Wifed By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance Read online

  “We don’t have those here, honey,” I tell her, shaking my head.

  She scowls. “I know that. I meant online. I’m assuming you have a computer.”

  “Yeah, of course I do. And that’s great,” I tell her, picking Hope up and setting her on the floor to crawl. “This is the exact reason I want Hope to have a mother.”

  Amelia stiffens slightly. “Right. Well. Okay. I mean … but, like, online shopping doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

  “You have to stay long enough to set the room up.”

  Pouting, she puts her hands on her hips. “You think you can keep me here longer with the promise of decorating a baby’s nursery?”

  I look at her, smirking at this girl who’s so easy to read. I swear, the idea of an online shopping spree has gotten her panties soaked.

  “I think that’s exactly what I can do,” I tell her. “I have a feeling you and credit cards have a very deep connection.”

  She tosses a dishtowel at me. “Reed, I’m not as superficial as you think.”

  “You have fake nails in the Alaskan wilderness, honey.”

  “You have no clue about me.” She begins ripping the nails off one at a time. “These are stupid.”

  I wince. “Stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “No I won’t. I don’t even care about these stupid nails. In fact, I only got them the day before I came here, because I thought guys liked this crap. Derrick’s new girlfriend was fake everything, and he was head over heels for her. Heck, I even got eyelash extensions.” She bugs out her eyes so I can examine her lashes.

  “Well, they look real,” I admit. “I don’t know who fed you this information on what guys like, but I’m not that sort of man.”

  “What was Hope’s mom like?”

  “Kara?” I pull back, not wanting to go there. “She was ... lonely. Sad. Looking for love in all the wrong places.”

  “But you liked her, at some level?”

  I shrug. “She had a hard childhood, just like me, and that made me want to take care of her. But she didn’t want me to save her. She didn’t want anyone to.”

  “I’m sorry, Reed. That got heavy, fast.”

  “It’s fine. I actually like that you just kind of put it all out there. Not hiding behind anything.” Looking at her fingernails on the counter, I laugh. “I mean, not anymore.”

  “I’m really not a superficial girl,” she says, walking closer to me.

  “But you still want my card number, right?” I wrap an arm around her waist, liking how easy it is to pull her toward me. How natural this feels, even though she hasn’t committed to me.

  I mean, committed to Hope.

  I pull my arms back, kiss her cheek. This is about Hope. Not me.

  “I want the card number to buy things for Hope,” she clarifies. “Not myself.”

  I nod and walk to my office to grab my laptop, grateful that we’re on the same page. Everything about this arrangement is about Hope.

  Not about me.

  And certainly not about Amelia and me.

  At least that is what I keep telling myself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amelia

  The nursery is looking amazing. I mean, beyond amazing. I may have a fine arts degree, and a serious knack for coordinating colors to make a nursery magazine-worthy. Just saying.

  And Reed has been a really good sport. All week he’s painted and hung curtains, and as boxes have arrived he’s willingly put screws in the new dresser, hung bookshelves, and replaced the dorky light fixture with a pink-and-white chandelier, all without too much eye-rolling.

  We’ve been working on this project in the afternoons during Hope’s nap. In the mornings, Reed has been going off and playing in the woods or on the lake. I’ve been staying back with Hope, trying to figure out if I can get into a groove here ... and debating if I even want to find a groove.

  Hope is exhausting, and one week into this gig I can’t help but wonder what Monique was thinking to send me out here to Reed. I wanted to be a mail order bride so I could be loved without the sting of rejection. But I’m finding that caring for Hope is one long rope of failure. I’ll tell you what, a baby doesn’t owe anything to anyone—she has no loyalty to me, and she doesn’t need to.

  She cries when she needs something, or if she’s tired, or hungry, or bored. But of course it isn’t all tears and tantrums. Is she adorable when she coos and sucks on her toes? Absolutely.

  But she isn’t doing those cute things for me. She’s doing them for herself. And that makes me reevaluate basically everything.

