Page 3 of My Mountain Man Grump
The boots and the back of the Jeep Cherokee that pokes out from around the side of the Sunrise Cabin makes me think she’s a mountain girl. But it’s a rental, so she’s not from around here.
Maybe she’s a distant relative here to visit Gran. That must be it. Gran’s probably sent her pictures of the girls with me in them, which is why she’s looking at me like she knows me.
“Do I know you?”
Her smile falters, and the brightness goes out of her eyes. It’s like the sun going out, and I wonder what I’ve said to change her happy mood.
“Um, are you Cole?” She bites on her lower lip.
“Yeah. Who are you?”
It comes out gruffer than I intended and the woman folds her arms over her body, folding into herself. “I’m Carrie.”
I search the name in my memory, but I don’t know any Carries. Her eyes narrow and uncertainty crosses her features. She shakes her head slightly and backs away a step.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Nope.” Her hand covers her mouth, and her eyes widen in horror. I hate that I’m causing her to feel that way, but I have no idea why. “Should I?”
She backs away, her hand clasping her phone. “No. I… um. I’ve made a mistake…”
“You-hoo!” Gran’s voice rings out clear and cheerful as she saunters around from the side of the Jeep. She’s puffing from exertion, and she must have come up the back way from her cabin. “Carrie, right?” She extends a hand to Carrie. “Joyce.”
Carrie looks confused, but her manners must win out because she takes Gran’s hand and shakes it. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here to meet you; I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”
Carrie’s mouth drops open in confusion, and she looks between us.
“I think there’s been a mistake…”
Whatever she’s trying to figure out gets lost in Gran’s cheerfulness. “No. No mistake. You’re Carrie, twenty-four years old, a nurse from North Carolina who likes hiking, baking, and hopes to have her own family one day.”
Carrie’s jaw juts forward and her eyebrows draw together, the confused look never leaving her face. But as Gran talks it dawns on me what’s going on here.
Gran’s at it again. Meddling in my life and parading yet another eligible woman in front of me. I’ve had the entire single female population between the ages of 18-55 presented to me in one way or another over the past year, ever since Gran decided it was time for me to move on and find my girls a mother.
“And this is Cole.” Gran gestures to me like a waiter presenting what’s on the menu. “Thirty-four years old,ex-military man turned helicopter pilot, a widower with two daughters who are in desperate need of a mother.”
There is nothing subtle in Gran’s tactics. Last summer she organized a singles party at her house and tricked me into coming by saying it was the birthday party for the girls’ piano teacher, who was there alongside every other single woman in town.
When I say it was a singles party, I mean I was the only single man around at least thirty single women. Gran escorted me through the party, her surprisingly strong fingers gripping my arm and pulling me from one woman to the next as she whispered their credentials into my ear. “Kirsty, twenty-eight, single mom to a five year old.Fertile.” She nudged me and her right eye spasmed in what for one horrible moment I thought was Gran having a stroke until l realized she was trying to wink.
That was a nudge too far. I ordered everyone out and swore I’d take the girls further into the mountains if she ever tried something like that again.
But here we are. She’s managed to convince some poor sap to come to Montana all the way from North Carolina to try out for the part of mother of my children. As if me and the girls aren’t doing just fine on our own. I don’t know what scheme the two of them have cooked up, but I want no part of it.
“Gran.” At my gruff tone she puts a hand on my shoulder, knowing what must be coming.
“Now, Cole, I’ve been corresponding with Carrie for the last three months…”
Carrie gasps. “That was you?”
The look of horror lets me know she wasn’t privy to Gran’s schemes, which makes me feel sorry for her. But also, who comes all this way to meet someone they met online?
“…and according to the dating app, she is a perfect match for you. Same interests, you both work in the service of others, and you’ve both experienced a loss.”
Anger flares inside me. Gran’s been telling a complete stranger about my personal life. This is too much.
“Now Cole…” Gran begins, but I cut her off before this can go any further.
