Wife for the Lumberjack: A Single Dad Mountain Man Romance

by Ambrielle Kirk

  I wanted to open it and determine whether there was any identification, but I restrained myself. It wasn’t my business. I was better off just dropping the bag off at one of the lost and found receptacles on the way back. There was no use letting it sit out on the bench to get wet in the rain. I was a bad man, but I wasn’t that evil.

  I stuffed the small sack into a pocket in the inside panel of my jacket and began to jog toward my secret storage unit. I’d figured out all the shortcuts over the years, and I got there in no time.

  I knelt down into the grass just as big pellets of rain began to fall, pulled back the bushes and thick vines used to hide the door, and unlocked the padlock. I folded back the wooden door and leaned it against the hill. Feeling the urge to take a piss, I rose from the ground and walked off to relieve myself on the other side of the hill.

  When I bought the land to build my cottage on, I hadn't realized that the property had so much history. Heck, all I wanted was a secluded place to call home and Arrow Lake fit the bill. I'd found the old abandoned cellar unit purely by accident one morning when I stumbled on some old crumbling bricks. After closer inspection, I realized that a home had burnt down but that the cellar was still intact. Now I used the cellar to keep my shit. Stuff I'd bought and collected over the years that I couldn't stand to get rid of. But I knew that if I wanted to put my fucking past entirely behind me that I'd have to get rid of all of it soon.

  Another cackling batch of thunder fired through my ears and in the next split second, thick rain pelted my skin and soaked me.

  I zipped up my pants and walked back around the hill. To my disbelief, a grown ass woman dashed out of the cellar and raced across the field.

  The fuck?

  My gaze traveled from the pair of legs pumping in the distance back to my cellar in shock.

  Had a woman just rushed out of my cellar? What the fuck was she doing there? Did she steal something?

  I raced over to my cellar and peered down inside. From what I could see, everything was still intact. I looked up again at the back of the woman running away. The heavy downpour blinded me and all I could make out was her legs and long brown or black hair.

  After slamming the door shut and securing the padlock, I ran out into the open field. My heart thumped erratically with fresh anxiety. Heat flushed my face through the coolness of the rain. As I took off in the direction that I saw her flee in, suspicion and paranoia rolled through my belly like the angry clouds churning in the sky above me.

  This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. If someone had sent her to find me…

  I had left that world behind a long time ago. I was retired now, and my former clients knew that I was out of commission from now until eternity.

  I stood under a tree and watched her for a second or two. I was trying to take shelter from the pounding rain, but I also wanted to observe her and determine what her next move might be. She appeared to be flustered and out of her element.

  At that moment, a jagged, hot, white lightning strike scorched the ground and I heard the girl scream and jump a mile in the air. She took off again toward the mountains, toward the trail that would lead her straight to my cottage. This action made my suspicion widen even further. If she was somebody sent by one of my clients—or worse—one of my enemies, I was going to be infuriated.

  I did my best to follow her, but it was impossible to keep up in this storm. The wind was so fierce that it was pushing the rain into horizontal strands of hell that were pelting me left and right. My sight range was impaired by how strongly the wind was blowing the rain around and before long, she was gone.

  I stumbled on something. A rock? Bricks? Something…and landed hard on my ass. I grabbed my right elbow which had taken the brunt of the fall and cursed. While lifting myself up off the muddy ground, my fingers touched something. A flashlight. I’d fallen on my ass because of a flashlight. I lifted it up to my face and realized that it was my flashlight.

  Frowning, I looked out into the storm again. If that woman had taken my flashlight, what else had she taken?

  Beyond frustrated for losing her, I ran in the direction of my house, thinking that if my luck worked out and the stars aligned, I would find her along the way. If it was this difficult for me to trek through the storm, then I couldn’t imagine she was having an easy time of it. She looked slender and petite. The storm would beat her.

  When I was close enough to the cottage to see it in front of me, I found the woman again. She was deep in a muddy trench that had seen better days. It looked like it was on the brink of sinking and collapsing right on top of her.

  She screamed and I took off running toward her. And then she was gone.

  Scared for her life, I jumped into the trench and reached for her. The water came at us strong and it took all my effort to pull her up out of the mud.

  After realizing that she wasn’t breathing, I laid her out on the grass and began performing the life-saving measures I’d learned decades earlier but had never had to use. While pumping her chest, I prayed anxiously that she’d wake up. Even though she’d been snooping in my cellar, I didn’t want her dead. Less than a minute later, she took a breath of air and coughed up water.

  Hair was matted to her face and I could hardly see it. Her eyes were a hypnotizing hazel. She mumbled something incoherent and then passed out again. After confirming that she was still breathing by placing my face against her lips, I scooped her up and she was limp as a noodle. I carried her like a football as her arms and legs flopped along in her comatose state. I had to rescue her because I knew she'd die out there alone, but more importantly, I was determined to find out who she was and what she wanted with me and my things.

  I took her to my cottage. When I got her inside, I immediately lit a fire in the fireplace and laid her down on the rug in front of it. My goal was to thaw and dry her. She was muddy and had a few scrapes and scratches on her arms and legs, but nothing life-threatening. I bandaged her up and peeled off her drenched clothing. I was surprised that she remained asleep throughout the entire process. She must have gotten extra tired trying to run from me. She was severely knocked out, but I checked her pulse and her breathing was fine. She was alive. Now all I had to do was sit and wait for her to emerge from the realms of unconsciousness and awaken to tell me why the hell she was going through my shit.

  As I watched her chest rise and fall, she looked like a beautiful doll. Her lips were plump and perfect. She had long, dark eyelashes that swept the top of her cheeks. Her body was slender and athletic, and her wavy brown hair was shining under the glow of the embers in the fireplace despite still being damp. Her skin was lightly bronzed to perfection. She was innocent and attractive, a combination I found dangerous and tempting.

  Or Click HERE to Purchase Arrow Lake Alphas: Mountain Men Collection which includes: Abducted by the Mountain Man, Kept by the Woodsman, Claimed by the Ex-Con, and Wife for the Lumberjack.

  Arrow Lake Alphas

  Mountain Men Collection

  1. ABDUCTED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN

  2. KEPT BY THE WOODSMAN

  3. CLAIMED BY THE EX-CON

  4. WIFE FOR THE LUMBERJACK

  Save more than 50% > Click below to get the complete collection.

  Click to Purchase Arrow Lake Alphas: Mountain Men Collection which includes: Abducted by the Mountain Man, Kept by the Woodsman, Claimed by the Ex-Con, and Wife for the Lumberjack.

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  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author Ambrielle Kirk pens tales of romance in various subgenres. Her favorites are contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and urban fantasy. As a child, she never really dreamed of being an author. It was a destined path that chose her. Now she writes with her readers i
n mind, but the characters, of course, dictate the outcome.

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  Visit her website at http://ambriellekirk.com if you enjoy romance with a seductive edge.

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  Wife for the Lumberjack

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  Copyright © February 2019 by Ambrielle Kirk

  Cover Design by Designrans

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead, is completely coincidental.