His Counterfeit Campfire Bride

by Gwen Hayes

She felt the fire of the blush to her toes. “It was relaxing.” It was the hottest thing I’ve ever done fully clothed. “The lake is beautiful.”

  Her husband chuckled. “I’m not sure relaxing is the right word. I needed two cold showers this morning. If they want us to discover our intimacy, they might need to leave us more free time on the agenda.”

  Birk raised a brow. “Rediscover.”

  “Huh?” Miguel asked.

  “It’s rediscover intimacy. And intimacy is more than sex.”

  Miguel appraised Birk for a long moment. “We’re not here to fix a troubled marriage. My wife and I don’t need to ‘rediscover’ anything. Camp sounded fun. She likes fireflies. I like zip-lining. And our intimacy is just fine, thank you.”

  Birk sat back in his chair. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I’m not offended.”

  He was just being super defensive. What was up with him? She laid her hand on his knee and he immediately covered it with his own. “We’ve never had a counseling session. We’re not sure what to expect.”

  Birk nodded. “This hour—”

  “Fifty minutes,” Miguel interjected.

  “Huh?”

  Miguel squeezed her hand. “That’s how counseling works, right? You call it an hour, but it’s really fifty minutes.”

  Birk didn’t look old enough to be a counselor. He didn’t look like he spent an hour away from the gym on any given day, and yeah, she was objectifying him based on his looks, but he didn’t look like he could handle a battle of wits with a guy like Miguel. But instead of rising to Miguel’s bait, he simply answered, “Fifty minutes.”

  Miguel tensed up. What was his beef with Birk?

  Birk continued, “This is really your time. We can tackle a problem or we can strengthen bonds. Communication is often where most couples choose to utilize their sessions. But I’m trained in several disciplines, so we can tailor this to you.”

  “Well, we don’t really have anything to work out. Things are going great. Right, princess?”

  Gah. She hated that name. “Never been better,” she said tightly.

  Birk eyed them coolly. “That’s great,” he said finally. He cocked his head and scrutinized Miguel for a moment. “You’ll love the zip-line.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Miguel answered. Did he know he was stroking her hand? The pattern was soothing despite the fact that she had a feeling Birk wasn’t buying their happy marriage charade.

  “And you, Sera? Are you looking forward to zip-lining?”

  “Ah, no. I’ll be reading a book in one of those nice chairs while he’s off adventuring.”

  Birk rubbed his chin and considered her. “And why is that?”

  “I don’t like high adrenaline sports. I leave that to Miguel.”

  “And how does that make you feel, Miguel? That your wife doesn’t share the same love of sports you do?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Do you wish she’d join you?”

  “Only if she wants to.”

  “It must make you feel lonely sometimes,” he said to Sera. “When Miguel goes off and leaves you alone.”

  Well, now she felt defensive. “My husband and I are adults with varied interests. It’s more than fine with me that he enjoys himself.”

  “Do you two have any mutual interests?”

  “Look,” Miguel began. “I like zip-lining, but I love my wife. We work together sixty hours a week, so we occasionally do our own thing. But,” he squeezed her hand and met her eyes with his, “nothing beats coming home. The sports are fun, but nothing compares to knowing she’s got my back and I’ve got hers. I love going home, man. Sera is my whole world.”

  She’d underestimated his marketing skills. She’d known he was good, but she hadn’t known that Miguel could make her believe, even for an instant, that what he wanted was marriage, a home...her. She could feel that new carpet under her feet in the den, taste the wine they sipped in front of the fireplace on cold winter evenings, and she knew the weight of his body when they made love in the bed they shared in the city. The real world slipped away and she slipped into the alternate universe he created.

  She was greedy with the want of it.

  “Is our fifty up, Birk?” he asked, not losing eye contact. “My wife and I have...things to do.”

  Oh my. She needed a guardrail and fast or she was going to careen right into the abyss. Everything went liquid inside her.

