Page 23 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
He turns away, busying himself with loading the dishwasher. I lean against the counter, watching his methodical movements, the way his broad shoulders flex under his flannel shirt. For a man so large, there's a surprising grace to him.
"Violet," he says finally, turning to face me. "About this... arrangement."
"Yes?" I prompt when he doesn't continue.
He takes a sip of his whiskey, seeming to gather his thoughts. "I need you to understand what you'd be getting into. This isn't..." He sighs, running a hand over his beard. "This isn't a romantic fairytale. I need a wife for one reason only—to get my girls back permanently."
I nod slowly. "I understand."
"Do you?" His eyes search mine. "Because this would be a business arrangement. Temporary. Six months, maybe a year at most. Just until the custody is finalized."
"I get it, Hudson," I say. "You're not interested in the... other aspects of marriage."
He shifts his weight, his eyes briefly dropping to my lips before snapping back up. "Right. Exactly. This would be in name only. You'd live here, help with the girls, play the part of devoted wife when needed. And I’ll pay you the fifty thousand promised upfront in a cashier’s check on our wedding day."
"A mutually beneficial arrangement," I say, taking a sip of water to cool my suddenly dry throat.
"Precisely."
We stand in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the dishwasher he's just started. There's a tension in the air between us that betray his words.
"The girls seem to like you," he says finally, his voice softer. "Lucy especially."
"They're wonderful," I tell him honestly. "All three of them. You've done an amazing job with them, Hudson."
He looks down, a hint of color touching his cheeks at the praise. "They make it easy."
"I doubt that," I laugh. "Lucy alone has more energy than a power plant."
A genuine smile breaks across his face, transforming his features. God, he's beautiful when he smiles.
"She'll run you ragged given half a chance," he agrees, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Silvie's the challenging one, though."
"She's protective of you," I observe. "And her sisters. That's not a bad thing."
"She shouldn't have to be," he says, a shadow crossing his face. "She should be worrying about homework and friends, not playing mom to her sisters."
I take a step closer to him, drawn by the pain in his voice. "What happened with their mother, if you don't mind me asking?"
Hudson's expression darkens. "Kristy... has issues. Addiction. Poor choices in men. When I left Black Feral, she couldn't handle the change. Started using more heavily, bringing strangers around the girls."
"That's awful," I whisper.
"Yeah." His jaw clenches. "I tried to get the girls out, but she was vindictive. Had connections. Painted me as the dangerous one because of my past with the MC."
"So, that's why you need a wife," I realize. "To show stability."
He nods, draining his glass. "The court wants to see a solid family unit. Two parents, stable home, wholesome environment." A bitter laugh escapes him. "The irony is, I'm the one who's sober, who built this house for them, who wants nothing more than their safety and happiness. But because of my past, I'm the risky choice."
"It's not fair," I say, anger rising on his behalf.
"Life rarely is," he shrugs, setting his empty glass down. "But I'll do whatever it takes to get them home. Even if that means..." He gestures between us.
"Even if it means marrying a stranger," I finish for him.
"You're not exactly a stranger anymore," he says quietly.
Our eyes lock, and suddenly the kitchen feels much smaller, the air growing more charged with something undeniable. Hudson takes a half-step toward me, his eyes dropping to my lips again. My heart thunders in my chest as I tilt my face up instinctively.
