Fake Boyfriend

by Miley Maine

  I turned the boat off and let it idle, and she crawled over, carefully balancing, to sit across from me. She leaned in and kissed me on the mouth. “We’ll have to make up for the lost time tonight.

  Shit. I’d been so tired last night, I’d forgotten to warn her about my nightmares.

  A line crossed her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  “If I move around in my sleep, just get away from me, okay? Don’t get in my face, or grab my arms.”

  Now her upturned lips flattened out. “Why?”

  “I’m trained to react. If I’m not fully awake, my body may perceive any touch as a threat. I don’t want to tackle you.”

  That was not a very accurate description of what my reaction would be. Tackling would be a nice outcome.

  I’d probably break someone’s arm or put him or her in a choke hold. For that very reason I was keeping my rifle unloaded. My handgun would be loaded, but I’d have the safety on and it would be zipped up into the bottom compartment of my backpack. It was accessible, but not if I was completely asleep.

  She didn’t ask anymore questions. She just moved to sit next to me, cuddling closer and laid her head on my shoulder. “I won’t grab you if you’re asleep.”

  After a full day in the sun, maybe I’d sleep well tonight. A dreamless sleep next to Loren was just what I needed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Loren

  Yesterday I’d been slow to wake up, but today I was determined to be the early bird and get up before Jackson. So as soon as the first ray of weak sunlight filtered through the trees, I opened my eyes. I forced myself to sit up instead of rolling over and ignoring the sun, which is what I’d done the day before.

  It was hard to leave the warm nest where Jackson and I had slept snuggled together. We had one more night together, and tomorrow I intended to lie next to him as long as I could, treasuring the feel of his muscular body pressed up against mine.

  After the day long fishing trip, we’d both been exhausted. We made out for a while, and Jackson had shown me how to give him a really great handjob, which was also a first for me. Then he’d rubbed his fingers over my clit with one hand, and penetrated me with the fingers from his other hand, fucking me with his fingers until I was incoherent with lust.

  I’d come riding his fingers and I’d fallen asleep. But now I was up, and I wanted to show Jackson I could be just as productive and resourceful as he was. Out in the open air, I shivered, even with my thick hoodie on. It had to be around forty-five or fifty degrees. I checked my phone. Five-thirty a.m.

  First I washed my face and brushed my teeth. Then I ran around grabbing the same kind of sticks and kindling that Jackson had. I got a fire going, and I grabbed the zippered bag from inside the tent that contained our food. I chose a package of dehydrated biscuits and gravy and set to work.

  Once they were ready, I grabbed the side of the tent and shook it. “Up and at ‘em!”

  Jackson groaned. “What the hell?”

  “It’s after six a.m. And today’s my last full day. We have to make the most of it.”

  He emerged from the tent, looking hotter than ever as he ran his hand through his dark hair. “Loren. You’re not going to prison. You can come back.”

  “But you won’t be here.” I said. I was the one with the flexible schedule. Over the next year I was going to try to build my business, and accept every wedding contract that came my way. But if I did need some time off, I could schedule it whenever I wanted. He would go where he was needed, and it wouldn’t matter if he needed the time off or not.

  He didn’t respond, but he did wander into the woods for a minute. He came back and showered with tepid water and brushed his teeth.

  We ate in a comfortable silence. As we put out the fire and rinsed our pan off he asked, “How do you feel about some survival skills today?”

  “I’ve already learned to maneuver a fishing boat, fish for salmon and trout, hike, and camp without campground amenities. So yes. I’m up for it.”

  “Good. I mentioned situational awareness. I need to teach you to be aware of your surroundings and how to get away if it comes to that.”

  “I’ve taken plenty of self defense classes. I even took a Krav Maga class.”

  “That’s great. But most of those classes don’t go deep enough. You need more. If you’re going to carry a purse that’s worth more than some cars, then you need a crash course on how to protect yourself.”

  “Do you think I should get rid of the purse?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Do you think I shouldn’t have been carrying it?” I asked.

  “No. I don’t think that at all. I wouldn’t have known that it made you a target. But some asshole did.”

  “It’s not right that a purse could make someone a target.”

  “No it’s not right. But I don’t care what’s right. I care what works. For that matter, I think you should rehire your bodyguard.”

  “What?” I could not believe what I was hearing.

  “I think it would be safer if you had a bodyguard.”

  “Have you listened to a word I said?”

  “Look. I’m not the public relations guy for a reason. I get stuff done, and I say what I think. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You’d be safer with a bodyguard.”

  That was bullshit. Safer? From what? From never having a life of my own? “Wouldn’t anyone be safer?” I yelled.

  “Possibly. But definitely you.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “If my sister had had a bodyguard, she’d--”

  He rarely talked about his siblings. “She’d what?” I asked.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. But you should reconsider the security issue. Even if it’s just when traveling. You never know what’s going to happen.”

  Where did he get off? I thought he’d understood how I felt about this topic. “You’re just like everyone else. You think you know what’s best for me.”

  “In some circumstances, I do know what’s best. Such as how to give escaping from a criminal your very best shot.”