  Guys like Miguel were candy. He had nothing to offer her but empty calories. But she’d dieted for so long, hadn’t she? Sensible meals planned, nutritional values met, and careful ratios considered—she could afford to indulge in something sinful once in a while, couldn’t she?

  No. No she could not.

  Sera looked away and broke the spell. “I think we should give Birk a chance. We paid for this, after all.”

  Miguel closed off then. Disappointed? Maybe. But it was for the best.

  Chapter Four

  Good morning, Campers!

  We hope you’ll join us for a picnic lunch on the greenfield today. We’re featuring a live band from the neighboring town of Briarsted.

  We’ve also got only two more openings for couples massages today—stop by the lodge to make your reservation. After dinner tonight is Capture the Flag, so you might want to get a nap in after lunch.

  Day Three

  Sunrise Yoga: 7:30 a.m.

  Softball practice: 9 a.m. to 10 a.m.

  Arts and Crafts: 10:15 a.m.-11:15 a.m.

  Counseling session: 1 p.m.

  MIGUEL HELD THE DOOR FOR Sera as they entered the arts and crafts cabin. It smelled like clay and wood shavings, much like his memories of crafts from summers long gone. He’d learned to whittle and braid friendship bracelets when he was a kid. There was probably more, but that was all he could recall.

  Sera took seats across the table from Steve and Neil. They’d sat together at dinner last night too. The couple had great stories about their first few years settling their homestead. Funny stories mostly, but Miguel knew it couldn’t have been easy to transition from city living to a farm. Their relationship didn’t seem any worse for the wear, and it made him wonder about marriage in general.

  As a casual observer, he noticed most relationships strengthened in adversity or failed spectacularly at the smallest bump in the road. He didn’t know how you knew which it would be. He figured most people who got married believed they could weather those storms—so what was it that made them unable to?

  It’s not like it mattered. He wasn’t planning on a real wedding at any point, so he’d leave that to the experts like Birk. Jesus. Just thinking of the guy pissed him off.

  Sera pulled her attention away from Neil and leaned over to rub Miguel’s jaw. “You okay, honey? You’re doing that thing you do when you’re pissed off.”

  “What thing?”

  She continued to massage from his temple to his chin. “Your jaw gets super square and there’s a tic in it.”

  Huh. He had no idea he had such a tell, but if anyone had the chance to see him get tense, it was Sera.

  He grasped her wrist and kissed the inside of it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes dilated at the slight press of his lips. He wished they were back in their cabin, cocooned in their nest, and he was kissing more than her wrist.

  Miguel had to admit he liked being married on a temporary basis. If you’d told him a week ago that Sera would be an excellent wife for him, he’d have strained a muscle laughing. But it was nice having her on his side for a change—and being on hers. Aside from the fact that she turned him on and pears were suddenly the sexiest scent he could name, he enjoyed her company now. She made him feel grounded—but not bored. But it was more than that. They were a team.

  When she had her first solid hit this morning at practice, he hadn’t been able to contain himself. He felt the joy break out of him as he swooped her into his arms and twirled her around. It was just a hit—barely made it past the infield, but her succe
ss felt better than his own.

  And he was still staring into her eyes.

  Shit. He had to get a grip. Being attracted to her was one thing. Being infatuated another.

  Luckily, a counselor came by and plunked down a cardboard box in the middle of their table, providing a good distraction. A woman named Heather, the owner of the camp, stood at the front of the room and told them to take everything out of the box. There were two sets of knitting needles, a small pie plate, a tea light burner, and four colors of licorice laces.

  According to Heather, they were going to knit edible underwear today.

  Summer camp was going to kill him.

  “Um.” Sera bit her lip and the prettiest pink blush painted over her cheeks. “Okay?”

  Steve’s face was as red as the licorice. “Right. So—since Neil and Sera know how to knit, that puts us on ‘yarn’ duty then, eh?”

