Colton: Army Hero’s Email Order Bride Read online

  It was no wonder Zach and I both ended up turning into out of control, party kids. Luckily, I’d grown beyond that phase, but I couldn’t say the same for Zach. He was still heavily entrenched in drugs, partying, and had even done some time in juvie, for petty theft.

  “Thank you for all your help, Karena,” Mr. Clemmins said, breaking into my series of haunted memories. I nodded and gave him a final, fake smile as he waved and walked out of the store, clutching the small shopping bag of intimates.

  “Happy to help,” I mumbled under my breath to myself.

  I was still shaking my head to myself, trying to erase the whole encounter, but only managing to get more worked up the more I thought about it.

  Fueled by my encounter with the cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater, Mr. Clemmins, I veered off course, and ducked into the bathroom, and pulled up Colton’s ad on my cell phone. I sat down on the cream colored chaise lounge, and tapped out a frantic, but calculated, reply.

  In a world gone mad, filled with both, elating engagement news, and newly begun affairs, I’d decided that the only way forward was with two, wide open, eyes and a whole heap of brutal honesty.

  How had Colton put it? A life that is not based on hormones, ulterior motives, or fairy tales.

  I nodded to myself, his words resonating even deeper than they had the night before.

  When I hit send, a wave of panic ripped over me, but when it settled, I smiled to myself, a smooth calmness taking its place.

  Chapter Six: Colton

  Even with the ad pulled up on my computer screen, inches from my eyes, I couldn’t quite come to grips with what I’d done. Somewhere after leaving the family dinner, and going to bed, I’d reached the decision that marriage was not some blissful, cruise control, slice of paradise that was portrayed by just about every chick flick in the universe. It was a partnership between two people, and although I wasn’t a business man, when I framed it like that, it made more sense. All I needed to do was find a woman willing to set aside the tightly held, fantasy of happily ever after, and take a chance that just maybe, there was a smarter, more business-like way to go about the whole thing.

  When I’d gotten home, I’d considered my options, and came up with a short list of three places I could potentially find the future Mrs. Hawk. Option one involved giving my mother free reign to set me up on blind dates with her never-ending list of debutantes, beauty queens, and friends’ daughters. Option two, I could keep going out to bars and clubs with Miles and Lucas. Lastly, option three, I could give online dating a whirl.

  When I laid it out that way, the decision was a no brainer. There was no way in hell I was going to let my mother go buck wild in my personal life. I also didn’t need her nagging me even more than she already did, which would undoubtedly be a side effect if she found out I was actually pursuing marriage. In regards to bars and clubs, I decided that I’d already swept those fields and gleaned all I could. In all my years of dating and messing around, I’d never once met a girl in a bar that I thought could be something more serious than a few weeks of fun in between tours. Those days were fun—and served the purpose at hand—but now my objectives had changed, and I knew a change in venue was also in order.

  So, in the end, I’d popped the top on a bottle of my favorite beer—a sorely missed luxury in the desert—and went about finding the right site to launch my campaign. I scanned through a few of them, cross checking reviews and success stories, until I settled on one called Perfect Fit. It had a fairly intense vetting process to set up a profile, and I figured that any girl willing to answer the avalanche of questions, had to be at least a little more serious than some flirty debutante at Duke’s.

  Once I made it beyond the initial questions, I crafted a profile, and unapologetically put my message out there—front and center. I left no room for confusion, mind games, or the usual dating bullshit. It was an unconventional dating ad, but that was because, in reality, I wasn’t trying to build a dating profile. I was looking to get married, and to get to the end result with as little headache as possible.

  My polarizing list of demands was blunt, and as I shut down the computer, I had a good laugh, thinking there was no way on earth any one was going to respond. Which is why, I was floored the next morning to find my email inbox stuffed with messages. The sheer volume of replies was staggering. What was even more insane, was how many were genuinely interested in getting to know me. I had a few nastygrams from women informing me it was no longer 1950 and that women weren’t looking to get married sheerly out of some desire for security from a man. A few even suggested that I’d have better luck importing a bride from a third world country, if all I wanted was someone to crank out babies and do my laundry.

  Of the women that were truly interested, roughly ninety-percent of the replies were deleted after I read the first few sentences, figuring that if a girl couldn’t hold my interest within the first few lines, it wasn’t worth wasting time trying to find something to be attracted to about their personality.

  After spending most of the morning, weeding through reply after reply, I’d whittled it down to three women who were actually interesting, and beautiful. I didn’t have a particular gut feeling about any of them, but held out hope that maybe something could blossom. I started to type out a response to the first candidate, but my fingers were clumsy and awkward. Each sentence was judged, and quickly deleted. When I’d typed up my profile, the words had flowed, but now that I was starting a conversation with nothing more than a head shot and brief greeting to work with, I locked up, unsure of what to say, what questions to ask, where to take things.

  After another failed attempt, I decided to take a break, and hold off on replying to them until the evening. I took advantage of the break to get out of the house and get some fresh air. I started down the block, passing the neighboring houses at a brisk pace, until I reached the intersection and had to decide where I wanted to go. I thought about wandering down to the lake, but at the last second, decided a strong cup of coffee might be better.

