My father used to always say that life is a trajectory, and if you’re doing it right, it’s always an upward trajectory. Mine used to be headed that way. Before my father lost everything. Before the guy I was supposed to marry called off the engagement. He never said he was with me because of my father’s money, but the timing sure was suspect.
My trajectory has been firmly pointed toward the ground since then.
Maybe this is how I change it.
I sit up and begin responding to the email. I could slave away in that diner for years and never get my feet under me. I’m sure they have a diner in Snow Valley. I need a fresh start anyway, and if things don’t work out with Nate, a quiet little town would be a whole lot better than this place. Who knows, maybe this is the trajectory my life needs right now.
The instructions from Holly Huckleberry say that if I sign the agreement, all I have to do is get on a plane and everything else will be taken care of. That sure does sound nice.Chapter ThreeNateThe minutes tick away. A woman is going to be appearing on my doorstep today, but I’m not sure exactly when she will arrive. My mom tried to show me a picture, but I decided that I didn’t want to judge her before I got a chance to see her with my own eyes. Looks aren’t everything. It doesn’t matter how pretty someone is if they are a raging bitch. I found that out the hard way. I know my mom put a lot of thought into it and chose someone that she believes will be a perfect match for me.
Internally, I’m still struggling with it all. It still seems like insanity. I’ve just decided to let it play out and see what happens. Like my dad said, she’s coming, and if I don’t open the door, I’m going to have to leave her standing on the porch.
I don’t think I could do that to anyone, even if a few people in this town think I’ve got a mean streak big enough to do it. There are a few guys I’ve tangled with at my brother’s pub that would testify to it, and I’ve worn handcuffs after a few of those brawls.
I’m somewhat curious to find out what kind of girl my mom picked out for the self-proclaimed black sheep of the Mistletoe family.
Time continues to pass. I start to wonder if my potential bride-to-be will even show up. After all, what woman in her right mind agrees to be a mail-order bride in the first place? She’s had plenty of time to change her mind, just like I had plenty of time to warm up to the idea. I’m still somewhat bitter about being put in the situation, but I may be even more bitter about the whole ordeal if I end up sitting here like a fool all day.
As if on cue, I hear a car outside. My pulse begins to race. I made sure everyone knew not to disturb me today. If there’s a car outside my house, there’s only one logical explanation.
Catriona is here.
I walk to the door and hear soft footsteps in the gravel outside. I want to peek out the window, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I wait with my hand on the doorknob and open it as soon as I hear a knock.
She’s gorgeous. Curly blonde hair, gray eyes that look like the calming sky after a winter storm rolls through Snow Valley, and I say her name like a soft exhale. “You must be Catriona.”
“You must be Nate.” She smiles, and it’s enough to melt every bit of bitterness inside me. Her smile is absolutely intoxicating.
“Please, come inside. Do you need any help with your bags? Surely that isn’t your only suitcase…” I glance at the one in her left hand and look up to see the car that brought her pulling away.
“The rest of my luggage is supposed to arrive in a couple of days.” She walks into my house. “I just packed enough for a few days so that I didn’t have to drag it all through the airport.”
“Smart.” I nod and take her bag. “Come, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
The grand tour isn’t much. I show her my kitchen, dining room, living room, the main bathroom, the master bedroom, and finally arrive at the last room at the end of the hallway.
“You have a very nice place.” She stops to look at the family photographs on the wall in the hallway. “Is this your family?”
“Yep.” I nod. “Every living Mistletoe and a few who aren’t with us anymore.”
“Your mother must have had her hands full.” She looks at the photo of our entire family. “Six boys?”