Ordered By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance Page 2

  And Monique promised that the woman she’s sending is all those things.

  Which is good, because tomorrow a pastor is flying into town, and I’m gonna make this woman my wife.

  Now I just need to meet her.

  Chapter Two

  Delta

  Getting off the plane, I can’t help but wonder if this entire mail order bride plan is just one more thing to add to my growing list of poor life decisions.

  Because moving in with a stranger, being his lawfully wedded wife? I have never been more over my head.

  Well, except for when I nearly dropped out of high school because someone leaked that I’d slept with the student teacher. Or the time I went to Burning Man with my ex, and somehow ended up in the middle of an orgy with approximately seventeen strangers. Or when I went to Peru and was talked into drinking ayahuasca, and found myself stark naked and doing handstands in the middle of the street.

  At two in the afternoon.

  I haven’t exactly been the queen of excellent choices. But I knew Everly and Amelia wanted to do this mail order bride thing, for reasons of their own. And as shallow as it may sound, the idea of being some mountain man’s conquest turns me on. Honestly, to be some rough, rich man’s woman makes me feel more than hot and bothered. It all feels like some sort of forbidden fantasy ... and nothing is forever.

  Marriage doesn’t equal a lifetime, a ball and chain. Besides, I’m my own woman. No man is ever going to change that.

  And so I went along. Am going along. As in, I literally just got off the tiny plane in middle-of-nowhere, Alaska. Alone. I said goodbye to Everly and Amelia at the Anchorage airport and continued flying solo.

  If I wanted to back out ... I should have walked away back in the city.

  Now? Now I am disembarking the plane and stepping out to a near-empty landing strip where a pickup truck is the lone car in the lot. I toss my carton of coconut water and my empty bag of organic trail mix into the trash. With my travel yoga bag slung over my shoulder, I take a deep breath, attempting to inhale the fresh Alaskan air instead of the overwhelming aroma of anxiety.

  Why am I here again? I mean, besides the lure of hot mountain man sex, which has been a growing fascination. What will this man be like? What will he look like? What if he’s the ideal man? I have to find out, have to take a chance. I have nothing to lose.

  I never told my friends that when my Grandpa died he actually left me enough money to pay off my student loans, nor that I actually had a friend offer to let me live at his place until I got a job.

  I could have stayed in Portland. But I didn’t want them to have this adventure without me.

  I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to my best friends forever, and this seemed like the best—the only—way to keep us together.

  Which might have worked a bit better if we’d asked Monique where exactly we’d all be living in Alaska, before we signed on the dotted line.

  Turns out Alaska is freaking huge. And Everly and Amelia are really far from me.

  And I’m here, starting this adventure all alone.

  For the first time in my life I don’t have a boyfriend or a boy-toy or a BFF to take the edge off.

  Now I’m flying solo.

  And my husband-to-be is here to pick me up and take me home. I just hope, whoever this man is, that he’ll be taller than me, that he’ll have a massive cock—because yes, I like to fuck often and well—and that he likes what he sees.

  The last thing I need is a man who has no physical attraction to me. Or worse, a man who isn’t ready to have fun. I may be signing up to be someone’s wife, but I sure hope that it involves sleeping together. Like, tonight. Or even this afternoon.

  I’ve been in a dry spell, and am beyond ready to remedy that.

  A man in camo overalls and work boots steps out of the truck.

  I swallow. Oh, my God. Is this my husband?

  “You’re the girl I’m looking for,” he says, taking two long strides toward me. He’s shorter than me, has a potbelly and a trucker cap. “I’m Dirk. And I’m here for you—a girl in a blue scarf, coming in on this plane.”

  “Dirk?” I sputter as he sticks out his hand for me to shake. It’s clammy.

  “Yes, ma’am. And I’m here to take you home.”

  “Oh. Right. Um.” I blink back tears. How freaking superficial am I? A lot, apparently. Monique mentioned sexy and rugged and strong ... and this man could be my father.

  Which, ew. Why am I talking about Dirk as my father when he’s meant to be my ... husband.

