Mail-Order Brides For Christmas - Frankie Love Page 0,66
reveal her every curve. She may not be my usual type, but, God, she’s sexy, in a wild-child kind of way. She’s absolutely unlike anyone else I’ve seen in Snow Valley, and because of that, I am instantly intrigued.
“Jenna?” I call, and she raises a hand, waving at me with sparkly-pink nails.
“You must be Matt!” she says as she approaches.
I hold out my hand for her to shake it, and she places hers in it. I don’t believe in love at first sight, or anything at first sight, but I’ll be damned if I don’t feel a sizzle of electricity pass between us as her blue eyes meet mine and I feel the first touch of her soft skin. Her eyes widen, and she unconsciously bites her lower lip in a way I find irresistible.
Maybe this will be an interesting match, after all.
Chapter Four
Jenna
Not to brag, but after years of touring, I am a professional traveler. I know all the tips and tricks to ensure a positive experience. Velvet eye mask for sleeping? Got it. Neck pillow? Of course. Leopard-print blanket? Absolutely. Chargers, magazines, and snacks galore? You bet your bottom dollar. Whether the journey lasts two hours or two weeks, I look like a seasoned veteran.
From LaGuardia to Snow Valley, Montana is about a five-and-a-half-hour flight, so I settle comfortably into my window seat. I’m armed with a bottle of water, a bag of chips, and a Cosmo magazine for when I get tired of napping. A female-fronted punk band blasts in my headphones. I know that some people hate planes, but I find them soothing. They’re always the same, with the same types of people, same pre-flight announcements, and the same rules and regulations. They make me feel calm.
So it’s weird that, about two hours in, I start to get antsy. It becomes harder and harder to focus on Cosmo, even the horoscope section, which is my favorite. (My horoscope says, “Be patient, Leo! Something new and exciting is headed your way.”) I flip through the glossy pages and try to just look at the photos, but even that becomes overwhelming. Frowning, I stash the magazine in the pocket on the back of the chair in front of me, and take a shaky sip of water. What is going on?
At first I think it’s nerves, which would make sense, considering the many miles I’m traveling to meet a strange man whom I’m supposed to marry. Then, I realize it’s something entirely different: I’m excited.
Why should I be? I wonder crankily, staring at the passing clouds beyond my tiny window. Getting married could put my singing career on hold. It could mean the end of Lolly Popz, or at least my involvement with them. It could signal the end of my independence, my autonomy, my ability to do what I want, when I want. It could be the end of late nights in bars and late mornings at brunch, and the beginning of many sexless, dispassionate years.
It’s not like you’re having any sex, anyway, my inner critic tells me. I sigh. I put dating on hold about a year ago, so it’s been quite the dry spell.
But the excitement prevails, fizzy like soda in my chest. I probe it a little, trying to sort through this unexpected emotion. I’m kind of excited, I guess, to visit Snow Valley. I googled it this morning and it looks quaint and picturesque, like a town in a Hallmark movie. I’m excited to meet a handsome man who is hopefully excited to meet me. And I’m excited, I think, at the prospect of the future--not sexless, dispassionate years after all, but fun ones, exciting ones, maybe even loving ones. Maybe this is the man I’m going to lose my heart to.
My heart pounds a little in my ears at the thought. I haven’t been in love for a long time. The last man I loved cheated on me, and the relationship ended painfully. I still have some scars on my heart from that. Still, like Sarah told me, I do love being in a relationship and having someone to laugh with, cry with, and be with. It’s just been so long that I tend to forget.
For the rest of the flight, I give up on sleeping or reading my magazine and just listen to music, watching the clouds go by. Everything feels dreamy and unreal, as if I’m in a movie. Even the man snoring loudly in the seat next to me can’t