Page 3 of Mail Order Bride for the Scrooge

What does not make me want to curl up on his lap is the thunderous look on his face. It’s almost enough to have me step back, but I don’t. I’ve come too far to run away now.

Before either of us can say anything, a huge Alaskan Malamute barrels past his legs and bounds down the porch steps. I grip the railing to stop him from taking me down to the ground.

“Storm, sit,” the man barks and the dog sits at my feet but looks up at me with pleading eyes.

I sink down in front of him and pet him. It gives me comfort and a little strength when I need it. His fur is so soft and thick; I bet he’ll be a great cuddle partner.

“Hi,” I smile at the man as I stand and a giddy excitement about this whole arrangement fills me. This is my chance. “Are you Gannon?” When he nods, my smile stretches just a little bit wider; I won’t mind be married to this man at all if we’re only going by his looks. “I’m Lake. I’m your bride.”

Gannon’s eyes go wide, and his voice is a rough growl, “You’re my what?”

Well, shit.

CHAPTER 2

GANNON

What the fuck is going on right now? I was just about to check on dinner when I heard a car pull up outside of my home. I don’t get many visitors out here and was instantly on alert. I wasn’t the only one. Storm started pacing, but he wasn’t agitated or alerting me to any danger.

The whole situation had the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I learned a long time ago to listen to my instincts and trust them. It saved my ass more times than I’d like to admit while I was serving. If only my instincts had kicked in when I needed them the most.

But that’s all in the past. At least, it’s what I try to tell myself.

When I cautiously approached the door and looked through the window, I was surprised as fuck to find a woman climbing out of her vehicle. She had awe on her face as she looked at my home and, for some fucking reason, that had pride puffing up my chest.

I quickly pushed down my reaction and swung my door open before she could take a step up to my porch. No fucking way was I going to let someone looking to sell something get to my front door.

All the air left my lungs when I got an unobstructed view of the woman. Even now, after she said the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, I’m having a problem breathing and getting my dick under control.

She says her name is Lake. It suits her, somehow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman.

Her dirty blonde hair hangs a little past her shoulders and her body is slim, but she has curves in all the right places. It looks like the jeans she has on are painted on her damn body. And her legs, fuck me, they look like they go on forever. I’m not sure how tall she is yet, but if I had to guess I’d say 5’7”, which is still shorter than my 6’4”.

But at least I won’t squish her like a bug.

I shake my head, still hearing her words repeating in my mind.

I’m Lake. I’m your bride.

I’m Lake. I’m your bride.

I’m Lake. I’m your bride.

My bride? What the fuck is happening?

Storm is panting at her feet like he’s never been pet in his life. While he’s generally a friendly dog, I wouldn’t say he takes instantly to many people. He’s looking at Lake like he already knows she’s his mistress and it makes my gut feel uneasy as fuck.

Lake’s eyes dart around a little before she looks at me again. There’s a wariness to her now she didn’t have when I stormed out of my house. Knowing I’m the one making her feel that way feels like a knife twisting in my gut, but I’m having a tough time processing her words.

I try to sound a little less demanding and gruff, but I fail, “You said you’re my bride? You must be mistaken.”

Lake’s eyes narrow slightly and she juts her hip out, her hand slamming down on it like she’s gearing up for a fight. It’s sexy as hell and my cock perks up and takes notice. That fucker hasn’t been interested in a woman in a long fucking time.

If she really is our bride, then I can sink into her and fuck her full of my seed while she screams my name. No one would even hear her with how far up the mountain we are.

Fuck, inappropriate. She’s a stranger.

But the thought does have some merit.

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