Page 3 of The Mountain Man's Bride

There’s something a few feet in the distance that makes me slow down. It’s black and shiny and my heart sinks when I realize it’s a car in the ditch. Not just any car. A limousine.

Bracing myself, I get out of my truck and prepare for the worst. I don’t reckon I’m likely to find this person still alive.

The passenger side is smashed in with a tree limb going through it, but the driver’s side looks unaffected. There’s a woman slumped against the wheel, surrounded by the deflated airbag.

I open the door, bracing myself to catch her as she tumbles forward. Dark red ringlets surround her face but there’s no sign of visible injury. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing and wish I had the skills to help her. I’m of more use to her injured car than her.

“Can you hear me?” I have to shout the words to be heard over the howling wind.

After the longest few seconds of my life, her long eyelashes flutter and the prettiest chocolate gaze I’ve ever seen is blinking up at me. It hits me like a punch in the gut.

“I didn’t hit the deer,” she says. “He was just a baby.”

“Can you walk?” I take in the wedding dress she’s wearing. It’s lowcut, showing off her ample cleavage. Yeah, I’m an animal for noticing those round tits of hers when she’s just been through an accident. “Where’s your groom? Was anyone with you?”

I peel the coat from my body and place it over her. I don’t know how long ago she wrecked and the thought that she could have been sitting here in the cold for hours has me feeling strangely protective over her.

“My groom is at the altar about now.” She shivers despite the coat I gave her.

Suddenly, every bit of my attraction melts quicker than the snowflakes falling onto the wet asphalt. She’s another runaway bride that humiliated some poor fool.

She touches the back of her head with a groan. When she pulls her fingers away, they’re coated with blood. Not a lot but she’s obviously hurt.

“I hate the sight of blood,” she murmurs just as her face drains of color and her eyelids flutter closed again.

I reach out a hand to keep her from slumping forward and look around. There’s a bag on the passenger floorboard. I lean across her to grab it, hating the way my cock hardens in my pants when I catch a whiff of her floral scent.

“We need to go,” I tell her as sleet begins mixing in with the snowflakes. If I don’t get us both out of this weather soon, we’ll become human popsicles. But it’s too far down the mountain to take her for medical help. The best I can do in this storm is get her back to my place and hope she’s not injured too badly.

I wait for her to acknowledge my words, hoping she’ll wake again. But she doesn’t.

Cursing my luck, I haul her into my arms bridal style. Her curves fit perfectly against me, like her body was made for mine.

I remind myself that up until a few hours ago, she was happily engaged to another man. Why the thought has a growl ripping from my chest I don’t know. There’s only a primal need to claim this woman, to have the whole world know she’s mine.

I set her in my truck, pausing to brush those curls from her face. They’re even softer and silkier than I thought they’d be.

One look at my tanned, calloused hand against her pretty porcelain face has me backing away.

I have millions more than I know what to do with thanks to my automotive company and smart investments I made along the way. But this woman and I are from different worlds. I’d be a fool to forget that.

Maggie

There’s heat surrounding me. It’s so inviting that I snuggle deeper into it. I can’t remember the last time I felt this safe and protected.

A rumbling noise is against my ear, and I finally force open my tired eyes. I haven’t slept so peacefully in ages.

Something cold hits my face and I realize snowflakes are falling. Images of the past twenty-four hours come together. Suddenly, I remember the stranger at my car. Despite his rough mountain man appearance, he smelled so good. Like woodsmoke and raw masculinity.

“You’ll be warm soon,” a deep voice promises.

I glance up, finally connecting the dots that I’m in his arms. I’m in the arms of the handsome stranger from earlier.

“Where—?” My voice sounds rough and scratchy. I clear my throat, my head still feeling funny.

He kicks open a door and carries me into a cabin with a bare living room. The only pieces of furniture in it are a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace, a brown leather couch, and a wooden coffee table.

He deposits me gently on the couch before moving to the fireplace. He squats in front of it to start a fire. Despite how disoriented I’m feeling, I still notice the way those black jeans are clinging to his hips and outlining a very firm ass.

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