“It’ll warm up quick,” he says, looking at the watch on his wrist. “The pastor should be here in a little under an hour. With that snow, it took longer than I expected to get back from the airport.”
“Oh, really?” I smile. It’s December 1st. Everything is going as planned. “Perfect.”
“You hungry?”
“Very,” I admit, following him into the kitchen. The cabin is cozy, and I try to take it all in, wishing Hartley would offer to give me a tour. I don’t want to pry or be annoying, but I also want to know a little more about him before I say I do.
“Chili?” He pulls a few cans from the cupboard.
I give him a tight smile. I just flew hundreds of miles and he welcomes me with canned chili. I swallow, trying to be open-minded. “That’s fine,” I say. “Not much of a cook?”
“No.” He opens the cans into a pot and turns on the burner with his back to me.
I turn in a circle, anxious about everything. Did I just make a massive mistake? He acts like he doesn’t want me here.
“Do you mind if I look around?” I ask.
“Have at it,” he says, not even looking my way.
Determined to be positive, I decide to poke around his home and try to get clues about his personality. In the living room I notice framed family photos. In one, he’s in front of a Christmas tree, all lit up, with an older couple and five other men. His brothers? And in another, he is in a work apron with a man who looks just like him in front of a store that has a sign reading Mistletoe Hardware. By the fireplace there is a leather caddy filled with woodworking knives and whittling wood. I smile, thinking of Grandad. He would sit by the fire and carve spoons in the evening while Grandma embroidered and I read.
The furniture is masculine, and woodsy. But there is no Christmas tree set up or any indication that the holiday is only 25 days away. I walk down the small hall and find a bathroom with a river rock shower, and modern matte black fixtures. In the medicine cabinet there is beard oil and organic toothpaste. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s neat, tidy, minimal.
Same with the bedroom. And while I wonder if he actually wants me here, I am relieved to see half the closet has been cleared out and the drawers in one of the two dressers are completely empty. I look over the bed, imagining coming in with Hartley. And while he might be reserved, I’d be lying if I said the idea of joining him in this bed tonight didn’t get me excited. He is so attractive… handsome and strong, a real man’s man… and I can only imagine the way it would feel to have his calloused hands on my naked body. My pussy gets wet at the thought and I force myself out of the bedroom before I get all worked up.
There is another room, mostly empty except for a few cardboard boxes, and there’s a ladder leading to a loft above the living room with a small desk and comfortable chairs. Nothing about his cabin gives off red flags, and for that I’m relieved. Still, I want to know who he is. Why he wanted me here. I want to know how I might fit into his life.
Though, smelling the chili on the stove, I know one way I can contribute — home-cooked meals. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten dinner from a can in my life.
The food is dished up in bowls by the time I return to the kitchen, and he asks if I’d like beer or wine. “Neither, thank you,” I say.
“You mind if I do?” He points to the beer in his hand.
“Oh no,” I say. “I don’t mind at all. I’m just starving and know if I drink anything before I eat, I might do something I’ll regret.”
He chuckles, sitting down at the table opposite me and picking up his spoon. “I thought you might already have regrets. Coming here to me and all.”
“I don’t regret this. At least not yet,” I say with a smile. He doesn’t laugh. Is he just nervous? “I would like to get to know you though. Why did you order a bride?”
He shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. “It wasn’t me who ordered you. It was my mother.”
“Your mother?” I frown, trying to digest this. “So you didn’t want me?”
He takes another bite of chili. “It wasn’t just you. She ordered six brides.”
My eyes go wide, panic in my voice. “She ordered you six wives? Where are the other ones?”
He laughs. “No, she ordered a bride for each of her sons. I have five brothers.”
“Oh, I saw them in the family photo. At the Christmas tree.”