Page 31 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Surprisem
“Rose petals and champagne sound more like a honeymoon.”
“Well, aren’t you my mail-order bride?”
I shrug. “I can’t believe I agreed to that, fell for Mack’s letters and emails. What does that say about me and the kind of woman that I am?”
“It doesn’t say anything about you. But it says a lot about what a tool Mack is. It’s good he left town when he did. Otherwise, I’d beat the shit out of him.”
“You sound so violent sometimes,” I observe.
“The thought of any man hurting you, even myself, makes me violent.”
“Mail-order bride,” I say, shaking my head. “You know Mountain Mates offered us a ten-thousand-dollar wedding budget to be the promo couple for their new beta program? They loved our big city and small town angle.”
“Whatever you want, Calliope. All I know is I want you.”
“So, no more choking on your sweet tea when I mention marriage?”
He chuckles. “I’ll admit you threw me for a loop the first time you said it. But I’m warming up to the idea.”
“Are you?”
“Indeed. But even more than making you mine, you know what I’m obsessed with?”
I shake my head.
“Spoiling the hell out of you until you figure out that I can give you so much more than a few shoddy love letters and emails ever could.”
“Like what?” My voice trembles.
“Like my total devotion—heart and soul.”
Chapter
Eleven
CALLIE
Twenty-four hours after the surgery, Mateo sleeps like a baby as I lie next to him in his big, cozy cabin bed. I never thought I’d go from mail-order bride to jilted lover to scorned woman and nurse so rapidly. I have trouble grasping everything that’s happened.
Carefully untangling myself from the massive Army Ranger, I pad down the hallway, stretching and feeling more relaxed than I have since arriving at my cowboy mountain man’s home. Heading into the kitchen, I go through the motions of grinding coffee, measuring the right amount into his filter, adding water, and letting it percolate.
The orthopedist warned me that the second and third days after surgery are often the worst. Mateo’s nerve blocker will wear off, and he’ll need to take the pain medication he’s been prescribed, though the man’s hellbent on getting through this with Ibuprofen and Tylenol. We’ll see.
Fortunately, Wolfe and his other Army Ranger buddies are taking turns stopping by to care for the animals, collect eggs, check on plants, and ride Mateo’s horse, Duke.
Life in San Francisco didn’t prepare me for looking after fluffy alpacas, sassy goats, flashy chickens, silky rabbits, or amean mule. And Duke feels like an alien creature to me. To say the least, I have some adjusting to do to country living. But if Felicity can get used to being the wife of a shepherd, I can figure this out.
The doorbell rings, startling me, and my eyes dart to the time on the microwave. Who in the hell would show up at Mateo’s cabin at six a.m. on a Sunday? I can only guess. Padding toward the front door, I look through the peephole, seeing a diminutive older man with a salt-and-pepper beard down to his belly button. He reminds me of a garden gnome.
I open the door, asking politely, “May I help you?”
The man looks surprised, eyes rounding as he exclaims, “Callie Marchand. My goodness!”
“And who are you?” I ask, eyeing the man suspiciously.
He shifts his weight nervously. “I’m not sure how much McGregor … I mean, Mack, told you. Better coming from him than me.”
My stomach knots. I know exactly who this is. The corners of my mouth turn down. “Mateo told me everything, but I’d still love to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. Please come in.” I turn away from the man, walking back into the kitchen, anger simmering beneath the surface.
