Page 2 of Protective

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t find problems with this already. It’s a good concept, and it takes all the real-world scary shit out of dating.”

I pop another muffin and talk with a full mouth. “You mean the part where you naturally meet someone, have dinner, and casually fall in love?”

“That doesn’t happen anymore. Now, everyone meets online. They Photoshop their pictures, they lie about who they are, they make you think they’re interested, and then they ghost you.” She waves her hands toward the phone, and with a bite to her tone says, “This…takes away fromthat.”

Ideally, this concept doesn’t sound like the worst notion in the world, but it’s still weird. Weird, and most likely, as disappointing as real-life dating.

“How many dates does this guy already have? If he’s so perfect, I’m sure women are going mad for him.”

“The profile doesn’t tell you how many dates he has set up. It only says that he’s still available. Your date is in two days. Time for you to get out there.”

Something that feels like excitement and rage bubbles through me all at once. I both hate Trish and feel the tiniest bit thankful for her. “What the fuck?”

“You’re going to have fun. Trust me.”

I stare toward her and pop another small muffin into my mouth, chewing the fake blueberries slower this time as I contemplate the reality of what a day scrolling my phone in old pajamas and dirty hair has become.

I think I kind of… maybe like it.

Chapter Two

Chevy

Throughout my tours overseas, I’d always come back to an ever-changing Rugged Mountain. I’d be sitting around a campfire with some friends at a farewell party and return to most of them with spouses and babies. It’s not that I’m not happy for them, but as I see everyone moving on, I can’t help but feel a little jealous. I was married to the service all my life, but it had an expiration date, and mine just ended. Now, everyone says it’s time to join the rest of them at the couples’ parties, so they’ve been feeding me up to any hungry lionesses they can find.

Last month, a buddy set me up with a friend of his that was desperate to meet someone. I should’ve taken the desperate part to heart. The girl was crazier than a camel on quaaludes. I haven’t trusted a set up since, which lead me to this Mail Order Mountain Man website that everyone was talking about.

Truth be told, I’m not one hundred percent convinced that this whole mail order thing is the way to go, but I’ve gotta do something to keep my buddies off my back and this is the easiest way to do it. At least that’s my excuse. Reality is, I wouldn’t mind a little company in the cabin at night. Someone to bounce ideas off and maybe share life with.

The intake process was simple. I paid a load of cash, filled out an application, and waited for matches. I’ve had two this week and so far, they’ve both been fails.

One girl was way too fucking young, and we had nothing to talk about. I’m not saying that an age gap like that doesn’t work in certain situations, but I don’t know as if we had much in common. She kept saying everything was toxic, and she didn’t know who George Strait was. Surely noteverythingis toxic, and not knowing the King of Country, I mean… come on.

The other woman was a police officer in town, which is cool as hell, but she wasn’t looking for someone to take care of her. She wanted something more of a co-pilot, which isn’t my thing. I could tell immediately that we’d clash at every turn.

It’s not that I’m against an equal partnership, it’s just that I believe wholeheartedly that a man should take care of a woman. From what I’ve seen across the world, the happiest couples are those where the man protects and cares for the woman.

I watched it happen with my grandparents. My grandfather woke up every morning to go provide for and protect my grandmother, and they both flourished. Grandma loved Grandpa so hard that he was the happiest person I’ve seen to this day.

So many women don’t want that now, though. They’re hyper independent, and every time I date one of them, I feel more like a puppet than a partner.

I’d like to treat you like a lady, ma’am. Would you please let me?

I shake my head and unlock the cabin pod that’s meant for blind dates. The whole dating thing takes place on a ranch set out in the middle of nowhere, but the people who purchased the land must have had money to burn because this place is five-star classy. Then again, I guess it better be given the price I paid to participate.

Inside the cabin, the fireplace is crackling, a welcome basket with snacks and drinks is set out next to a notebook withconversation starters, and a switch is on the wall to turn the speaker on when I’m ready. The décor is rustic, fitting with the overall theme of the ranch. There’s even a longhorn skull hung above the fireplace. I’d bet the whole cabin is a twenty-five by twenty-five foot space.

The green light turns on above the door, indicating my date has arrived. Shit, this one is early. That’s positive. The first one was late and the second one left halfway through the date because of a call that came in. That, or she was sick of me.

I grab the bottle of water from the basket and flick on the speaker, shoving down the butterflies that twist and tighten my stomach. I don’t think I was this nervous going into war-torn countries to disarm bombs.

There’s something so nerve-wracking about meeting someone you know nothing about. On the one hand, it’s a clean slate. On the other, a conversation is not equal under all circumstances. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get someone to talk.

“Hey there.”

Hey there. Really? I’ve done this twice now. You’d think I’d have something better to say than‘hey there.’

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