"So," she says as the coffee brews. "Tell me more about Aunt Mildred. What should I know to convince her I'm madly in love with her nephew?"
I lean against the counter. "She's ninety two but sharp as ever. Grew up during the Depression. Values family, hard work, and honesty."
"The honesty part might be a problem, considering we're lying about being married."
"Small details." I accept the mug she offers. "She's old fashioned. Believes men should provide and protect. Women should be respected and cherished."
"And what do you believe?"
The question catches me off guard. "About marriage?"
"About relationships. Women. All of it." She hops up to sit on the counter, legs dangling, looking at me with genuine curiosity.
I consider the question. "I believe in respect. Communication. Space."
"Space," she repeats. "That tracks for a man who lives alone on a mountain."
"I like my solitude."
"But you didn't always, right? Ridge mentioned you were a hotshot firefighter. That's all about teamwork."
The mention of my former career tightens something in my chest. "That was different. Professional."
"No personal connections with your crew? After facing life and death situations together?"
Images flash through my mind. Jake's stupid jokes during fourteen hour shifts. Marco's terrible coffee that we drank anyway. Sarah's quiet competence in the chaos. The way we moved like a single organism when the fire closed in.
"Some connections," I admit. "But that life is over."
She studies me over her coffee mug. "Because of the accident?"
My hand automatically touches the scar on my face. "Ridge talks too much."
"He worries about you. Said you were one of the best until a burning tree nearly killed you."
"Ridge exaggerates."
"The scar suggests otherwise."
I turn away, uncomfortable with her perceptiveness. "We should talk about our story. Get our facts straight before Aunt Mildred arrives."
Jennifer allows the change of subject, but I feel her eyes on me, seeing more than I want her to.
"What's my favorite color?" she asks. "As your loving wife, you should know this."
"Blue?" I guess.
"Green, actually. Emerald green." She smiles. "Your favorite food?"
"Steak. Medium rare."
"Favorite season?"
"Fall."
"Boxers or briefs?"
I choke on my coffee. "That's not something Aunt Mildred will ask."
