A Bride for the Mountain Man

by Tracy Madison

  “That is on you, because that is not what I said.”

  “I would bet that is what you thought, though,” she said, lifting her chin another inch. “You said I should make myself at home, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you mean those words?”

  He sighed, ran his hand over his jaw. “Yes.”

  “Well, then I win. I get to help out, as that is part of the definition of making myself at home.” She pointed toward his office. “So you can go back to work and I will take care of this mess and make you a new lunch. Listen for the knock. I’ll just leave it out here.”

  With that, she picked up the plate and the now-empty coffee mug and took off before he could offer more objections. She was about two steps from the kitchen when his deep, rolling laugh hit her ears. It was a good sound, that laugh.

  “Stop, Meredith. I’m done with work,” he said from behind her. “I was on my way to find you. I thought you might want some company, seeing how I abandoned you for most of the day. And the dogs were whining at the door, probably because they missed you.”

  “Company would be nice,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. Something, fortunately, that Liam could not see since her back was still facing him. Who cared if he made this choice out of guilt? She was lonely. She did want his company. And regardless of the reason, it was still his decision. “I missed them, too. Did you have anything in particular in mind, or just want to sit and talk some more? I’d love to—”

  “Sit and talk? More?” She heard a sigh and had to swallow a laugh. “Sitting and talking is one idea, I suppose. I was thinking more along the lines of...well, see, I have a few board games for when my sister and niece visit. Monopoly, Scrabble...um, a few others. Can’t think what they are right now. Feel up to something like that?”

  “Sure. That works.” She took a breath and pivoted, so she could see his face. “I’ll clean this up and get you something else to eat and I’ll be all set. You can choose the game.”

  “Nope. I’m not all that hungry, and I want you to rest. I’ll deal with clean-up.” He approached her and removed the dishes from her hands. “No arguing for once, okay?”

  Their eyes met and heat flashed, for just a second, between them. On her side, at least. And it felt...good. Reminded her that she was alive. That she wasn’t done. That she still had time to follow her dreams, figure out who she was—who she could become—and to open herself to possibilities she never truly had before. She had time. Thanks to this man and his dogs.

  Thanks to herself, too. She’d persevered.

  “Okay,” she said, knowing when she was beat. “I’ll take it easy until you’re ready to lose at whatever game we play.”

  “Perfect.” He whistled at the dogs. “I’m just going to let them out and then I’m yours for the night. You should know, though, I rarely lose at Monopoly or Scrabble.”

  Hers for the night? She liked the sound of that, too. Probably a bit more than she should, but right now a world of possibilities beckoned and she welcomed them all. Especially those that might include this man. He intrigued her. Deeply. And his eyes did something to her soul.

  Warmth whooshed through her, from head to toe, and she fought the temptation to fan herself. “Oh, yeah?” she managed to ask. “Well, neither do I.”

  One eyebrow raised. “Is that so? Is that a challenge, Goldi?”

  “Meredith,” she corrected instantly, though she didn’t know why. She liked that he called her Goldi. “And yes, you can take it that way. So, let out the dogs and...we’ll see who wins.”

  He nodded and whistled at the dogs again, leading them past her and through the kitchen to the back door.

  She stood there motionless for another minute, waiting for her skin to cool and her heart to stop racing. Why this man, when there was so very much she didn’t know about him? Why now, when her primary goal should be focusing on creating the life she yearned for?

  She didn’t know the answer to those questions, but she knew one thing for sure: she was done allowing the “should nots” to clutter her brain. They had never done her any good in the past, so it was time to try something different. Something new. Something courageous.

  And just...live.

  * * *

  They were, Liam noted, evenly matched. So far, they’d played Monopoly—he’d won—followed by a game of Scrabble—she’d won—and they’d just finished their second round of Crazy Eights, and yup, one win for each. Throughout each game, they’d kept up a steady stream of chatter that stayed solidly within the impersonal range of topics.

  Her last name...his. How much longer until the storm ended—by morning, he guessed—and other miscellaneous topics that included his dogs, where she went to college and not much else other than general conversation, a little teasing here and there about whatever game they were in the midst of.

  All of this should have relieved Liam to no end, and through the first couple of games, it did. But now, he was dismayed to realize his curiosity was building.

  He found he wanted to know more about the woman. About Meredith. Why she wasn’t sure if her family would be worried. Why she left a job she’d apparently liked and was good at.

  What made her smile? What made her sad? Why did she, every now and then, seem to look at him as if she knew him, knew what was in his head...in his heart? Of course, she didn’t. Couldn’t, even. But that look seemed to state otherwise and raised his curiosity another notch.

  Made him wonder what it would be like to really let someone—particularly her—in. He’d gone down that road before, to a disastrous and heartbreaking result, and he was a fool to revisit the idea. But there it was, front and center in his thoughts.

  Did that make him a sucker for punishment? Perhaps. Probably. Or at the very least, proved that he wasn’t as content with his life as he’d believed. A sobering realization and not one he wanted to give credence to just yet.

