Lynda carried their dinner into the kitchen, trying to figure out how to steer conversation to him rather than her. She’d have to tell him about herself sometime, and soon, she knew, but she was tired of talking about herself and wanted to know more about him.
“What do you do? Where are you from?” She set the delivery bag on the kitchen island on her way to the counter for a pair of plates.
“I do pretty much anything I can. And I spent most of my life in Tucson.”
“As in Arizona?”
“That’s the only Tucson I know of.”
“How’d you find the agency?”
“I didn’t. They found me.”
Lynda frowned. What did he mean they found him? From what Ms. Creed had told her when she’d had a sit down meeting to explain what she was looking for, their brides answered carefully worded want ads. She wondered if
