Page 15 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I freeze.

Not exactly who I thought I’d see coming out of a place like this.

While certainly not what I would consider handsome, he holds an air about him that says he holds the wisdom of the years that his hair color and the lines on his face suggest he’s lived.

God, he must be old enough to be my father.

Another shudder rolls through me at that thought.

Beggars can’t be choosers, Lyla.

The older man offers a tight smile and a little wave from the front porch and makes his way down the few steps in shining black shoes that seem completely ridiculous in this remote place.

He approaches the vehicle—not the driver’s side, but mine. Stopping outside my door, he motions for me to roll down the window. With a shaking hand, I press the button and it descends.

His lips curl into that same tight smile. “Lyla, I presume?”

I nod slowly. “Y-y-yes.”

“Please come in so we can discuss the contract.”

I bristle.

Well, that’s a little formal coming from a man who’s going to say, “I do” and undoubtedly try to stick his dick in me.

But another voice pops into my head, one constantly there to remind me why I’m doing this.

At least hear him out.

That won’t cause any harm. Just sit down with him and discuss this rationally, like two consenting adults. I can always say no and leave.

I glance over at the driver, who has been watching the conversation quietly from the front seat while trying to appear disinterested. “You’ll wait for me?”

He offers a sharp nod. “I have been told to remain here until you confirm that you’d like to stay.”

The air in my lungs rushes out in one relieved breath.

My driver gives me another look. “It’ll be fine, ma’am. I’ve done a lot of these.”

I bark out a laugh that’s full of all the tension I’ve bottled up inside me. “You’ve driven a lot of women to the remote wilderness to cabins in the middle of fucking nowhere to sign a contract to marry somebody they’ve never met?”

He finally cracks a grin. “Okay, notthisexactly.”

“Ronald…”

I turn back toward the silver-haired man. “What?”

“My name is Ronald Page.” He extends his hand through the window. “I know this must be uncomfortable for you, and you’re surely nervous. I realized I never introduced myself.”

As if that somehow makes any of this better?

I slide my hand into his and shake it, expecting a revulsion at having to touch the man interested in buying me. But I feel nothing really, except that same churning in my stomach that’s been going on for hours.

“Please, Lyla, come in. It looks like it might start raining soon.”

Give him a chance…

I nod, release my palm from his, and roll up the window. He opens the door for me and offers his hand to assist me out, a true gentleman.

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