Page 85 of Bride of Choice

What am I doing with my life?

Glancing towards the door, I frowned. Hadn’t been doing much better back on Earth, either. Was I doomed to be miserable?

I had my sewing… I was alright at cooking. I tried. My loved ones seemed to appreciate it. Boog and Rosa had been quick with the barbecue jerky compliments. I could wash things by hand now without messing them up…

I could redecorate a hut like no one’s business. That last one was bullshit. My place was a hot mess, but I could dream. It’s on my bucket list.

That’s it? Cooking and sewing, cleaning? Daydream decorating? I’m a regular Martha freakin’ Stewart. Har-har.

That’s not at all what I meant and I knew it.

With a groan, I forced myself to my feet. Annnd nearly tripped over a small wooden crate set off to the side, pushed up next to one of the table chairs, in my distracted haste to get a cloth and some water to wash up and then crawl into bed and pretend Gopher hadn’t just dumped me.

Dumped me! And not because I can be a total bitch or anything but because he didn’t trust himself around me and he’s too scared to try! ARGH! Giving in to the urge, I grit my teeth and a muffled screech broke free.

In search of a distraction before I imploded, I put all of my attention onto the crate.

A small note from Dorothy attached said these were extras she thought I might appreciate.

A very long nightgown with frilly sleeves I’d never be caught dead in was neatly folded at the top of the pile, some cloth wrapped bread, a small triangle of wax dipped blue cheese she knew I liked, two small meat pies I’d smelled baking earlier back at her place, dehydrated meat, vegetables, an assortment of fresh fruit, and a recipe to put the meat and veg together into the pot it was all sitting in. There was even a small piece of round, lumpy soap that smelled lovely, like lilacs. There was more, but the food and soap made the top of the list.

Pulling everything else out, I paused at the hand carved looking hook thing, a small ball of yarn, and instructions at the bottom. Next to them was an old, worn out crossword book and soft piece of cloth, and thin, short charcoal pencil, with a piece of plastic slipped between the pages. She used the plastic to place over the puzzles and work them, then wipe the plastic off.

It was the equivalent to a keep busy kit.

Glancing from the nightgown to the pitcher, seeing no place for extra water to be stored, I dumped the water into the small wash basin, set down the gown, slipped my boots back on, and made my way outside to scoop up some of the freshly fallen snow.

It was beautiful out, fat flakes dusting everything. It always felt like Christmas here. If only it ever was that way for real. I’ve been good all year, haven’t I? What the fuck, Nick? The bitch in that one Christmas song wanted a convertible and crap and all I want is a relatively normal Yeti man without a ton of hangups to come along and convince me I’m the one and make me the happiest asshole ever. Is that so much to ask?!

One glance down at my boots and I sighed. Who was I kidding. If there really was a Santa, my ass would be on some sort of eternal black list. Thinking of my hijinks with Odix, a small smile tipped my lips. So worth it.

My gaze darted to the snow again and I held the noise in my throat back. I was not a whiny bitch. I was so not a whiny bitch-scuit.

Back to work.

I was nearly done with my task when the soft snap of a twig towards the back of the hut had me pausing.

“Not funny,” I called out. “Nice try, but you don’t scare me.” Freaking Rek.

Nothing.

He’d have popped out by now.

I highly doubted it was Gopher pulling that crap, not after what had happened a little bit ago.

If it wasn’t Rek, and it wasn’t Gopher…

Unease slithered through me.

“Boog?” Taking a shot in the dark, I blurted, “Doogie? Seriously… not funny. I will so rat you out to your mom, dude. I won’t even think twice about it!”

Still, nothing.

It was probably nothing more than a critter scurrying off to get home and find warmth, but I hurried back inside all the same.

Kicking out of my boots and sloughing off my coat once more, I really took in the place this time.

The curtains covering the windows were cute, a blue and white checked pattern. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed them the first time— they gave the comfort over cutesy style of the room, bordering on austere, a much needed pop of color. The material was woven here, I could tell that much, but I was growing attached to the homespun look of things. If only I could get those assholes at market to make some material for me.

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