  I can’t speak straight, or even walk straight. Maybe because I wore freaking heels to the backwoods of Alaska. Looking down at myself in my wedges, skinny jeans, and flowing lace blouse, I realize I’m more appropriately dressed for Coachella than the front seat of Dirk’s pick-up truck.

  I let him guide me to the vehicle, and I get in, barely registering that he threw my luggage in the truck’s bed, until we are barreling down the freeway.

  I am mostly focused on how the hell do I get out of this situation. Which might be difficult if he’s an axe murderer, considering he could kill me and literally no one would ever know.

  “The flight go okay?” Dirk asks, turning on a loud, staticky radio.

  “It was fine.” I roll down the window, trying to breathe. Gusts of warm mountain air spring my eyes open—even wider than they were when I first saw Dirk. I gulp the oxygen greedily, basically trying breathe. And think of anything besides the fact that my feet are crinkling against empty packages of GMO-riddled Doritos and empty cans of high fructose soda.

  This cannot be my life.

  What was I thinking? Some hottie mountain man was going to whisk me away in a make-believe life with a happily ever after? I don’t even want a happily ever after. I want an adventure. A story to tell.

  A story I want to tell.

  But this?

  “Never been in the lower forty-eight myself.”

  I eke out an “Oh,” but can’t manage any more. I’m not a crier ... but right now? This is too much.

  I stifle a sob, before rooting in my hemp purse for a cloth napkin. I wipe my eyes, keeping my face turned toward the window, and try to compose myself.

  It’s impossible.

  “You okay, darling?” Dirk asks. “Don’t you fret. Everything is going to be okay. Must say, I’m a little surprised. You’re so pretty. Can’t say I was expecting you.”

  I turn my head slowly, hoping against some bizarre hope that I blinked too quickly when I first saw Dirk, and that maybe ... maybe I hadn’t given him a chance.

  Nope. He has a long gray hair poking out from his right nostril.

  My shoulders fold inward. I’m wigging out as he drives me farther into the woods, off the main road. This is the end of my life. I am going into the deep, dark forest and never coming back out.

  And no, Dirk doesn’t look like a serial killer—but he also cannot be the man I marry.

  I need to get hold of Monique and get the hell out of this.

  I look at my phone. No bars. No 4G. No nothing.

  “Sorry, sweetie, no service here. Back at the landing strip you flew in, now, they have some service. And back in town, at the roadhouse cafe, the gas station, and the outdoor store, they have service.”

  “Can we go back there?” I ask. “I need to make a call. It’s urgent.”

  “No, ma’am. I gotta get you home.”

  My hand reaches for my door handle. Maybe I can open it, roll out and survive, and run the ten miles we’ve driven back into town. Get to safety.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get up the nerve to roll out. When I open my eyes, I see a photograph taped to Dirk’s dashboard. Two little girls and a boy, in snow suits, with a snowman between them.

  “Who are they?” I ask.

  “Those are my grandkids.” Dirk looks over at me, beaming. “They are just about the sweetest little things you ever did see. Though they are a handful.”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip. Dirk isn
’t going to kill me. He’s a grandpa.

  “You’ll meet them. They always come out in the summer for a few weeks.”

  Withering inside at this implausible place I’ve landed, all on my own, I manage to speak. “You don’t say?”

  The truck winds down a road, and soon enough a massive two-story lodge emerges from the forest, its picturesque porch framed by a bright red metal roof.

  “Now, listen: when we get to the lodge, no reason to be nervous.” Dirk parks the truck in front of the lodge, looking over at me before getting out. “The Grayson boys always seem more intimidating than they really are. Mason’s a playboy, but Boone? Now he’s a man. There’s no man better in Alaska, if you’re asking me.”

  I shake my head, confused.

  Dirk continues, “Boone comes off as stand-offish to lots of folks. He’s ... well, a little hard to read. But you don’t need to worry none. I’m sure he’ll be a perfect gentleman to you. A woman’s touch changes everything.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Sorry, darling. Don’t mean to be overstepping. Just thought you’d like a little warning about your husband.”

