Page 14 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Wife
A delicious smell hits me as soon as I open the over door. Inside is some sort of casserole. Eggs, veg, meat. Baked to golden perfection, my mouth waters just looking at it.
Serving myself a portion, I put the baking dish on top of the stove to let it cool so I can put the leftovers away after I eat. Eyeing the stool, I think about the chair by the fire. It’s too tempting and while I know I shouldn’t eat over there, I can’t help myself.
It feels a little rebellious to even think about doing it because Aunt Bethany never allows us to eat anywhere except the dining room table.
But there is no dining room here, never mind a table. Just two stools at the counter. And I don’t think Felix is as fussy about his furniture as my aunt is—was. I need to remember she’s no longer here to force her ideas of proper behavior on me.
Just in case, I duck into the bathroom and grab the towel I used last night before taking a seat. I spread it over my lap and put my plate on top. That way if I spill anything, it will land on the towel, and I can take it outside and shake it off.
Settled in front of the warm fire, I take my first bite of food. It tastes as good as it looks and smells, and I can’t help wondering who taught Felix to cook. He hasn’t mentioned parents, only his uncle, but maybe there was an aunt at some point.
If I was staying here long term, I’d ask all the questions swirling in my head. I might ask a few before I go…
The idea of leaving turns the food in my mouth tasteless. Swallowing my mouthful, I stare into the fire and try to imagine where I might go, what I might do, if—when—I leave. As much as I like the idea of staying, I have to remember I can’t.
Except I have no relatives other than Warren. I have no home. And while I have money, it isn’t a lot. I don’t know what it costs to buy a house, or even rent one, but I know I don’t have enough for either option.
Maybe Warren’s right.
The only thing I’m capable of is being a live-in housekeeper.
Do many people have housekeepers?
I hate that I don’t know the answer to that question.
Hate it even more that the one thing in my life I want to give up is the one thing I can’t.
Maybe I should marry Felix like he expected. He’s not unappealing. Just looking at him has my insides coiling and heating in ways I’ve never experienced, but the way he treats me? Like I matter? That has my chest tightening in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
No one has ever treated me with the kindness Felix does.
This time yesterday I had no idea he existed.
Had no idea this little sanctuary in the mountains existed.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve fallen in love with a place beyond my imagination.
Being out here with a stranger should be frightening.
It isn’t.
I should want to find a way out of here as fast as I can.
I don’t.
The last thing I want is to leave. I feel safe here. I’m not on edge waiting for my aunt to yell at me or Warren to show up andcall me names. I might not want to leave, but I don’t know if I can marry Felix either. And he wants a wife.
Why else would he be on Get Hitched if not to find a wife?
Would being married be so bad? I don’t know. I don’t have anything to go off. Aunt Bethany’s husband died years before I moved in with her and I’ve never met Warren’s wife, only seen photos of her and their children. I think I understand what a good marriage should be like, and maybe Felix and I can have one even if we don’t love each other.
I shouldn’t be considering it. I know I’m ignoring the outside world because I have no place to go, no one to turn to for help and I’m probably stupid for hoping a stranger might take care of me, might give me help—support me—so I can finally do what I want.
Surprisingly, what I want isn’t to leave Winter Lake. I like the town I grew up in even though I spent most of it inside my aunt’s house. I like this mountain sanctuary even more. And I really like the man who opened his door and let me stay in his bed when he didn’t have to.
But if I want to stay a little longer, enjoy this respite from life and all the things I need to figure out, I should make myself useful beyond helping him eat his food. I should make it so he wants me to stay.
Polishing off the last of my breakfast, I set the plate by my feet then carefully fold the towel so no crumbs fall on the chair or floor. Standing up, I walk over to the door and put the bundled towel down before collecting my plate and taking it to the kitchen.
