Page 17 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise
I look toward the bathroom,where I can hear Gia humming in the shower, and think about six months of dreams and longing and the way it felt to hold her in my arms again.
Me:
I've never been more sure of anything in my life.
Twenty minutes later,we're in my truck driving down the mountain toward town. Gia sits quietly beside me, looking out at the scenery with wide eyes. The morning sun turns the aspens golden, and the first snow of the season dusts the higher peaks.
"It's beautiful here," she says softly.
"You sound surprised."
"I grew up in the city. The biggest trees I saw were in parks." She points to a hawk circling overhead. "Is that normal?"
"Red tail hawk. They hunt the meadows for mice and rabbits. You'll see them a lot."
"What about bears?"
"Black bears mostly, some grizzlies higher up in the mountains. They're usually more afraid of you than you are of them."
"Usually?"
I grin at the note of alarm in her voice. "Don't worry, city girl. I'll protect you from the wildlife."
"What about the locals? Are they going to think it's weird that you suddenly have a pregnant wife?"
"Probably. But weird is pretty normal for Crimson Hollow. My cousin Noah proposed to a woman he'd known for a month. Zaire's dating someone he met at a kink club. The bar for strange relationship stories is pretty high around here."
"Kink club?"
"Long story. The point is, nobody's going to ask too many questions."
We pull into the town hall parking lot, and I can feel Gia's nervousness ramping up. Her hands fidget with the hem of her sweater, and she keeps taking deep breaths like she's trying to calm herself down.
"You okay?"
"Just... this is really happening, isn't it? In twenty-four hours I'm going to be married to the father of my baby."
"Having second thoughts?"
She looks at me for a long moment, those dark eyes searching my face for something. "No. Are you?"
"No." The answer comes without hesitation, which should probably worry me more than it does. "Come on, let's go make it official."
The clerk at the marriage license desk is a woman in her sixties with kind eyes and a knowing smile. She looks between Gia and me like she's seen this exact scenario a dozen times before.
"First marriage for both of you?"
"Yes ma'am," I answer.
"IDs and birth certificates, please."
We hand over our documents, and she starts entering information into her computer. "Any previous marriages that need to be disclosed?"
"No."
"Are either of you currently under the influence of drugs or alcohol?"
"No."
