Page 13 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

“Good news, Lyla! I really didn’t think we’d be able to find you a match so quickly, but I have someone for you.”

The realization that this mystery man needed a wife so fast quickly overshadowed my spark of excitement. Suspicion replaced it.“But it’s only been two days.”

“I know, but he’s in quite the rush.”

“Why?”

It was an obvious question, but her answer didn’t help my concern.“I can’t reveal that information to you, unfortunately.”

“Whatcanyou tell me about him?”

Her hesitation sent a chill through me then, as it does now. A signal of her shared unease over the situation.“Well, this is a bit of an unusual case because he’s asked for confidentiality and for me not to reveal certain information that he would like to give you himself when he meets you.”

“Has anyone ever done that before?”

“No, which is why I’m telling you that you don’t have to accept this. I will let you know that I do trust this individual and understand the reasons for the secrecy. I don’t have any concerns for your safety, if that worries you.”

“Of course, I’m worried about it. Going to live with a stranger, marry him, and you can’t tell me anything about him.”

“If you get there and you’re uncomfortable, if it doesn’t feel right, anything like that, you can always leave. You don’t have to go through with signing the contract.”

“They’ll have it?”

“Yes, he has asked that the final contract be signed in his presence. He wanted to meet you first in person, as I said.”

“You can’t even tell me where he lives or his age, what he does for a living, anything?”

“I’m sorry, Lyla. I can’t, so I would totally understand if you say no. But you seemed a little desperate the other day, so I had to give you the opportunity before I went on to any other potential matches.”

“I’ll do it.”

The words came out of my mouth so fast that I can’t believe I said them.

“You will?”

“Yes. I assume he knows about the gift.”

“You can discuss all that with him in person, but it won’t be a problem.”

That’s the only thing that keeps me from throwing open this door and jumping out of the moving car, knowing that $50,000 is going to be mine, hopefully by the end of the day. All I have to do is sign on a dotted line and say “I do” to a complete stranger, then play wife for God knows how long.

I release a heavy breath and roll up my window.

You can do this, Lyla.

A sign for Millsburg appears along the side of the road, almost covered by bushes encroaching from either side, and my back stiffens. Another mile or two goes by, and the town finally comes into view—if you can even call it that.

Two dozen or so tiny shops line each side of the main street. People meander along the sidewalk, but each and every one stops to stare at the Lincoln Town Car as it passes. We make it to a stop sign on the other side of town, and the driver puts on his turn signal.

My hand tightens around my purse strap. “Where are we going? I thought you said Millsburg.”

He glances at me again. “Millsburg is the closest town, ma’am.”

“And how much farther is it?”

We make the turn. “Another hour.”

“The closest town is an hour away?”

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