His Mail Order Bride (Alpha Men 1)
I began to get excited, but I couldn’t overlook the biggest obstacle. Tally, my coworker, might have been writing with my name, but she’s not me. All of those letters, they were based on what Tally thought of me.
They’re not me. I didn’t write them.
“If you’re sure then, I guess I’ll go,” Page says, bringing my thoughts back around to the present.
“I’m sure. Thank you so much.”
“You’re different than Stone described,” she says, and those butterflies in my stomach all take off at once. I swallow down the nausea and search my brain for a plausible excuse.
“Really, how?”
“I’m not sure how to explain it, but I think Stone is in for a surprise,” she says with a smile.
“Do you think he will be disappointed?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Have you looked in the mirror?” She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re beautiful, girl.”
Her words make heat rise into my face. I feel the blush spread.
“What time does Stone get in?”
Page looks down at her watch. She’s the beautiful one. Blond, beautiful blue eyes, tall, curvy, and everything I’ve always wanted to be. I have mouse brown hair, my breasts are so small that most of the time I don’t bother with a bra, and I’m barely five-foot-five on a good day.
I’ve read through the letters that Tally and Stone have exchanged. After seeing a picture of me, he mentioned that I wasn’t what he was looking for, but that he was intrigued by me. I have no idea what that meant, but it’s worrying. If this doesn’t work out, I’m in real trouble. That brings to mind the biggest problem in my mind right now.
Can I do this? Can I live with a man I barely know? Can I give my body to a man… to a stranger?
“He should be home around six this evening, maybe seven. With men like this, their hours are never the same,” Page answers and I smile.
I blather on some nonsense and she finally leaves. When I close the door, I lean against it for support as I look at this monster of a house. It’s beautiful, but it’s all so clean and huge… It’s cold almost. I shiver at the thought.
Will Stone be just as cold?
Chapter Three
Stone
I shut off my truck and climb out, sore, hungry and damn tired. I slam the door shut with more power than needed, but it brings me comfort. I was wanting to get home early to talk to Carly. It’s almost ten o’clock. With my luck she’ll be in bed. It’d be too much to hope she’ll be in my bed. It’s probably too soon for me to fuck her. Women get some crazy notions about that shit, but my dick has been raging all day at the thought of Carly here, waiting for me. I walk to the house and, stepping on the porch, I see two things. One I fucking love. She’s turned the porch light on for me. It’s a small gesture, but one that I like… a lot.
The other thing has me frowning. She has a small plastic container of what looks like leftover food on the porch. Is she trying to feed the wildlife? Carly told me in a letter that she was an avid camper and enjoyed the outdoors. She should know better than anyone that feeding anything around here is dangerous. There are bears, wolves, coyotes and a bunch of things out there that would tear her to shreds. I pick up the dish and unlock the door. I’ll have to have a talk with her, I suppose.
The house is dark except for a lamp that’s turned on by the couch. I start to walk toward it and stumble. I look down and see a pair of tennis shoes. They’re small; they have to be Carly’s. They’re also not on the mat as you go through the door. Annoying. I like things a certain way and shoes clearly have a designated spot by the door. As I look around the room I notice an open magazine on the table, and the throw that is normally folded in the corner is all messed up on the floor, like someone was covered with it on the couch and then just let it fall to the floor when they got up.
In her letters, Carly said she definitely understood my need to keep a home neat and orderly. Perhaps this is just because she was nervous. I shrug it off. It will take time for her to get used to living here.
I was hoping she would be waiting up for me, but it was a long trip. I’m sure she’s worn out. I’m pretty damn beat myself. I walk to the kitchen to grab myself a beer when I see the note on the fridge.