story.”

  He smiled. Oh God, she’d forgotten he had dimples. Laugh lines and dimples should be outlawed. It was a potent combination. “I like the way you think, princess.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He grinned. Dammit she almost smiled back.

  “So what’s our story?” he asked. “We’re going to need a backstory for this campaign.”

  Campaign. They were the two best shining stars at a respectable advertising agency. They could sell anything to anyone. That’s all this was. They were marketing themselves. This they could do. She pulled a notebook and pen from her bag. “We’ve been married for...two years?”

  “Okay. Why are we here? I don’t want anyone thinking we’ve already lost our intimacy after two years of marriage.”

  Figures. That’s just like a man to not be able to accept he needs help for something. “Fine. We are here because ...” She looked over some of the material in the folder. “...of the fireflies.”

  “Fireflies?”

  “Yes. I really like fireflies and this brochure talks about how people come from all over to see them. We thought it would be romantic. We’ve both been working too hard.” She actually wasn’t sure she liked fireflies at all. They were insects. She didn’t have much experience with insects, but she knew she didn’t care for them.

  Miguel drummed his fingers on the small tabletop, a habit she knew meant he was getting on a roll. “We needed to get away from wi-fi and our jobs and just get back to nature.”

  “Okay. Great. So, we have the perfect marriage. Totally in love. We’re just here for downtime and bugs that light up.”

  “When did we meet?” he asked, but his eyes kept drifting to the bed.

  “Let’s just keep it simple. When did we meet for real? Four years ago?”

  He nodded. “Okay. Yeah. We met at work. We’re both in advertising.”

  “Where did we get married?” She kept her own eyes trained on him and not the elephant draped in plaid in the center of the room.

  “Saint Mary’s in my hometown of—”

  “I don’t think so.”

  His brows knit together. What’s wrong with Saint Mary’s?”

  Honestly. “Miguel, I’m Jewish. We can’t get married in a Catholic church.”

  He was genuinely surprised. “My family is going to flip out unless you convert.”

  “I’m not converting. You convert.”

  Tension stretched between them. “How about we have a nondenominational wedding?”

  “Agreed.”

  They both smiled at the implied, See, it’s already working.

  He sat back in the chair. That slouch that annoyed her so much in the city was actually not so bad in the cabin. “How are we going to raise our kids then? If neither of us converts.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Miguel dripping with small children. “As little agnostic heathens?”

  “Agreed. Okay. Where did we get married? Honeymoon? We should pick someplace we’ve both been.”

  They worked out more details of their faux perfect relationship until it became almost fun.

  “I will concede to the Prius,” he said, “but we have a dog not a cat.”

  “Can we have both?” she asked, her heart aching a little for her fluffy gray cat at home. Cobain was worth the extra time she had to spend with a lint roller several times a day, and she’d hated leaving him with her mother for the week. Mom wasn’t exactly responsible. Exhibit A: Sera who’d had to practically get a medical degree at the age of eight because her mother forgot things when she was into her art and/or off her meds. Exhibit B: The back payments Sera was currently making on her mom’s house because she’d forgotten to pay for months.

  But Cobain was pretty low maintenance, and Sera had hidden little bowls of food and water all over the house in case Mom forgot. He also wasn’t shy about yowling when he wanted something, so she had to believe he’d be fine for a week.

  “A cat, huh?” Miguel grimaced at her until she schooled her expression. “If it means that much to you, we can have a cat and a dog, dear. Who’s taking care of them while we’re gone. I hope Fido isn’t peeing on that carpet we just installed in the office.”

  “You act like you did it yourself.”

  “Oh, I did. And you helped me. Weekend warrior project.”

  She smiled at the thought of them installing carpet together. They hadn’t been able to order lunch together successfully last week. “I hadn’t realized you were so handy.”

  “It took a lot longer than we thought it would because...well, you on your hands and knees all day. It was distracting.”

  She felt her blush and kicked him under the table. “Go make me a sandwich, Castillo.”

  When he laughed out loud, something bloomed inside her chest like pride. And she was going to have to squash that. No chest bloomings. Her heart had survived two surgeries and a lifetime of meds, but she wasn’t about to subject it to the likes of a man like Miguel.