  Miguel nodded and they got to work lighting the candle and getting their burner set up. They had to fuse the ends of the licorice together to make one long strand for ease of knitting. He didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but Sera and Neil were reading the pattern and seemed to understand what cast on and knit together meant, so Heather and the other counselor spent their time helping the non-knitters and left their table alone.

  As Miguel watched Sera and Neil giggle and try to figure how many stitches to cast on for Steve, who apparently was going to be the wearer of Neil’s knitted masterpiece, that spot in his chest ached again. Not a bad ache. He just...liked watching her giggle.

  The idea of candy panties on Sera was simultaneously absurd and so fucking hot. He doubted she’d wear them—he’d read enough sex articles in Men’s Health to know sugar was not a good idea near that region of anyone’s body. But that didn’t stop the fantasy reel in his head. Nibbling the licorice until he made his way to the real sweetness—yeah. He was about done here.

  He excused himself and went out to get some air. Five minutes later, Sera joined him at the picnic table, standing in front of him on the bench, the sugared underwear hooked around her finger. “Hello, Mr. Sera.”

  Miguel chuckled. “Hello, Mrs. Miguel. What have you got there?”

  She sent him a smile. A new smile. One he hadn’t seen before. It was mysterious and made him want to know all her secrets. One at a time as he learned them all night long. “Just a little candy.”

  Every ounce of blood in his body headed south, leaving him lightheaded. Christ, he wanted to eat that candy off her body more than he could recall wanting anything in his life. “You gonna share?”

  “I don’t know if you want any,” she transferred the rainbow colored scrap to her other hand and licked the finger she’d brought it out on, “it’s awfully sticky.”

  He tugged her hips so she stood between his legs, enjoying the surprised gasp from her. “Keep it up, Sera. I like it when you use your feminine wiles on me.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He hadn’t made a conscious decision to kiss her. He hadn’t realized he’d started until her mouth opened under his and he had his tongue in her mouth. One second she was talking and the next he was tasting.

  He palmed her ass, pulling her closer, but not close enough. He wanted inside her. He didn’t care about edible thongs or the fact that they were in the middle of a field in broad daylight. He took one hand from her butt and moved it so he could angle her head. Because deeper. He needed to be deeper.

  Sera moaned and it jacked his heart rate even more. He could kiss her forever and not have enough of her.

  In the distance, he heard snickers and cheering. And then they both seemed to realize that “distance” wasn’t really that far away. Everyone coming out of Arts and Crafts stopped to tease. He pulled back, took one look at her kiss swollen lips and dove back in until she pushed his chest gently.

  “You’re going to tell me to stop, aren’t you?” He groaned and rested his forehead on hers. “Do I need to apologize?”

  “Are you sorry you kissed me?”

  “Hell no.”

  “I like kissing you, Miguel.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  Her lips pressed into the familiar line. Sera, wearer of pencil skirts and follower of rules, was back. “But we have to figure out a way to work together when we get home. Getting caught up in a summer camp fling is only going to make things harder next week.”

  He hated that she was right. “I’m not going to lie—I want you. It’s not going to be easy sleeping next to you, doing yoga, pretending we’re in love. But you’re right. Sex is only going to complicate work.”

  “So we agree then? We don’t cross the line?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Maybe she didn’t realize he still had his hands on her ass. “We agree that sex will complicate our jobs. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to have it.”

  He loved the surprise that transformed her features from solemn to confused. He’d been wrong about how to handle her all this time. Keeping her off balance was much better than keeping her pissed off.

  “Miguel, we can’t.”

  “Sera, we can’t stop ourselves.”

  Ah, there goes the chin. “Well maybe you don’t have any control over your hormones, but I—”

  He cut her off with a quick kiss and a pat on the butt before he released her. “You want me just as much as I want you. Now it’s only a matter of who breaks first.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I have a lot of willpower. I’ve been honing it a very long time.”

  “We’ll see, princess.”

  Chapter Five

  Good morning, Campers!

  Softball games start today. Let’s cheer our teams on.

