I scowled. "Isn't the suit and bell a Santa thing?"
She rang her bell obnoxiously. "We're getting a head start."
A fine mist began to rain down on us, and I squinted at the cloudy sky in irritation. It was bad enough that I was here, forced to rely on my newly hired hand at the ranch to take care of the animals so I could fly a thousand miles and sell my soul to mymother. Now it was raining, and I had not dressed appropriately for the soggy, cold weather. If I stayed out here much longer, my white button-down would get drenched through.
I fished my wallet out of the beat-up brown purse I'd had for almost a decade, and with numb fingers, I plucked a ten from it. Warily, I edged a little closer to the turkey, holding it at arm's length. "Here."
"Thank you," the turkey said brightly, taking the bill in her gloved hand. "I do the turkey dance for all my donors. Do you want a turkey dance?"
Cold rainwater slid down the back of my collar. "I'm good, thank you."
"It's like the chicken dance, but as a turkey," she added.
I gave her an awkward wave, already walking away. "Good luck with that."
"Your destination is on the right," my British GPS lady's voice said.Thank God I can get out of the rain.I hurried forward, scanning the charming storefronts until I came across a historic, brick-face building that looked like it had several offices inside. The lobby was warm and dry, and I scanned the letter board for the office my mom had demanded I meet her at. There. Kiss-Met. Level three.
I wasn't sure what the point was in meeting here. Apparently, Kiss-Met was a renowned dating agency, and I recognized the name of it because my brother's girlfriend worked there. If my mom was trying toseriouslymatch me with someone before the wedding date in January, then she might be battier than I thought.
A person didn't just fall in love in two months, and if anyone could, it wouldn't be me. There was no logical reason for it, but I hadn't dated men or women in years, not since my undergrad. And even then, it had never gotten past a date or two, much to Mom's chagrin. There was a mental block I'd had since I was akid when it came to intimacy and trust—the block was, I couldn't do it. I couldn't believe anyone would care enough about me to not hurt me.
Mom knew that, which was why the whole dating agency thing was odd. Maybe she was actually losing her grip on reality. Was that something I could use in court? I shook that thought away immediately, hitting the elevator button. I couldn't afford a legal battle, or I would have already given my mom the metaphorical—okay, andliteral—middle finger and taken her to court over her unfair management of my ranch's loan. Not to mention the immoral coercion she used on me. But I couldn't afford it, and my animals couldn't afford for me to lose the money I used to feed and house them. I was well and truly stuck, and my mother knew it.
I took the elevator to the third floor, and when the door slid open, I found myself entering a posh foyer area with a waterfall feature across the room and a slick, curved desk to my left. For some reason, I'd pictured a dating agency being a little… seedier. This looked kind of legit.
"Arabella!" My mother came around the corner, a coffee in her manicured hand and her black pumps clacking loudly across the polished floors. She had on a black and white skirt suit—her usual—and maybe it was my imagination, but she looked thinner than usual. Almost skeletal. Her natural red hair had been twisted in a tidy chignon, and as she came to stand next to me, she actually looked… happy.
Oh, yeah. She was definitely losing it. "Hey," I said tersely.
Sylvia lowered her voice and said, "Just so we're on the same page, you are hoping todatethese candidates, yes? We wouldn't want anyone misunderstanding our arrangement."
Of course. Maybe she wasn't so out of touch with reality after all if she knew the matchmakers would not feel comfortablearranging a marriage for me, seeing as this wasn’t Edwardian Era England. "Right," I bit out.
Her glacial eyes scanned me, and her mauve-tinted lips turned down at the corners. "Where is your coat, Arabella? For heaven's sake. It's November."
"I left it in the car."Because the thought of doing this is making me sweaty. Because I've been continuously claustrophobic since you called me three days ago. Because I want to claw myself out of my own skin, and wearing coats and layers feels strangulating and oppressive.
"Well." She reached up and tried to fix my bright, bubblegum pink hair, which I was sure looked disheveled after an early morning plane ride and hurried walk to get here. Also, I'd been accosted by a turkey, so there was that. "Smiles. Best foot forward. This will all be arranged, and before you know it, you'll have the support you never knew you needed."
Absolutely psychotic, this woman.I would doubt that she was even my mother if it weren't for the exact shade of blue in her irises that matched mine, as well as the long, elegant facial features we shared. Not to mention the overall icy demeanor she had passed down to me. And Knox. We were her spawn, there was no doubt about it. But I didn't have to like it. "Let's just get this over with."
"Goodness, you are so dramatic," Sylvia chastised under her breath. "This way." We passed a cheery-looking receptionist that was on the phone with another client, and then we hooked a left. We went down a wide hallway lined with glass walls that looked into a conference room and a couple of posh-looking consultation rooms. Sylvia opened the door to one of these, gesturing primly for me to go in after her.
My heart took off at a gallop. This was insanity. Never, in my wildest dreams, had I thought that buying a rescue ranch in Park City, Utah would lead me to an arranged marriage in the twenty-first century. I wasn't the kind of woman who allowed herself to be led around by the nose like this—I told off cranky ranchers without flinching and calmed blubbering patients worried about their pets. I took horse kicks to the shins without shedding a tear, and I spent long hours in harsh outdoor conditions making sure the animals I cared for were happier and healthier than I had found them.
I did not march docilely to a tyrant's commands.
Except, I did, clearly. When it meant the safety of the animals I cared for, I did. And here I was, walking over to a mahogany, upholstered chair and sitting down across from an elegant matching desk. I was reaching across that desk and shaking someone's hand like I actually meant to be here. I was selling my body and soul to the devil to save my ranch. And there was nothing I could do to fight it.
"Welcome," the older woman said as I robotically shook her proffered hand. Her skin was soft, almost fragile, and her warm gaze melted through some of my shock. "I'm so glad you're here. I'm Janice."
Her voice was so gentle, so soothing, I almost believed her. I almost believed she really was happy to have met me, like she knew me already and had been waiting to meet me in person. "Thanks," I said. My voice sounded far away, like I was on the other end of a highway tunnel.
"This is Arabella," Sylvia said, her tone biting my heels in censure as if there was some kind of social etiquette faux pas I had made. "We're so thrilled to have your help. It's so difficult to meet decent men when she lives so far away and in the middle of nowhere."
"So I've heard," Janice said with a probing glance my way. "Such an unusual situation," she added with a sageness that made me think maybe she was onto my mom a little. Shecouldn't know the whole of the situation, but it must have been clear that I'd been coerced here.
"Yes, it is," I said without emotion.
