Her Totally Hot Forbidden Fake Fiance

by Lucy McConnell

  He chuckled—a real, honest-to-goodness chuckle. She did a mental fist pump and booty shake in triumph. Cliff leaned his arm on the widow and relaxed into the seat, still facing her more than the road. Still making butterflies flitter in her stomach.

  He was a really great guy, coming to her family Christmas party to save her from her aunt’s version of romance and the constant nagging to get married. A lead weight grabbed the butterflies in her stomach and pulled them down to reality. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the feeling. If she was any kind of a good person, she’d turn the car around right now and save Cliff from the wolves waiting for him at the cabin. That was what a good person would do.

  Except … she reasoned with her conscience. Cliff didn’t know what she’d told her mom, and her mom didn’t know that Cliff didn’t know. As long as everyone was kept in the dark, no one would know anything, and they could have a lovely holiday together doing more of this back-and-forth thing that both tied her in knots and undid her.

  Not to mention the fact that taking him back to the condos meant Cliff would be alone for the holidays. No one should be alone at Christmas. That was a rule her family prided themselves in keeping.

  Feeling a little more justified in hauling her neighbor up a mountain, she continued on with the reasons taking him was a good idea—a great idea! The last reason was that she felt calmer, stronger, and braver with Cliff around. Usually, on the drive up, she bit her nails to the quick stressing over how she was going to explain that she’d managed to live a whole year without finding her soul mate. This year’s drive had been entertaining and fun. She didn’t want to give up the peace Cliff had brought into her life.

  Was that selfish?

  Yes. Yes, it was.

  But he’d almost smiled, and he’d chuckled for the first time—ever. So maybe being with her was good for him. When he was at her place, or she took him baked goods, he didn’t hide the gloom that circled him like storm clouds. Maybe she could help that lift—at least for a couple days—and he’d be glad he came.

  Then again, if he found out he was her forbidden fake fiancé for the weekend, he’d think she was insane and never speak to her again. The thought made her insides curdle like week-old eggnog. Not because she needed him to keep her condo in good repair, but because she liked Cliff. He was a good friend, probably the only one she had outside of the office. And the thought of losing him made her feel like a storm cloud.

  Chapter 6

  Cliff

  Cliff took his bag out of the back seat. He’d stuffed a green beanie on his head before getting out of the car. The mountain air was crisp, and his breath puffed around his head. The cold bit at his cheeks and fingers, making him thankful he’d brought his insulated work coat. It wasn’t the prettiest thing with a few grease spots here and there, but it protected him.

  Diana was equally as warm, but her clothing was more feminine. Her coat had a sheen to it that whispered the word money. Instead of work boots like he’d donned, she wore knee-high black leather with fur around the calf. Her hair rolled down her back in waves. He’d often wondered if it was as soft to touch as it appeared.

  She smiled at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he grumbled. It wasn’t that he was upset about being here with her. That was the easy part. The hard part was meeting new people. He’d done his best to be out of social situations for a while, and suddenly he was thrust back into small talk and making nice with Diana’s family. He felt like a rusty hinge trying to swing open again. If her parents were like Diana, with her warm smile and kind words, then he’d be okay. He clung to that thought as he took in the woods and the buildings as they made their way over the crunchy snow.

  The cabin—if one could even call it that—was three stories high. There were large windows across the front, and a door twice his height and five times his width loomed over them. Two holiday wreaths covered in rustic reindeer and plaid bows reminded him of Diana’s door. It was easy to see where she got her style.

  He pictured lighting this place at night and let out a low whistle. The front porch was almost the size of his living room. There was a wooden bench surrounded by buckets and planters filled with twigs covered in some kind of sparkling frosting. Christmas ribbons and bobbles were artfully placed.

  Before Diana could respond to his appreciation of the mansion—because that’s what it was, no matter how many times she called it a cabin—the front door flew open. A woman with the same auburn-colored hair as Diana threw open her arms. “Merry Chri—” The rest of the greeting died on her lips as her eyes landed on Cliff. She took him and his work clothing in with an unconcealed sense of alarm. “Diana?” She darted a look at her daughter.

  “Hi, Mom! Merry Christmas.” Diana leaned in and gave her mom a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “This is Cliff Wagoner.” She moved to push her way inside.

  Her mother closed the door slightly, blocking their view of the inside. “This isn’t the man you told me about, is it?” She smiled at Cliff as if there was a simple misunderstanding and she was going to take care of it right now.

  There was no misunderstanding. He understood, quite clearly, that his scuffed winter work boots were no match for the pearls and pressed gingerbread man apron this woman sported. Her perfectly combed hair and powdered complexion didn’t come from the same world as his scruffy beard and corduroy pants.

  His cheeks heated with shame. He’d been out of socializing for so long, he’d forgotten the basics. He should have shaved—or at least trimmed up his beard. He should have dressed up. Though his flannel shirt had a collar, it wasn’t the type of thing he’d wear to a nice dinner. Heck, there were a half dozen things he could have done to make a better impression on Diana’s family if he’d given it half a thought. But he’d come as he was, not imagining that he wouldn’t fit in. He should have thought about it, though. Diana was always dressed to the nines, as his grandmother would have said. He should have tried—for her sake. He glanced down, wondering if she would snub him to save face with her family. If that was the case, he would go home. Offering an Uber driver double the fare would be worth it.

