The Bride Test by Helen Hoang Read Free Book Online Page B

torment her for eternity instead of letting her reincarnate. Or worse, they’d let her reincarnate, but she’d be a catfish who lived under a river outhouse. It was only fair. That was what she got for wishing food poisoning on people.
    Khải got out of the car, and she followed suit. The crunch of her shoes on rocks was unnaturally loud to her ears, and her head spun as she looked down at her feet. When was the last time she’d eaten? She was too tired to remember.
    Working her jaw to wake herself up, she forced herself to take in the surrounding area. The houses were so plain compared to the mansions she’d imagined. And short— one level only, for most of them. The air. She filled her lungs. What was this smell?
    After a moment, she realized it was the
lack
of smell. She couldn’t smell garbage and rotting fruit. A haze of exhaust didn’t darken the sunset to tamarind-colored rust. She rubbed her jet-lagged eyes and admired a sky painted in bright hues of apricot and hyacinth.
    What a difference an ocean made.
    Homesickness hit her then, and she almost missed the pollution. Something familiar would have been nice as she stood there, on an unknown street, in an unknown city, in a world far away from everyone she loved. What time was it in Việt Nam? Was Ngọc Anh— no, it was
Jade
now—sleeping? Did she miss her momma? Her momma missed her.
    If she were home, she’d lie down next to her, kiss her little hands, and press their foreheads together like she always did before she went to sleep.
    She tripped and would have fallen if it weren’t for the mailbox, and Khải aimed a disapproving look at her shoes after he pulled her suitcase out of the trunk. “You’re better off walking barefoot than wearing those.”
    “But they’re so useful. It’s like having a shoe
and
a knife.” She slipped both shoes off and made a stabbing motion with one of them.
    He considered her for a serious moment, not laughing, not even smiling, and she pursed her lips and stared down at her bare toes. There she went, failing at flirting again. In her defense, it had been a long time since she’d dated a man, and she’d forgotten how.
    As she gazed at her unattractive toes— she hated the unshapely hands and feet she’d inherited from her green-eyed dad; there was nothing elegant or appealing about them— she noticed the scary weeds choking Khải’s yard. “What if I step on all the thorns?” She sent him a smile that she hoped looked sexy. “Will you carry me?”
    He brought her suitcase to the front door without looking at her. “Stay on the concrete, and you’ll be fine.”
    Skipping after him, she said, “I can clean the yard for you. I’m good at it.”
    He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “I like it the way it is.”
    She glanced over her shoulder at the yard again to make sure she hadn’t imagined everything, and, nope, it was still a jungle of thorns, tangled vines, and dried-up bushes.
    He’d been wrong earlier when he said Esme was the stranger of the two of them. He won that contest without even trying. He was easily the strangest person she’d ever met. She didn’t know him well yet, but she’d picked up on his strangeness right away. He didn’t look her in the eyes when he spoke, he wore all black, he liked this wasteland of a yard, and he said the oddest things. It gave her hope.
    Odd was good. Odd was an opportunity.
    Besides, she was odd, too. Just not as odd as he was.
    “You’re very ... open-minded,” she hedged.
    He looked at her like he thought she was crazy, and she mentally kicked herself.
    “Why do you park on the street when you have that?” She pointed to his garage. Judging from the size of the door, he could fit two cars in there. It didn’t make sense that he parked his nice car on the street. Not unless he had three cars, which she doubted he could afford based on the state of his yard and house.
    Instead of answering her question, he let them into the