Page 25 of Mail Order Bride

“Alice who?”

I’m searching for Joel among all the people, but I can’t find him. Chad Hensley’s hands are on my hips and he's pulling me closer. He reeks of liquor and bad intentions.

“Alice,” I say, pushing him away. “The woman you’re going to marry next month.”

“Alice smalice,” he tells me, slurring his words. He gets handsy as I wriggle loose of his grip. I feel the crowd closing in, pushing us together. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Don't do this. Not again. You know—”

“I have to go,” I say, cutting him off. Because he's right. I do know. I know exactly what happened the last time I rejected Chad Hensley's advances. Everyone knows.

I step up on my tippy toes and search for Joel. Finally, our eyes meet. I see something reflected back, something that both scares and excites me. “Go home,” I tell Chad. “Sleep it off.”

It happens in an instant, too fast for me to stop it. His fist twists around my hair and he pulls me close, so close our noses are practically touching. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?”

I push him off, shoving him backward so hard he stumbles. He recovers quickly, because well, that’s Chad. He closes the gap between us with a single step. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he spits.

“Fuck off,” I say and there’s an audible gasp in the crowd. Ladies in this town don’t speak that way, especially not in public. If only I’d stopped there, but I don’t. I surprise even myself with the slap that's heard around the world. It’s like the entire barn goes dead silent. The music stops. The only sound is the thump of my heart. I finally find Joel’s face in the sea of people, but mostly I’m thinking what I just did.

I've just slapped the second most powerful man in this town.

The look on Chad's face—I can't describe it. There’s complete shock, and then there’s rage.

My attention shifts briefly to Joel, but he isn't cheering, and he isn't smiling. He looks as though he's just lost his best friend.

I feel something shift. Maybe it is just my overactive imagination in the heat of the moment. But I know what I see.

I can hear my mother's voice; it’s her warning tone. She repeats the words that have echoed so many times before in my head. “Let a man know too much, and he'll be gone.”

Chapter Twenty

Joel

“Marry me,” I say, finally. It's all Icansay. There’s no point in beating around the bush. I’ve been watching her around town. Watching her from a field near her home. I’ve asked around about her. I’ve put out feelers. Andnow,I’ve asked all the important questions, like does she want kids, how does she feel about farming and animals, where does she see herself in five years, will she be faithful? What else is there? Still, it’s an absurd proposition, especially for me. But it’s the reason I came, isn’t it?

“Well?” I ask. “What do you think?”

We're sitting in my truck in the parking lot outside the dance. After her altercation with thepreppy man-boy,it didn’t take much convincing to get her to hang around a minute.

“What do I think about what?” she says, as though she hasn’t heard anything I’ve said. Her long hair is wild, her eyes are wilder. Blonde waves sit atop her shoulders, falling like snow when she moves. She looks like an angel, though it's obvious she's anything but. She’s beautiful and charming, and dirt poor. I know; I’ve asked around.

“About getting married?” I clear my throat. “To me?”

“You don’t know me,” she says.

“It’s impossible to ever know anyone,” I tell her. The townsfolk say she’s trouble, but that’s the least interesting thing I heard.

She leans in like she’s trying to let me down easy. She kisses me—slow, deliberate and tender. “I’m looking for someone specific.”

“I know. Me too.”

“I’d make a terrible wife.”

“That's okay. I didn't even know I wanted one until I saw you.”

Suddenly, as if by some magic, she is over me, straddling me, and our lips are locked together. Her hands are in my hair. She’s like a tiger somebody’s just let out of a cage. I can’t say I expected this. But I can’t say I didn’t.

“Tell me what it is you want to do, Joel,” she says, and I know exactly what this is. It’s a test.

Not that I care. Because in that moment of weakness and vulnerability, I know exactly what it is I want to do. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to rip off her clothes and take her right here in the front seat of my truck. I want to make love to her on her back, bare, complete and unashamed.

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