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One
Luna
Okay, don’t make fun of me, but I’ve been practicing my knock. First impressions are a big deal, you know? And even though I’ve been emailing back and forth with Aiden McRae for months now, I want to get this exactly right.
You only get one chance to be like, ‘Tadaa! I’m your mail order bride!”, after all.
In my head, I was gonna be cool and collected. My clothes would be spotless and unrumpled, and I’d smile nice and wide, and Aiden would fall in love with me in a heartbeat. A chorus of birds would break into song, and he’d pick me up and spin me around in his big, strong arms.
Whatever he looks like. Kinda hard to picture it without knowing that.
Of course, I didn’t count on the half mile trek to this cabin up from the road, lugging my suitcase and sewing machine over a carpet of pine needles and wet rocks. And didn’t realize I’m so freaking behind on my cardio, either—I’m red-faced and sweating like a sinner in church. If my husband-to-be picks me up right now, I’ll probably squelch.
“Shoot. Come on, Luna.”
I blow the wild strands of hair out of my face and smooth down my favorite lavender dress with trembling hands. There’s no need to be this nervous.
I mean, sure, my whole future is on the line, and maybe my only chance at love. But the mail order people know what they’re doing, and I’m 99.9% sure that they wouldn’t let a serial killer sign up.
My breath fogs in the cold air as I stumble back a few steps, peering up at the cabin. Buying time? Maybe. But I want a good look at my new home, too.
It’s understated, this cabin. Strong and sturdy and well crafted, made with the kind of wood that blends into the landscape. A deck wraps around the outside, and a hatchet and pile of cut logs are tucked under a wood shed against a side wall. The windows are shadowed.
It must have rained here in the last hour or so. The air’s extra fresh, scented with petrichor and damp soil, and there are still droplets clinging to the glass window panes.
It’s soaustere.Nothing like my playful apartment back in the city, with my polka dot welcome mat and my navy bedroom curtains printed with the phases of the moon. You can tell a Man lives here, and not just a Man, but a Manly Man. One who speaks in grunts and knows how to skin a deer.
Maybe this is a huge mistake. I stumble back another step, my heart hammering. If I get my bags back down the mountain and call the local cab company from the road—
The door wrenches open, replaced immediately with a pair of broad, plaid-covered shoulders. A bearded man glares down at me from inside the cabin, thick eyebrows lowered over dark eyes, and he looms so high above me that my knees wobble.
“Um,” I squeak. “Aiden?”
The frown deepens. “Wrong cabin,” the man rumbles.
Thank. Freaking. God.
We didn’t swap photos as part of the mail order program. It’s one of the reasons I chose Soulmate Express—I didn’t want anyjudge ‘em by their looks,swipe right shenanigans. I want love. Soulful love.
And even though I’m still clueless about my future husband, I’m glad he’s not this grumpy Goliath. Bullet: dodged.
“Oh. Right. Could you point me toward Aiden McRae’s cabin, please?”
The man says nothing. He’s silent and brooding, those dark eyes running over my rumpled clothes and bright cheeks, my messed up hair and nervous smile, then to the luggage stacked on the deck behind me.
I didn’t think it was possible for this man to scowl even more, but here it is. He looks ready to roar like a bear. Damn, I didn’t mean to encroach on his territory or whatever. Hopefully I didn’t accidentally scent-mark any trees.
“Actually.” The deck creaks as I back up, my voice unnaturally bright. “Forget it. I’ve already disturbed you enough, sir. I’ll just get out of your—”beard“—um, hair, and call a cab from the road. Sorry. Sorry.”
My fingers scrabble at the handles on my cases. Heat burns on my cheeks, and I can’t get away from here fast enough. Who cares if it rains again? But then—
“Stop.”
The low order makes me freeze. I blink at the man through my blonde hair.
He sighs and says, “It’s not safe to go alone. Aiden McRae’s on the other side of the mountain.”
Ah, crap. I’m that lost? Freaking cab driver. Why did I tip him so well? Did he drop me off at the wrong cabin on purpose?