  I was so pissed off I couldn’t think straight. I picked up a stick and cracked it in half. It didn’t really help quell my rage.

  Jackson didn’t even raise his voice. “There’s no point in getting mad. The first time you were alone, someone tried to rob you. What if someone had something more sinister in mind? Your family is powerful. They have a shitload of money. There are people who’d exploit that.”

  I had to concede that he had a point, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. “I don’t think you’re being realistic. No one has ever tried to kidnap me or anyone else in my family.”

  “Fine. Don’t listen to me.”

  “I thought you were different. I thought you’d listened to me,” I said, desperately trying to keep the whine out of my voice but probably not succeeding.

  “Loren. I gave my honest opinion. That doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. If you don’t want a bodyguard, don’t have one. I wouldn’t. No matter what.”

  “You wouldn't?” I asked.

  “Hell no. Every time I’ve been around a president or a prime minister, I can’t imagine what that would be like. No amount of prestige would be worth losing my privacy like that.”

  I deflated. Obviously this was still a touchy subject for me. There was no reason for me to go nuclear just because Jackson expressed his opinion. He was military. He had a different mindset than me, and that was okay.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m going to have to be calm about this. It won’t be the last time I discuss it, even if it’s not with you.”

  “You know how I feel. I understand how you feel. And I won’t bring it up again.” Jackson lifted one eyebrow. “One last piece of advice from someone who’s lived longer than you have -- don’t make decisions based on emotion.”

  I mulled that over for a moment. Then Jackson and I found a decent-sized clearing with a grassy spot, and he went through some basic drills with me, such as how to hold my hands if I was
getting tied up with rope, and how to escape handcuffs, and zip ties if I ever did get tied up.

  He taught me how to be aware of exits, and where to sit in restaurants and movie theaters, and how to watch a crowd to see if it was going to turn into a violent mob. Then he went into topics that might affect me more, such as how to tell if someone was following me, and what to do if so.

  By the end, I was more than a little overwhelmed, and I told him so.

  “That’s okay. It took me years to hone those skills. I just gave you an overview.”

  Then he took me through the actual self defense moves, where we practiced a groin kick, a heel palm strike, and an elbow strike.

  “I can tell you have done this before,” he said.

  “Yes. Every weekend in college. My father insisted.”

  “I don’t blame him.” Jackson took a drink of water and then handed the jug to me. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

  Glad for a break, I took a long drink. “I’ve been to a shooting range. I have a concealed carry license, but I’ve never shot anyone.”

  He smiled. “That’s good. I hope you never have to.”

  I obviously wouldn’t ask him the same question.

  “What about hunting?” he asked.

  “I’ve never tried it,” I said. “My father has been quail hunting for work, but I never went.”

  Jackson started snickering.

  “What? What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “How do you quail hunt for work when you’re the CEO and founder of a multi-billion corporation?”

  “Networking. He meets clients that way.”

  “I guess sharing a beer’s not good enough?” He wiped his hand over his face “Sorry. I’m not trying to dog on your dad.”

  It was kind of funny when I thought about it. “I’m not offended. I’m not sensitive about most things.” I held up my hand. “Except the bodyguard issue. Obviously.”

  “Still. Your dad’s you dad. There’s nothing wrong with quail hunting.”

  “They did eat them.” Then I snickered too. “Because they brought people with them to collect the quail, clean them and cook them for the whole group.”

  Back at the campground, Jackson showed me all the features of the rifle, and how to load the rifle, and how to carry it.

  We drove to a designated hunting area.

  “Deer are the easiest,” he said. “I know someone up here who will come get it and freeze the meat to make chili and stew.”

  He took me to his favorite spot, and taught me everything he knew about hunting black-tailed deer. We didn’t shoot any, but he showed me how to use the scope for sighting, how to use a deer stand, and the best way to track the deer themselves.

  By that afternoon, I was exhausted. “I think being quiet for so long made me tired,” I said. “I am ready for bed.”

  It was our last night together out in the wilderness, and I was sad to see it go. Sure he was coming with me to the wedding, and he was willing to be my fake boyfriend, but I’d bet money that when we arrived at the hotel, everything would change. He’d gotten weird and stiff anytime we talked about my family, especially my family members who were in the military. And they’d be at the wedding.

  As we zipped the sleeping together, I made sure to get as close to him as I could. He’d stripped his shirt off to sleep, and I loved his bare chest against mine, even though I still had on my t-shirt.

  I drifted off, fantasizing about ditching the wedding and going to his grandfather’s cabin instead. I didn’t really want to miss my cousin’s wedding, and my first real gig as a photographer, but the thought of another week of solitude with Jackson really appealed.

  I did love weddings. But maybe not the ones where I was related to most of the guests. Jackson’s cabin was on ten acres of wooded property, with a creek and a small pond. I’d never get to see it. And after the wedding, I’d probably never see Jackson again.

  The thought was a harsh blow.

  I had a full-fledged crush on Jackson, that was clear.

  I steered my brain toward happier thoughts. At least I’d gotten the chance to be with him, to spend these long days with him in this paradise. I drifted off, content to just be close to him for one more night before the onslaught of the wedding craziness began.

