not what you’re thinking.” He held up his hands defensively, chuckling. “I signed up for a dating service, a matchmaker. She’s lined up a trio of candidates. They were each supposed to come out here individually to meet with me, to see my ranching lifestyle and decide if it’s off-putting. It’s not for everyone.”
Her gaze flickering away at the mention of ranching not being for all, she wriggled her toes in his overlarge socks. “A matchmaker. Seriously?”
“Plenty of people sign up for online services. I opted for the matchmaker because of lack of time.” Absolutely the truth. And he found a certain sort of…practicality about having an expert match him with someone with similar interests. It saved time rather than meeting scores of women socially and trusting fate to somehow work out his future.
Her forehead furrowing in confusion, Esme leaned slightly forward. “Why do you want to have a girlfriend if you don’t even have time to look for one?”
Well, that was easy enough to answer. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I want a wife.”
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