Page 5 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise

“Yes.”

“And you’re a virgin.”

Her cheeks flamed, but she held her ground. “I wanted my first time to mean something.”

My jaw tightened. I shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have let that mental image in. Her in white lace, cheeks flushed, mouth parted, soft and untested and waiting for me to show her what it meant to be wanted.

I shifted on the couch, trying not to think about how fast I’d close the distance between us if she even hinted she wanted my hands on her. Just one hint would be all it took.

“This isn’t how life works,” I said.

“It’s how mine works now.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling ten kinds of wrong for even letting this conversation continue. But I couldn’t make myself end it. I couldn’t make her leave. And I sure as hell couldn’t ignore the part of me that didn’t want to.

“You’re not making this easy,” I said.

“I’m not trying to.”

I looked at her again, really looked at her. The nervous girl in my truck had straightened her spine and drawn a line in the sand. She wasn’t just here for some backwoods fantasy. She was fighting to get her life back. And for some reason, she thought I was part of that.

Bobbi had set this up. I didn’t know whether I wanted to strangle her or thank her for it.

“You can stay,” I said finally. “But don’t confuse that with agreeing to anything else.”

She smiled just a little, and it punched something deep in my chest. “I never confuse hospitality with a proposal.”

“Good,” I growled. “Because I don’t play house.”

“No,” she said, standing up and stretching, her shirt lifting just enough to tease the edge of her soft stomach. “But you are sharing one with me. Tonight, anyway.”

Then she padded barefoot toward the guest room, hips swaying, like she hadn’t just turned my whole damn life upside down.

And I sat there on the couch, completely and utterly screwed.

3

BRIDGET

We were sleeping under the same roof. I couldn’t get that thought out of my head.

All I had to do was open the door, tiptoe through the living room, and I’d be at his bedroom door. What would happen if I opened it and crept in? Maybe climbed into bed with him? He was my fiancé, after all.

Okay, so maybe he was resisting the idea of marrying me, but we didn’t have to be officially engaged or married to sleep together. I had plenty of friends who’d proven that to be true.

With a sigh, I kicked off the covers and sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. It was clear I wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

Maybe I should’ve kept my room at the inn. Reilly obviously wasn’t paying for it, so whoever was up to matchmaking us must be footing the bill. But this guy was the whole reason I was in Wildwood Valley in the first place.

I pushed myself to my feet and eyed my phone on the bedside table. I’d already sat up late, scrolling mindlessly for a while before realizing I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think about anythingbut Reilly. His dark brown eyes, that strong, solid jawline. Everything about him made me warm all over.

I was still staring at my phone when I heard it. For a few seconds, I ridiculously thought maybe I’d left a video playing, and the sound was coming through the tiny little speaker. But no, it was coming from the other side of the door.

A TV. Maybe Reilly was up.

I grabbed the shorts from my bag—Reilly had stopped at the inn so I could get my stuff—and pulled them on. If he was out there in the living room watching TV, I had to join him. I couldn’t just climb back into bed and pretend he wasn’t on the other side of that door.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed the rest of the distance and eased the door open. The living room was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the television on the far wall. Reilly sat on the worn leather couch, his broad shoulders taking up most of the space, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. He had a beer in one hand, the remote in the other, and his eyes were fixed on the screen like it held the answers to all life’s questions.

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