  Diana put her arm around his and held on to his bicep with her other hand. She was possessive and protective. Her level of friendship hit him in a soft spot. No one but his brother had stood with him after the engagement/wedding/debacle. Even his parents had fled the country to get away from the whispers and the questions. Although the feelings Diana’s statement made didn’t feel anything like what he would feel if his brother was standing there. He stood taller.

  “Cliff saved my life last year when my outlet started smoking. If it wasn’t for him, I might not be here to celebrate with you all.”

  Shoot. The look she gave him was enough to make him feel like Superman. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable under the heavy praise and adoring look she sent his way. “It was an easy fix.”

  “Yeah—for you.” She leaned into him. Despite the heavy layers of clothing between them, he grew warmer at her closeness. She faced her mom. “Are you going to let us in, or do we have to sleep in the car?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a challenge to it too. It said, I came with this guy. If you don’t take him, you don’t get me.

  He wanted to wrap his arm around her and hold her close, grateful for the show of loyalty.

  “Of course.” Mrs. Dalagar stepped back and opened the door wide. She obviously knew she’d been beaten in this little battle of wills. Saving her daughter’s life was enough to get him in the door. For a moment, he wondered what he’d have to do to get into her good graces.

  He could start by remembering his manners. He wasn’t always a grumpy, grungy Grinch. He offered his hand as he entered. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Dalagar.”

  She glanced at his hand before taking it for a brief moment and dropping it just as quick. “Your bedroom is downstairs.” Her voice was authoritative. “Diana will b
e sleeping up here.”

  He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. Had she thought he was planning on sharing a room with Diana? Another thought flittered through on the tail of that one—had Diana thought they’d share a room? He turned to her with large, questioning eyes. She shook her head slightly, telling him not to make a big deal about it.

  “What’s on the agenda tonight?” Diana asked as she removed her winter gear and began hanging it on one of the fifty hooks in the front entryway. The room was already overloaded with enough snow gear to outfit a small village.

  Cliff slowly unbuttoned his coat as he listened to the women talk.

  “We had an early dinner. If you’d like leftovers, they’re in the fridge. Around eight is the hot chocolate welcome social—don’t be late. You’re on marshmallow duty for the first hour; then Celine is supposed to take over after that.” Mrs. Dalagar brushed her palms together. “Your father will want to meet your visitor.”

  Cliff glanced at Diana. She sucked in a quick breath. “No need to make a fuss. We should get settled. Cliff? Can you carry my bag to my room?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly. There was something up, though he had no idea what. Her mother’s frosty reception didn’t gel with Diana’s open personality. Perhaps her father was the free-spirited kind. “You can leave yours here, and we’ll grab it on our way downstairs in a minute.”

  “Sure.” He picked up her bag. She took his hand and began dragging him down the hall.

  “Be quick!” called Mrs. Dalagar. “No dawdling behind closed doors.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see her lips pressed together and her brow lowered as she glared at their entwined hands. He held tighter, a part of him wanting to ruffle feathers.

  The hallway was long and wide with family pictures on the walls. He wanted to stop and find Diana’s smiling face in them, but she dragged him along. He liked the warmth of her small hand in his. Though it was only a friendly gesture on her part, the lightning racing through his veins said that it was more for him. He had a physical reaction to her touch—which meant that a part of him was interested in more than her friendship. The thought sent him reeling. He hadn’t been open to a woman in a long time.

  And he wasn’t about to start now. “I think your mom thinks we’re—uh—more than neighbors,” he whispered. He dropped her hand as she shoved a door open with her hip and pulled him inside, then shut it tightly behind them.

  “What makes you say that?” She glanced around as if making sure everything was the way she’d left it.

  “She was ready to claw my eyes out.” He ran his hand down his face, more worried about the way his body had reacted to Diana in the last ten minutes than he was about her mom shooing him out the door with a broom.

  Diana grimaced. “I’m sorry about that. She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”

  He swallowed. The walls were covered in buttercream paint, and the carpet was a lush green. The curtains and bedspread had ruffles. He’d been in Diana’s apartment many times, but he’d never gone into her bedroom. Not once. Bedrooms were personal space in his house growing up. You had to knock and ask permission to enter. Diana’s room had girly touches here and there. The pillowcases matched the bedspread. There was jewelry on the desk. He sniffed and was met with her lovely vanilla perfume. His brain went fuzzy at the smell.

  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” Diana put her hands on his back and pushed him deeper into the room. “Sit down for a minute.”

  He glanced around quickly for a chair or a bench, but the only space to sit was on the bed. Some gentlemanly part of him refused to lounge on a single woman’s bed. It just wasn’t done. His mother would have a conniption fit. He spun around, ending up behind her. “Can you just show me to my room?” he said gruffly.

  Turning around, she pulled her eyebrows down. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He dragged his palm down his cheek. She really had no idea how adorable she was or what kind of effect she had on men. He needed to clue her in on things without sounding like the type of guy who would creep up here in the middle of the night to watch her sleep. “That depends. Are you in the habit of shoving men onto your bed?”

