“I read your interests…” Thinking back, my brows pinch together. “No, that doesn’t make sense…”
He nods. “I like my women outdoorsy and in flannel, and they sent me a city girl. Tell me how that makes sense.”
He’s got a good point. “I’ll make note of that. What about the other two? Just as bad?”
His thumb taps the steering wheel. “Yep.”
While I’m thinking about his situation, he takes us to the post office. Slipping away long enough to drop off the package, I watch the snowflakes kiss his windshield before melting away.
“Outdoorsy and in flannel…” Repeating the words softly, instead of thinking about where I can find women under that description, I’m wondering if I have anything plaid in my closet. Once I shift my thinking to my dresser, I catch myself.
Perfect. Talking about my lack of love life now has me imagining ‘what-ifs’. Now that’s a quick way to get fired at my job. Falling in love with a client is one of Cupid’s Bloom’s number one rules. Youdon’t. They see it as taking advantage of poor circumstances, and I agree!
Even if Gavin is… something different.
Well, lucky for me, I’m not outdoorsy. When we go up to his cabin, it’ll be the first time I’ve ever been on a mountain.
When he pops out of that post office, he looks horrified, more pale than before.
“Everything okay?” Unable to hide my concern when he joins me, I watch him rub his face like he’s stressed.
He nods, but I can tell it’s a lie. The jerky motion gives it away. “They ask too many questions.”
It’s funny, kind of. When it comes to mail-order brides, everyone associates the reason for their existence for the brides themselves. Some need an escape from their lives, some want to find their love stories, and others try to find the support they can’t get where they are now.
What about the men who sign up for the program? One look at Gavin, and I would bet money on him going out and finding his own wife. But seeing him right now, in this state? I’ve got an idea of why he’s desperate for a successful connection.
Reaching out, I squeeze his arm. “Nowhere else to go but your cabin, right?”
His muscle twitches beneath my fingertips, and he nods again, this time slower. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
3
Gavin
Before we even make it to the front of my home, Daphne is diagnosing my land. She takes one look at my barbed-wire wooden fence and looks… horrified. It’s almost funny enough to laugh, but the sound doesn’t come. Not when I notice the pinch of her brow and the worried look in her eyes.
Guess she doesn’t have anything like that where she’d come from, huh?
“I live near a lodge. Had a problem with skiers breaking my fence and trampling over my lawn. Funny enough, the barbed wire helps them stop in time.” Explaining it to her, I catch myself actually smiling.
Not exactly disproving you’re a bad guy here…
But then she laughs, making me relax as we both loosen up to the sight. “Interesting approach, but a bit extreme. You should probably take it down before someone gets jabbed. Don’t want to be sued now, do you?”
That wire is staying right where it is. It fits pretty well with the aesthetic of this place. Once she sees all theNo Trespassingsigns, she’ll understand where I’m coming from. Probably. Hopefully.
Could this be something she could adjust to, or is it a complete deal breaker?
Leading her inside, I get the fire going as she takes in my home. Appreciating the few pictures I have on the wall, a soft laugh leaves her. “I have a hard time believing you were a swimmer.”
She’s looking at a picture from my high school days, when I still looked like a freaking baby.
“Barely. My mother thought it would be a good way to burn energy. Dad said it would get me chicks.” When she lifts a brow, I shrug. “I may have caught some interest. Nothing stuck, clearly.”
Now I’m nearing my forties, and all I can show off are some dusty awards I’ve got tucked away in the attic. I’m still the same awkward person I’ve always been, I just have a beard now.
“Football, too?”
