Page 6 of The Mountain Man's Bride

When I’m done, I return the items to the room and that’s when I realize what today is.

It was supposed to be the start of my marriage. Sure, it would be an arranged one. But I had hoped that it would be the beginning of a beautiful life together filled with amazing adventures.

I wanted all of it—the house, the three daughters, and even the minivan with the crushed-up cereal in the seats.

Suddenly, I can’t stand the idea of being in this dress a moment longer. A dress someone else picked for me. To wear to the wedding with the groom that someone else picked for me.

It takes some shimmying to get it off of my plump frame. But as soon as I’m free from the monstrosity, I grab a pair of purple panties and a skimpy matching bra. They’re both lacy and see through but they have the kind of support that makes my tits and ass look great.

“At least, I have that going for me,” I mutter as I slide a hand along one of my chunky thighs.

Sure, I’ve never had the ideal body type that attracted men or made me likely to win a beauty pageant, but I love my curves.

I love the thighs that support me as I dance around the kitchen when I’m baking. I love the hands that have comforted my grandfather when he was confused and scared because he couldn’t remember where his house was anymore. I even love my fluffy middle because it turns the food I eat into energy I can use to run a multimillion-dollar company.

“You missed out on a treasure, Sebastian Thomas,” I declare. I still don’t know how the hell I’m going to save my family’s company but that’s not something I can solve while stranded with a handsome stranger in the middle of a snowstorm.

That same noise is back again. When I first woke up, I thought it was my head pounding from last night’s wine consumption but now I realize the sound was coming from outside.

Crossing the room, I peek out the window with the heavy curtains. I have to stand on my tiptoes to see around a large snow drift on this side of the house.

But I finally spy my mountain man chopping wood. He’s shirtless despite the snow flurries in the air.

Holy hell, the figure that was underneath that flannel yesterday. I know Crew is strong because he was able to carry me effortlessly. But I didn’t know just how built he is.

I watch as he splits a piece of wood, admiring the way his muscles ripple with each practiced swing. The thick muscles in his broad shoulders bunch as he pulls the axe from the wood only to take another swing.

His breath comes out as little puffs of air. His hair falls in his face and sweat trickles down his bare chest.

I wonder what it would be like to look down at his naked chest as I rode him on the wrought-iron bed behind me. Those big hands of his would be around my hips, urging me on.

He chops one final piece of wood then pauses to look up, interrupting my fantasy of having my wicked way with him. His stony gaze connects with mine and the corner of his mouth pulls. But I can’t tell whether it’s a smile or a grimace on his full lips.

That’s when I look down and realize I’m just in my pretty bra and panties. Quickly, I release the curtains and press a hand to my chest. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Having fantasies about a guy I only met yesterday.

Since I clearly can’t trust myself around this man, I open his closet and hope he won’t mind if I borrow a shirt. I reach for a white cotton one with a V-neck and I’m pleased that it fits me. If you ignore the fact that it’s a little tight around my tits. But it does flare down to my hips, giving me some coverage.

I don’t bother with pants. It would feel too intimate to wear his and besides, he’s much taller than my mere five feet.

Squaring my shoulders, I leave the room and start to explore the cabin.

There’s not much to see. Other than the bedroom and bathroom, there’s a living room and a kitchen. The kitchen is spacious and equipped with all the modern conveniences I wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this. There’s even a beautiful island right in the middle complete with a granite countertop.

The one thing that doesn’t make sense is the table with the single chair pushed up in the corner. Seeing it makes me sad for my mountain man. Doesn’t he have anyone to share meals with, to tell stories to at the end of a long day, to laugh with?

I may not have much, but I have my grandfather. We eat dinner together a few nights a week. Plus, I have some good girlfriends that I can call up when I’m having a bad day and need someone to eat comfort food with.

Reaching for my phone, I check to see if I have service yet. But the towers are still down. I wish I knew how long I’ll be without service. I told my best friend, Iris, that I was leaving but I didn’t give her any details. She’s probably worried at this point.

To distract myself from fretting, I drag the lone chair to the kitchen cabinets and use it as a stepladder. The black granite counter is sturdy and when I’m certain it’ll hold my weight, I step onto it.

“This is why giants should not be allowed to build cabinets,” I mutter as I search for the ingredients to make something yummy. The weather today calls for my special chocolate chip cookies, provided my rugged host has the essentials.

“Giants build cabinets to discourage naughty pixies,” a husky voice says.

I didn’t even hear Crew come back into the cabin. But at the sound of the mountain man’s deep timbre, my nipples tighten and the area between my thighs starts to tingle. What is it about this man? How can he possibly have this effect on me?

I glance over my shoulder, disappointed to see he’s wearing a gray t-shirt now. “Do you think I’m naughty?” I think I’m flirting with him. I think I like flirting with him.

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