Page 5 of The Mountain Man's Runaway Bride

I lead Quincy to my own plane, a tiny two-seater that is mostly powered by duct tape. But the engine is in good condition, which is all that matters.

I open the door for her and she hesitates. “We’re flying again?”

“Unless you want to hike eighty miles in satin and heels.”

She flinches and I cringe inwardly. Damn. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh. It’s not her fault. She came here expecting to find a man who wanted to marry her.

Instead, she got me.

She sighs and accepts my offered hand to climb in. “Guess I already made one bad decision today. Why stop now?”

I wince. I really am making a muck of this.

Neither of us says anything besides a few lines about safety until we’re up in the air. I can’t help but send frequent glances her way. Which is no small feat since an old military injury left me with no vision in my right eye, and little hearing on that side to boot.

Quincy’s own attention is fully fixed on taking in the mountains and rivers below us. With every mile, her shoulders seem to loosen and her breathing relaxes.

I clear my throat yet again. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Knox. Knox Callahan.”

Her shoulders tense again. “Knox Callahan. The outdoor guide?”

My brow wrinkles slightly at that. Either she’s more stunned by my ogre-like self than I realized, or she thought I was someone else.

“That’s right,” I say. I keep my tone gentle, like I’m talking to a scared animal. “I’m an outdoor guide. I’m sure Boone told you.”

“Boone.”

“Yes, Boone.” Not for the first time, I wonder if she’s okay. The poor thing has seemed confused and unsteady this whole time.

I hope she didn’t get hurt on the trip here. I hope not. That would make my guilt at sending her away even worse.

The least I owe her is an explanation.

“I suppose I should explain why you’re here. Why I’m here.” She says nothing, but continues to stare wide-eyed out the front window. “My friends keep telling me I’m a hermit. Clearly I’m not one. I run a tour business. But they said I needed real company. Not just guests.”

Still more silence. The longer she goes without speaking, the more I feel the need to fill the silence.

“So they took it upon themselves to sign me up for a mail-order bride service.”

Her brows rise, but she doesn’t speak.

“I didn’t ask for it,” I add. “Didn’t even think you’d show. I was planning to tell you to turn right back around. But then you walked into me, and…”

My voice trails off, and I mutter an expletive under my breath. “You’re welcome to stay for a few days, if you like. And I’ll pay for your flight home.”

She turns her head slightly, eyes searching mine like she’s trying to figure out the catch. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t trust me either.

“Actually the timing of your coming here is kind of fitting.” I glance at the altimeter to keep from looking at her. “If you’d come a day later, I wouldn’t have been able to meet you. I was supposed to be leading a honeymoon excursion this week. Private flights, tours through the mountains, a glamping setup. You know, the works. But the groom called a few hours ago and cancelled everything.”

“Let me guess,” she says, her voice soft. “The bride ran off before the ceremony this morning, for seemingly no reason, and left the groom high and dry.”

I glance at her, startled. “Yeah. How did you?—?”

“It was me. I’m the runaway bride.”

“Well?” Boone prompts when I answer his call a few hours later.

“You realize I’m going to murder you,” I practically growl into the phone.

---