Page 28 of The Mountain Man's Runaway Bride

KNOX

I wipe my hands on a rag, close the fuel cap, and pat the side of my old bush plane.

“That’s it, girl,” I say. “Topped off, checked out, and ready to fly. Just as soon as our woman gets here.”

Though I haven’t said it to her, that is how I’ve been thinking about Quincy with every passing day. I know she’s only here for a short time. I know that she has a life back home. I know there’s no way I’m leaving my mountain to chase after here. I know all the reasons why this isn’t going to last forever.

But that hasn’t stopped me from thinking of Quincy in the forever kind of way. Because even if she isn’t here—even if I never see her ever again—I know damn well I’m still going to feel this way about her.

That I’ll always love her.

I just haven’t worked out whether or not I should say anything. It seems so selfish to tell a woman who’s just had her world turned upside down that I want her to turn it inside out on top of that.

A familiar bush plane rolls into a space near mine. I shake my head as Boone flips off the engine and jumps out.

“As I live and breathe.” He shakes his head at me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I brought my… guest to check in with customer service about her flight later this week.”

“Your guest, huh?” A shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “This is a long way to come for a guest.”

My eyes narrow. “Stop it.”

“Don’t you think you might at least upgrade your ‘guest’ to ‘special friend’ status?”

“I still owe you an ass kicking.”

He gives me a knowing look. “Telling by the way you aren’t scowling up a storm like usual, I’d say this ‘friend’ of yours might be more than a friend.”

“You’d better not say anything like that when Quincy gets back here.” I narrow my eyes. “She’s been through enough without your bullshit.”

“I knew you’d thank me later.”

I grunt, unwilling to let him know that his little prank with the mail-order bride actually worked out well for me. Even if it’s only temporary.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He smirks. “I came to see about a special delivery.”

“Special delivery?” My brows knit. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now.”

The click of heels on the tarmac draws both of our attention. My heart leaps as I turn toward the sound. I expect to see my woman, wearing my flannel like she was born to wear it.

My heart takes a disappointed nosedive when she doesn’t appear.

Instead, a woman I’ve never seen before appears at the edge of the tarmac, dragging a bright pink suitcase and looking like she just stepped off a reality show. She’s decked out in fancy boots, a bright pink parka, and her hair has been curled and teased.

She’s exuding nervous energy.

I glance past her for Quincy, but it’s Boone who steps forward.

“So, uh—small thing.”

“Who’s?” I ask, frowning.

Boone grins, but it’s too guilty, too twitchy. “You’re gonna laugh.”

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