  She blanched. “I wasn’t—I mean—No.” She lifted her chin, indignant, and shoved his chest with both hands. “No!”

  Her push didn’t even sway him. He grinned. “You’re cute when you’re upset.” Immediately, he regretted saying those words. He shouldn’t call her cute—for any reason. He should run for his room. Diana was much too sweet for the likes of him, and he’d do well to remember that.

  She scowled.

  He opened the door, enjoying the burst of cool air from the hallway. “Come on, before your mom thinks you’re taking advantage of me.”

  Her mouth fell open, and then she brightened considerably, as if the idea was as agreeable as sprinkles on ice cream. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. She was too beautiful for her own good. If he were any less of a gentleman, he would have kissed her.

  Chapter 7

  Diana

  The Hot Chocolate Social was well underway, and her ever-growing family filled the gathering room with happy chatter. Cousin Joey carried a shoe box under one arm, happy to show off his latest acquisitions in the baseball card world. Uncle Al shook hands like it was the night before elections. Diana had already filled each marshmallow container at least once. The rainbow miniatures were a favorite with the kids, while the adults loaded up on the caramel and mint options.

  The room was abuzz with the happy energy of people who hadn’t seen one another for a long time and didn’t spend too much time together otherwise.

  Ah, the joy of family, Diana mentally snarked.

  Cliff was in the corner, talking to Tucker and his wife. They flew in from Florida, wanting a white Christmas for their three kids, who were playing Jenga on the coffee table. She caught Cliff’s eye and glanced quickly away as her stomach skittered like a sled over ice.

  He’d acted funny in her room earlier, implying that he was a man and she was a woman. Okay, he didn’t have to imply those facts. It was easy to see that he was a man. He stood a half-head taller than anyone in the room and was … thicker in all the right places. Like his chest, which had felt taught under her palms earlier. She dropped the thought as fast as she’d picked it up. Then she circled back to it, wondering why she hadn’t noticed how defined he was in the time they’d spent together at her condo.

  Always her condo—never his.

  She frowned, realizing that he’d never invited her into his house. She always had to stand on the porch. Then again, a man who was uncomfortable in a woman’s room might feel protective of his personal space. When she’d showed him the guest room in the basement, with the bright red coverlet and pine furniture, he’d stood in the doorway to keep her out. She’d finally told him when to be upstairs and left him there to get ready.

  “Hey, sis.”

  Diana’s smile widened as her older sister came in for a hug. “Sadie! How are you?” They talked weekly, but it was one thing to video-chat and another to be in huggable range. The younger sister inside of her leapt with joy.

  She checked Cliff again—he was doing great, with a cup of cocoa in his hand.

  “We’re good,” Sadie said, including her husband, Packer, in the answer.

  Diana’s smile froze. The proverbial we. Not to be confused with the royal we used by the Queen of England, the proverbial we included a happy couple. A we Dianna wouldn’t be using anytime soon.

  Packer was right behind Sadie for a hug. She adored her brother-in-law and was grateful that he treated Sadie with respect and care—otherwise she’d have to kick his trash, which she’d reminded him during her wedding toast. Last year they’d skipped the cabin to be with his family, so to have them this year felt like a treat.

  Cliff was smiling as he listened to Uncle Tom. She’d need to rescue him soon.

  Sadie chatted about life in the country fo
r a few minutes. They owned a small farm and wanted to be certified organic.

  Diana glanced at the time on her phone. “Celine should be here to take over marshmallow duty any minute.” She rolled her neck to ease the tension from craning it to check on Cliff—again.

  Sadie was about to say something when Celine breezed in, carrying a package of giant marshmallows. She didn’t bother with greetings but jumped right into a conversation as if they had already wished each other a merry Christmas and exchanged pleasantries. “Who brought Grizzly Adams along?” She ripped the plastic bag open and began building a pyramid with the mallows.

  “Who?” asked Sadie, covertly checking out the guests.

  “That guy in the red flannel.” Celine pointed her long, pink nail at Cliff.

  A sense of protectiveness welled up inside of Diana. This feeling was different than when her mom had nearly fainted at the front door at the sight of Cliff—and that was before she saw his wrist tattoo. With Celine, she wanted to step between them and bare her claws. Her fashionable, stunning cousin wasn’t going anywhere near her man—er, guest. “I did. And his name is Cliff.”

  Packer peeled off the group to go hang with the guys. Girl talk wasn’t one of his preferred topics. Sadie rolled her eyes and called him a wimp as he kissed her cheek.

  Celine kept right on talking. “Please tell me he’s a holiday charity project and you’re going to give him a complete makeover.”

  Diana huffed. Cliff didn’t need a makeover. He was handsome—really handsome. Like, turn heads in the grocery store good-looking. “He’s not charity. We’re, uh, together.” Which was technically true, since they’d come in the same car. She’d have to watch her word choice, or she’d end up spreading lies like frosting on a sugar cookie.

  “Since when?” demanded Sadie.

  Diana smiled easily, though her insides were boiling like water in a kettle. “It was a gradual thing.”