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Eyeing the cabin up the dirt lane, I have to press my lips together to contain the groan of indignation. Of course his house is perfect too. Blooming vines climb up one side of the front, the purple flowers contrasting perfectly against the dark wood. There’s a small porch to the side of the main door, chairs angled toward one another. I bet the sunsets here are breathtaking.
A pang of sadness punches me in the chest. I could so easily see myself on one of those chairs, mug of tea clasped between my hands, gazing up at a pink-kissed sky. If only.
Blinking away that train of thought, I square my shoulders, bunch up the front of my outrageous wedding dress and march to the front door. As long as I don’t stop, don’t pause and let my emotions get the best of me, I can do this.
Not seeing a doorbell, I fist my hand and bang on the door. My hand smarts a bit at the aggressive bang but I pay it no mind, focused only on the closed door. Preparing for it to open at any second.
But nothing happens.
I knock again.
And wait.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” I throw my hands up in the air, my tulle skirt falling around me. Twisting around, like he would magically appear with my frustration, I scan the dirt driveway. Nothing. Other than my very out-of-place red Mustang, there are no other signs that someone is home.
Damn it.
A prickle of tears begins behind my eyes, but I fight it. A wave of utter exhaustion comes over me. Running for your life was strenuous. With nothing else to do, I move toward the stairs and take a seat, resting my head against the railing. I try to tell myself everything is okay. I’ve still come this far.
The surrounding woods are quiet, but I don’t trust it. It may be in my head but I swear I feel like I’m being watched. Impossible though. Coming here wasn’t planned and I’d kept a watch out the entire way for familiar vehicles.
I never would have believed I could do something so daring and spontaneous a week ago. Hell, even yesterday I was agreeing to cake flavors, resigned to the fact that I was getting married to a stranger. Then in a heartbeat it’d all changed. Funny how when your life is threatened you find yourself deifying your comfort zone pretty quickly.
I don’t like being this out in the open, even surrounded by trees. The idea of driving back into town crosses my mind but I can’t risk it. And the darker it gets, the less likely I’m going to be able to retrace the route up this mountain. I’d taken a few wrong turns on my first venture up.
“Where is he?” I quietly moan to myself. I can’t give up now just because this man has uncharacteristically left his house, but it’s getting harder and harder to sit still. If the grumpy bear of a man I’d been told about could venture out, then I could continue to stand my ground.
Even if standing said ground was making me more annoyed by the minute.
I’m not sure how much time passed as I waited but when I heard the crunch of footsteps coming from the dirt driveway, I was past the point of annoyed. I was severely ticked off.
My legs were shaking, I’m not sure if with nerves or anger, but I stood tall as I watched the dark figure emerge from the trees. He hadn’t noticed me yet, distracted by something off to the side, but that was okay. I needed the extra moment to steel myself.
Because I had not been expecting this.
Him.
When I’d resigned myself to an arranged marriage, I’d prepared for a lot of things based off what my stepmother had told me.
I expected the grumpy scowl.
The dark, brooding looks.
The plaid.
But never, ever, in my wildest imaginings did I expect this. When you put all of those things together, it created something…heart-stopping.
Granted, he wasn’t in head-to-toe plaid, only a long, unbuttoned blue shirt, but with the dark wash jeans, tight T-shirt and jaw scruff he looked every bit the mountain man.
My hand blindly reaches out for the railing, squeezing the wood until my knuckles go white. I need a grip on reality to keep me steady. I can’t let this shock, the absolute beauty of him, sway me from my mission. Even if he has a pretty face with a beastly attitude and petty personality, I am going to have to learn to deal with it. My options at this point are limited.
“It’s about time you showed up. You know it’s rude to keep your bride waiting,” I call, proud my voice came out loud and strong.
His gaze flicks to me. He stops walking. Fighting the need to fidget under his scrutiny, I cross my arms over my chest. Which is very awkward because my stupid dress has a lot of tulle. Everywhere.
For a full minute, we both stand unmoving, assessing each other before he finally begins his trek up the path.
“My bride?”
