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

by Frankie Love

  Reed clears his throat. “Amelia,” he begins. I force my eyes to his. They’re as conflicted as mine.

  Before he can say anything else, Hope starts crying from her crib.

  My eyes fill with tears, and I wipe them away as fast as I can. This is all a lot harder than some internet site made it out to be.

  Last night I was wrong about what I said. This isn’t make believe ... this is real. And really confusing.

  “I should go get her,” I say softly.

  “You want me to stay?” he asks, saying exactly the wrong thing.

  “Just go, Reed. I’m fine. I got this.”

  And I want him to leave. I honestly can’t handle him right now. I said he was an ass the moment I met him, and it’s no different now—in fact, it’s worse. Because I see how warm he is to Hope, and how cold he is to me.

  The only time he’s hot with me is when I take off my clothes.

  “All right,” he says. “I’ll be back tonight.”

  He steps toward me like he wants to hug me, or kiss me—and I don’t know how I feel about any of that, but luckily it doesn’t matter. Because instead of pulling me close, he goes right past me and leaves through the front door.

  Hope and I spend the morning in the nursery. She has a pile of soft blocks that she throws, then crawls after, and I’m painting a border above the bead board trim. It’s a string of baby animals: a fawn, a bunny, a squirrel, a chickadee. The bedroom door is closed, which makes Hope happy because she’s free to crawl around. My paints are high on the dresser, and I hold one little pot of color at a time.

  “You like this one, baby girl?” I ask as I add a white spot to the bunny’s back.

  She rolls over like a puppy, screeching in glee.

  “Okay, crazy baby, let’s go have lunch.” I screw the lid on the paint and pick her up. Planting kisses on her cheeks, I inhale the sweet baby smell.

  She may be demanding and selfish as heck, but she is also irresistible.

  We’re sitting at the table, Hope with crackers and tiny slivers of a soft peach, when I hear a knock on the front door.

  It’s Lottie.

  “So you’re still here,” she says, as I let her inside.

  “Yep, haven’t been run out just yet.”

  “Hope giving you much grief?” Lottie helps herself to coffee, and sits down at the table.

  “I don’t have a ton of experience with babies, but I’m managing.” I put a sippy cup of milk on Hope’s tray, hoping she’ll reach for it. I read that babies can wean off of bottles around this age.

  Lottie raises an eye. “You staying put then?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I tell her, grabbing the basket of laundry from the couch and bringing it over to the large table, where I begin folding a load of towels. “I didn’t exactly know being a mom was part of the deal. I just don’t know if I’m ready to take on so much responsibility.”

  “What are you ready for? You just want to be a mail-order bride and sit around the house all day? What would you do if Hope weren’t here, and it was just you and Reed?”

  I bristle at her question. I mean, it’s kind of forward.

  “What? Don’t look at me like that.” Lottie swats the air, brushing me off. “I’m seventy-two, was married to my husband for thirty-three years—until he passed, bless his soul. I raised four boys, lived in Alaska my entire life. I know a thing or two about men who want to live this sort of life. And I know a thing or two about the women who stay home.”

  I pick up a hand towel, folding it in half. “What do you know about the men who live out here?”

  “Living in the sticks isn’t for the faint of heart, but having a man who loves the land and the sea, who wants to be in the wild, breathing fresh air and forging his own path … that’s the best sort of man a woman could ask for. They love fiercely, and don’t quit. Ever.”

  “I don’t think Reed wants a woman.”

  Lottie laughs. “Oh, sweetie, no man wants a woman. No man wants to be tamed. You have to show him it’s what he needs.”

  “I don’t want to force someone to want me.”

  Lottie smiles softly, patting the table. “You’re looking at it wrong, Amelia. You see Reed with Hope, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Imagine him three months ago. That poor boy was over his head in a hundred ways. But Hope showed him that he couldn’t live without her.”

  I shake my head. “He leaves every day the first chance he gets. Fishing or setting traps like he’s Daniel Boone or something. He’s acting like a child.”

  “You want a happy man? Let him be. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

  “I feel like you’re telling me to be a doormat.”

  Lottie picks up her coffee, take a sip. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Let the boy play—eventually he’ll tire of it and want to come home to you. But in the meantime, sweetie, you can play, too.”

  “How? I am out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Well, that brings us back around to where we started. You moved here knowing you’d be in the woods, and that didn’t scare you off. So what were you hoping you’d get to do all day?”

  I shrug. The truth is I’ve always wanted simple things. “I like to craft and sew and scrapbook. I prefer hobbies over sophisticated art, but that never seemed like a viable career choice. I’m painting a mural in Hope’s nursery right now, and if I could work on that every day, sign me up.”

  That’s what I tell Lottie, but it’s not the whole truth. Deep down what I really want is to love and be loved.

  Hope throws her sippy cup on the ground, giggling as she smashes crackers in her fist.

  Picking up the cup, I set it back on her tray. Hope points straight at me, and I pause, smiling at this messy-faced beauty.

  “Mama,” she says, giving me a toothy grin.

  My eyes fill fast, with a magic I’ve never felt.

  Lottie stands, empty mug in hand. She pats my back.

