Three Day Fiancee (Animal Attraction)

by Marissa Clarke

  Now this was more like it. Damn, she was pretty. And clever. The more time he spent with her, the more interesting she became. He had a plan, too. To get her out of those zillion layers of clothes and really get to know her. Sadly, it was a plan he’d never put into action. Limits.

  Taking the paper from her, he struck out to collect the items on her list and collect his runaway thoughts as well.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caitlin had assembled the snow girl and dressed her by the time Taylor returned with her requested items.

  “Whoa,” he said, dumping the limbs and vines by her creation. “That’s amazing.”

  It was, really, and it felt amazing to have him confirm it. She’d formed a typical three-tier body, but had placed pine needles in an even sheet between the bottom and second layer, forming a perfect evergreen hula skirt. She’d even braided needles to form straps for the snow girl’s pinecone bra. The two pinecones jutted out, making her a snow boy’s dream. Caitlin had named her Dolly in honor of Dolly Parton. “If you could make a face for her out of the rocks and berries, that would be great,” she said, picking up some wispy vines that were perfect for the hair.

  “You did this really fast,” he said, getting on his knees beside her to work on it. His eyes traveled to Rock and Bethany, who were wrestling with a halo made of vines and twigs.

  “It’s kind of small, but I did it to scale to make the pine needles right for the hula skirt and the pine cones right for her…” Her voice trailed off when she realized he wasn’t looking at the snow girl, but at her. “Plus, we’re limited on time. I figure we can do one of those false perspective photos where she’s in the foreground with us well behind, making her look bigger? The camera on my phone has a timer.”

  He sat back on his heels and stared at her. “You’re pretty amazing, Caitlin Ramos,” he said. “You know that, right?”

  She fluffed Dolly’s “hair” and jabbed a stick into the right place to depict an arm. This guy really screwed with her head. On one hand, she reveled in his compliments, warmed and practically thrilled at them, but on the other hand, she wasn’t used to it and thought it might be a ploy of some kind, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. He’d agreed to her terms. Giving false compliments didn’t gain him anything he couldn’t get by simply being nice, which was his go-to mode anyway. The whole family was nice. Maybe the compliments were legit. She glanced over at him to find him still studying her. “Is there a time limit on this?” She picked another stick that was bent like an elbow, and shoved it in the other side.

  “Not really, but the more time we spend on this, the less time we have for the second half of the contest, which happens when we get back to the house. It’s okay that they’re ahead of us.” He selected two round pebbles and stuck them in the packed snow where eyes would go. “Berries for the mouth?”

  “Yeah.”

  While she gave Dolly pine needle eyelashes, he picked up a holly berry and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, staring at Caitlin’s lips, which of course made her body go all crackly like fireworks. She had to get a little distance between them. Kneeling side-by-side in front of her undersized snow girl wasn’t going to work. Not when all she had to do to kiss him was turn her head and lean in. Only, he leaned in first, the movement causing his trash bag to rustle as his breath fanned across her cheek. All she had to do was turn her head.

  His phone dinged in his pocket. With a muttered curse, he pulled it out and stared at the phone, then laughed. He flashed the screen toward Caitlin.

  Uncle Rock says your balls are a little small there bro xoxo –b

  Caitlin’s throat tightened. xoxo -b! The girl who said she loved him was Bethany, not some woman he was playing around on.

  He shouted over to them, “Yours are really big, over there, Uncle Rock. I’d venture to say it’s overcompensation.”

  Rock saluted him with his beer as Bethany laughed and packed some snow between her mittens.

  “We’d better take cover,” Taylor warned. “And let’s get clear of your masterpiece before it gets caught in the crossfire.”

  Beau barked as Taylor scooped up a handful of snow in one hand and then wrapped his arm around Caitlin’s waist, heading for cover behind a clump of bushes. He hurled his snowball blindly as they fell laughing behind cover. Immediately he began mashing snow into ammo. He popped up to lob one, but before he could get a shot off, a snowball nailed him in the side of the head with a thwack.

