Page 4 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

“They’re usually enough to get through an evening.”

“Please tell me you don’t also churn butter.”

“No, but I can tell when someone’s trying to insult me.”

“I’m trying to understand how you conduct business without internet access.”

“I leave the house.”

His answer should’ve annoyed me more than it did.

Jonah walked toward his porch, then stopped when I didn’t follow. “Do you have the confirmation?”

I opened the Mountain Mates email saved on my phone and crossed the dirt after him. Each step required moreconcentration than I cared to display. When one heel sank into a soft patch, Jonah’s hand lifted, then dropped before he touched me.

I reached the porch without help.

He waited until I was steady before taking the phone.

The email showed his photograph, his name, the cabin address, and a line confirming that Talia R. had been accepted for a one-week placement.

Jonah read it twice.

“Where did you get this?”

“It arrived through the placement concierge.”

“I didn’t send it.”

“Your photograph did an impressive amount of traveling without you.”

He handed back the phone. “That picture is on my business page.”

“So someone stole your photograph, created a profile, accepted me, provided your address, and arranged for my arrival?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re lying.”

His eyes narrowed, but his voice remained level. “If I were lying, I’d probably have food in the house for two people.”

“I’m not sure your meal planning proves innocence.”

“It proves I wasn’t expecting company.”

He turned toward his truck and opened the passenger door. A radio handset rested near the console. Behind the seat were work gloves, a hard hat, a first-aid kit, and enough equipment to support his claim that he’d come home from an actual job rather than an afternoon posing for mountain-man photographs.

I pressed my lips together.

Jonah lifted the radio. “This reaches a local repeater. I can contact someone in Promise Ridge if you need help.”

“I need a phone.”

“This won’t make a private long-distance call.”

“Then it doesn’t solve my problem.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.”