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Clicking on the other email that he had replied to, she nearly choked.
Oooh Meeeeow, my sweet June!
My adorable kitten has claws and likes to scratch! Feel free to be yourself, because I will take your spitting and hissing – before turning it into purring and curling up against me.
I’m sorry to hear you are widowed, and the conditions that your husband left you under. How long ago did he pass away? Death leaves an emptiness that no one understands, and it’s hard to be strong.
… Which means you need me even more than ever before!
Arch your back, puff that fur my little kitty, and growl all you want… it doesn’t change that I’m the best man you’ll ever meet. So, before you click reply and holler at me online?
Remember, deep down inside, I’m really a nice guy that is trying hard to impress you. Take a minute, breathe, put down whatever you are going to throw at the computer… and check your mailbox in about a week.
That’s all the hint you get from me, my sweet Minx!
Yours truly,
Ian
P.S. I can’t wait to read Wednesday’s email. Feel free to address it as ‘Dear Daddy’ or ‘My Favorite Man’. You could even use ‘My Amazing Soldier’… because I’m all of that - and a bag of chips.
June stared at the email in disbelief, blinked several times, and shut her laptop – backing away from it. She got up to get a cup of coffee, looked over her shoulder as if the computer was a threat and following her, before pouring a cup.
He was wild, outrageous, pushy, and a shameless flirt, completely knocking her off-kilter. Nobody ever talked to her like that – not even Mark!
It was… strangelyrefreshing.
If she pushed too hard, people took it the wrong way. When she snapped at her parents for setting her up, her mother had cried, and she felt bad for weeks – but this stranger?
This confounding man who rankled her nerves and made her boil at the arrogant, assumptive attitude was really a lot to swallow. This man was taunting her formore, trying to draw her out, and teasing her curiosity… as if he knew she would ‘bite’.
Check my mail in a week? Start my week out thinking of him… by sending her flowers? Was he planning on doing that every Monday? No way… guys did not do that – did they?she thought in disbelief, before turning her head to look back at her desk to see the two vases standing there, saying ‘Hello’ silently.
Drat!
His plan was working.
He was hard to ignore… and hard to stay mad at.
My goodness, the man had no filter on his mouth, and it was like he thrived on shocking her or pushing her to interact with him. No, she wasn’t replying yet, and needed to think.
4
SELKIRK
It was almost a month before he heard from June again – and he was biding his time. Patience was not his strong suit and his mouth usually ran away from him, but he was persistent when he wanted something… and he wanted to know more about her.
Instead of letting it bother him, he continued his mental assault on her, knowing eventually she would get mad enough to talk to him… or actually reach her.
Four weeks ago, the flowers he sent were hyacinth.
Three weeks ago, it was peonies.
Two weeks ago, it was a gardenia plant that had been weirdly configured into a bonsai shape. It was different, novel, original… and he was trying to get a response from her.
Two days ago, Ian sent her a dozen pale purple roses with a note that called her out plainly.
The ol’ silent treatment – eh, pen pal?’
