Page 6 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Mix-Up
That was a good question. It made me sound like an awful person. West would think less of me—and the last thing I wanted was for him to think less of me.
“Maybe I should tell Bobbi I’ve changed my mind. She can set him up with the other fiancée whenever she arrives.”
“You don’t want to marry him?” he asked.
I thought about that for a long moment. There was only one answer, and it was clearer to me than anything ever had been before.
“I don’t want to marry some guy who was tricked into doing it, but that’s not why.” I paused. No, I had to be honest with him. “All I know is I want to stay here and keep getting to know you.”
That was too forward. He probably wasn’t at all interested in me. He’d made me a cheeseburger and some fries, that was all. Oh, and he also grabbed a seltzer from the cooler. He hadn’t charged me for any of it yet, but I assumed that check was coming, and I’d watch even more of my pathetic checking account balance drain away.
Was this crazy? My supposed fiancé was paying for my room. All I had to do was go back to the inn and I’d be living for free. But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t worried. I probably should be. I didn’t have the money to get back home. I had no way of getting around. Plus, it was clear this town had no opportunities.
But I could clean rooms at the inn. Or wait tables here, if this guy would pay me. Staying here, broke, was more appealing than putting hundreds of miles between me and this man I’d just met.
I’d kept my eyes on what remained of my burger, but now I looked up at him. He didn’t look scared. He hadn’t gone cold on me. The opposite, in fact. He didn’t seem to smile much, but I didn’t realize until then that his tense expression wasn’t the norm for him. His features softened, and he looked relaxed for the first time since I walked through that door.
His lips twitched, then curved upward slightly—a tentative smile. “I’ll talk to Bobbi for you.
I shook my head. “No, I should tell her. I’m the one backing out. Do you need any help around here? Because it looks like I’m going to need a job. I was planning on it anyway, but I had no idea how much of a shortage of jobs there’d be in Wildwood Valley.”
“No,” he said.
My stomach lurched. The cheeseburger sat like a big lump in it. On the surface, it would seem like I was disappointed that he didn’t want to help me by giving me a job. Or maybe he really couldn’t. He had said money was tight.
But no, this went deeper than that. I’d just bared a huge part of my soul to him. I told him I wanted to call off my marriage to get to know him better, and he’d semi-smiled. How had I misinterpreted that signal so completely?
“You can stay with me,” he said. “In my guest bedroom, of course. Or, if you’re not comfortable with that, you can sleep at my sister’s. She has a house she’s not using. She’s trying to get it going as a rental, but it sits empty most of the year.”
I took a bite of French fry and stared at him. My heart was now racing as I listened to his offer.
He went on, “You can also use my laptop if you need it. I’ll help you find work. You could work here, if that’s what you really want, but I don’t have much in the way of hours. My two servers are young college kids, home for the summer. I’ll definitely need help in just a few weeks, but for now…”
His voice trailed off. As he spoke, he kept his eyes on me, that intensity still in his stare. But his features remained relaxed. Gone was the tension from earlier. Maybe my situation reminded him he was lucky.
Whatever the case, I wasn’t fooling myself. He was doing this to be nice. Pity, not attraction. I’d endured my fair share of pity after both of my parents died in a car accident when I wasa senior in high school, and I’d grown to hate it. Right now, I absolutely despised it.
I didn’t want his pity. I wanted… Well, I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him yet, but it was the opposite of pity.
“I’m going to take you up on your offer,” I said, picking up my burger and hoping I could stomach the rest of it. As delicious as it was, my body had suddenly turned on me. “If your sister wouldn’t mind…”
I took a bite without looking directly at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that his features changed. He wasn’t even halfway smiling anymore, and some of the tension had returned. Not all, but some.
“My sister won’t mind,” he said.
Now I looked at him full-on, frowning. “But you mind.”
He gave a nod. “Yes, I do. I’ll be right back.”
He left me sitting there, reviewing everything we’d said up to this point. Things were going so well. How had I screwed it up? Or maybe he had screwed it up. Maybe he should be honest with me. Just open his mouth and say what he was thinking.
I couldn’t demand that, though. I needed his help, whether I liked it or not.
There was another option. I could go back across the street and wait for seven o’clock. I could meet my groom, enjoy my free room, and marry him on Sunday and move in with him—if he was up for it.
By the time West came walking back to the table, I’d already run through all the options in my head. No, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t marry someone else. Not now that I’d met this guy—even if he wasn’t into me. I didn’t know what that said about me, but I’d rather spend the rest of my life single, pining for a guy I couldn’t have, than trapped in a marriage with someone who wasn’t West.
As he sat down, I noticed he was holding a glass full of liquid that wasn’t beer. It looked like tea. He probably had to lay off the alcohol in case a customer came in.
