Page 1 of Lonely Beard
One
Grace
“Name?”
“Aiden McRae.”
“Age?”
“Thirty four.”
I scribble the answers on my clipboard, the paper of my survey rustling in the wind, and feel the back of my neck blush under this man’s gaze. He watches me from the front door of his cabin, arms folded over his broad chest, and his green eyes are hard with impatience.
What’s the rush? Is there some wood-choppin’ that just can’t wait? Does he have a strict appointment with a whittling knife?
I blow out a short breath.
Professionalism. Yes.
All around us, pine trees stab toward the clouds, branches shivering in the frosty wind. The dark sky churns above the mountains, and boy, I’d better get a move on. Don’t want to drive my tiny rental car back down the mountainside in bad weather.
“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me today, Mr McRae.” Especially with that voice of his. Deep and gruff and broken. When this man speaks it sounds like there’s a landslide of jagged rocks in his throat, and I fought a wince the first time I heard it. “We at Soulmate Express are determined that all of our clients will find love through the mail order program. Whatever has been going wrong, I assure you we can fix it.”
Let’s hope so, anyway. Because this man has scared off three mail order brides in the last eight months, and those odds are not in our favor. We vet all of our clients extensively, but if the problem ishim…
Well. That’s what I’m here to figure out.
Low words scrape from his throat. “I already left the program.”
My clipboard lowers an inch. “You… what?”
No one leaves Soulmate Express. Not until they’re blissfully happy. It’s the whole freaking point of the company, the whole reason I don’t mind working myself into a ragged heap for my job. I—we—change people’s lives.
And I have a perfect record with my clients. Aiden McRae is not leaving us without a soulmate on his arm.
His toned, flannel-shirt-wearing arm.
Okay, come on. I drop my clipboard and stare at the man in front of me, appraising him openly for the first time since I arrived. With his coppery hair and short beard, his sculpted body and scarred hands, he should be catnip for any woman signed up to Soulmate Express.
I mean, he’sgorgeous.Steal-your-breath gorgeous. If we put him on the website, sign ups would leap, except we have a strict policy about exchanging photos before our clients meet. We think it’s better to fall in love with someone’s personality first, then let the rest follow.
Personally, I wouldn’t know. I work such long hours, when would I ever date?
“You can’t leave the program,” I say flatly. “You haven’t found love yet.”
Those green eyes narrow. Aiden says nothing.
“So,” I push on, like he asked instead of glowering at me like that, “we have work to do, the two of us. We’re going to figure out where we’ve been going wrong so I can make you better matches. And we’ll work on your, uh…”
Aiden’s eyebrow lifts.
“Demeanor.”
When he finally speaks, my stomach swoops with triumph. He’s engaging with the process! There’s hope for us yet. For Aiden’s love life, and for my perfect record. “You made my matches?”
“Yes, and—”
“No. I’m done.”