  There was a small coffee shop a few blocks from my house. I’d been there for less than fifteen minutes, before boredom got the best of me, and I ended up on my phone, checking my email.

  A handful of new replies had come in, and I scanned through them only halfway interested.

  Delete, delete, delete.

  I was seriously questioning the entire plan, when I opened the last email from a user name KH22.

  Colton,

  My name is Karena. Basic stats: 23, 5’6, non-smoker, athletically inclined, personal shopper at a high end department store.

  I found your ad, mostly by mistake—I mean really, the Internet was pushing you on me pretty hard core before I finally cracked and replied. So, congratulations, you’re probably the only guy on the planet who would make me join some ridiculous dating site.

  I don’t have a high opinion of modern day dating, to me, it’s a trainwreck factory. Most of my friends are engaged or married, and the few single ones left are searching for Mr. Right like it’s a full time job.

  To me, love and marriage has never been some Holy Grail mission. I have a busy life, and no, it’s not perfect, but it works for me. I work a lot, have my own apartment, a great group of friends, and live in the beautiful city of Seattle.

  So, at this point in my ramblings, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing you at all.

  That’s a great question. Not gonna lie, kinda asking myself that right about now too.

  Here’s the deal, what you said really resonates with me, and I’ve never heard anyone else talk about relationships, especially marriage, in such black and white terms. I’m looking for the security and comfort of a lifelong relationship. I don’t have the illusions of fairy tale romance or that my life will ever resemble something even close to a Disney movie. And I’m okay with that.

  Like, really, really okay with that.

  I just want the simple things, and for whatever reason, I found your profile and want you to know
, that if nothing else, what you’re asking for makes sense, and I admire you for being honest about your expectations. And, if this is our only communication, that’s okay too, just know that you helped me see my needs more clearly, and for that, I thank you.

  Best of luck in the shark tank.

  ~Karena

  I chocked back my mouthful of coffee to avoid spitting it all over my phone screen at her parting line. I slid my finger down the screen, backing up to the beginning, and reread it, my grin growing wider with each snark-filled sentence.

  Now, this was the kind of girl I needed to get to know.

  The message had come into my email, and I held my breath as I clicked the link to her profile and waited for her pictures to load. I didn’t necessarily consider myself a shallow guy, she didn’t have to be a runway model, but I also knew that a spark of attraction would go a long way into making the experiment work.

  I willed the cafe Wi-Fi to load faster, as the profile pulled up.

  “Holy shit…” I gaped at the screen, my eyes darting up to check and make sure I’d landed on the right page.

  She was a total knockout.

  Karena, aka KH22, was one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen. Her brunette hair was a little longer than shoulder length, and had some lighter, highlights around her face. Her eyes were an intriguing shade of hazel, that almost looked grey in one of the photos she’d posted. Her smile was magnetic and full of light, and somehow, I knew she laughed easily and often. In most of her pictures, she was wearing some high end looking clothing, tight skirts, flirty tops, and a few more business looking outfits. I couldn’t get enough, each outfit highlighting her slender, toned body. Her arms had definition that was graceful and feminine, leaving no doubt that she’d been telling the truth when she’d included “athletically inclined” in her profile. One of the photos was taken at a morning boot camp class, and the way her leggings clung to her thighs had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat, wishing that I wasn’t in the middle of a public coffee shop.

  “There he is. Damn, Hawk, we’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a familiar voice drawled. I jolted, and flipped my phone face down on the table in front of me. Looking up, I saw Miles and Lucas, sauntering across the coffee shop. Lucas was grinning at me, but Miles was distracted, making eyes at the girl behind the counter.

  “What are you two up to?” I asked as they took the two seats on the opposite side of the table. The girl behind the counter brought over two steaming mugs, and I smirked at the way she couldn’t take her eyes off Miles. Both Lucas and Miles were by all accounts, good looking guys, and neither of them had trouble with the ladies. Whenever we all went out together, we had the attention of every lady in whatever room we walked into, within seconds.

  God, we’d had some crazy times.

  It was odd, and almost unsettling, to think those days might be behind us…or, at least, me.

  “Shootin’ the shit,” Miles answered, tearing his eyes off the barista’s backside. “Trying to figure out what to do tonight.”

  I nodded. It was always like this when we got home from a long tour. There were a few weeks of downtime before we got back to work, and we usually managed to fill them with all kinds of trouble.

  “Unless, you’re busy with your score from the other night,” Miles added, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Lucas smirked at me, waiting for my answer.

  “No…” I dropped my eyes to the phone, my mind still hung up on Karena, and what I would say when I got a minute alone and could reply to her message.

  My buddies were still grinning when I looked up again. “All right, then it’s time to go out and have a little more fun,” Lucas said.

  I blew out a sigh. I didn’t want to tell either of them what I was doing, knowing they wouldn’t understand, and would likely tease me endlessly. However, if I suddenly started ducking out on all their plans, they were going to know something was up. “I don’t know, guys. I’ve kinda got something going on.”