  “She’s a mean shot,” Taylor said with a grin. “Taught by the best.”

  Caitlin laughed. “You, of course.”

  He fired off another snowball. “No. Grams. Don’t let my grandmother’s docile demeanor fool you. She has a fierce throwing arm and deadly aim.”

  And he clearly adored her as well as his mother and sister. She’d read somewhere that you could tell how a man would treat a woman based on his interactions with the women in his family. This man. This man was…

  Thwack. Another snowball hit him in the head.

  “Could use some backup, here, Ramos,” he said, grabbing another pair of snowballs which he fired in rapid succession.

  He must have hit his target, because a second later, Bethany shrieked. “You’re toast, Taylor.”

  Giggling, Caitlin formed snowballs of her own, then popped up and pitched one in Rock’s and Bethany’s direction. They’d taken cover behind their huge snowman.

  “Truce, truce!” Bethany called. “We’re gonna damage Frosty Fred. He’s worked really hard to earn his wings.”

  “Don’t fall for it,” Taylor said, peeking over the top of the bushes. “Oldest move in her playbook. We’ll go at this armed.” He crouched and grabbed several snowballs. “We rush Fred on three.”

  Caitlin giggled. “Poor Fred.” She gathered up some ammo.

  He peeked over the top of the bushes. “Collateral damage. They should have protected their asset. Grams taught her better than that.”

  Rolling up the edge of her garbage bag shirt like a pouch, she loaded it with all of his remaining snowballs and her own. Heart pounding, she grinned over at him, and he winked. As her heart stuttered, she realized she couldn’t recall having this much fun in her adult life, and suddenly, instead of looking forward to the weekend being over, she was wishing she had more time. Time to enjoy this group of people and time to learn more about this man.

  “On three,” he leaned over to whisper in her ear. Behind them, Beau spun in a circle and barked. Caitlin covered her mouth to keep her laughter in.

  “One, two, three!” Taylor shouted before leaping over the bushes. Caitlin sprinted after him. As snowballs pelted them from around Fred’s wings, they dodged behind a cluster of tree trunks. Taylor flattened against one and Caitlin hid behind the other. Snowballs whizzed past on both sides, while Beauregard jumped and zagged to catch them like tennis balls.

  “Surrender, and we’ll show mercy,” Rock shouted, brandishing a snowball in one hand and a beer in the other.

  Barking and wagging like crazy, Beau banked off the huge snowman angel to catch a snowball Caitlin had thrown.

  “Fred!” Bethany wailed as one of the wings collapsed from the impact.

  Taylor lobbed a volley of three balls, then reached over into Caitlin’s pouch for more. “Surrender and we’ll call the dog off.”

  “Never!” Bethany cried.

  “Hey, Beau!” Taylor shouted, launching the next three balls. “Fetch!”

  And Beau did. He caught all of the snowballs Taylor threw over the top of Fred’s head by using the snowman as a launch pad, reducing it to shapeless blob except for the head, which had tumbled off and landed on its side, halo still in place.

  “Snowman down!” Taylor shouted through his cupped hands as he peeked around the tree. “Call medevac!”

  Bethany’s outraged shriek was cut off by her bout of laughter as Uncle Rock plunged the mouth of his empty beer bottle into decapitated Fred’s lopsided grin.

  “Paradise!”
Rock proclaimed. “Top that, rookies.”

  Taylor shot Caitlin a conspiratorial smile that made her toes curl. “I believe we have.” He gestured to Dolly, standing unharmed twenty feet away. “Behold the glory of Caitlin’s masterpiece, and the winner of this round.”

  “Wow, that’s cool,” Bethany said strolling over for a better look. “You would have won anyway.”

  “Yeah, it’s probably a good thing Fred was put out of his misery,” Uncle Rock said, popping the top of another beer and saluting Fred’s remains.

  “Don’t fret, little sis. There’s always the mistletoe round,” Taylor taunted.

  “Laugh now, Taylor, but don’t forget I have a secret weapon this year.”