  “You’re doing good, sweetie,” she tells me. “I didn’t expect it when I met you a week ago—but, looking at you now, I may have been wrong about what kind of city girl you are.”

  I swallow, my eyes still on Hope.

  “Mama,” she coos again.

  Maybe I’ve found the love I’m looking for.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reed

  The day trip is great. I spend the day on the boat, in the deep choppy waters off the Alaskan coast, under gorgeous ice-capped mountains and a clear blue sky. A breeze casts a coolness over the deck, and I pull in enough halibut to stock my freezer for months.

  Driving home, I can’t help but wonder what I’ll be walking into. I left for the fishing trip with Amelia and me at a stand-off, and all day I was able to pretend my life only stretched as far as I could see … but that’s a fucking daydream.

  And not even a dream I want. I love Hope—so much—but I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing Amelia here. It was a stupid idea, and it’s only gonna end badly.

  When I walk into the house, it’s quiet and clean. It feels like whatever chaos I’ve been walking around has dissipated. I head up the recently vacuumed stairs to check on my daughter. Hope is sound asleep, and I see the red light of the baby monitor on.

  The faint light of the Alaskan night peeks through her curtains, and I see a painted border of little animals scampering across her wall. My chest relaxes as I see my sleeping girl in a space that looks well-defined as her own. I couldn’t have made this space for her if I spent the next five years trying.

  Amelia did it in less than a week.

  My room and the guest room are empty, so I head back downstairs. I walk to the fridge and grab a beer, then head out to the deck.

  Amelia is out there, her feet stretched out on the ottoman, a glass of white wine on the side table, and knitting needles in hand. There’s a steady click-clack, and she must be lost in thought because she doesn’t notice me.

  “Hey,” I say, taking in the view
as I sink into the chair beside her. The water glitters and the trees rustle, letting us know we aren’t alone. That’s one of the things I love so much about this part of the world. There are living, breathing things all around us, and they speak if we listen.

  I swallow, wishing I’d been able to listen to Amelia last night. But all I heard was my own asshole motivation. I’ve never been soft around the edges, but I don’t need to tell Amelia that. She knows it clear as day, because she’s been living with me for a week.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, not looking up. The yarn in her lap is pale pink, and she unravels some of it to give herself more length. It rolls from her lap and hits the deck. We reach for it at the same time; our fingers brush against one another.

  I want to brush against all of her.

  “Oh, oops,” she says, pulling away, grabbing the yarn as if my touch burned her.

  I pull back too, not wanting to force my own carnal desires on the woman who has been with my child all day without asking anything in return.

  Leaning back in the chair, I sigh, suddenly only able to see Amelia naked and pressed against a wall. Pressed against me.

  I adjust myself, concealing my hard-on as best as possible.

  Damn, this woman is trouble.

  “Did the day go okay?” I manage to ask. “I checked on Hope. She’s out cold.”

  “It went really good, actually.”

  “Really?” I frown, surprised.

  “Yeah, Lottie came over for coffee, so that was nice. And I painted the border in Hope’s room. Well, most of it—there are still a few things I need to touch up.”

  “That’s good. I didn’t know if you’d lose your mind.”

  Her needles stop moving, and she looks at me. “I think it’s all a mind thing, actually. I’ve been resisting this pretty hard ... and maybe that’s the problem.”

  My eyes narrow in on her.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not sure, not exactly.” She sighs, bites her lip, like she doesn’t want to tell me something she knows she should.

  “What is it?”

  “Hope called me Mama today. Like, clear as day.”

  Something tugs inside. I don’t know if it’s a good tug or a bad one; I just know it’s real and it’s deep. I’m scared Hope is already attached to this woman who might leave at any moment. This is the exact thing I wanted to avoid.

  “You must have won her over.”

  “I think she won me over too.”

  I exhale, keeping my cool. I don’t want to scare Amelia off by asking her too directly if she’s planning on staying, so instead I take a swig of my beer.

  “You hungry?” I ask, watching as she sips her wine. She’s wearing leggings and a white tank with a loose, soft grey cardigan over it. She looks comfortable, relaxed.

  “No, I had a salad.”

  “You still mad about yesterday?” I ask.

  “Reed.” She shakes her head.

  “What? Just tell me what you want. I mean, I feel like shit. You were here all day with my daughter, and things are all fucked between you and me.”

  Amelia sets down her glass. “Reed, I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t give you everything, because if I do I won’t have anything left.”

  “I don’t know what that means. Don’t talk in riddles.”

  “You want black and white?” She huffs. “Reed, I came here because I wanted a husband. A partner. I came here because I wanted someone to choose me. And you don’t want any of those things.”

  “So you’re gonna go?” I shake my head, standing. “Dammit. This is a fucking disaster, Amelia.”

  “Lottie told me I should just let you play and that you’d eventually come around and want me.” She pauses, grabs the wine glass, peers into it as if it might hold some answer. She swirls it, sees nothing. Looks back at me. “But what if you don’t, Reed? Then what is my life?”

