Page 5 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Surprisem
I wave her worries away. “Mountain Mates handles all of that. Remember?” My bestie used the same site to find her man, even though she acts like she has amnesia now. “They don’t let anyone on the site whose past doesn’t check out.”
I consciously ignore her point about talking on the phone because I don’t have an answer for her. Everything about my relationship with Mack feels refreshingly old-fashioned. I cling to the charm of it, not wanting modern technology to intrude on our interactions.
Does that make me weird? Or maybe even stupid?
All I know is I want the first time I hear his voice or see his face, apart from photos, to be in person. It feels more authentic and in keeping with the very unique relationship dynamic we’ve forged.
I press my lips together, saving my breath. My suddenly safety-obsessed bestie won’t understand.
“I worry about you, Callie,” Felicity says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve never had to deal with the bad side of life before.”
“Apart from cheating assholes.”
“Only because you’re so hot you attract the most superficial men. And you’re also a bit too trusting.”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
Felicity squeezes my hand. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to see you happy and living in NorthernCalifornia near me. But you’re taking a big risk with this guy, one I don’t want you to walk into blindly. FaceTime him. Have him show you around his place, fill you in on the basics like how far his closest neighbors are. If he has family, friends? If he’s an upstanding member of the community? These are important things to know.”
“There’s the investigative journalist in you.” I laugh, shaking my head. And that’s why I didn’t worry more about my bestie when she met Fierce for the first time. She’s a force to be reckoned with research-wise. “FYI, Mack and I have discussed all of this in our letters.”More or less.
Desiring a change of subject because I’m over the lecture, I ask, “What do you think of my new hairstyle?” I got a sew-in weave earlier this week and now rock long, straight locks. It’s taken some serious getting used to after years of opting for my natural halo of curls. But I wanted a confidence boost before surprising my mountain man.
“Beautiful,” she says, face looking torn. “If Mack doesn’t treat you right. So help me, Callie. I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands.”
I don’t doubt her, and I know her words come from a place of genuine concern. “Quit worrying, Silly. Before you know it, I’ll be inviting you and Fierce over for dinner to meet him.”
“I hope so.”
“Alright. I’ll keep you posted on what happens.” I glance at my phone, realizing my lunch break is almost over. This afternoon, I’m shopping for one of the biggest and most affluent customers I style.
As for Felicity, she’s driving back to Rough and Ready Country because she and Fierce can barely stand to spend a day apart. It’s both inspiring as a couple goal and kind of disgusting from the point of view of a generally happy single girl.
“Promise you won’t hesitate to call or come to the cabin if things don’t pan out the way you want them to.”
“I promise I’ll call,” I say with a firm nod.
I would never, ever show up unexpectedly at Felicity and Fierce’s cabin because those two are literal horndogs around each other. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, and a visual I don’t need in my head.
We stand and hug, saying our goodbyes. Felicity heads for the door, and I veer toward the restroom, tucking the letter carefully back in my purse.
In a day, I’ll drive the same route as my bestie, spending the entire weekend in her neck of the woods without telling her. I feel guilty about being so sneaky, but I have to meet Mack on my own terms.
If all goes well this weekend, someday, I’ll show these precious, folded pages to our children or maybe even grandchildren.
Chapter
Three
MCGREGOR
“Everything goes in one of three piles,” I say to my Army Ranger buddies, pointing as I denote each one. We stand outside in front of Mack’s cabin, the crisp cool air of early morning already heating. “Goodwill, Mack’s storage unit, and trash.”
“Isn’t there a keep pile?” Rutger asks. The blond Texas cowboy has a slight Southern drawl, his words often punctuated with thick sarcasm. Back in our 75thBattalion days, he was the sniper for our team. I never worried during his overwatches. But he can also be a real pain in the ass sometimes.
“Believe me,” I grumble. “Once you look at what I’ve been dealing with, you’ll realize the ‘Goodwill’ pile is more or less a pipe dream, the ‘storage unit’ pile is mindbending, and the ‘trash pile’ applies to nearly everything. No ‘keep’ pile needed.” I lead them back inside the crowded cabin.
“Sounds fun,” Wolfe, our fearless leader, chimes in. He’s a massive brute of a man, boasting professional wrestler proportions with buzz-cut brown hair and hazel-colored eyes. Loyal to a fault, he remains dedicated to taking care of his Ranger colleagues-turned-undercover crew, although years havepassed since we officially served together. Although I was a loser drunk until eighteen months ago.
