Chapter 2 Fern
two
Fern
The splash of cold water on my face did nothing to quench the throbbing desire between my thighs. And as much as I wanted to stay in the bathroom and hide, I knew I had to face the truth—I gave a blow job to a sexy mountain man I only knew for ten seconds.
What was I thinking, getting on my knees for Wayan?
As soon as I realized the case of mistaken identity, I should have come clean with Wayan instead of going along with what he thought I was really here for. But the instant attraction I felt for him was something I’ve never felt in all my twenty-eight years.
Sitting across from Wayan in the same room where the blow job happened and pretending that nothing occurred is nearly impossible.
Even shifting my thighs to find any small amount of relief only makes the pulsing between my legs worse.
Add all that to the tight t-shirt and gray sweatpants that Wayan changed into, and it’s wreaking havoc with my sanity.
Try as I might, my eyes keep returning to his lap and the impressive bulge beneath the sweatpants.
“So, as Wilder said, his birthday gift to you is a six-month membership to our mail-order bride program. All you have to do is sign the paperwork, and if we can’t find you a perfect match during that time, you’ll get your money back—guaranteed.
Fern will be with you the whole way as your agent, helping search through all the profiles, plan dates, or visits if your potential mate isn’t local.
” Aspen sets the contract and a pen on the coffee table.
Wayan looks at me before grabbing the pen from the coffee table between us. “Is it just men that sign up, or do women sign up for the program?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Aspen glances at Wilder before continuing. “I’ve recently opened it up to men and women. I’ll be launching a mail-order groom program after the first of the year.”
“So, will you be signing up for a groom, Aspen, or is that a conflict of interest?” Wilder asks.
“It’s not a conflict of interest.” Aspen’s face turns a light shade of pink. “But I don’t plan on signing up to find a mail-order groom.”
“What about you, Fern? Do you plan to sign up for a groom?” Wayan’s words come out as a growl.
My initial instinct is to crawl into his lap and tell him I’ll do whatever he wants.
Instead, I say what I’ve been telling people my entire adult life, “I don’t plan ever to get married.
I’m going to be the fun aunt who spoils her nieces and nephews.
” It’s never bothered me before when I’ve said those words, but today, they feel hollow and wrong.
Wayan’s eyes bore into mine like he wants to call my bluff, but instead, he signs the contract, sealing his fate for the next six months and possibly longer, since I have no intention of failing my new job, even though my heart hurts at the thought of Wayan with anyone else.
“Great.” Aspen claps her hands, stands, and reaches for the contract. “You won’t be disappointed. Fern will start on your profile first thing in the morning.” Aspen reaches into her briefcase. “Here’s the rest of the paperwork you’ll need to fill out with what you’re looking for in a match.”
He stands and takes the papers from her hand.
The distraction gives me a chance to memorize every detail about him, from his dark brown hair and bushy beard to his muscular chest, thick thighs, and large feet.
I deliberately skip over the bulge in his pants.
I’m not sure I could tear myself away if I looked at it much longer.
“Fern,” Aspen says.
“Hmm, what?” I jerk my head toward her, realizing I’ve been caught staring at Wayan.
“I asked if you would mind giving me a ride back into town so Wilder doesn’t have to make an extra trip.”
“You know I don’t mind driving you back into town.”
“I appreciate the offer, Wilder, but Fern and I live near each other. Besides, I don’t want to impose on you more than I already have.”
“It’s no problem. It’ll give us a chance to discuss our strategy for finding Wayan a match.
” I force a smile on my face—the last thing I want is for Wayan to find a match, but it’s my job.
“I’ll be in touch when I have some matches for you, Wayan.
” His name slips out as a moan—luckily, he’s the only one who seems to notice.
“Oh, and happy birthday, Wayan.” Images of me earlier, kneeling and giving him his birthday present, flash through my mind, making me think about other things I could give him as a birthday gift.
Usually, couples do butt stuff on birthdays and anniversaries, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mind doing that any time of the year with Wayan.
Great, now all I can think about is doing butt stuff with Wayan. Luckily, I can still feel the weight of him in my mouth and the taste of him on my tongue, since I decided not to use the toothbrush he gave me.