  While Bethany and Rock packed up their supplies, Taylor took Caitlin’s phone and looked at the screen, instructing Caitlin how far back they needed to stand to make Dolly look like a normal sized snow girl. She was still proud of her photo-perspective solution to avoid having to build a life-sized snowman.

  Once they had it all planned out and Taylor had propped the phone against the backpack and set the timer to take the photo, he ran and slid to get in place next to her about ten feet behind the snow girl with time to spare. Excited by the movement, Beau bounded through the snow to join them by taking the direct path—right through Dolly.

  Crash.

  Click.

  Woof!

  Chapter Twelve

  Caitlin stopped under the tree they’d spotted through binoculars. Taylor slung the half-full bag of mistletoe off his shoulder and stood next to her. As always, his nearness caused her body to bump the thermostat up a few degrees, which was good because even with all the layers, she was shivering.

  Somewhere in the distance, Beau barked as Bethany and Uncle Rock filled their own bag.

  “Traitor!” Taylor yelled to Beau.

  “Maybe he’s spying and plans to bring you intel on Bethany’s secret weapon.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe he wants some of the beef jerky Uncle Rock has in his pocket.”

  “Ha! Probably. What does Grams do with all this mistletoe?” Caitlin asked, trying to distract herself. She was way too aware of him for her comfort. Now that Bethany and Rock had gone off on their own and she and Taylor were alone together, it seemed like her body was rallying to stage a coup over the very sound no-fooling-around logic.

  He stared up at the dense green clumps sprouting from the bare branches. “She binds it into clusters and ties bows on them. Then, she delivers them to nursing homes and assisted living facilities for decorations. She’s been doing it as long as I can remember. Her big thing is spreading the love.”

  Right. Like Grams seemed to be trying to do between Taylor and her. Caitlin walked under the canopy, looking up. “It’s always been a weird tradition to me. Kissing under a plant that’s toxic and parasitic.”

  “It’s a parasite for sure, but there has to be a lot of it to kill a tree,” Taylor said, pulling out the serrated knife he’d used to cut off the mistletoe at the last three trees.

  Jane and Fiona’s nickname for Gary was parasite, and as she looked up at the evergreen clumps sapping nutrients from the dormant tree, she couldn’t agree more. Yeah. It took a lot to kill a host, but not much to weaken it. It wasn’t until she’d been free of Gary that she’d realized how much he’d drained her—how much her parents had drained her. And it wasn’t until spending time with Taylor’s family—with Taylor—that she realized how toxic those earlier relationships had been.

  “I did an eighth grade report on mistletoe for my biology project,” she said, collecting a clump he had cut from a low-lying limb. “I don’t remember its scientific name anymore, but I remember it means ‘tree thief.’”

  Another bunch hit the snow and she put it in the bag. Taylor had sealed the neck and armholes of his bag with duct tape so they could use it for the mistletoe, insisting she keep wearing her bag for extra protection. She didn’t argue since she was having to grit her teeth so they wouldn’t chatter.

  “And, another fun fact. It’s also known as shit-on-a-stick,” she said.

  “Obviously, your eighth grade biology class was vastly different than mine.” He cut off another clump, and she collected it. “Shit-on-a-stick, huh?”

  “Evidently, folks long ago made the connection to mistletoe growing on limbs where there were bird droppings because that’s how the seeds are spread. In some old language, I can’t remember which one, it means dung-on-a-twig, so close enough.”

  When she looked up, he was studying her, which made her heart pound.

  “You’re a lot of fun, Caitlin.”

  She wasn’t used to compliments, and it took everything in her not to cover her face or object. No one had ever called her fun before.

  “I’m glad you accepted my bargain. I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

  The flutters in her belly were the last thing she needed. She cursed those sincere, brown eyes. And then cursed his ridiculous eyelashes that were too long and thick for a man. “Me too.”

  He turned his attention back to the tree. “We only need a few more bunches of it to fill that bag. I’ve gotten all the low ones, so we need to move on to another tree. He folded the knife and put it in his pocket.

