Page 21 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Muse
“I can see it in your face,” Mark says, his tone smug now, like he’s already won. “You’re thinking about it. You know I’m right. You just don’t want to admit it.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
He’s not wrong. And that’s what terrifies me most—that there’s a part of me thatisconsidering it. Because I’m tired. Because I’m desperate. Because I don’t know where else to go.
But another part of me—louder now than ever—is screamingdon’t you dare.
I look at him, really look at him. The smirk. The arrogance. The way he’s so sure I’ll cave.
And maybe a week ago, I would’ve.
But I think of Hudson. Of his studio. Of the way he looked at me like I mattered. The way helistened. The way henevermade me feel small.
“I’m not going with you,” I say, voice shaking but steady.
Mark’s face darkens. “Don’t be stupid, Daisy.”
“I’d rather sleep in a ditch than let you control me again.”
Silence stretches between us. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, making my eyes water. Mark’s jaw ticks. I don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know if he’ll yell or grab me or walk away. I just know I have to hold my ground.
Then I hear footsteps.
Boots, steady and sure, crunching across the gravel behind me.
I turn—and there he is.
Hudson.
His eyes go straight to me, scanning my face, reading the fear I’ve been trying so hard to swallow. Then he shifts to Mark, his body going rigid, his jaw tightening like stone.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, voice low and even, but it slices through the air like a blade.
Mark straightens, puffing up like he always does when he feels threatened. “Who the hell are you?”
Hudson doesn’t hesitate. “I’m her husband.”
The word crashes over me.
Husband.
My mouth opens slightly, and I look up at him. He doesn’t even glance at me. His gaze is locked on Mark, protective and unyielding.
Husband?
Does he mean it?
Mark scoffs. “Her what? Nah. No way. She’s my girlfriend. She’s just confused. Whatever she told you, she’s?—”
“She’s nothing to you,” Hudson snaps, cutting him off.
Mark takes a step forward, puffing his chest like he’s about to swing. “You think you can just show up and?—”
Hudson raises a hand, calmly, like he’s not even flustered. “You have until the count of three to turn around and get off this mountain.”
Mark laughs. “Or what?”
Hudson doesn’t flinch. “One.”
