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My eyes widen as I almost scroll past a thread titled “Naughty Secrets.” Who am I to resist naughty secrets? I quickly click on it, and am immediately glad that I did.
“Alright, ladies,” the post reads. “Who else is having the best sex of their lives now that they’ve met their man through MOBfC? I can’t be the only one!”
“The man I was paired with is soooooooo hot,” someone replied. “Like, hotter than any man I’ve met through a dating app. Our first night together he practically ravished me. It was incredible.”
Another reply reads, “The guy I met was so KINKY! He asked if I wanted to be tied up. I never had been but I couldn’t say no! He’s such a kind, thoughtful guy, but so dirty in the bedroom. We’ve even gotten into some roleplay…”
My mouth hangs open as I read through comment after comment detailing incredible, life-altering sex. This Holly Huckleberry must really know how to pick ‘em. The website mentioned something about an extensive interview process with all of the potential husbands, so that only “the most eligible bachelors” are selected. Apparently, one of the factors that makes one “most eligible” is being handsome and virile as hell.
Alright, I’m sold, I think, and close my laptop. I text Sarah: Googled. Fab reviews. Lots of mentions of hot sex.
Hot damn! She texts back immediately. This might finally get you laid after all!
Hardy har har. We’ll see. I’ll text you when I get there tomorrow.
I lie down on my bed, snuggling into my blankets and pillows, relieved to be home if only for a night. I guess I’ll be jetting to middle-of-nowhere Montana tomorrow after all.
Despite my lingering reservations, I begin to daydream about what kind of man I’ll meet. I know he’s a lawyer; that puts a bitter taste in my mouth. But maybe he’s a cool lawyer. Maybe he’s tattooed all over his chest and conceals them with crisp button-downs. Maybe he has blonde hair, or dark hair, or red hair that shines gold in the sunlight. Maybe he’s tall and thin, or shorter and jacked, with muscular arms to sweep me away. Maybe he likes reading, or music, or sports. Maybe he has a wicked sense of humor. Maybe he’s wicked in the bedroom…
Before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep, dreaming of the man I’ll meet in fewer than 24 hours.
3
Matt
“You have got to be kidding me,” I say to my smiling mother.
Joy’s grin widens. She isn’t.
It’s rare to get my five brothers and I in the same place; even though we all live in Snow Valley, we all have our own very separate lives. Today, though, we’re all somehow sitting in Mom’s immaculate living room. She still has the power to summon us with a simple text. Important news, she had sent to all of us. Come over at 2pm and I’ll tell you.
It was just cryptic enough to work.
Now though, the mystery is gone, replaced by a truth that sounds too preposterous to believe.
I look around at my younger brothers. Nate and Mason are slack-jawed, as I imagine I am, too. Mason in particular looks like his blue eyes are about to protrude from his head. Hartley is staring at the floor, his arms crossed over his chest. It’s Spencer who finally breaks the silence: he starts to laugh.
“Mom,” he says, shaking his head with a grin. “Hart and I are in our early twenties. You can’t seriously expect us to get married. This is a weird joke, but I admire your sense of humor.”
Joy’s perfectly-placed grin doesn’t falter. “This isn’t a joke, and Matt, I’m certainly not kidding. I’m very serious. The six of you need to get married as soon as possible, and I’ve signed you all up for a reputable mail-order bride service. The sooner you accept this, the better. Besides, plenty of people get married young. I got married at nineteen! It’s high time for the rest of you to get married, too.”
“That was a different time, mom,” Nate argues, but I silence him with an impatient wave of my hand.
“This law sounds absolutely ridiculous,” I say, piercing my mom’s steady gaze with my own. “Who in their right mind would have decreed that whoever buys the town has to be married?”
She shrugs. “Stranger laws certainly exist. You should know that, Mr. Attorney. It’s outdated, sure, but it’s part of the groundwork of Snow Valley, and there’s no getting past it.”
“What if just one of us got married?” Nate chimes in, looking pointedly at me. I roll my eyes. Just because I’m thirty-five and the oldest doesn’t mean I’m looking to settle down.
“Since all of you need to pitch in and buy the town together,” Mom says, “that wouldn’t cut it.”
I lean back in my chair, letting out a breath of frustration. We’ve lived in Snow Valley, a quaint, sleepy Montana town, all of our lives. I own my own law firm; my brothers all have their own lucrative careers based here. We all thought about moving at some point, and yet the town has an almost magnetic pull, preventing barely anyone from leaving. Everything we need and everything we love, is right here.
