He proposed . . . and I said yes.
Normally a jovial occasion for a couple in love, but this proposal has a very different feel.
Because the man that I’ll be calling my husband blew into town with one thing on his mind . . . to make my life a living nightmare.
So why did I say yes?
Well, because we both need something from each other.
Namely, I want the farm land he currently owns, and he needs a wife in order to inherit his family cabin in his grandfather’s will.
So as he so eloquently put it, my hand, for his land.
At first, I thought the idea was nuts.
Who really gets married out of convenience?
Apparently, I do.
And now we have to sell our relationship to the town. Meaning, we’re holding hands, he’s pinching my cheeks . . . upper and lower. We’re even forced to share the one-bedroom guest house on the farm where his monstrous body is taking up a large percentage of the bed.
But we’re so persuasive about our farse, that now I’m starting to think he actually might like me. Especially when he grabs me by the wrist and teases the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Mine.”
