The Mountain Man's North Star (A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance Book 3) by Frankie Love

Author:Frankie Love [Love, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Sophie

The next morning I wake up delirious. My entire body is sore. Sullivan may never have had a wife before … but he is certainly experienced in the bedroom. Err, the kitchen and the living room, too, and well ... basically the entire house.

The smile on my face is wide, but when I roll over, the other side of the bed is empty. Standing from the bed, I wrap a sheet around me and go to the bathroom. Afterwards, I check my phone — mostly because I’m getting paranoid. There is a text from Charlotte, making sure I’m okay, and I tell her that I’m doing great. I send her a few photos I took during the plane ride in of the view. Her texts were welcome, but the voicemails from Robby make my skin crawl. He is pissed. And I know the right thing to do would be to walk up to Sullivan and tell him about the loan shark.

I step out of the room, lured by the smell of coffee, planning to tell Sullivan about the calls. This is my second morning waking up as a married woman and I’ve never felt more happy in my life — I can’t let a thug like Robby ruin it.

But as I walk down the stairs, I hear Sullivan shouting into his phone in his office. “And there is nothing we can do about it?” He slams down his fist into the table and I jump back, moving to the kitchen to not disrupt him. I hate the idea of him being angry, so I decide to make some breakfast to cheer him up.

Thankfully, Sullivan has a well-stocked kitchen. After getting myself an espresso, I find some pancake batter and begin whipping up a batch, pushing thoughts of Robby away. I need to focus on my marriage. Marriage. I can hardly even believe this is my life. By the time the griddle is greased and hot, the batter is ready and I add a scoop to the pan. The sizzling butter makes my stomach growl and I grab plates and maple syrup just as Sullivan enters the kitchen.

“Hey,” I say, biting the side of my lip. I’m not experienced with relationships … and I am not sure how to navigate a bad mood. “Everything alright?”

He scoffs. “Alright? No, I’m not alright.” He takes the plate of pancakes I offer him and he pours half a bottle of syrup over them. Fuming.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks at me like I’m insane. Which isn’t fair, he’s the one who obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“Remember that advice you gave me yesterday?”

I frown, trying to understand what he’s talking about.

“You told me not to sell. I had a buyer, ready to close, and you told me not to.”

Stiffening, I press the spatula in the pancake I’m cooking. “I didn’t tell you anything.”

“Yes you did. You told me the cards never lie, to draw one, that the Sun meant yes and that I shouldn’t sell.

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