  I awoke to something shaking. Was there a train nearby? A plane overhead? I rubbed my eyes. Ah. I was in a tent in the great outdoors. I sat up and grabbed Jackson’s arm. “Do they have earthquakes in Alaska?”

  The moonlight was bright enough that I could see a little bit even inside the tent. He didn’t answer. His body went entirely stiff and he jerked. Then he let out a pained moan, and said, “No, you can’t,” in a low, bleak voice.

  Was this a nightmare? He’d said not to grab him while he slept. With that in mind, I scooted away and waited, which sucked, because I wanted to help him. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t thank me for waking him, or for even witnessing this part of himself, he probably would rather keep it hidden.

  After several minutes of watching him shake, I couldn't take it anymore. “Jackson?” I asked.

  No answer. But his hands came up to clutch his head.

  “Jackson!”

  Finally, the tension in his body drained away and he rolled toward me.

  “Loren? What’s wrong?”

  “Um, nothing.”

  “Why are you out of the sleeping bag?” He stuck one hand out toward me. “Get back in. It’s cold.” As he reached his hand out, he seemed to notice that his arm was shaking and he pulled it back. “Did I scare you?” he asked. And his voice had changed to a much quieter tone.

  “No,” I said. “I thought you might be having a bad dream, so I moved over.”

  He sat up, all at once. “Did I hit you?”

  “No. You barely moved. You were shaking though, back and forth. I thought it was an earthquake.”

  He put both hands up to his eyes and rubbed over his face. “Christ. I’m sorry.”

  “No big deal.”

  He huffed, making an odd half-laugh sound. “Right.” He turned back to face the other side of the tent. “I’m awake now,” he said. “You can lie back down.”

  I had a feeling that he wouldn’t even try to go back to sleep. I crawled in next to him and wrapped one arm around his chest. I wanted to ask a million questions, but I could tell they wouldn’t be welcome right now.

  I hoped my arm around him could provide at least a little solace for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jackson

  Once again, I’d jerked awake, sweating from a nightmare. Only this time I’d woken up Loren too. I was grateful I hadn’t thrashed around and hit her, or tried to pin her down. It appeared that she’d listened to me when I told her to back away and not touch me, thank God.

  I lay there, wide awake, and completely mortified. I’d warned her not to touch me, but I hadn't really expected to wake her up because I was shaking.

  I had been fucking trembling in my sleep, shaking the tent enough to wake her up. It was fucking humiliating.

  Nightmares were normal for soldiers. They were normal for anyone. But I hadn’t wanted her to see that. I was supposed to be protecting her. She was the younger woman, the innocent virgin who I wanted to look out for.

  I liked her so much that I was voluntarily going to a wedding, and I was going to pretend to be her boyfriend. If someone had told me a month ago that I’d agree to take a woman to a wedding, and tell her family I was her boyfriend, I’d have laughed my ass off.

  “Jackson?”

  I had to remind myself not to snap at her. It wasn’t her fault that I was a wreck. And she shouldn’t have to put up with this. We were fucking, yes, but she wasn’t my girlfriend. This was a fake relationship, not a real one, and I didn’t need to forget that. “Yeah?”

  “You’re vibrating,” she said.

  I started to push myself up. “I can get up.”

  “No. Don’t go.”

  “I’m
keeping you up,” I said.

  “Hey. I don’t want to bring up painful memories. But I was close to my cousin. The one that was killed in Iraq? He didn’t like to talk about it too often, but sometimes he would tell me stuff.”

  There was no way I could speak right then.

  Her small hand moved to my shoulder. “I’m not asking you to say anything. And I can’t say I understand, even from listening to him. His experience would have been different than yours. He was an Army Doctor, not a Ranger.”

  “Pretty impressive skill set though,” I managed to choke out. “Field medicine is brutal.”

  “Yeah. He hated that he couldn’t save everyone. He’d say, ‘I can’t stand it when I lose someone that I could have saved, if only we’d been at a hospital.’”

  “I understand that.” I could relate. I hadn’t been able to save my own sister.

  “No one can save everyone. I used to remind him of that.”

  “You miss him.”

  “Yeah. All the time. I’m an only child, so he was the closest person I had to a sibling. We’d go weeks without talking, but he’d text when he could, and we did a video chat every few months.”

  “That sucks. That you lost him.”

  “Yes it does.” She pressed her face against my back. “I wish he was still here. I wish he had chosen to be a family practice doctor in Georgia. But he didn’t.”

  “He must have loved what he did. Or he believed in it.” I could relate to that sentiment. I didn’t always agree with the purpose of our missions. I didn’t always like the assignments I had to do. But overall, I believed the Rangers were helping, in some small way, to make the world a better place. I’d had plenty of missions where I got the reward of saving someone’s life directly -- like the most recent mission in Romania.

  “Exactly,” she said. “He wouldn’t have changed it. He was where he needed to be. He was where he wanted to be.”

  “I get that,” I said. And I did. Even if I had nightmares every night for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t give up my duty as a Ranger.