Wifed By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance by Frankie Love

Author:Frankie Love [Love, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-07-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Amelia

The nursery is looking amazing. I mean, beyond amazing. I may have a fine arts degree, and a serious knack for coordinating colors to make a nursery magazine-worthy. Just saying.

And Reed has been a really good sport. All week he’s painted and hung curtains, and as boxes have arrived he’s willingly put screws in the new dresser, hung bookshelves, and replaced the dorky light fixture with a pink-and-white chandelier, all without too much eye-rolling.

We’ve been working on this project in the afternoons during Hope’s nap. In the mornings, Reed has been going off and playing in the woods or on the lake. I’ve been staying back with Hope, trying to figure out if I can get into a groove here ... and debating if I even want to find a groove.

Hope is exhausting, and one week into this gig I can’t help but wonder what Monique was thinking to send me out here to Reed. I wanted to be a mail order bride so I could be loved without the sting of rejection. But I’m finding that caring for Hope is one long rope of failure. I’ll tell you what, a baby doesn’t owe anything to anyone—she has no loyalty to me, and she doesn’t need to.

She cries when she needs something, or if she’s tired, or hungry, or bored. But of course it isn’t all tears and tantrums. Is she adorable when she coos and sucks on her toes? Absolutely.

But she isn’t doing those cute things for me. She’s doing them for herself. And that makes me reevaluate basically everything.

Is caring for her worth the sacrifice of moving here? Because, as far as I can tell, Reed just needs to realize that being a parent isn’t a part-time gig.

But every time I get thinking that way, I see him fall asleep on the couch with Hope in his arms, or I see him pick her up from the high chair and give her a bath without complaint. I see him step up and be a father who puts his daughter first.

And isn’t that what he’s trying to do by bringing me here? His logic may be flawed—getting a mother for Hope at the sacrifice of finding true love himself might backfire—but I can see through his hazy exhaustion.

He’s trying.

As hard as the week has been, right now I’m in a good place. The nursery is about finished, Reed is being flirty and helpful, and Hope is asleep. Basically, all the things.

“You’re so handy,” I tell him as he bolts in the organizing system I purchased for Hope’s closet.

“I’d like to get a lot more handy.” He turns toward me, raising his eyebrows and I feel my heart jump a few beats. He’s so damn sexy.

“You’re so bad,” I tell him, swatting his back as I hand him the final bolt for the wire racks he’s hung.

“Not near as bad as I’d like to be.” He has a mischievous look in his eye, a look I’ve gotten to know over the last week.

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