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But how can he do that? The longer the night goes on, the more the temperature plummets. Outside the truck, the wind moans through the trees and even the branches seem to shiver.
“Griff…”
He rolls his stiff neck, eyes closed. “Yeah?”
“You’re in Mountain Rescue, right?”
We chatted a lot earlier as we first bedded down to sleep. Back when we split the blankets evenly, and our shared breaths were enough to keep the truck warm, and it was too early to drop off anyways.
I learned a lot about Griff in that sleepy chat. I learned that he’s thirty six and that he’s lived in this area his whole life, growing up in Cloudy Lake before moving up the mountain. I learned that he fishes and carves wood and secretly wants to learn guitar one day, and that he’s not sorry his cabin doesn’t have internet, not at all.
I learned that he never even considered signing up for the mail order bride program. So I guess the two of us never had a chance.
Trying not to be bitter about that.
And I told him stuff too. Told him about my job as a quilter and my crappy apartment back in the city; my sister who never answers my emails, and my passionate love for spaghetti bolognese. He asked me about being a mail order bride, because of course he did, but the weird thing is I actually told him the truth.
That I’m lonely. That I’ve never met a single person I connected like that with in my whole life so far, but despite it all, I want a big romance.
That I believe in fate, and I figured maybe fate needed a helping hand, so I came out here.
Griff was quiet for a long time after that.
“Yeah,” he says now. “I’m in Mountain Rescue.”
I chew on my bottom lip before continuing. “So that whole myth about body heat… about huddling for warmth…”
“Not a myth,” he grunts.
Well, that settles it.
“Right.” I grab two fistfuls of blanket and start shuffling. “Are you ready, mister? Let’s do this.”
* * *
“Here’s one thing I don’t understand.”
Let’s face it: one of many. But I’m curled up on Griff’s lap, my cheek pillowed against the hard swell of his chest, and his big arms are pinning the blankets in place, spread out over us both. It’s impossible to feel anything except blissful right now.
Every breath Griff takes, my head rocks upward an inch. I love it.
“You said the locals call it Mail Order Mountain, right? But that most of the cabins don’t have WiFi. So how do all these lonely mountain men even sign up?”
Griff’s chin rubs against the top of my head as he answers, low voice thick with sleep. “They hike down to Cloudy Lake. Tramp back and forth for their messages.”
Oh.
Oh, my heart.
I press my face against the hollow of Griff’s throat and fight the urge to howl. It’d probably attract wolves, and besides, Griff doesn’t like me talking about other men—especially Aiden McRae.
He didn’t tell me that. I noticed it for myself.
Though honestly, I’ve barely thought about my mail order fiance since meeting Griff. Doesn’t that make me the biggest jerk in the world? True, I’ve never even met Aiden, have never done more than exchange emails, but I still came all this way for him. And he’s expecting me. It’d be awful if I canceled.
But…
CouldI cancel? Surely, right? And if I did…?
