Page 7 of My Mail Order Valentine

What on earth am I supposed to do now? I've got nowhere to go. I pull out my phone and start looking for the agency's info. When I find a number, I dial and get their answering machine. I leave them a message and beg for them to call me as soon as possible.

I look up to see Hunter watching me curiously. He probably thinks I'm a freak. After all what type of woman leaves everything behind for the chance at marriage to a stranger? A crazy one, that's for sure.

"There's no one answering at the agency."

"Why did you bring your luggage here?"

"I'm supposed to be staying with you."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. You can get a room at the Hope Peak Inn."

"Do you have their number?"

"Even better, I know the owner. Let me make a call."

He goes to his room and returns to the living room, his phone on his ear. Once someone answers him, he seems to be having a lively conversation with them. His face, however, stops looking happy and starts getting serious. Then, a frown mars his forehead. This doesn't look good.

"No luck. The Inn is at capacity right now. And the last bus out of here is long gone."

"Maybe someone at the fire station knows of someone who might take me in for the night?"

"I'll ask in our group chat."

After sending what seems like a quick message, he places his phone down on the table in front of him. His eyes return to me, still having that strange effect on me. I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, I've seen good-looking men before.

This man, though. He's something else. His reddish-brown hair is cut close, his green eyes have a sparkle in them, and his physique is absolutely phenomenal. Definitely a firefighter.He clears his throat, and I realize he's said something, and I've missed it because I'm ogling him like a piece of meat.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Oh, um. I don't want to put you out."

"Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate would be nice."

He gets up and heads into the kitchen. I'm not one to wait to be served, so I follow him in. He nearly bumps into me when I enter.

"Did you need anything?" He asks in a rough tone.

I look up at him. My god, he's so tall, I can't even. And those eyes. Who has lashes that thick? My throat is suddenly dry, and I can't seem to get myself to speak.

"Why don't you wait for me in the living room? I'll only be a minute."

"I just wanted to see your kitchen." I manage to say.

"Oh, do you cook?"

"No."

He frowns at me and we both realize at the same time that he's been holding onto me since I almost ran him over. Slowly, he pulls his hands away from me and turns around. Is it me, or is he actually blushing? He starts rummaging through the cabinets noisily.

I might not cook, but I can appreciate a well-stocked kitchen. Hunter's kitchen has top-notch appliances, and the room is as large as I imagined it. I watch Hunter's back as he stirs the hot chocolate. He seems tense, and I fight the urge to put my hands on his shoulders and give him a little massage.

He's not mine—yet. What am I thinking? He's probably going to turn me away. I need to find a way to stay here; otherwise, I'll never have that family I want so much. Hunter seems a bit stubborn, though, and I'm not sure how to deal with that.

When I see him put the two mugs of chocolate on a tray, I stop ogling him and go back to the living room. I sit down on the comfy armchair and wait expectantly. He puts the tray down on the coffee table and offers me one.

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