  Lucas frowned. “Like what? You just said the girl from the other night wasn’t in the picture anymore.”

  I nodded, confirming that was true. My gaze shifted from Miles to Lucas, and then back again, wondering which of them was going to give me the most shit for what I was about to say. I sighed, and asked, “Do you guys ever think it’s time to think about settling down?”

  Mile shrugged. “Settle down? What for?”

  “What’s going on, Hawk?” Lucas asked, leaning over the table as though I was spouting classified information.

  “Listen, I know that this is gonna sound crazy, but just hear me out, okay?” I waited until they both nodded their consent, and then continued. “I have to get married.”

  “Have to?” Miles repeated.

  “Basically. If I want to make Captain before I hit twenty-eight. Yes.”

  They both stared at me, completely dumbfounded. Lucas sputtered to life first. “What in the world does getting married, have to do with a promotion?”

  “I can’t really get into all of it, but in a nutshell, it would make me a more well-rounded candidate. Think about it, you know any high ups that aren’t married?” I ran a hand over the back of my neck. “I know, like I said, it sounds crazy, but that’s what I want, and I’ve been given the steps to get to that next milestone.”

  “So, wait,” Lucas held up his hand. “You’re getting married so that you can get a promotion? When?”

  I shrugged. “As soon as I can find someone, I guess.”

  Miles stared at me like I just told him someone died. “Dude, you can’t…”

  “I have to.”

  Miles leaned forward, his dark eye boring into me. “Who gives a shit if you hit Captain by twenty-eight? You know you’ll get there eventually. What’s the fuckin’ rush?”

  “Is this because of your dad?” Lucas asked. My eyes bounced over to my oldest friend and he nodded. Understanding passed between us. Lucas and I had been friends for a long time, and he knew all about my family and how hard my father pushed me to succeed in the military.

  I slumped back in my seat and looked between both of my friends. We’d been through some crazy shit together. They deserved to know the truth. I set my hands on the edge of the table and sighed. “Yes and no. It started out that way, the push for the promotion, at least. But, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it’s time, you know. I’m not getting younger, my brothers are both settling down, starting families. Jeff’s wife is pregnant again. All of it got me thinking, and so this is what I’ve decided to do.”

  Lucas nodded, mentally processing the news, and after a moment, he smiled. “Well, congrats then. You’re my brother and I’ll support you no matter what.” He elbowed Miles, who still had a sour expression on his face over the whole thing. “Just tell us when it’s time for this meathead and me to start arguing over who gets to be your best man.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, you’ll be the first to know. I gotta meet the girl first.”

  Miles brightened. “Which circles us back to my original question. Where are we going tonight?”

  We all laughed and made plans where to go. After that, we shot the shit for a while, and went our separate ways, planning to meet up later in the night to go to our favorite cantina for happy hour.

  After leaving the coffee shop, I went home, sat myself down in front of the computer, and typed out my reply to Karena. Even though I’d agreed to go out with the boys that night, there was still a sense of urgency to get back to her as quickly as possible and see what potential there was. I knew that no matter what I was doing later, she’d still be stuck in my mind.

  Chapter Seven: Karena

  “Man, it’s dead today,” Becca said, sinking into the chair next to me at the scheduling desk. “Do we have anyone scheduled today?” She leaned over and consulted the personal shopping appointment calendar that I’d frantically pulled up to block out my email inbox when she’d first come into the room. I’d spent the better part of the last hour, compulsively refr
eshing my email, hoping for a reply from Colton. It had almost been a full day since I’d replied to his original message, and I was getting antsy to hear back.

  “Nope,” I answered, flicking the mouse over to the daily schedule to show Becca the long, empty column where we plugged in client information prior to their appointment.

  “God,” she groaned, leaning back in her chair and pressing her eyes closed. “Mary is going to kill us.”

  I nodded. “I can hear my bank account crying already.”

  As annoying as Mary could be, I knew that finding a way to pay my upcoming bills would be even worse.

  Becca opened her eyes and shifted them over to me. “No luck with a second job?”

  “Not yet. But, I’ve only applied for a few, and it hasn’t been that long, so who knows. It takes time.”

  Or, at least, that was the mantra I was clinging to like an inflatable life raft in the middle of the Pacific.

  Becca nodded in agreement and patted the back of my hand. “Something will work out.”

  My mind drifted back to my email on the other window and my finger itched to click back to it and see if there was anything waiting, but I still wasn’t willing to share my new obsession with Becca. I’d already decided that if another day passed with no reply, I’d delete my account from the dating website, and move on. There was no point remaining hung up on it forever. A guy that looked like Colton was bound to have hundreds of replies, and I was convinced that any number of them were better candidates, or at least closer to what he was looking to find.

  I was about to ask Becca how things were going with Keith, as her comment from the day before was still clinging to me, when Mary swept into the room, took one look at us, and planted her fists on her hips. “What are you two doing?”

  Becca snapped to attention, her spine going ramrod straight as she sat up, a look of horror on her face, like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. “Checking the schedule,” she said, wholly unconvincingly leaning over to stare at the screen.