Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
CALLIE
TWO WEEKS LATER
I taste you in my dreams. Sunshine and the sweet warmth of summer rain.
Your fragrance invades my senses, seducing and alluring me, making it impossible to think.
Callie, in a word, I’m OBSESSED …
Obsessed with your smile, your words, your heart.
You are like water. I thirst for you daily.
Like air. I can’t live without you …
You!
God, to know you exist is everything!
Dream of me until our first meeting, my beautiful thief, the thief of my heart and soul!
Is it wrong to admit that I’ve memorized the contents of the crisp white pages that Felicity unfolds and reads across the table from me at Café de la Presse in San Francisco?
I know every line, every cadence, every syllable by heart. And with each flush of her cheek, each quirk of her mouth, and even her raised eyebrow, I have a pretty darn good idea where she is in the letter.
She sets the pages down on the table, eyeing me with something between warmth and skepticism.
“Well?”
“That’s some letter,” she admits.
I wait for her to say more, lips pressed tightly together. But she refuses to indulge me.
“Is that all you have to say?”
She shrugs, drawing a line between her perfectly groomed brown eyebrows. Her expressive blue eyes swim with worry as she inhales deeply. “Well, the words are beautiful and all. So are the sentiments. But do normal guys even write like this?”
“Normal guys? Since when are we looking for normal guys?”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” she says, waving her hand in the air.
“No, I don’t. Especially coming from a woman who’s married to an almost off-grid Basque shepherd who lives at sixty-five hundred feet in one of the most remote parts of the Sierra Nevada I’ve ever visited.” I cross my arms. It’s no mic drop. But I act like it is.
“But didn’t you say this Mack guy lives somewhere not too far from Fierce and me?”
Fierce Amestoy is Felicity’s husband and a catch like none other. Think Henry Cavill with a sexy French accent and the touch-her-and-die mentality of a morally grey romantic lead.
My tongue darts out, wetting my bottom lip. “Yes, he’s in Northern California.” I shrug, not wanting to get any more specific.
“And you still refuse to tell me where?” Her voice betrays a tinge of hurt.
“Ah, Felicity, it’s not like that. I just need time to get to know this guy. To vet him out before I make any major decisions. I don’t need small-town drama thrown into the mix.”
“Or friend drama, apparently.” She frowns.
“I promise to keep you in the loop and let you know the moment I’ve met him. What I think of him. Everything. But for once—just this once—I need to do this on my own.”
I also need to do it before a week passes without a letter or email. I feel like I’m losing Mack, and I don’t know why. His communications have dwindled, the letter in Felicity’s hands, the only one I received this week.
His emails have also fallen off, getting shorter and shorter with more days spread between them.
Maybe I got too demanding in my last letter about seeing him in person?
But feeling this way about someone without meeting them is sheer torture.
It’s also downright foolhardy, though I refuse to admit this to my bestie.
His excuse in each communication remains the same. That he’s busy. But it’s no way to treat your mail-order bride-to-be. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to that in the first place. I still don’t know how I’ll break it to Felicity if I go through with the contract.
But when the dating site where we met, Mountain Mates, approached us as a beta couple, offering ten thousand dollars toward our wedding as a promotion for their new mail-order bride platform, how could I resist?
Mack acted happy at the time. At least in his emails. But who knows what’s really going on? I spare my bestie this part as she’s already made up her mind not to like the guy. I don’t need to add additional fuel to the fire.
Felicity lets out a heavy sigh, her cheeks puffing out.
“Once you’ve made up your mind, good luck convincing you otherwise.
You can be so frustrating sometimes, Callie, though you know I love you.
And I support you no matter what. But I don’t want you to get disappointed or hurt by this guy.
And I hope you take all necessary safety precautions. ”
I nod. “Yes, I’m leaving his address and information with Mama in case you really think you need it.
Though I appreciate your discretion and respect of my privacy.
And I’m packing my taser, my pepper spray, and years of martial arts and self-defense training.
” Having a dad who’s law enforcement comes with its perks.
“And you’ll call me daily to check in and let me know that everything’s okay?”
I nod. “Geez, Felicity, you’re making me feel like a bad friend. I didn’t ask about any of this before you met Fierce for the first time.”