  If you get your kicks above the waistline...then you’ll be excited about the chess tournament starting in the library in the main lodge today at nine. (If you’re not as excited as we are, it’s because you don’t know that we serve a special drink that you can only get during Chess. It’s called Absolut Pin.) It might not be one night in Bangkok, but the cerebrals and the vodka fans will have a good time today.

  As a reminder, skinny dipping is against camp rules. If we catch you, we steal your clothes and hang them on the flag post. You’ll notice a pair of boxers up there this morning.

  Day Four

  Sunrise Yoga: 7:30 a.m.

  Softball game: 10 a.m.-11 a.m.

  Counseling session: 1 p.m.-2 p.m. 1:50

  Ballroom Dancing: 3 p.m-4 p.m.

  SERA WISHED SHE WERE BACK in the beer garden. Or even their counseling session where they’d told Birk about their wedding two years ago. Their made-up never going to happen wedding that would have made a good commercial for their insurance company account now that she thought about it.

  But she didn’t want to be here.

  Ballroom dancing was something she’d never enjoyed and she imagined Miguel felt about the same about it as she did. He’d probably never even danced before.

  She tugged his arm. “They told us we don’t have to participate in anything we don’t want to. Why don’t we skip the dancing?”

  He shook his head. “There might be a prize. We need to participate in everything.”

  She hated it when he was right. They really needed to bring home something to prove to their boss that they’d accomplished their objective. What she wouldn’t give for a three-legged race right now.

  She didn’t think there was going to be a competition for anything. So far, only softball and chess seemed to be judged, and the emphasis hadn’t really been on the score as much as cheering each other on and having fun.

  They’d won their game this morning, though she’d struck out. Luckily, she redeemed herself by catching a pop-over. No, wait. Pop-up. Truthfully, she’d just been protecting her nose. The fact that she’d kept the ball in her glove was just plain luck. But it was a third out or something, so that meant they won.

  Or something.

  They entered the boathouse where several other cou
ples milled around. She recognized Layla and Brad from the first night, so they joined them for small talk while they waited for the instructor. They were from California, and Layla certainly looked the part of California Girl. She was the kind of girl Sera’s husband brought to company functions back in the city—tall, blonde, pretty in a natural way. Layla’s husband, Brad, was also tall, blond, and pretty in a natural way. From a marketing standpoint, they were perfectly suited for just about any campaign. Who wouldn’t want to be like them, look like them?

  Sera didn’t think she was jealous. Not really. As sick as she’d been as a child, it was really not a surprise that she’d stayed small despite her mother’s above average height. There wasn’t a lot of energy leftover for growing when she’d needed all her body’s resources to keep her heart beating. She was healthy now, and that’s what mattered. It wasn’t as if being petite was a detriment to dating. But she couldn’t stop watching her husband to see if he was watching Layla.

  To Miguel’s credit, he’d kept his roving eyes in check as far as she could tell. He also hadn’t shaved since they’d arrived, and the grizzly look suited him more than she cared to examine.

  “You’re staring at me,” he said. It was the tilt of his head and the whisper of a smile on his lips that let her know he counted it as a win for their little battle.

  Which made her think about that kiss.

  Which made her blush.

  Which made him grin even more. Damn it.

  “Are you guys having a good time so far?” Layla asked. Bless her. Now Sera didn’t have to make up some lie about why she was staring at her husband’s stubble and thinking about edible underwear.

  “We are having a wonderful time,” Sera answered. Which was not a lie. While softball hadn’t been fun, it wasn’t horrible either. And waking up next to Miguel every morning was no hardship. It got cold in the cabin at night, and he was a furnace. This morning, she’d let herself pretend, for just a few minutes, that it was real. That it was more than body heat between them.

  She was really a sad excuse lately.

  As if noticing her mood dip, Miguel rubbed the small of her back absently while he answered Layla. “I thought we’d have a harder time with the no-phone thing, but it’s been nice not being tethered to the rest of the world.” He kissed the top of Sera’s head. “I like not having anything to think about but my bride.”