One Bride for Five Mountain Men

“No way. She loved me,” she protested.

“Of course she wouldn’t tell you, but secretly she was annoyed,” he grinned at her.

“Excuse me, mister. Are you trying to say that I am an annoying person?” She raised a brow.

“Only sometimes,” Arsen winked.

Rory raised her hand again to hit him on the arm and then remembered what he had said.

“You, mister, you… you are a handful and some more,” she stuttered a little through her words. Handful and darn cute, Rory thought, as his deep dimples caught her attention again.

“If I wasn’t such a handful…and some more, then you probably wouldn’t be sitting here having coffee with me.” His eye gleamed as his hand reached out toward hers. It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it that made Rory’s insides tingle. She was thankful when Martha interrupted.

“Here you go, kids. Fresh from the oven.” She hurriedly put down some pound cake, a bunch of cupcakes, and some hand pies along with two cups of cappuccino. Then she pulled herself a chair from one of the nearby tables, much to Arsen’s surprise.

“How have you been, kiddo? Quite a storm the other day, eh?” Martha asked.

“Nothing unusual for us, right?” Rory replied politely, itching to dig into the cupcakes. Arsen meanwhile had already cut a piece of pound cake and was munching. How rude!

“I hardly see you around here anymore. I see more of that silly friend of yours than I see of you.” Martha started to complain but then stopped. “Look at me yapping while the food gets cold. Dig in, kiddo,” Martha said. Rory picked up a cupcake, wriggled her nose at Arsen, and took a big bite. To hell with eating like a lady.

“Arsen, how long have you lived here?” Martha inquired.

“I don’t live here, just visiting,” Arsen said while munching. So much for eating like a gentleman too, Rory mused.

“I see. For how long?” Martha asked.

“As long as fate intends.”

“But you must have a time period in mind?”

“Time is nothing but an illusion. Don’t you think?”

The coffee Rory was drinking almost snorted out of her nose as she chuckled at how easily Arsen was evading these invasive questions from Martha, something that she herself had always struggled to do.

“What do you do Arsen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a garbage contractor,” he said, without missing a beat. His eyes met Rory’s. Oh, that twinkle in his eye.

“That’s nice. You must make a nice living with that. Don’t you worry though that some of that garbage might get stuck in your long hair? I imagine short hair would be better for such a job?”

“Well I have people who work for me, but then I always tie a scarf around my head,” Arsen said convincingly.

“You better be washing that scarf daily,” Martha chuckled and nudged Rory. Being the homey kind, all Martha could think about was cooking, cleaning, and running things in the household or in the bakery.

“It gets tough. Especially during the rain. We can’t get the trash wet, you know, or it becomes a lot messier,” Arsen continued.

“I can imagine.” Martha was deep in thought; surely a picture of what Arsen was describing was forming in her head.

“We struggle with our garbage disposal here too. Often we have to throw out leftovers when heavy rain ruins sales. I tell you it's quite a chore,” she continued. “Maybe you have some ideas on how I can make the process easier?”

Arsen was taken aback for a moment, but he didn’t let it show. Rory chuckled, waiting to see how he would dig himself out of this hole.

“How about giving it to a homeless shelter?” he said. Rory was impressed with how quickly he came up with a reply. Martha nodded in agreement.

“Funny, I never thought of that before,” she wondered aloud. Rory’s eyes caught Arsen’s and a secret smile passed between them. Their very own secret joke. Soon enough, Martha was off, heading back into the kitchen to supervise something or the other.

“Garbage contractor?” Rory laughed. “But that was a good idea, to give food the homeless shelter. I didn’t know that a bad boy rockstar could be so charitable.”