Page 15 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Surprisem
Clearing my throat, I remind, “Because you offered in an email.”
“Of course. The emails.” His cheeks darken a shade, and he looks down, murmuring, “If you feel comfortable staying here, then that’s what we’ll do.” His brows furrow, and when he looks back up, he adds, “I only have one bed, though.”
“I’m still okay with that, too,” I whisper, internally kicking myself. I should make him sleep on the porch tonight. Maybe I will.
My head races to other maybes. Maybe this man has more of a problem with alcohol than I realize. I’ve heard of dementia being a side-effect, even at an early age, from too much alcohol consumption. Maybe he has issues related to his military experience. He did tease having PTSD in a couple of his emails.
“Whatever makes you feel most comfortable, Callie. Besides, I can sleep anywhere. Seven years as an Army Ranger and too many to count in special operations will do that to a person.”
I nod, trying not to seem impatient, but we’re rehashing a lot here. It feels a little odd for a discussion with a thirty-nine-year-old. “Considering we both opted for the mail-order bride package when Mountain Mates offered the beta program, we’ll figure it out.”
Mack inhales a sip of iced tea, the glass poised on his lips during my last comment. He sputters and coughs until his face looks as red as his hair.
“Oh, my God, are you okay?” I ask, closing the distance between us and patting his back firmly.
He nods, hacking and trying to catch his breath. When he finally does, his eyes dart to mine, watery from choking. His face contains degrees of alarm.
“Did I scare you with mention of the mail-order bride part of our contract?” I ask, point-blank, not sure I want to hear the answer.
He shakes his head, but his expression contradicts his words. “Just went down the wrong pipe,” he excuses, pacing back and forth in front of me. His face storms.
“Are you okay?” I ask, torn. Maybe I should take a hint and leave. After all, everything about this experience is far more awkward than I envisioned it would be.
“Yeah. I’m just upset because I need to have a phone call with someone, and they’re not picking up.”
“Who is she?” I ask softly, not willing to put up with any more infidelity drama. I should have known better than to come here unannounced. Felicity tried to warn me. For all I know, Mack could be talking to countless women on Mountain Mates besides me … and that’s not to mention other dating sites.
“She?” He laughs, too taken aback to be lying. “It’s not a she at all. It’s the pain-in-the-ass AA sponsor. He up and left with little more than a phone call. I don’t like abrupt changes like that, and I really do need to speak to him.” Mack fumes as he pronounces the last sentence.
An awkward silence descends as my mind swirls with what to say next.
“Wait,” the mouthwatering redheaded mountain man says. His turquoise eyes narrow. “Are you jealous?”
It’s one of those questions, you’re probably not supposed to answer honestly. But if I’ve learned one thing from my parents’ successful marriage, it’s never to lie or sugarcoat stuff out of politeness.
Forthrightness might lead to an immediate fight or altercation. But it’s better than letting deception simmer between two people, even with the best intentions.
Raising my chin, I answer boldly, “Yes, I’m jealous, Mack. It would piss me off to know you’re talking to other women.”
“Wow,” he says, an amused smile catching the corners of his mouth. It’s the happiest I’ve seen the cowboy mountain man look since meeting him.
“What?”
“I wasn’t expecting such a straightforward answer from you.”
“Well, that’s me. Honest to a fault. Is that a problem?”
“It wouldn’t be under any other circumstances …”
“But?”
“But …”
I put my hands on my hips, waiting for him to speak.
“But I bet you could really skewer my heart with that honesty, if I’m not careful.” He quirks his mouth, and I get the impression he wants to say more, though he doesn’t. Talk about frustrating.
“You know, it’s your fault that I showed up unexpectedly like this.”
