CHAPTER TWO
LOGAN
I’d just stepped out of the shower when the knock came. Standing in my bedroom, water still dripping down my back, I seriously considered ignoring it. Nobody came up Lone Mountain without a reason, and at this hour, I doubted that reason would be good.
The knock came again, more insistent this time.
Cursing under my breath, I grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, not bothering with a shirt. Probably just another lost hiker who couldn’t read a GPS. It happened more often than you’d think, which was exactly why I’d started the wilderness tour business in the first place. To keep people from roaming around the mountain, getting into trouble.
But when I yanked open the door, I found something far more dangerous than a lost hiker.
She was curvy, with wild dark hair that looked like she’d been running her hands through it for hours. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her eyes—warm brown and startlingly direct—widened as they met mine, then dropped to my chest. Something hot and unexpected curled in my stomach at her obvious appreciation.
Then she opened her mouth and turned my world sideways.
The story tumbled out— Mountain Mates , messages, marriage—and with each word, my fury at Ethan grew. Of course my brother would pull something like this. He’d been trying to drag me back into the real world ever since I’d left the rat race of a life and moved back here, three years ago.
We’d grown up in the shadow of Lone Mountain. Two tech-obsessed kids dreaming of Silicon Valley. And we’d made it too, built our company from nothing, sold it for millions. But while Ethan saw it as a beginning, I saw it as an escape. The years working day and night, surrounded by people who only saw you as a big dollar sign, had left me disillusioned. I hated the crowds, the noise, and the endless pressure of civilization.
I’d come back to Lone Mountain, bought this piece of land, and found peace in the solitude. I had started the wilderness tours because it gave me purpose without forcing me back into the world I’d left behind. Ethan had followed, claiming he could code from anywhere, but I knew he was worried about me. He called my cabin my hermit hideout, joked that I needed someone to drag me back to humanity.
And now here she was—humanity personified, standing on my porch with a U-Haul full of her life and expectations I couldn’t possibly fulfill.
I should have sent her away. Should have pointed her back down the mountain and gone back to my quiet life. But something in her face—a mix of embarrassment, determination, and genuine distress—made me hesitate.
“There’s a hotel in town.” Since I wasn’t used to talking to people much anymore, I knew the words sounded harsh. Unfeeling.
She bit her lip, and my eyes tracked the movement before I could stop myself. “I really don’t want to try driving back down in the dark. Especially not towing that. I mean, it was terrifying enough coming up, and that was in daylight.”
She had a point. The mountain road was treacherous enough during the day. At night, with a trailer? Protective instincts rose inside.
“Fine,” I growled, stepping back. “One night.”
“Thank you.” The smile she gave me was like sunrise breaking over the mountain—bright, warm, and completely devastating to my peace of mind.
She hurried inside as if she thought I’d change my mind. And I knew that I should. But I didn’t. Didn’t want to I realized watching the sway of her hips, obvious even under the weight of her coat. Thick hips. A lover’s hips.
Damn it. Why did she have to be curvy? Women with curves were my Achilles’ heel.
I watched her take in my living room, her eyes lingering on the bookshelf, the fireplace, the worn but comfortable furniture. She belonged in a city apartment with modern art and sleek furniture, not my rustic cabin with its handmade tables and braided rugs.
I headed down the hallway to my bedroom, acutely aware of her eyes following me. The weight of her gaze felt like a physical touch trailing down my back, and something stirred in my gut, something I’d pushed away years ago. I grabbed a shirt, taking longer than necessary to pull it on, trying to get my body under control. This woman was going to be trouble—I could feel it in my bones.
When I returned to the kitchen, I pulled leftover chili from the fridge, more to have something to do with my hands than out of actual hospitality. The domesticity of the moment wasn’t lost on me—a woman in my kitchen, watching me cook.
“He really did it, didn’t he?”
She looked up, confusion crossing her features. “Did what?”
“The mail-order bride app. He’s been playing around with that idea for ages. He told me he was tinkering with it when we moved back.” I stirred the chili with more force than necessary. “Ethan could sell ice to Eskimos.”
“Is that how he talked you into it?” A small smile played at her lips. “Into being his guinea pig?”