  Is caring for her worth the sacrifice of moving here? Because, as far as I can tell, Reed just needs to realize that being a parent isn’t a part-time gig.

  But every time I get thinking that way, I see him fall asleep on the couch with Hope in his arms, or I see him pick her up from the high chair and give her a bath without complaint. I see him step up and be a father who puts his daughter first.

  And isn’t that what he’s trying to do by bringing me here? His logic may be flawed—getting a mother for Hope at the sacrifice of finding true love himself might backfire—but I can see through his hazy exhaustion.

  He’s trying.

  As hard as the week has been, right now I’m in a good place. The nursery is about finished, Reed is being flirty and helpful, and Hope is asleep. Basically, all the things.

  “You’re so handy,” I tell him as he bolts in the organizing system I purchased for Hope’s closet.

  “I’d like to get a lot more handy.” He turns toward me, raising his eyebrows and I feel my heart jump a few beats. He’s so damn sexy.

  “You’re so bad,” I tell him, swatting his back as I hand him the final bolt for the wire racks he’s hung.

  “Not near as bad as I’d like to be.” He has a mischievous look in his eye, a look I’ve gotten to know over the last week.

  We may be tiptoeing around the elephant in the room—which is, will I stay or will I go—but that hasn’t stopped us from having sex every night after we get Hope to bed.

  “You know, Hope’s still napping.” I lick my lips, already anticipating him inside of me again. It’s like I can’t get enough of his body pressed against mine.

  And I may be exhausted and slightly over my head every day—but I know that, after Hope’s asleep, Reed and I will get a few hours together. Hours where we don’t have to talk, or think in complete sentences, or even act all that nice. Instead we strip down and take care of one another’s more primal needs.

  “And she’s in the Pack ’n Play in your room,” I add.

  “Which means there are plenty of other places I can fuck you.” His back is to me, but I can imagine his sly smile, his eyes alive with the prospect of taking me hard and fast.

  “Where would you like to fuck me, Reed?”

  “Everywhere,” he says, turning, setting aside the electric screwdriver. He wraps his arms around me, grabs my ass, and picks me up. I love it when he does this, takes control. He carries me out of the nursery and into the hall, and presses me against the wall, devouring my mouth.

  We never do this in the daytime. It’s as if the light of day stops us from giving into what we want.

  But right now the unseen stars seemed to have aligned. The house is quiet. My body longs for him, and I can feel that he longs for me.

  “I’m going to fuck you right here, Amelia,” he growls in my ear. I’m so wet for him; I’m glad he is going to take me without pause. We never go slowly. I think it’s because fucking in a slow, romantic way would shift the dynamics of what we have right now. I may be the woman he wants to raise his baby, but he’s been clear that he doesn’t want me as his. As his wife.

  And that’s okay, because I haven’t decided if I want to be Hope’s mother, either.

  For now, we can fuck without baggage. For now, we can fuck without regret.

  Reed pulls up my skirt, drops his pants, and his massive cock nears my entrance. He kisses me hard, plucks my nipples th
rough my thin blouse, leaves a trail of kisses across my neck.

  “Reed, just fuck me—don’t make me wait.”

  I feel him tense ever so slightly, like he is hesitating … but about what, I don’t know.

  “We could go to your bed,” he whispers in my ear. “I could lick your pussy until you drip. We could memorize one another’s bodies, and ruin all the sheets.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Just fuck me here. As hard as you like.”

  He doesn’t say any more, just fills me with himself. His cock is so big and hard, and my pussy is stretched around him, dripping as he presses me against the wall.

  “Oh, God,” I moan in his ear. “Yeah, just like that.”

  We’re slamming into one another, causing ripples of pleasure to crash through us.

  He thrusts deeper, and I know he’s close; I’m close, too.

  “You okay?” I ask as my pussy pulses in pleasure. He doesn’t answer, and I cry out as a wave of release washes over me. My body is wrapped around him, and I’m glad, because I don’t think I could stand on my own two feet.