  “Are we ready for the cocktail reception? Because I am more than ready for a drink.”

  She nodded, grateful that the entire week was unlimited booze. “I’d like to unpack first. But I can meet you there.”

  “Oh no, our first appearance as man and wife is important. I’ll wait.”

  “Are you going to unpack?”

  “Nah.”

  She’d seen movies about camp and realized that Camp Firefly Falls was a step above. For one thing, they had their own bathroom. No outhouses or midnight trips through the woods with a flashlight. For another, well, the bed. It just sat there in the middle of the room. All made up and waiting where she’d expected to find wooden bunks and sleeping bags. The floor looked hard and uninviting, and she imagined it would be a cold day in hell before she convinced Miguel to sleep on it. No, they’d have to share the bed. They were both adults. They could do this.

  After a couple of cocktails she could, anyway.

  The boathouse was done up with a canopy of white lights. It was charming and romantic and holding hands with her husband while she threw back a G&T was surreal. Since they didn’t know what the grand prize was or what the judging requirements for winning it would be, they were not sure if they were already in some sort of competition. If there really was a “Most in Love” they were planning on winning.

  He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her temple while whispering, “Okay, if we are in the same room, we are always touching. Got it?”

  As if he knew more about being in a committed relationship than she did.

  Which admittedly wasn’t a lot. But she’d at least brought the same man to more than one company function while Miguel had a new date every time.

  It was his wandering eye they needed to be concerned about. She cupped his cheek. “You are a man in love. If I am anywhere near you, your eyes will seek me out. You will stop checking out the counselors and the other married women in the room. You have eyes only for your beloved wife.”

  He chuckled softly. “Of course, dear. Besides, the way you will always be touching me, kissing me, my eyes won’t have time to stray will they?”

  The thought of touching him constantly for the next week wasn’t as daunting as it should have been. She made it a practice to never lie to herself, so she had to admit she was actually looking forward to this play-acting. Which was so wrong. But as long as she remembered it was a ruse, it couldn’t hurt her. In fact, they were hurting no one. It was a game.

  So she kissed him.

  The surprised “oh” of his mouth softened a
nd he kissed her back, slowly, softly, until she realized the soft moan she heard had been her own. She pulled back, amazed to see his dark eyes almost black from his dilated pupils. You can’t fake dilated pupils. Hers probably looked the same and she realized she was in deep trouble.

  “Get a room,” a voice interrupted.

  “Shut up, Steve.” The man, not Steve, held out a hand. “I apologize. My husband thinks he’s funny. I’m Neil.”

  After shaking hands with Neil, Miguel’s arm went around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Neil and Steve owned a small hobby farm in which Steve farmed the sheep and Neil spun the wool and sold hand-knit hats on Etsy.

  “We’re having a baby in three months, so we thought we’d do one last couple-focused vacation. This wasn’t my first choice,” Neil said, gesturing to Steve. “He likes zip-lining and I like not zip-lining, but we really wanted to be around people with like minds about their marriages. You guys have kids?”

  “No,” Miguel answered quickly. Too quickly. “We’re not ready.”

  “I like knitting,” Sera said to cover his obvious discomfort. “It’s very relaxing.”

  “Did you bring your needles?” When she shook her head, Neil said, “I brought extra. You can try some of our wool. You’ll never go back to store bought again.”

  Steve and Miguel made plans to sign up for zip-lining and jet skis. Neil and Sera made plans for reading books while drunk. Another couple, Layla and Brad, introduced themselves and all six of them sat together at dinner. At the campfire after dinner, everyone at camp came down and then began drinking in earnest. It was tempting to do the same, but she’d had such a long day already, and sunrise yoga looming over her head, she begged off.

  Her husband wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came time to walk back to the cabin.

  “You don’t have to come with me. You were enjoying yourself.”

  “I’m not letting my wife walk alone in the woods. Besides, it wouldn’t look right if I passed up an opportunity to get you alone in the cabin on a week devoted to boosting our intimacy, would it?”