Page 21 of The Mountain Man's Untamed Bride
Near where my property met the old logging trail, something glinted in the moonlight—something that didn't belong. I approached carefully, rifle ready, until I could make out the object half-buried in pine needles.
A watch.
Not the kind you'd wear fishing or hunting. This was pure luxury—gold case, fancy face, expensive. The kind of watch men wore to silently brag about their bank accounts.
I studied it without touching. Clean, unscratched, and still ticking. It hadn't been here long.
This wasn't coincidence—not with Scarlett checking her phone every five minutes and that black Mercedes I'd spotted in town, the driver in dark sunglasses photographing Main Street as we'd passed. The way she'd tensed when I mentioned seeing an unfamiliar car.
Someone had found her—someone with deep pockets.
I used my bandana to pick up the watch without leaving fingerprints. Some training never leaves you, no matter how far from the battlefield you get. The thing felt heavy in my hand, probably solid gold.
For another twenty minutes, I searched the property, finding nothing else out of place. Whoever left the watch had disappeared without bothering to retrieve such a valuable item—another red flag.
I'd been gone about thirty-five minutes—way longer than the ten-minute deadline I'd given Scarlett. As I approached the cabin, I spotted Colonel through the window, standing sentry on the back of the couch. So much for my emergency protocol.
I paused at the door, listening. The cabin was quiet except for the usual creaks of old timber. I entered carefully, rifle ready, sweeping the familiar shadows cast by the oil lamp's glow.
Then I saw Scarlett, and nearly forgot why I'd gone outside in the first place.
She stood in her bedroom doorway, but not as I'd left her. The shorts and tank top were gone, replaced by something that barely qualified as clothing. Black lace arranged in strategic strips covered just enough to avoid complete indecency, but not much more. The kind of outfit with exactly one purpose in mind.
"You're back," she said, relief mixing with something practiced in her voice. "I tried letting Colonel out like you said, but he just stared at me like I was crazy. Refused to budge from his spot."
I placed the rifle back in its cabinet, buying time to collect myself. "Figures. Only follows orders when it suits him."
"Find anything out there?" she asked, sashaying into the room with the strut of a model on a catwalk.
I held up the piece of men’s jewelry, letting the lamplight catch it. "This was near the property line."
She went pale as winter frost, the practiced confidence vanishing in an instant. Her shoulders stiffened, and genuine fear flashed across her features before she tried to hide it.
"Where exactly?" Her voice had gone tight.
"By the logging trail." I forced my gaze to stay locked on her eyes, though it took more willpower than staying perfectlystill while a bear investigates your campsite. "You know whose it is."
"I—" She shook her head quickly. "Lots of people wear expensive watches. Could be from anyone."
"Scarlett." Just her name, but loaded with disbelief.
Instead of answering, she stepped closer, switching tactics. "We can deal with that tomorrow," she said, her voice dropping lower. "Let's focus on more... immediate concerns."
"Like what?"
She touched her finger to her tongue, then drew a damp line down my shirt front.
"Like getting you out of these wet clothes," she said with an exaggerated wink.
I couldn't help a short laugh. "That's what you're going with?"
"Not working?" She pressed against me, the heat from her skin radiating through my shirt.
"It's ridiculous," I said, though I betrayed my own better judgment by settling my hands at her waist.
"Don't you want what you signed up for?" she asked, looking up at me through those fake lashes I'd helped her apply earlier. "Your mail-order bride, delivery confirmed?"
"I didn't sign up for anything," I reminded her, my voice rougher than I intended. "And you're not a package deal."
