Page 1 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise
PROLOGUE
GIA
SIX MONTHS AGO - NEW YORK CITY
The Marriott hotelbar is supposed to be networking, but all I want to do is disappear. My cheek still throbs where Zack's hand connected three hours ago, the concealer doing its best to hide the evidence of what my relationship has become.
"Another whiskey sour, miss?" The bartender's kind eyes hold concern I don't deserve.
"Please." I touch my face unconsciously, then force my hand down. No one can know. Not here, not when my company sent me to represent them at the biggest marketing conference of the year. Not when my professional reputation is the only thing I have left that's actually mine.
The conference has been a blur of presentations and networking sessions where I smiled and handed out business cards while my mind replayed Zack's words from this morning. "You're nothing without me, Gia. Nothing. And if you ever try to leave me again, I'll make sure you lose everything."
I believed him. I always believe him.
The whiskey burns going down, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Two years of my life wasted on a man who started charming and ended up controlling every aspect of my existence. My job, my friends, my family, even my clothes had to meet his approval.
"Rough day?"
The voice is deep, with a slight Canadian accent that makes me look up from my drink. The man settling onto the barstool beside me is the kind of gorgeous that should be illegal. Dark hair that looks like he's been running his hands through it, warm brown eyes that seem to see everything, and shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the world.
He's exactly the kind of man Zack would hate me talking to. Which makes him exactly the kind of man I want to talk to right now.
"Something like that." I gesture to my drink. "What's your excuse?"
"Well my construction conference ended three hours ago. My hotel room is too quiet, and I'm tired of my own company." He signals the bartender. "Whiskey, neat. Make it a double."
A construction worker. Zack would lose his mind. His definition of acceptable men starts with trust fund babies and ends with investment bankers. Blue collar is beneath his social circle, which means this stranger is absolutely perfect for my current mood.
"Construction, huh? What kind?"
"Whatever needs building, honestly. Started with residential, moved into commercial projects. Currently working on some wellness retreat up in British Columbia." He extends a calloused hand. "Rosco Kane."
"Gia Moreau." His handshake is firm, confident, and sends an unexpected jolt of awareness through my system. "Wellness retreat sounds interesting."
"Family business. My cousins have this idea about creating a high-end healing space in the mountains. I just make sure the buildings don't fall down while people find their inner peace."
I laugh, and it feels rusty from disuse. When was the last time I genuinely laughed? "Very noble work. I design marketing campaigns that convince people they need things they absolutely don't need."
"Ah, one of those." But he's smiling when he says it. "What brings you to New York?"
"Conference, but nothing as fun as yours sounded. Digital marketing trends, consumer psychology, all the ways to part people from their money more efficiently." I take another sip of whiskey, feeling looser than I have in months. "Riveting stuff."
"Sounds like it." His eyes crinkle with humor. "So why do you look like you'd rather be anywhere else?"
The question hits too close to home. I should deflect, change the subject, make polite small talk like the good corporate representative I'm supposed to be. Instead, I find myself being honest.
"Because I'm supposed to be here with my boyfriend, but we had a fight after we broke up this morning and..." I touch my cheek again, then catch myself. "Let's just say he has strong opinions about my career choices."
Something dangerous flashes in Rosco's eyes. "Strong opinions that leave marks?"
My breath catches. He noticed. Of course he noticed. The concealer is good, but it's not magic.
"It's not what you think."
"Isn't it?" He turns his body toward me fully, and I feel the weight of his complete attention. "Because it looks exactly like what I think it is."
"You don't know me. You don't know the situation."
