Page 8 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise
Or the hope that maybe, somehow, I'll find her again?
By the time I get home to my cabin on the outskirts of town, I've made my decision. The place feels too quiet, too empty. Three bedrooms for one man, a kitchen that never gets used for more than coffee and sandwiches, a living room where I watch TV alone every night and think about dark eyes and soft skin and the way she said my name.
I could keep waiting for lightning to strike twice. Keep hoping some perfect woman will wander into Crimson Hollow and fall for a grumpy mountain man who's better with his hands than his words. Or I can take control of my own damn life.
I pull up the Signed, Sealed, Hitched website and start filling out the questionnaire.
Name:Rosco Kane
Age: 34
Occupation: Construction contractor and facilities manager
Location: Crimson Hollow, British Columbia
Relationship goals: Long term partnership leading to marriage and family
Deal breakers: Drama, dishonesty, inability to handle small town life
The questions get deeperfrom there. Communication style (direct, honest, sometimes blunt). Living preferences (mountain cabin with room for expansion). Family goals (yes to kids, flexible on timeline). Financial approach (shared responsibilities, full transparency).
Two hours later, I hit submit and immediately want to take it back. This is insane. Who finds a wife through a website? What kind of woman would even sign up for something like this?
But the deed is done. In five to seven business days, I'll have a response. Either they'll accept my application and start the matching process, or they'll politely decline and I'll be back to square one.
I grab a beer from the fridge and step onto my back deck. The sun sets behind the mountain peaks, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that would make Darius grab his paintbrushes. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls, answered by another from across the valley.
This is what I want to share with someone. The beauty, the peace, the sense of belonging to something bigger than yourself. Maybe that's naive, thinking some stranger from God knows where would want this life. But stranger things have happened in Crimson Hollow.
My phone buzzes with a text from Noah:
Noah:
Dinner's at seven. Don't make me send Talia after you.
Me:
I'll be there. And thanks for the talk today.
Three dots appear immediately,then:
Noah:
Everything okay?
Better than okay,I think. For the first time in months, I feel like I'm moving forward instead of just surviving. Maybe toward something real. Maybe toward someone who could understand what I'm looking for.
Me:
Yeah. Everything's good.
The lie comes easily,but maybe it's not entirely a lie. Maybe it's just premature truth. In a week or two, I might have prospects. Real, viable options for building the kind of life I want.
Or I might have nothing but wounded pride and a lighter bank account.
Either way, I'm done waiting for lightning to strike twice. If I want something, I'm going to make it happen. That's what Kane men do. We build things that last.
Starting with my own damn love life.