  Dirk gets out of the truck and walks to my side, opening it for me and helping me out.

  “My what?” I ask.

  “Oh, hot damn, did I get the wrong girl for Boone?” Dirk removes his trucker cap, revealing wild white hair. He runs his hand through it. “You’re in the blue scarf, and the only woman flying in today. Thought for sure I got the right girl.”

  “I thought....” I tilt my head to the side. “You’re not my husband?”

  Dirk gives a deep belly laugh, wheezing as he slaps my back. “Darling, I’d love nothing better, but no. I’m just the groundskeeper here at the Graysons’ Lodge.”

  Still needing clarification, I ask, “So I’m not your mail order bride?”

  “Not by a long shot, honey.” He smiles broadly. “That man right there is the one you’re looking for.”

  I follow his gaze to the wide front porch, where two identical men stand as if waiting for my arrival. They are hot as all get-out: six foot five, dark hair, broad shoulders, piercing green eyes, and scruffy beards. But the one leaning on the porch railing smirks, watching the other guy, who looks right at me. One look and I know who my husband-to-be is. The man who has his eyes locked on me is everything I expected, with his rolled-up flannel sleeves and his serious expression.

  He has a bulge in his pants that makes my panties wet upon arrival—and, oh fuck me now, he has a sleeve of evergreen tree tattoos on his arm. He’s the ultimate mountain man.

  Only better.

  Because he’s my mountain man.

  Oh, hell yeah, yes please. Take. Me. Now.

  “I’m Boone,” the man says, as he makes his way down the steps. “And I’m the one who ordered you.”

  Chapter Three

  Boone

  Her legs are long and lean, and all it takes is a moment to imagine all the ways I can wrap her around me.

  “Twins?” she asks, incredulous, looking between Mason and me. “Really?”

  “Is that a problem?” I ask, ruffled that she even glances at Mason. My entire life has been a competition between that dickweed and me. I didn’t order a bride to share her.

  “Not a problem at all, just kinda like something you’d read in a romance novel. Not real life. Like, I’m a mail order bride, which to be fair is insane enough, but then I show up here and find myself two rugged mountain men. Pretty hot, honestly,” she says, laughing.

  Mason is laughing behind me, and my jaw tenses. He always gets obnoxious when he’s insecure, but I don’t know what he’s so anxious about. I’m the one getting a fucking wife today.

  And I don’t want my brother to be a part of some novelty. I want this woman for myself. I need to make that absolutely clear from the get-go.

  “There’s only one man here for you,” I tell her with a slight edge to my voice. I want to make it absolutely clear that I am hers.

  She smiles. “Sorry, maybe that was awkward.” She laughs uneasily as she takes me in. But I’m already annoyed.

  Mason was a motherfucker all day on the boat, puking his guts all over my deck, and I don’t want him to swoop in and give her any reason to look at him.

  “So, how am I supposed to tell you apart?” she asks.

  I look down at my inked arms, evergreen tress covering them. When I look back up, she’s watching me closely, a hint of a smile playing across her face.

  “Easy enough. Just make sure you both wear short sleeves for a while, okay? I don’t want to end up with the wrong man.” She laughs uneasily, and I don’t join her. There’s nothing funny about her hooking up with Mason. “Anyways, I’m Delta.”

  “What kind of bullshit name is that?” I cross my arms as I stand in front of her. I like how tall she is—nowhere near my stature, of course, but not some little girl. Delta is a fucking goddess.

  She squints as she takes me in, her eyes grazing over my body. I gather from the way Dirk was laughing that they were getting along just fine. I also gather that maybe it was kind of a dick move to ask about her name that way.

  Tact has never been my fucking strength.

  “Wow ... so you’re friendly and hot.” She laughs, rolling her eyes, and I notice that she glances over at Mason. Taking in a deep breath, she starts again. “Right. So, Boone, since you’re so curious, a delta is the point where a river divides,” she explains, her tone friendly enough, even though I deserve something much more curt. “My mom was from the south. Mississippi. Anyways, she wanted to name me something that reminded her of home. She thought it would make her feel closer to the people she loved, even if they were far away.” She shakes her head apologetically. “Now I’m rambling.”

