Page 3 of The Mountain Man's Secret Bride
Junie’s words catch me off guard. I’ve never dreamed of being anyone’s husband, but now having the possibility thrown in my face, I’m not sure I want to give up on the idea.
“Sure,” I say into the phone. The only word I’m able to get out.
“Thanks, Bay. I’ll talk to you after the storm.” She’s referring to the loss of cell phone service when the weather is bad. I have satellite service I installed for emergencies, but I usually don’t use it, except in emergencies. It provides me with phone and internet service that I use for search and rescue purposes.
“Talk to you later, Junie, and tell Brooks, bye.” We finish our goodbyes, and I head out the door to do the one thing I never thought I would have to do—say no to a beautiful woman.
three
Jessa
“She’s here, and sinceyou ordered her, you can come up here and break the news to her that she was a mistake.”
Bay’s side of the conversation keeps replaying in my mind. I don’t think he realized there must be a window open somewhere in the house because I heard his side of the phone call.
So far, he has spoken with a man named Brooks and his wife, Junie. He didn’t know anything about the mail-order bride setup, and he thinks I’m beautiful.
My heart races at the last part. If he thinks I’m beautiful, maybe it’s not too late to change his mind about being my groom. A new idea pops into my head, an idea I know he can’t refuse.
I shift my eyes to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mountain man. But just like on the porch, he shields his left side from me.
Waiting patiently isn’t something I’m used to doing. I’m the kind of person who needs to be moving, but there’s something soothing about being in the mountains, sitting on the porch swing, and petting Charlie while we wait for Bay to join us.
The sound of hinges creaking makes me jerk my head toward the door as Bay walks out onto the porch, looking me straight in the eye—even trying to shield the left side of his face. I try not to shift my gaze to the angry red scar with its jagged edges marring that side of his face.
He must notice my struggles as he raises his left hand to his face. “I joined the military right out of high school. I wanted to see the world.” His mouth curves into a distant smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I never realized this would be my punishment for leaving the mountain.”
I’ve heard of people believing in fate and getting punished for tempting it, but leaving home to explore the world should be a blessing, not a punishment. I want to wrap my arms around him, hold him close, and tell him he's amazing for serving our country, and the mountain curse he believes in is wrong. But I don’t know him well enough yet to say those things. Instead, I say something less personal, “Thank you for your service. We are lucky to have good men like you to protect us.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, only watching me with his deep brown eyes, as if he’s dissecting my motive before he finally speaks again. “So why are you a mail-order bride? Someone as beautiful as you must have all the guys lining up for a date.”
He said it again, I’m beautiful. My heart races, and I can’t help but smile. Bay is a good man, whether he believes it or not. And I can’t lie to him.
“The truth is, my parents died last month, and in order to claim my inheritance, I either need to get married or turn twenty-five. And since I won’t be turning twenty-five for another four years and three months, getting married is my only option.”
“You need the money that bad, do you?” Luckily, there’s no trace of disdain in his tone. I don’t want him to think badly of me.
“It’s not as simple as that. My uncle wants access to my money. I ran away from him and his plan for me to marry his stepson.”
I feel my cheeks heat up at my confession. Bay must think my family is awful—which he is not wrong about. I just don’t want him to think I’m awful, too.
“Jesus, Jessa, your uncle wants you to marry his son? That’s messed up.”
“His stepson," I clarify, knowing it doesn’t really matter. He’s right — it’s messed up. Instead of explaining more about my family, I change the subject. “I needed a fiancé quickly, so I signed up with Forever Yours mail-order bride company. They said you and I are a match, so here I am.”
Bay lifts Charlie off the swing and takes a seat, placing Charlie in his lap with his head back on my thighs. “So you’re not really looking for a husband?” I shake my head, shifting my eyes to Charlie, then back to him.
“No, not a real husband— a fake husband would do the same. Once I collect my inheritance, I can pay you for your time and trouble, and then we can get a divorce.” The words taste like ash in my mouth. Bay seems like a decent guy—I wouldn’t mind being married to him for real.
His hand runs down Charlie’s back as a look of concentration marrs his handsome face, and I can’t help but be jealous of Charlie for having Bay’s hand on him.
Lucky dog.
“So, it would only be in name only—nothing else?”
My heart sinks as I say, “Yes, the marriage would be in name only — no kissing — no touching — no having s-sex.” I stumble over the word sex because all I can think about is a naked Bay taking me in every position possible. “After a respectable amount of time, we get an annulment or divorce, or whatever.”
“And the money?”