I snorted. “I didn’t know anything about it. Though I should have guessed he’d try something like this. He’s been threatening to ‘fix my love life’ for months.”
“So,” she ventured, “you live here all alone?”
“Yep.” I grabbed my bowl and sat down at the table.
“Not even a dog? I thought having a dog was kind of mandatory for a mountain man?” Another smile curved her full lips. Lips I was having a very difficult time ignoring. Along with all her curves. Damn my brother. I didn’t know if his app had matched us legitimately, or if he had manipulated the algorithm, but this woman could be my perfect match. Dark haired, brown eyes, curves for days. Even her sunny disposition was the perfect foil for my grumpiness.
“Nope. And mountain men have wolves for pets.”
That made her laugh. The sound strange, but soothing in the silence of the cabin. “Must get pretty quiet.”
“Exactly how I like it.”
“Right.” She took a bite of the chili, then her eyes went wide. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”
“It’s just chili.”
“No, seriously. If this is what you eat every night, I’m moving in.”
I stiffened, and she quickly backtracked. “Kidding. Mostly.” She took another bite, then looked up at me through her lashes. “Though you have to admit, it would make a great success story for the app. City girl meets mountain man through dating app, falls in love with his cooking...”
“This isn’t a romance novel. And living on this mountain can be brutal.” Even though I had every amenity I needed, I knew some who didn’t. I frowned, thinking of who she could have been matched with.
“No,” she agreed, her smile fading slightly. “I guess it’s not.” She stirred her chili thoughtfully. “I helped Ethan develop it, you know. The app.”
That caught my attention. “You did?”
“Mm-hmm. He hired me to do the interface. It was a cute concept. A modern twist on an old tradition, he’d said. Connecting mountain men with women who dream of a simpler life.” She paused, then laughed softly. “I never thought I’d end up using it myself. But after my ex... well, let’s just say I needed a fresh start.”
I stopped eating, studying her. The way she ducked her head when she mentioned her ex, the slight tremor in her voice—there was a story there. One that made me want to hunt down whoever had hurt her.
The thought startled me. I didn’t do protective. Didn’t do emotional entanglement. Yet here I was, feeling territorial over a woman I’d met less than an hour ago.
“What exactly did my brother tell you?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “In these messages?”
She blushed, and the color spreading across her cheeks did things to my insides I didn’t want to examine too closely. “He talked about the mountain. About wanting to share it with someone. He mentioned your survival tours, how you help people connect with nature.” She met my eyes. “He made you sound... lonely.”
“I’m not lonely,” I said automatically. But even to my own ears, it sounded defensive.
“No?” She raised an eyebrow. “Then why did your brother think you needed a mail-order bride?”
“Because Ethan thinks everyone needs to live life his way. In the middle of everything, surrounded by people, constantly connected.” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “He doesn’t understand that some of us prefer the quiet.”
“And do you?” she asked softly. “Prefer the quiet?”
I looked at her then, really looked at her. At the way she fit into my kitchen like she belonged there, at the curiosity and challenge in her eyes, at the curves that made my hands itch to touch. At the way she made my carefully constructed solitude feel less like peace and more like hiding.
“I used to think so.” The words came out before I could stop them.
Something flashed in her eyes—hope, maybe, or understanding. She opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off, pushing away from the table.
“You should get some sleep. I’m afraid the couch is all I can offer. There’s only one bedroom. Blankets are in the trunk by the fireplace.” I knew I needed to put some space between us before I did something stupid like ask her to share my bed.
“Right.” She stood, and for a moment we were too close, the kitchen suddenly too small to contain whatever this was between us. “Thank you. For letting me stay.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Because the truth was, having her here felt dangerous. It was the same sensation I got when I stood on the edge of the mountain, looking down.
That night, lying in my bed, I could hear her moving around in the living room. Small sounds that shouldn’t have been so disruptive to my peace of mind—the rustle of blankets, the soft pad of feet, the creak of the couch. Each noise a reminder that my sanctuary had been invaded.
But as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Ethan wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe what I needed wasn’t more solitude, but someone to share it with.
Someone like Samantha.