Wifed By The Mountain Man: A Modern Mail-Order Bride Romance (6 page)

T
his morning
when Amelia offered me a day off from my responsibilities, I jumped at the chance. It was fucking nice of her to do, too. But after stepping into my house, which looks like a war-zone after only eight hours, I wonder if that was a bad decision on my part.

And, besides the messy house, Amelia looks as exhausted as Hope.

I get Hope to bed, and then quickly get the fish on the grill, adding asparagus to the grill plate. I find a bottle of white wine and stick it in the freezer to chill for Amelia. I want her to know I really appreciate her giving me today.

I motherfucking needed it.

All day I sat on my boat, in the peace and quiet I haven’t had in months, and did nothing but doze off, set new fishing lines, drink beer, eat crappy food, and just not give a damn.

I needed it.

When Amelia walks out to the deck with her damp hair and fresh face, I want to scoop her in my arms and give her the night we planned this morning as a
thank you
. I want to taste her and hold her and take her all night long.

She yawns as she takes the glass of wine I offer her, before taking a seat in a large, comfy outdoor chair. She rests her feet on the ottoman and sighs. “Holy crap, Reed, I don’t know how you do it.” She pulls a throw blanket over her legs and rests her head on the cushion behind her.

“What part?” I ask, taking the fish off the grill and plating it alongside the asparagus.

The lake shimmers in the late evening sun, and although the sun is still out there’s a slight chill in the air. But the view is unparalleled; majestic mountains tower above, and blue skies and fresh air surround us. All day when I was out on the water, I couldn’t help but think that if Amelia was willing to stay here with us, to be a mother for Hope, then I would be the luckiest man in the world.

I’d have it all.

When she doesn’t answer, I look back at Amelia. She’s sound asleep. Figures. A full day with a baby will do that to anyone.

Not wanting to bother her, I eat quickly, then clean up the food and the grill. Then I scoop Amelia up in my arms just like I wanted to earlier. Only this time, instead of a night of fucking, I’ll thank her another way. I’ll thank her by letting her sleep.

* * *

“
S
o the thing is
,” Amelia says, while drinking her giant mug of coffee the next day, dressed and put together like a normal person now that she’s learned the miracle of the Pack ’n Play, “Hope needs some clothes. And some new toys. For example, she hates the jumpy-thing, and I looked in her drawers. She has next to nothing. At least nothing cute.”

“And she needs to have cute clothes?” I ask, setting down my coffee. Amelia nods emphatically. This woman is planning something. “What else?” I spoon-feed Hope applesauce, which she promptly spits out and begins smearing on her high chair tray.

“Well, her nursery is depressing. I mean, I know you’re doing it all on your own—but right now I’m here, and I think you need my help with this.”

“She’s a baby. She doesn’t care what her room looks like.”

Amelia puckers her lips. “Well, I do. It’s sad, Reed. You have gobs of money, yet your poor daughter is living out of boxes. You can do better.”

“Are you saying I need to take you shopping?”

“I was thinking Pottery Barn and Nordstrom’s.” She walks over and hands me a wet rag to wash Hope’s face.

“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.

T
he 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 through 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.