  “You talked to Lottie about this?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Yeah, I talked to her,” she says, standing. She shakes her head, raises her arms then quickly drops them, as if in defeat. I see exhaustion written on her face, exhaustion I didn’t notice earlier. “Because I’m in the middle of nowhere, Reed. I can’t get hold of my friends. I have no family. Nowhere to live. No money. I’m trapped.”

  “Fuck that,” I yell. “I’m not trapping you. You chose to come here.”

  “You’re right.” She’s crying now, wiping her face. “I did choose to come here. But I thought....”

  “What?” I ask, walking right up to her, hating that she’s crying, but also hating that she’s pushing me in a corner. “You thought it would be easy? That this was going to be some romantic comedy? This isn’t pretend. This is real life. And life is fucking hard, Amelia. Life is messy.”

  “Yeah, and it’s also really lonely when you’re living with a man who says he doesn’t want you for anything besides a fuck-buddy and a babysitter. I need more than that, Reed. I deserve more than that.”

  I pull her to me, hearing her words but too stubborn to let them sink in.

  “Then go, Amelia. If you don’t want what I can offer, go,” I tell her. Our bodies inches apart, and we may have been yelling, and tears may streak her face, but I’m not scared of her emotions spilling out. I’m only scared of her leaving for good.

  “Reed,” she whispers, her mouth so close to mine that I feel her warm breath. I feel her mounting desire. I feel her body inch toward me until we’re nearly one. “I can’t decide my forever in one day.”

  “Then decide your right now, decide your tonight.”

  She leans in, and I cup her face with my hands. I kiss her hard, and I kiss her deep.

  But that isn’t how I plan to fuck her.

  That, I’m doing nice and slow.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Amelia

  His mouth on mine makes me melt. His arms wrap tight around my waist and I just want him to take me anywhere, take me everywhere. I want him for more, but right now I’ll take what I can get.

  And not because I’m desperate or weak, but because my body craves his touch, his calloused hands, and his beating heart. Because I want him, and he’s offering himself to me, and I might not have this chance forever.

  But I have it right now.

  So I sink into him. I give in. I let go.

  He carries me.

  Literally—he picks me up, and we walk to the edge of the deck. In the corner there’s a covered hot tub I haven’t noticed before.

  “You wanna go in there with me?” he asks, cocking his head at the tub.

  “So badly.”

  “It won’t be a quick fuck, not tonight,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Good,” I tell him. “Because it’s been a long day.”

  “It’s been a long fucking week.”

  He sets me down and pulls the cover off the tub. The water is already steaming, and he presses a button, releasing bubbles.

  “Now, let me strip you down.” He walks back to me, and as he does, I let the sweater I’m wearing fall to my feet. I’m left in a see-through tank and thin pants. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Amelia.”

  I whimper at his words. I know my friends feared I was on the rebound, but the truth is I’m recovered from whatever bullshit relationship I had with Derrick. Being here, with Reed, a man who is everything I want, reminds me how little Derrick offered me.

  Neither man was willing to give me his heart—but right now, Reed will offer me what he can.

  His hands run over my bare shoulders, down to my fingertips. He laces his fingers through mine, then wraps our hands behind my back. Lowering himself to the ground, he kneels before me, easing his hands from mine, squeezing my ass, then letting his fingers graze between my legs.

  My shoulders drop; how can they not? I’ve been denying myself Reed’s offers all week, but a girl can only resist for so long. Eventually her pussy is going to start demanding some real attention.

  He presse
s his mouth against me; the fabric is a barrier I don’t want. I run my hands through his thick hair, grabbing strands as he loops his fingers over the waistband of my pants. He pushes them past my ankles, forcing me to step out of them. Then he pulls my hips toward his mouth again and inhales my scent. My pussy is throbbing before he even touches me.

  Instead, he kisses my mound, his hand spreading my thighs. My feet step apart, giving him access to everything he wants and everything I need.

  I’m already wet, so wet for him. There’s been so much fighting, so much build-up—now all I want is a release. His tongue licks between my legs, his fingers running the length of my slit, and he expertly pauses against my hood, rubbing his thumb in circles as I squirm ever so slightly.

  I want his mouth buried against me. I want his tongue deep inside, and his fingers fluttering against my pussy walls until I drip all over him. He must be reading my mind because he stands, then lifts me and carries me to the chaise beside the tub. Placing me on my back, he spreads my legs. He doesn’t ask if it’s okay, because we both know there’s nothing more perfectly right than this.

  His face disappears between my thighs. My legs drape over his shoulder and he licks me up and down, and back again. My pussy thrums, awake and wanting.

  “Oh, Reed,” I moan, pulling my shirt over my head, wanting everything off, wanting to be completely exposed to him. My nipples are so peaked and hard as I run my hands over them. Reed looks up at me from between my legs, a dreamy smile across his face.

  “I love seeing you touch yourself.”

  “Good,” I tell him, running my hand lower, to the space his head has been buried, dipping a finger between my juicy folds, my back arching as I move in fast circles. “Touch me, Reed,” I beg. “I need it.”

  His eyebrows lift slightly and he presses a finger into my tight entrance, not hovering on the outside like I’m doing. He presses his finger deep inside, causing me to moan as it moves high against me, and I feel myself pouring out all over his hand.