Page 4 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

I didn’t do dangerous stuff like meeting a man in person. The apps were safer. With the online chat, I could get to know them a bit, choose if I wanted to give them my number, andthenset up a date in real life—layers of built-in protection. Popping straight into the ‘in real life’ meeting always ended badly. Like what happened with Troy, my most recent ex. He cheated on me with Melissa Kesler, the high school counselor, and they eloped to the UK.

“Well, my parents look like they’re ready to go,” I said, then sped over to Mama and gathered their two rollie bags.

Remi followed me.

“Here, let me help you out to your car,” he said.

“Isn’t he the most considerate man?” Mama looked at me while she asked her question.

Yes, he was. He was also way out of my league. My search for a match started and ended in a pool two levels down from Remi. Men living in my realm proved to be more considerate.

I pushed my way out the door. The wind blasted into me on the way to our old Dodge truck. I bent to lift the bags into the back, but Remi beat me to it. He made those bags look as light as a piece of straw. I caught myself staring at his muscles and shook my head.

It would never work. I would fall in love with him in, like, five minutes, then what would happen? He’d ask me out for drinks, then dinner, maybe a movie. Perhaps we’d make-out at the back of the theater, I’d invite him over to hang out with my parents, and we’d talk all night. Inevitably, when he was done with me, he’d discard me and move on to the next vulnerable girl. I might as well spare myself the heartache and stop the progression here and now.

Besides, spring planting season loomed before me. My scant extra time would be spent withtheone. Possibly with my match, Daniel Smoot.

My phone buzzed against my thigh in my purse. I pulled it out, and indeed, there was a message from Smoot.

Hey! So excited you messaged me. Not a morning person. Haha. What do you do for fun? Love that your profile says adventurous.

My heart lifted. He messaged me back! Okay. Maybe I stretched the truth a bit when I’d put adventurous in my profile. Adventure for me was watching Netflix instead of Hallmark on my days off.

Here was a good, solid option for me. Fun, fairly cute, and, from his profile and message, had a great personality. I peeked over the edge of my phone at Remi. Farewell, tall, handsome Remi with the softest eyes I’ve ever seen. Goodbye, heaving biceps and taut pectorals. It would have been nice to touch you.

He slammed the tailgate closed, setting his helmet to motion once again.

My mind churned through all my failed dates this past year. I couldn’t be boring old me if I wanted to snatch a soulmate like Smoot. No. I had to reinvent myself. Become more interesting … like Hot-Backpack-Guy-the-Third. If Smoot wanted adventure, I’d give him adventure.

Without thinking, I typed my response.

Hi. Full-on night owl here too. And I love to jump off bridges.With a parachute. For fun.

I hit send and threw my phone back into my purse with my heart in my throat.

Without much control—I blamed lack of sleep—my eyes found Remi again. He stood next to Papa while Papa struggled into the cab, not offering too much help or making him feel dependent.

Ignoring the gravitational pull tugging me toward Remi, I yanked my door open. The hinges creaked louder than the howling wind. Mama sat beside Papa in the back of the truck, and I scooted behind the wheel.

“I’ll take this inside for you.” Remi gestured at the wheelchair. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Tony and Ms. Nora, and …” He paused and locked eyes with me. “You too, Miss Angie.”

Miss Angie?Who talked like that? Shoot me now and bury me in my grave. Second thoughts weaseled into my resolve.

I slammed the door on them and his beautiful face. Through the long years of being the chubby kid through my adolescence, I’d learned that boys like Remi were never an option.

Jiggling the key into the ignition, I turned it. The truck chugged to life … and died.

Chapter 2

Remi

ItappedonAngie’swindow. Her head bobbed up and down as she manually cranked it open. People still owned cars with manual windows?

“I’m fine. It’ll start.” She tried again, but her attempts ended with the same results—a dead truck. “No. No. No.”

“Give it another try, Muffin,” Tony said.

Muffin? He’d called her this in the airport too. The flush in her cheeks and the way she shot me a quick glance told me Angie didn’t especially love it.

---