Page 1 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Treat

1

JARETH

What in the fresh hell had I gotten myself into now?

I could only look for a second or two as I tried to maneuver around a white SUV that had stopped to let someone out. I’d been stuck behind another car as a couple said the longest goodbye in history.

But as soon as the car in front of me jetted around it, I spotted her. And everything that came with her.

Whitley. She was the woman I was supposed to marry, and she was here at the airport, standing at the curb, waiting for me to pick her up. I’d only gotten a glimpse of her, but damn if she wasn’t the hottest woman I’d ever seen.

She might be worth it, even if she came with a lot of baggage. Literally.

I rolled down the window as I pulled up to the curb in front of the white SUV. She moved forward to reach my passenger side.

I leaned over to ask, “Whitley Delaney?”

She sidestepped a few feet, then leaned forward, tilting that thick head of golden blonde hair away from her face and making me long to grab handfuls of it while I kissed her.

“Are you my groom?” she asked with a teasing smile.

We’d both seen pictures of each other. I’d insisted on it after I found out that Bobbi, the woman who owned the only lodging in our small town of Wildwood Valley, had signed us up for a mail-order bride situation. Seemed more like online dating but overseen by a woman who didn’t ask permission.

She meant well, but had definitely overstepped her bounds.

“Sure am,” I said. “Are you my bride?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “Pop the trunk, and I’ll load this stuff in.”

She was out of her mind if she thought I’d sit here while she did that alone. But it shouldn’t have surprised me. It had become clear in our conversations that she was an independent woman. She ran her own business, which she started at the age of thirteen.

“It’s called the Berry Maiden,” she’d proudly announced on one of our calls.

And those two words were written on the three boxes she had stacked next to her four suitcases. Her sweet scent drifted over to me as we worked side by side, loading items into the back of my pickup.

“How did you get all this here?” I asked.

“It cost me a pretty penny in baggage fees,” she said. “I probably could’ve shipped it for cheaper, but it’s okay. I’ll earn it all back at the farmers market tomorrow.”

“Farmers market?”

That had my interest. I was her only transportation, and the closest town to Wildwood Valley was twenty minutes up the interstate. I assumed I was driving her to this event.

That brought the next question. “How’d you know I’d have room in the back of my truck?”

She stopped everything to stare at me. “Bobbi said you had one of the biggest trucks in town, and she wasn’t wrong. She helped me book my flight and offered me a free place to stay at her inn if, you know, I needed it.”

She wouldn’t need it. We’d already agreed that she’d stay with me. I offered to sleep on the couch, but she said that wouldn’t be necessary. So I assumed I would get lucky with this woman at some point today, which would make me the luckiest bastard in the world.

And that meant nothing could get to me. Not even knowing I’d have to drive twenty minutes each way tomorrow for her to sit at a table selling her jams and jellies for a few hours. Maybe all day—I had no idea how long those things lasted.

I was hoping to spend time getting to know her for our Sunday morning wedding, but it would be fine. We’d spent hours on the phone, so I felt the emotional connection. Tonight, we’d have dinner and work on the physical part.

With both of us working together, it only took a few minutes to get everything loaded into the back of the truck. But I saw in the rearview mirror how badly we’d backed up traffic in the process. I was surprised someone from security didn’t come out to tell us to move it along.

“Ready to meet your new hometown?” I asked as I shifted into drive.

She finished buckling her seatbelt and gave a nod. “I’ve been craving a cheeseburger and fries all afternoon. I can’t wait.”

---