“True,” she admits. “But I talked to him on the phone multiple times a day, and we FaceTimed often. I also asked around about him in Hollister before heading to his cabin for the first time.”
Now, I’m the one furrowing my brows. “Girl, please. You showed up unannounced because your editor was hoping for a Cheaters -style reveal filled with drama. The only reason you asked about him in town was because you didn’t even know where he lived,” I remind.
“Yes, but?—”
“But?” I interrupt, arching an eyebrow. “At least, I’ve got Mack’s address.”
“A step in the right direction, hopefully,” she concedes.
I nod. “As for safety, I don’t remember any mention of you taking pepper spray, a taser, any of that. We were more worried about shopping for sexy clothes and panties, remember?”
“Yeah,” Felicity says, tossing the long, curled brown hair that’s crept over her shoulders back again. “I would feel better if you at least talked with this guy over the phone or FaceTimed before your first in-person meeting, though. And a background check is a bare minimum requirement.”
I wave her worries away. “Mountain Mates handles all of that. Remember?” My bestie used the same site to find her man, even though she acts like she has amnesia now. “They don’t let anyone on the site whose past doesn’t check out.”
I consciously ignore her point about talking on the phone because I don’t have an answer for her. Everything about my relationship with Mack feels refreshingly old-fashioned. I cling to the charm of it, not wanting modern technology to intrude on our interactions.
Does that make me weird? Or maybe even stupid?
All I know is I want the first time I hear his voice or see his face, apart from photos, to be in person. It feels more authentic and in keeping with the very unique relationship dynamic we’ve forged.
I press my lips together, saving my breath. My suddenly safety-obsessed bestie won’t understand.
“I worry about you, Callie,” Felicity says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve never had to deal with the bad side of life before.”
“Apart from cheating assholes.”
“Only because you’re so hot you attract the most superficial men. And you’re also a bit too trusting.”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
Felicity squeezes my hand. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to see you happy and living in Northern California near me.
But you’re taking a big risk with this guy, one I don’t want you to walk into blindly.
FaceTime him. Have him show you around his place, fill you in on the basics like how far his closest neighbors are.
If he has family, friends? If he’s an upstanding member of the community? These are important things to know.”
“There’s the investigative journalist in you.” I laugh, shaking my head. And that’s why I didn’t worry more about my bestie when she met Fierce for the first time. She’s a force to be reckoned with research-wise. “FYI, Mack and I have discussed all of this in our letters.” More or less.
Desiring a change of subject because I’m over the lecture, I ask, “What do you think of my new hairstyle?” I got a sew-in weave earlier this week and now rock long, straight locks.
It’s taken some serious getting used to after years of opting for my natural halo of curls.
But I wanted a confidence boost before surprising my mountain man.
“Beautiful,” she says, face looking torn. “If Mack doesn’t treat you right. So help me, Callie. I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands.”
I don’t doubt her, and I know her words come from a place of genuine concern. “Quit worrying, Silly. Before you know it, I’ll be inviting you and Fierce over for dinner to meet him.”
“I hope so.”
“Alright. I’ll keep you posted on what happens.” I glance at my phone, realizing my lunch break is almost over. This afternoon, I’m shopping for one of the biggest and most affluent customers I style.
As for Felicity, she’s driving back to Rough and Ready Country because she and Fierce can barely stand to spend a day apart. It’s both inspiring as a couple goal and kind of disgusting from the point of view of a generally happy single girl.
“Promise you won’t hesitate to call or come to the cabin if things don’t pan out the way you want them to.”
“I promise I’ll call,” I say with a firm nod.
I would never, ever show up unexpectedly at Felicity and Fierce’s cabin because those two are literal horndogs around each other. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, and a visual I don’t need in my head.
We stand and hug, saying our goodbyes. Felicity heads for the door, and I veer toward the restroom, tucking the letter carefully back in my purse.
In a day, I’ll drive the same route as my bestie, spending the entire weekend in her neck of the woods without telling her. I feel guilty about being so sneaky, but I have to meet Mack on my own terms.
If all goes well this weekend, someday, I’ll show these precious, folded pages to our children or maybe even grandchildren.