  He finishes, setting me down after he comes.

  I tug down my skirt, but something has shifted; I feel it. He’s pulling back and I don’t understand. We were just flirting in the nursery, and then ... I don’t know what, but something happened in the space of minutes.

  “You sure you’re okay, Reed?” I ask.

  “I’m fine.” He swallows, running his hand over his jaw. “I’m gonna go clean up.”

  “Okay. Yeah. Me, too.”

  I walk into my bedroom, turn on the shower, and try to figure out what the hell just happened.

  It’s almost as if Reed was annoyed that I didn’t want him to go down on me. But I also haven’t sucked his cock.

  There’s a reason for that. I’m scared to give my entire body to him, in every way.

  Because once I do, I know my heart will follow.

  And if my heart follows ... that means I’m staying here.

  I’m not ready to choose. The sex is amazing, Hope needs me, and Reed makes me feel like a woman.

  But I don’t know if that’s enough.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reed

  I need to get my head on fucking straight.

  For a moment there, in the hallway with Amelia, I swear I looked at her and wanted her for more. Wanted her for everything.

  But shit, that is way too much too fast. I didn’t plan on being a father, and I sure as hell don’t want a wife ... a real wife.

  Except when I looked at Amelia—with her eyes half-closed, her mouth parted, her soft skin and tender touch—I couldn’t help but wonder if going all-in with her is really the worst idea.

  At dinner, it’s clear Amelia’s pulling back, and I see her mind working as she feeds Hope spoonfuls of peas and carrots, as she plates spaghetti for her and me. We clink wine glasses … but damn, it’s tense.

  “You wanna talk about something, Amelia?”

  She gives a short laugh. “Talk? Wow, you’re a completely different man from the one I met eight days ago.”

  “Well, eight days ago I was a fucking sleep-deprived zombie.”

  “Earmuffs, Reed,” she says, deadpan.

  I nod. “I know. I’m just … Amelia, what’s your problem?”

  Just then Hope starts crying, reaching for Amelia. “Upupup.”

  Amelia lets out a long sigh. “She’s really smart.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I read those baby books you haven’t cracked open. They say that having lots of words at nine months means she’s a baby genius.”

  I narrow my eyes at Amelia. I wish I could read her mind. Why is she telling me this? I’m smarter than to get my hopes up; I have no doubt she’ll leave eventually. The idea that a woman would actually want this life is beyond the realm of reality.

  I’m a stranger, and while I may have a cock I know for certain Amelia loves, she doesn’t seem like she wants to be a mother. She wants to decorate nurseries and play make-believe. I need more than that for Hope.

  But, honestly, even if she plans on leaving, I hope she’ll stay till the end of the week. I have a charter halibut trip planned all day tomorrow, leaving from a port in Skagway; the very next day I have a two-day fishing trip planned. It’s one of the reasons I requested a bride when I did. I don’t want to lose some of the prime fishing time this season because of my daughter. I have to get it in while I can.

  “You read the books?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” Amelia wipes Hope’s fingers with a washcloth. “What else am I gonna do up here while you’re gone playing and she’s asleep?”

  There’s a sharp edge to her voice that I haven’t heard before.

  “I don’t know. What did you do before you came up here?”

  “I was a college student, Reed. You know that. Paying off my loans was part of the deal, right?”

  “But what did you go to school for?”

  “Fine Arts.” She smirks, taking Hope from the high chair and sitting back in her dining room chair, bouncing the baby on her lap. “Lot of good that will do me. I’m not even a good artist.”

  “Is this one of those things girls do, where they say they’re terrible at something but are actually world-renowned?”

  “No,” she sighs. “Reed, you have me pegged all wrong. I’m not like that. I don’t need you to think I’m amazing at something I’m not.”

  “I thought that was your whole deal—the reason you put on heels you swear you never wore before, with a manicure and perfect hair. You wanted to come off as something you weren’t.”

