Page 1 of The Mountain Man's Untamed Bride
Chapter One
“The Uninvited Guest”
Bodhi
I was losing a battle with a deck post that refused to die with dignity when I heard the distinctive rumble of Flint's truck crawling up my driveway. The sound was as welcome as a porcupine in a sleeping bag.
"Son of a—" I slammed the shovel into unyielding earth, my hands vibrating from the impact. Three hours of digging, and this post was still clinging to the ground like it had signed a lease.
Colonel, my prized Barred Rock rooster, cocked his head at the approaching vehicle before launching into a panicked sprint across the yard, his wings flapping with all the grace of a drunk penguin. Roosters are supposedly descended from dinosaurs, but Colonel missed that particular genetic memo.
"Traitor," I muttered as he disappeared around the corner of my cabin. Some watchdog he was turning out to be.
I straightened up, my lower back protesting after hours of manual labor. At thirty-two, I shouldn't feel this beaten, but that's what happens when you spend most of your days wrestling with nature instead of sitting at a desk. Living in Promise Ridge, Colorado—"Where Wi-Fi Comes To Die"—meant every luxury came with a price paid in sweat and calluses.
My cabin sat five miles beyond the "Road Maintenance Ends" sign, tucked against the mountainside like a stubborn afterthought. Most GPS systems pretended this place didn't exist, which was exactly how I preferred it. After eight years in Army Rangers and two tours I didn't care to remember, solitude wasn't just a preference—it was a necessity.
Flint's truck emerged from the tree line, a rusted blue F-250 that had probably witnessed the fall of Rome. It bounced over the ruts in my excuse for a driveway, each pothole threatening to shake the vehicle apart. Watching him approach reminded me of an incoming storm—inevitable and likely to leave damage in its wake.
The last time he'd shown up unannounced, I'd ended up with a goat. I did not need another goat.
"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying," I called out as the truck groaned to a stop, belching a cloud of dust that would make a coal mine jealous.
Flint killed the engine and hopped out with the energy of a man half his age. For someone pushing forty, he moved like he was fueled by pure caffeine and bad ideas. His full beard had more ginger in it than a Christmas cookie, and his perpetual smile was the exact expression worn by men about to do something tremendously stupid.
"That's a hell of a greeting for your only friend," he said, slamming the truck door with unnecessary force. Colonel squawked indignantly from his hiding place behind the woodpile.
"My only friend would know I don't like surprise visits," I shot back, driving the shovel into the ground where it stood at attention like an exhausted soldier.
"If I waited for an invitation, I'd die of old age." Flint clapped his hands together, surveying my partially demolished deck. "Making improvements to the bachelor palace?"
"Trying to. This post is being stubborn."
"Must recognize a kindred spirit," he quipped. "Need a hand?"
I grunted noncommittally, which Flint correctly interpreted as a yes. Together, we attacked the post from both sides, digging around its base until we could rock it loose. With a final heave that threatened to rearrange my vertebrae, the post surrendered and toppled over.
"Victory," Flint declared, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Now, got any of that homebrew? Josie only lets me have beer on weekends at home."
And there it was. The real reason for the visit.
"It's barely noon," I pointed out.
"It's five o'clock in Japan," he countered, "and what Josie don’t know won't result in me sleeping on the couch."
I rolled my eyes but led him toward the cabin. Flint had been with Josie since kindergarten—literally. The story went that after he'd kissed her during recess, she'd slugged him first and then informed that now that he’d claimed her, they had to get married someday. Thirty-odd years later, she was stillcalling the shots in their relationship, running their outfitting store with the efficiency of a seasoned CEO while Flint charmed the customers. Six kids and counting hadn't dimmed their ridiculous devotion to each other, and from what I could tell, they were on a personal mission to single-handedly repopulate Promise Ridge.
As we crossed the yard, I had a sudden flash of memory—Flint's visit last week. The one where he'd cornered me at Mabel's general store, the one I'd been trying to forget.
The one that was about to become impossible to ignore.
***
"Bodhi? That you in there?" Flint's voice had carried easily through the thin wooden door of the outhouse behind Mabel's General Store.
I'd frozen mid-business, wondering if silence would make him go away. It did not.
"I can see your boots under the door, man. Those ridiculous steel-toed monsters would survive a nuclear blast."