  “So do your parents know that you’re here, with me?”

  “What?” She pulls back, shaking her head with less regret. “No, my mom passed away when I was young.”

  “Fuck. Sorry,” I tell her, feeling like shit for bringing this up within five seconds of meeting the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

  She crosses her arms. “So, what kind of name is Boone anyways?”

  “Come again?”

  “Boone. Is that some made up name?”

  “Boone was my father’s name. He and my mother died last year.”

  “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip, looking to the sky. “This is awkward. I’m sorry. I was planning my exit while riding in Dirk’s truck. But then Dirk parked, and I realized he wasn’t my husband, and I got all flustered. And now we’re talking about dead parents and their names … and being a mail order bride is the weirdest thing that I’ve ever done, which is saying a lot, but I don’t want it to feel creepy. And maybe now it does?” She takes a deep breath, shoulders back, and smiles. “Can we start again?”

  I stare at her, not at all having expected a woman so sexy and direct, not at all shy or scared. Delta is not fucking messing around.

  “You thought you were sent here to marry Dirk?” asks Mason with a wide smile, taking the steps two at a time. “We do love Dirk, but it might break my little brother’s heart if you didn’t want him.” He stops beside me, clapping my back. “Though now that I’m getting a good look at you, maybe you and I should take a test drive before you marry my brother.”

  I shove him away. He always makes things about him, always has to be the one getting the attention.

  All the while being an irresponsible ass.

  And I’m the grown-up.

  I watch Delta watch him. She doesn’t seem swayed by his carefree attitude. In fact, her eyes are all over me. We keep our eyes on one another, and I feel a connection between her and me.

  Damn, Monique from the agency knows what she’s doing. I never expected such a gorgeous woman to come my way, let alone one that I was so immediately drawn to. Yet here Delta is.

  “I did think Dirk was my fiancé,” she says, looking over at Dirk and smiling. “To be honest, I was pretty scared.
No offense, Dirk.”

  “None taken, darling,” Dirk says, kissing her cheek. “Frankly, I’d be scared if you were mine, too. Don’t think I could handle such a pretty young girl. Now, I’m going to take these bags to your room now, all right?”

  She nods, then turns back to Mason and me.

  “So you were planning your getaway?” Mason asks her.

  “Something like that,” she murmurs, still looking at me. “But I’m glad I didn’t leave.”

  “Since Boone’s an ass who doesn’t see the need to introduce us,” my brother says, “I’ll take it upon myself. I’m Mason, Boone’s twin brother.”

  “Good to meet you, Mason,” she says slowly before looking up at me, her pouty lips parting. “Boone, Dirk told me all about you.”

  “Did he now?” I ask, wondering what exactly Dirk would say about me.

  “He did. Said you’re nicer than you seem.”

  “That’s about right, Boone doesn’t make things easy for anyone. You wanna be his friend, you’ve gotta work him over for a while. It’s the reason he needed me to come help here at the lodge. His presence scares the guests,” Mason quips, looking between Delta and me.

  “You ready to get the fuck out of here, Mason?” I ask, not having the energy to deal with his supposed wit and humor. If you ask me, he’s an immature asshole who gets what he wants. And I’m apparently his enabler.

  “Whatever, Boone,” Mason says, scoffing as he steps away. “I’ll see you both in an hour or so, for dinner, unless you’d rather I take you to my room, Delta?”

  Delta’s eyes crease in confusion.

  “I’ll take that as a no, for now.” Mason wags his eyebrows at her, and I shove him away. What a fucking prick. This woman is mine, not his. He can order his own goddamn wife if he wants one so badly.

  Mason laughs, then jogs off, and it’s just her and me.

  “What else did Dirk say?” I ask, realizing her tits look fucking amazing in her little blouse, noticing that her eyes are deep chocolate brown and that I want to run my hands through her long hair, wrap it in my fists as I take her as mine.