  Turning a three-sixty with the binoculars, she didn’t see any other infested trees nearby. And her feet were getting numb from the cold. “If you lift me up, I’d be able to reach those two clumps and that one.” She pointed to them.

  “Another good idea,” he said, squatting down. “Climb on my shoulders.”

  Good ideas and doable ideas were entirely different things, Caitlin realized as she threw a leg over Taylor’s broad shoulder. How on earth was she supposed to get the other one over without falling backwards?

  He clamped down on her thigh with his hand. “Swing the other one over.”

  Well, that’s how. Garbage bag crackling, she hefted her other leg, but only succeeded in kneeing him in the ribs since she didn’t have any place to hold on except his head.

  “Oh, Taylor. I’m so sorry,” she said, sliding off and landing on her butt in the snow.

  “I have on a sweatshirt and a heavy coat. You’d have to work harder than that to hurt me, Caitlin.” He offered his hand to help her up. “Face the tree,” he said. “Legs apart.”

  Whoa. Instant inferno. Somehow that order didn’t piss her off so much. “Pardon?”

  “I’ll come between your legs and lift you up, like playing chicken in the pool. You can use the tree for balance.”

  She needed to use the tree for balance right now. She’d lost all equilibrium with the words “I’ll come between your legs.”

  Slowly, she turned and faced the tree. “Oookaaaay.”

  He nudged her legs farther apart, and she gasped when his head brushed the inside of her thighs as he positioned himself and lifted her up. To her amazement, it worked. And it worked in more ways than one.

  Once she’d gotten her garbage bag shirt out of his face and was balanced enough to hold the knife without being a danger to herself or Taylor, she’d been able to reach half a dozen clusters of mistletoe. The best part, though, was the feel of his hands on her thighs and sweet, unexpected friction in places she was grateful were covered with multiple layers of wool and Gore-Tex.

  …

  Taylor picked up another sprig of mistletoe and shoved it in the garbage bag.

  “We did it!” Caitlin said, adding to the almost-full bag.

  “Yes, we did.” And it had nearly driven him mad. Having her legs wrapped around him, even covered in enough layers to disguise her shape and even her species, made his imagination go wild. It had taken all of his willpower to keep his hands still on the top of her thighs, rather than rub them, like he wanted.

  He noticed her teeth were chattering.

  “You’re cold.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “That too. You’re cold and fine.” He grabbed the backpack and pulled out the thermos he’d filled before they’
d left the house. “Come here.”

  She didn’t move other than to narrow her eyes.

  Dammit, her taking offense to any request without a zillion qualifying words in it was a pain in the ass. They really needed to address it if they were going to make it through the next day and a half. “I have hot chocolate. Come here and sit with me.” He sat on a log at the base of the tree and screwed the cup off the top of the thermos. Still, she stood.

  Now she was just being ridiculous. “We’re a good thirty-minute walk from the cabins,” he said, “maybe more. This will warm you up. It’ll also give us a chance to talk. Please.”

  As she neared, he scooted over on the log and handed her the cup, patting the space next to him. She sat. The steam from the warm cocoa swirled as she brought it to her lips.

  “Mmm,” she said.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah.”

  It was hard to focus on anything but the bit of chocolate on the corner of her mouth. “So, why did you dig your heels in just now?”

  “You know why.” She took another sip, gloved hands wrapped around the cup. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

  He leaned back against the tree and folded his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms. “I understand that, but I don’t know why.”

  “It doesn’t matter why,” she said, blowing on the chocolate, causing a cloud of steam to rise.

  “It matters to me.” He focused on her eyes and not on her lips and how he wanted to lick the chocolate from them.

  She met his eyes and her brow furrowed. “So answer honestly, Taylor. Do you like being told what to do?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted.

  He lifted the cup from her hands and took a sip. Then another. “I willingly follow an order when it’s in my best interest or will enhance my performance or condition or that of those around me.”

  She took the cup back. “And what if the order isn’t in your best interest?”

  “If it’s not, then the person giving the order is not someone I should trust or work with.”