  Also, though he’d never verbally admit it, he wondered about that dream she’d had, even though she hadn’t mentioned it again. A lot happened in that dream, she had said. And that a meeting had to occur before anything else. What was anything else? What exactly had she dreamed?

  Asinine to have his thoughts so fully occupied by another person’s dream. Especially a person who had gone through what she had in the hours before collapsing. Exhausted. Freezing. Scared. From what she had said, hopeless by the time his dogs had led her to safety.

  She’d heard his voice, had maybe caught a glimpse of his face when she’d opened her eyes for that brief second and in her exhaustion and fear, her hopelessness, had a dream about him...them? Seemed that way, and he couldn’t blame her for that, couldn’t call her crazy.

  She’d obviously forgotten all about it, so why couldn’t he?

  It went back to that look, which she happened to be giving him right now, as if she was thinking about her dream if not outright talking about it. Worse, though, as if she could read his friggin’ thoughts. He wasn’t sure he liked that.

  Wasn’t altogether sure he didn’t like it, either.

  “We have to play one more game,” he said quickly, both to wipe out her expression and to distract his oddball thoughts. “To determine the...ah, Blizzard Gaming Championship.”

  She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “What does the winner get?”

  “Pride and a boost to their ego?” he said. “Need more than that?”

  “Seeing how I am planning on taking that championship, yes, I do.” Her voice held a teasing quality, and her eyes were bright. Happy. He liked that. “There needs to be a prize.”

  “Ah. I could order a trophy. If you win, that is. I’m happy enough with the title.” Shrugging, he put the playing cards back in their respective boxes. “As big and ostentatious a trophy as you want. Can be taller than you, if that will make you happy.”
r />   Hell. He’d buy her a trophy as big as a house to keep that smile on her face.

  “Oh, I have no need for a trophy, but thank you for the offer,” she said in a sweet-as-sugar sort of way. He liked that, too. “I think the winner should be able to choose their prize. But it has to involve the loser. So, if you win, your prize involves me doing something for you or with you. Whatever you want, within reason. And I get the same choice if I win.”

  Hmm. Well, then. He wasn’t so sure what would be better, being on the winning or losing end of that deal. It would prove interesting to see what she’d choose as her “prize” if she won and, okay, if he won? He might just ask her about the details of that dream, so long as he could figure out a way to do so without sounding as corny as a lovestruck teenager.

  “You have a deal,” he said, scratching his jaw. “I’ve been thinking for a while now of having the house painted. Think you could handle that? I’d buy all the supplies, of course, and even some how-to books if you were to need them. Might go that direction, supposing I win.”

  She scrunched her nose. “I would say that painting your house does not fall in the ‘within reason’ category, so nope, you’ll have to come up with something else. Supposing you win.”

  “Okay, sure, I can come up with something else.” He grinned, enjoying this exchange more than any of their other conversations thus far. “Only question that remains is...what game should be the tie breaker? One we’ve already played or something different?”

  “Something different, of course.” Walking to the pile of games he’d brought out earlier, she looked through them, one by one. “Lots of choices here. Do you have a preference?”

  He narrowed his eyes, took stock of the various games—some meant for families, some for adults and some bought with his niece in mind—and considered a few of the strategy games. He excelled in those. But really, he was far more curious to see what Goldi would choose, so in the end, he shook his head. “Nope. No preference. You pick, I’ll play.”

  She laughed, instantly reaching for a game, and damn it, why did the glow from the fireplace have to send a shimmer of light through her hair, making it resemble spun gold? Or what he assumed spun gold would look like. And what was wrong with him to notice such a thing, anyway? It took every ounce of willpower to stay seated, to not walk over and...well, hell, touch her hair. Like a kid reaching for a piece of chocolate he should not have.

  Swallowing hard, he forced his attention from the shimmering spectacle of her hair to the box in her hands, and all comparisons to spun gold evaporated.

  “Really?” he said. Hell. He’d never even played that game. He’d bought it last year as a gift for Cassie’s birthday, but she already had it. He’d brought it back home for when she visited, but they’d yet to actually play. “All those choices and you think that should be the game that decides the championship?”

  Returning to the couch, she set the game on the coffee table. “I picked it, didn’t I? But I have an excellent reason why. Neither of us have ever played this game, so we’re starting at ground zero. No one has an advantage. That seems appropriate for a tie breaker.”

  “Excellent point, but how do you know I haven’t played it before?”

  She reached over and picked at the plastic still coating the box. “Original packaging, never been opened,” she said, grinning. “And I seriously doubt you’ve sat around with your, um—photographer buddies?—with beer and munchies over a game of Hedbanz.”

  “More excellent points,” he admitted. “And you’re right on every one of them.”

  Except for the photographer buddy thing. Oh, he had a few close friends, but they didn’t exactly hang out over beer or munchies playing anything. Only reason he had all these games was for Fiona and Cassie. They tended to get bored real fast when visiting. Didn’t stop them from showing up at least once a week when he was around. His sister insisted on family togetherness, on being present.

