Page 4 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Temptation
Even his arms are huge. Bigger-than-my-thigh huge, which is saying something because I’m not a small girl. How does a man this gorgeous need a mail-order bride? Especially a plus-size one?
“Well?” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging, and a blush burns my cheeks.
One black eyebrow arches, and I finally realize he’s asked me a question.
I give him a little wave. “Hi, I’m your wife.”
“My what?”
Oh my God, Ellie, don’t be weird.I put my offending hand behind my back. “I mean, we’re not married yet, but I’m hoping things will go well.They seemed to in the few messages we?—”
“Mywhat?”
“Wife.” I can’t tell if he’s angry or hard of hearing. “Your wife!” I yell. Oh crap. Did my voice just echo in the canyon?
He flinches back.
O-kay. Not deaf.
This is not going the way I’d hoped. Right now, I want to crawl under the nearest rock. A glance down at my suitcase reminds me why I can’t. I have to make this work.
“I’m Ellie Travers.”
His expression is blank.
“From Perfect Pairings?” If it weren’t for the fact he looks exactly like the picture of the man I matched with, I’d swear I’d been dropped off at the wrong cabin. Is it possible this is his brother or something? “Are you Anson Blackwood?”
Something shifts in his eyes, and my heart jumps a beat. He nods.
“We’ve corresponded over the last week. I’m your mail-order bride?”
He stiffens like he’s turned to stone. I’m not sure he’s breathing. I wish I knew what the signs of shock are because I think that’s what he’s experiencing. Digging my phone out of the pocket of my dress, I find only one bar of signal, but that’s okay. I saved screenshots of his messages in case I wanted to read them at night before bed. Or on the plane on the way here. And in the Uber.
“See? Here’s the last one you sent me a couple of days ago, inviting me out.” He studies me like an intruder he’s sizing up, then takes the phone from my hand and glares at the screen. I see recognition there, but somehow, it’s not the right kind. Not the “oh, I remember you now”. More like?—
He thrusts the phone back at me and growls, “She’s dead.”
“Who?”Please don’t say me.
CHAPTER THREE
ANSON
She did it.I can’t believe she fucking did it. My grandmother used me for her mail-order bride scheme, and now this… this sweet, young woman is standing on my goddamn porch looking up at me with her light blue eyes like I hung the moon in the night sky.
And sheissweet. From her caramel blonde hair to the little cherries on her white dress. She even smells like sugar, tempting me to find out if she’ll taste like cherries too. It hits me low and hard, going straight to my cock. My gaze drags over her curves, slow and greedy, before I can stop myself. Plump breasts. Soft hips. Thick thighs that I want to trace with my palms. I never had much room in my life for women. But if I did? Thick, soft, and smelling like sugar? A little shy, a little sunshine? Yeah, she’s perfect. And that’s a problem, because my brain is feeding me images I shouldn’t be having. Like kissing her when she’s pinned beneath me, or exploring her silky skin and the wet heat between her thighs.
I shut that shit down hard and scrub a hand down my face like I can wipe my thoughts away, then remind myself that I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone.
No matter what Dottie and Avery think.
What the hell do I do with her though? There’s no car in my driveway, so I can’t return her to sender. The sun has already slipped behind the trees, and the temperature is dropping. I can’t leave her on my porch. She’ll have to stay until tomorrow when Dottie can come get her.
In my cabin. Within reach.
Fuck.
I should open the door wider. Step back and let her in. But only one other person has been inside this cabin since I moved in a year and a half ago, and only because he’s been helping with the work to fix the cabin up. Inviting someone else across the threshold, into the space I built to shut the world out, seems wrong. And yet…
