Page 23 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Wife
No one has ever picked me.
Is that why I feel so close to him? Why I want to stay? Because he invited me here?
Did he though?
I have no idea what Warren put on Get Hitched. He doesn’t strike me as very inventive so I can’t imagine he lied about much. And when I think about it, my life is a parallel of Felix’s. The only difference is he’s isolated himself by choice up here in the mountains and my aunt isolated me in a house in the middle of Winter Lake.
The people on the screen start arguing, their voices rising with every word, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. Slapping the laptop shut, I pull in a steadying breath, gripping the computer tightly.
I hate loud voices. Aunt Bethany did nothing but shout at me, at the TV, at the birds on the lawn. Until the end.
Over the last few years her voice got softer and softer as her body grew weaker and weaker. Watching her slow declinefrom the robust woman she was all my life to a frail old woman shocked me. Her failing health was why I didn’t accept any of the college scholarships I received.
I couldn’t leave her for Warren to take care of. The only person he looks after is himself. I might not have loved my aunt but I cared for her. She took care of me the best she could and was my only family—beside her son—and after what he did, kicking me out and bringing me here under false pretenses, he’s nothing to me.
“Hey.”
I jump, my grip loosens on the laptop, and it slips down my thighs. For a split second I panic, but I shouldn’t have. Felix’s big hand reaches over my shoulder and grabs it before it can fall to the floor.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, his face right by my ear. “Thought you heard me.”
“No.” From the corner of my eye I can see his mouth—his lips—so close to mine, and it makes it hard to form words because the only thing on my mind is how it would feel to kiss him. “Um…no. I was thinking.”
“About?”
He’s so close. Closer than we’ve been so far. “Eh… My life. How I ended up here. You.”
“What about me?” He lifts the laptop over my head and comes around my chair, taking a seat on the sofa only a few feet away.
His gaze is on me. I have his full attention and it does strange things to my insides. I want his attention, which is not something I’m used to. I like to be left alone. If I’m alone, no one is yelling at me or calling me names.
“Riley? What were you thinking about me?”
“Oh, sorry.” I smile sheepishly. “I like you. I like being around you. Being here.”
His smile is crooked, the scars on his face making the left side lower. I want to trace those fine lines with my fingertips. My lips. The thought has me licking my own.
“I like you too.”
“Sorry, what?” I’m so lost in my thoughts, his words confuse me.
Grinning wide, he says, “I like you too, like you being here.”
“Can I stay? Do you still want a wife? Because I want to be her? Maybe.” I’m stumbling over my words. My mind is a jumble of thoughts—my past and my future—and I can’t imagine being anywhere but here. With him.
“I will never kick you out.” He puts the computer on the cushion beside him, moves forward and rests his forearms on his legs, his hands hanging between his knees. “I have something to tell you. Something that might change how you feel about staying here.”
“What? Are you secretly a serial killer?” I laugh.
“No.”
His seriousness has me choking back more nervous laughter and bracing for the blow to come. “What? Just tell me.”
“How much do you know about your parents?”
“I told you, nothing other than that they died and Aunt Bethany had to give up her life to take care of me.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You were the one taking care of her.”
