Page List


Font:  

“Listen,” he says, “if you’re going to be emotional, I’m going to hang up right now and we can do this when you’ve calmed down.” I’m seeing spots. But I take a breath — I won’t get anywhere if he hangs up on me. “You’re doing this. End of discussion.”

The phone clicks — he’s hung up on me. And when I call back, it’s turned off. Looks like he got his way anyway.

I should have at least yelled more.

Three

Holt

I’m making myself dinner, humming along to a song and tossing scraps to Jimbo as I go, when there’s a loud knock at the door.

I’m not expecting anyone, so I pause and stare over, wondering if it’s a mistake or a solicitation, but there’s another knock, louder this time.

“Hang on,” I call, trying not to sound irritated as I switch off the gas flame and wipe my hands with a dishtowel. “Hush,” I say to the dog, who’s letting out a couple of wheezing barks, and I throw open the door, ready to tell whoever it is to come back in an hour or so, but… I freeze.

Because on the other side of my front door is the most stunning sight I’ve ever seen.

A foot shorter than me, at least, with a mane of red hair glowing in the sunlight, and a scowl twisting her red lips that emphasizes razor-sharp cheekbones. Her green eyes are lined with thick, dark lashes.

And she looks angry as hell.

Arms folded, face tilted away. And she has bags at her feet.

“Uh,” I begin. “Hi?”

She shuffles from foot to foot, and when she finally looks me in the eye, her cheeks flush an angry red. “Hi,” she snaps, almost mockingly. “Well, here I am.”

I chuckle. “Yep… here you are.”

She’s silent. The hell is going on here?

I try something else. “I’m Holt?” I tell her.

“Is that a question or—”

Her irritated expression and her confusing presence on my doorstep are really throwing me off my game. “I’m Holt,” I try again. “Why are you at my house?”

She gestures at herself. “Why do you think? My father said I had to come here to marry you. Did you literally order a wife and then forget? Like impulse ordering something off Amazon?” She’s shaking her head, and her red curls are whooshing around. “Are you going to invite me in or do I have a kennel outside?”

“Jeez,” I manage.

No wonder she’s so damn furious.

She thinks I… ordered her? Like, online? And then suddenly it dawns on me. This is what the guy down by the trail was saying — that he could get me a wife.

The dude sent me his own daughter? That’s messed up.

“I mean, come in, let’s figure this…” I trail off when a crowd of men wearing suits step out from behind her carrying bags and push past me, inside my house, to set them down. “Okay. This is actually happening.”

They’re in my cabin now. Moving my stuff around. One of the men knocks a painting off the wall with his broad shoulders. Another scuffs my hardwood floor dragging a suitcase around.

“Good luck, princess,” one of them says, and I see a smile on his face that rubs me the wrong way. “We gotta leave her in your hands.” This is addressed to me, and I just stare at the guy blankly. I still haven’t quite settled on what the fuck is going on here.

“No,” the beautiful woman is saying, following them out the door. “No, you can’t just leave me here with a stranger. I’m—”

“Sorry,” the man says, raising his hands. “You know we can’t go against orders. We have to get back.” They shuffle out, leaving trails of destruction behind them. The doors close, and suddenly the cabin is silent.

Filled with bags, and a fuming, cross-armed woman, but silent. I have no idea what to say for a moment, but when I finally decide to speak, she gets there first.

“I want to know what kind of a man actually buys a woman,” she snaps. “I’m not afraid of you,” she adds. “Just answer me. What kind of a man are you?”

I’m a little stunned by the accusation, but really, how can I blame her for coming to that conclusion? “What’s your name?”

“Hattie.”

“Hattie,” I repeat. It’s a cute name… for a cute woman. But that’s not what I should be thinking about right now. “I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

I shrug. “I didn’t buy you. Didn’t even ask for you. Your father offered me a wife. I thought he was joking. I definitely didn’t think he meant his own daughter.”

She shakes her head, red hair bouncing. “Liar. He’s an asshole but he wouldn’t send me to just anyone. What did you give him in return?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I just happened to be there when he fell and I—”

“I don’t buy it. None of this.”


Tags: Mila Crawford, Aria Cole Romance