  He knew why. Their parents had died when they were young, and she’d gone to live with their aunt while he’d lived with his grandfather. They’d missed a lot of years together, and Fiona had never really gotten over that, never stopped longing for what they hadn’t had.

  Well, that and her stubbornness. The woman never gave in on a damn thing, even when doing so would be easier. “Why don’t you read the rules while I grab us some of those munchies you mentioned?” he asked. “You can fill me in when I get back.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, already picking open the plastic covering. Lifting her eyes to his, she smiled. “Bring lots of sustenance. You’ll need it to survive the loss.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That is so.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, heading toward the kitchen and keeping his smile to himself.

  Tough talk. With the way she’d invaded his brain, she probably would win. And that was fine. Surely, she’d smile again then, which should further lessen the awkwardness between them from earlier.

  She’d made him lunch. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him, but she’d thought about his welfare. It made the memory of that morning’s Swedish pop group alarm, and his grumpiness about it, extinguish as if it had never occurred. Funny. Thoughtful. Caring. Sweet. All words that described this...stranger. Beautiful, too, without doubt.

  Strikingly so, even without makeup and clothes that properly fit.

  Liam put together a plate of cheese, crackers and grapes and poured them each a fresh cup of coffee.

  Before returning to the living room, he went through the back door and stepped outside. The storm had calmed considerably. The wind still blew strong, but there wasn’t nearly as much snow falling.

  Yup. The storm was gearing down. Very likely by tomorrow afternoon, the roads would start to get cleared and within another twenty-four hours he’d be able to cart Miss Goldilocks to her friend’s house. He’d have his space again. His quiet.

  And that would be that.

  Chapter Seven

  Hedbanz, as it turned out, was insanely easy. Guess “what” or “who” you were by asking questions to the other players—in this case, Liam—for a yes or no response. The “who” or “what” was displayed on a card bound to your forehead with a headband. You couldn’t see it, but those you were playing with could.

  Meredith won, but only by a single point and only due to the fact that after several rounds of being an animal—how unfair was that, seeing that he earned his living by photographing wildlife?—Liam had the misfortune of choosing the “I am a flashlight” card. He was stuck with being a flashlight for several rounds, his questions not getting him close enough for a correct guess, which allowed her ample opportunity to move ahead and win.

  Which she did, with the “I am bacon” card. She’d narrowed it down to being a food, asked if it was mostly eaten at breakfast, if it fell into the meat category and finally, if she’d made it that morning. With a sigh and a quick roll of his eyes, she had the answer. She’d never loved bacon quite so much as she did at that moment, because now...now...she’d earned the right to request something from Liam without feeling guilty.

  She hadn’t yet decided what that something should be, but she’d figure that out soon. She’d have to. It looked as if tomorrow would be the last full day she’d be here alone with Liam. Unless fortune truly shone on her shoulders and another storm swept in while they slept. Unlikely, but hey, that she was even here at all was even more so.

  “Sure you wouldn’t prefer a trophy?” Liam asked as they picked up the game and put the various pieces back in the box. “Or...a Harry & David gift basket? Fruit-of-the-month club?” He winked and her heart dropped to her stomach. Over a wink. That had never happened to her before, with anyone. Even Rico. “I know! A year’s supply of bacon. That seems fitting.”

  “None of those ideas include you,” she said. “Remember the dea
l?”

  “They do include me, since I would be the one supplying you with a trophy, gift basket, a fruit-of-the-month subscription or a year’s supply of bacon.” Another wink, followed by a semisarcastic grin. “Not sure how you can state otherwise!”

  “They do not include you in the way I would like,” she said, surprised by her forthrightness. But hey, it was time to start living, right? “And before you ask, no, I don’t know what exactly I’m going to ask for my prize yet. But when I know I will let you in on it.”

  Leaning over the coffee table so they were mere inches apart, he said, “And will your prize fall within the reasonable range? I mean, you’re not going to ask me to drive you to New York or take you on a vacation to Hawaii or anything of that nature, are you?”

  “Um...no. Nothing like that.” Lord, he smelled good. It wasn’t the scent of a cologne or aftershave or even his soap or shampoo. He didn’t smell like trees or the air after a drenching rain or anything so defined. It was just him. And it was good. Welcoming and appealing and sexy all rolled into one package.

  She drew in a breath, a rather large one, and worked to modulate her voice, saying, “And of course it will be reasonable. Probably fun, too. I just have to think some on the actual specifics of what that will entail.”

  A whisper of a wish slipped into being. A kiss. She could ask for a kiss. That would be fun. Reasonable, however? Not so much.

  Besides which, if this man ever kissed her, it needed to be of his own free will. Because he just had to. Because the thought of not kissing her would be unbearable. Unthinkable.

  Heat rushed her cheeks, soaked into her skin and swept through her limbs until her fingers and toes tingled. Great. Now all she could think of was kissing this man, of what his mouth would feel like on hers, of how her body would respond to his touch. And he was so close. If she pushed herself forward a few more inches, if she were courageous enough, she could kiss him before he even realized what was happening.