Page 7 of The Christmas Romance Wish

“Are you talking to yourself?” asks former Green Beret Jesse Stockton upon entering the room.

Along with Paxton, he’s one of my good friends, works for Wild Warriors, my company, and is helping me out with the Wild Warriors Winter Weekend. We’re doing a hike with full gear and coming back with enough material to make one hundred wreaths. We’ll deliver those and supplies to make a warm Christmas dinner to vets, single moms, and other folks in our community.

“He said something about his voice...in his voice?” saysPaxton Pearce, an ex-marine with a wild streak, to say the least. He’s a troublemaker but would carry one of his men across a field while under open fire. In fact, he has. He also works at Wild Warriors and is helping this weekend. It takes a team, even if we’re not all SEALs.

“Who were you talking to?” Jesse asks.

“Given that smile on Lexman’s face, it was a female. A girl. A woman,” Paxton says as on target as ever.

“What’s her name?” Jesse asks.

“Emmie. She’s my co-writer and nothing more. Remember, she’s coming up this weekend. You’re to be on your best behavior.”

Pax waggles his eyebrows. “You can’t deny that you’re wearing a certain kind of smile. Maybe you’ll have a little weekend fling.”

“I’m too old for that.”

“What do you mean? Charlie Kincaid found love at the age of forty. It’s not like there’s a time limit on romance,” Jesse says.

Somewhere along the way, I signed off on love. Missed the boat. Too late for me. Plus, I wouldn’t know where to start trying to romance a woman. Give her a bouquet of rifles? Make her a cake with bullet casings? I’m forged with iron. Made of grit and gunpowder. There’s nothing in me a woman would want.

Jesse points to my phone. “As I was saying, Charlie met Denise on a dating app called Marry Me. You should try it.” He goes on to tell us how it works with an intensive interview process that goes beyond superficial stats and interests.

“The questions are thorough and get vetted to authenticate the app users and provide real marriage matches,” Paxton says, reading from his device.

“So, it’s modern and old-fashioned.” I pour a cup of coffee.

“Just like you, Lexman,” Jesse says.

He refers to my preference to live on a ranch in the Middle of Nowhere, Utah. I also have all the latest gear, guy toys, and kit. I’m big into off-roading and fast driving, hiking and biking—of the motorized variety—and using the right tool for the right job.Sometimes that’s a handmade knife. Others, it’s a CNC machine to fabricate the Wild Warriors flag and eagle logo on wood for our brothers who hit service milestones.

“With Emmie coming, maybe instead of Christmas bells, there are going to be wedding bells,” Paxton says, lifting his gaze from the Marry Me app.

Is it getting warm in here? With the snow outside, the wood stove is running. I’m wearing a flannel but am suddenly overheating at the notion of Emmie and marriage in the same conversation. Maybe the second cup of coffee was a bad idea.

The truth is, if I’d lived a different life, I’d like to get married, settle down, and have a family. Show a woman the best of me, offer hope, happiness, and a happily ever after, but there’s none of that left—maybe for Charlie, Jesse, and Paxton even, but not for me.

“You have an account on the Marry Me app, Jesse. Don’t deny it,” Paxton singsongs.

“I wouldn’t mind getting married someday, and it’s not like I’m going to meet someone hanging around with you two.”

Pax shrugs. “You never know.”

“Do you have a sister? Never mind, she’d look like a cave troll.” Jesse contorts his face to resemble something that just crawled out of a trench.

“What does Emmie look like?” Paxton asks.

I shrug. “You’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover. Cave trolls can be cool.”

“Have you met one?” Jesse asks, genuinely curious.

“So, what does she look like,” Pax repeats.

I grunt. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” they both say at the same time.

I sip my coffee. “Nope. We’ve only talked on the phone, emailed, and texted.” In some format every single day for nine months. Sometimes multiple times a day.

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