  “Stop being an ass.” She eats a forkful of pasta, clearly annoyed. And fuck, I don’t even know why.

  “I can’t win with you right now, you’re in some mood I don’t understand.”

  “Because you don’t want to,” she mutters.

  “What?” I ask, legitimately annoyed now. “You don’t think I want to understand you?”

  “Isn’t that the entire point of this dream-scenario for you? Get what you want from me, without giving me a lick in return.”

  “Oh, I’ll give you a lick, honey.” I smirk, running my hand over my beard as I watch her eyes widen—not the pouty-mouth response I expect. “I’ll give you all the licks. You’re the one refusing them.”

  She rolls her eyes aggressively, standing and setting Hope in her Jumperoo.

  “Are you seriously going to talk about going down on me right now? I swear that’s the only thing on your mind.”

  “Right, and you never think about sex.” I stand, walking toward her with one single thing on my mind: her pussy. “Just so we’re clear, Amelia, I want to understand you.”

  “Do you?” she asks, shaking her head. “This all feels so one-sided, Reed. You get everything here. What do I get?”

  I turn my head toward Hope. “What do you want, Amelia?”

  Her head falls back. Her top slides off her shoulder, and tight yoga pants cover her round ass. Her hair is tied up, messy, with tendrils framing her face, and her skin is free of make-up, leaving nothing to the imagination. She looks undone, and it’s hot as hell.

  “I think I want something you can’t give.”

  I swallow, draw in a deep breath. I’m completely over my head. I don’t know how to go all-in, so I draw back.

  “I’m going on a fishing trip tomorrow. Leaving at dawn, won’t be back until after eight at night. And the next day I’m leaving for an overnight trip. We’re going out to deeper waters.”

  “Of course you are.” She purses her lips, disappointment in her eyes. I know it’s shitty of me to ask what she wants and then not do anything about it, but damn, this is all way more than I bargained for.

  “Why am I surprised?” she adds as she takes Hope from the Jumperoo. “You wanted a glorified babysitter, and that’s exactly what I am.”

  “You wanna go? Go.”

  “Right, like I’m gonna leave Hope with a man who wants out.” Hope is alr
eady nestled in her shoulder, yawning.

  “I don’t want out of that. I want to be her father. I am her father.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic, but I think you’ve gotten confused on a few things, Reed.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?” I ask, fucking pissed. She wants to call me out when I have been one hundred percent up front about what I want? She wants me to be a man I have no intention of being?

  She wants me to declare my motherfucking love, but the truth is I brought her here for one reason and one reason only.

  She wants to be something she isn’t.

  Mine.

  “You say you want better for Hope than you had? Well, she deserves a real family. This”—she points to the space between us—“this isn’t a real family. This is make-believe.”

  She grabs a baby bottle from the counter and storms upstairs.

  She may not be my wife, and right now she’s not my lover, but clearly I’m fucking screwed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amelia

  A small part of me thinks that Reed won’t go on the fishing trip, that he’ll walk into the guest room—which is, of course, where I slept in the early morning hours—and tell me he’s sorry for being an asshole, and beg for my forgiveness.

  But he doesn’t. And why would he? He has this macho mountain man thing going on—which, okay, is seriously fucking hot as hell, but if that’s the level of his depth, I don’t want any part of it.

  I want a man who wants me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I stayed with Derrick far too long, hoping that one day he’d give me what I craved.

  Maybe I’ve stayed here too long also.

  I tiptoe to Hope’s doorway and peek inside; she’s still sound asleep. Grateful for a few minutes alone, I pad down the stairs to make some coffee.

  Reed is standing next to the kitchen island, with a thermos in hand and a cooler on the counter.

  “Just heading out,” he says, grabbing his stuff. “You gonna be okay here?”

  “I’m fine, Reed.”

  I look down at my hands, feeling stuck, feeling full of emotions I don’t know how to articulate. Emotions that make me feel weak, that make me wish I had a man who wanted to help me be strong.