Page 3 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Temptation
Ellie, where are you? You’re late for your dress fitting. Call me.
She’ll lose it when she finds out I’ve left Denver, escaping their plans for me. Their plans. Not mine. Once they learned tech-millionaire Grant Chamberlain was interested in me, what I wanted no longer mattered. I went on one date with him. One. That’s all it took for him to act like I belonged to him and for my family to pressure me to see him again. For my mother to start conspiring with him. She hired a freaking wedding planner completely ignoring my protests. My father says I’m being selfish and unreasonable, that I should be thinking of my family and what Mr. Chamberlain can do forus.
He meantthem.
If I’d stayed, they would have strong-armed me into marrying a man who doesn’t take no for an answer. He constantly ordered flowers just so I could deliver them to his house or showed up at work unannounced and expected me to drop everything to spend time with him.
No one listened to me when I told them he scared me a little. That his touch lingered even after I tried to break contact, or that he got angry—really angry—when I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. And then he went straight to my mother to start the wedding plans, like my consent wasn’t necessary.
Becoming a mail-order bride is risky. I know that. But marryinganyone elsehas to be better, right?
There’s one bar of signal on my phone, with a second flickering hopefully beside it. I glance at my nervous driver, then type out a quick text to Melanie.
If you don’t hear from me again, it’s because my Uber driver drove off a cliff, or my husband-to-be is an ax murderer. Love you!
I can almost hear her groan when she reads it, and pain stabs my heart. I miss her already. Hopefully, things will workout with my mountain man. Melanie doesn’t have a close family anymore, so she can move anywhere. Maybe we can both be happy in White Falls.
The SUV hits a large pothole in the road, jolting me out of my thoughts. Amir curses. He leans forward and pushes his foot down on the gas pedal, rocketing us up the incline.
I grab the handle over the window and hang on, praying he doesn’t lose control at this speed. I haven’t seen a big drop-off, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. “Everything okay?” I’d like to live to meet my husband.
“Fine,” he says through clenched teeth.
Shadows fall across the road as the sun sinks lower. I swear he mutters, “Never again.”
I’m about to ask him why he’s acting like a lunatic when he stomps on the brake and turns the wheel, whipping the vehicle around onto a gravel drive I didn’t see at our breakneck speed.
“Hey!”
“We’re here!” Amir says, bringing the car to a stop so quickly, I’m thrown forward against the seatbelt. He’s out of the car and at the trunk before I can untangle myself and open the door.
“What is going on?” I demand, grabbing my carry-on bag from the back seat.
Amir shoves my suitcase at me and sprints for the driver’s side. “I have to get down the mountain before the sun sets. Thank you for hiring Uber!” He fishtails out of the drive in a spray of gravel, the glow of red taillights the only sign he’d ever been there.
He acted as if bears were going to jump out and attack his car if the sun went down. Crazy.
Gathering my luggage, I face the cabin that I’m about to call home. At least until I see if Anson and I are compatible. His messages were brief, and a little gruff. I found them endearing. He’s living all alone up here in the woods, fending for himselfand fighting off crazed Uber drivers and bears. He just needs someone to make him smile and cook for him. Someone to make his life better.
Perfect Pairings Agency decided we were a match, and Dottie, the woman I talked to there, assured me he was a good man looking for love and companionship. I’m going to be that person for him. In return, I’ll be safe. Far away from Grant Chamberlain.
The cabin is one story, with a big front porch. There aren’t any flowers or bushes, just a single lonely-looking rocking chair. Smoke puffs out of a stone chimney, and the cabin looks well kept, if a little austere.
You got this, Ellie. Anson Blackwood is going to fall in love with you. Eventually. He just has to like you enough not to send you back.
Pasting on my brightest smile, I drag my suitcase up the steps to the porch and knock on the door. I’ll have to thank him for sending Uber to pick me up from the airport, even if the driver was scared of the dark. And the first-class ticket was wonderful. I’ve felt treasured since our very first contact on the site. Something I’ve never experienced before.
The door swings open, revealing a tall man pulling a T-shirt down over his head.
My sophisticated introduction ready, I blurt, “Woof. Huge.”
He’s at least a foot taller than me, with shoulders so broad they almost touch the doorframe. Black hair brushes his shoulders, and eyes like milk chocolate stare down at me. His jaw has the start of a thick black beard that highlights his cheekbones and firm lips.
“Yeah?” he growls.
I shiver at the sound of his voice. But my eyes are locked on his abs, now covered by the gray shirt. He has at least a six-pack under there. Maybe even an eight, with a happy traildisappearing beneath the waistband of his sweats where… wow. This man is bigeverywhere.
He looks over my shoulder at the empty driveway. “Where the hell did you come from?”
