Claimed by the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Mail Order Bride)

CHAPTER THREE

SAMANTHA

I hadn’t slept much. How could I, when my dreams were filled with shirtless mountain men and heated glances? Every time I’d dozed off, I’d imagined those strong hands on my body, wondered what that stubbled jaw would feel like against my inner thighs. By morning, I was frustrated and more than a little worked up.

Coffee. I needed coffee.

I folded up the blanket and headed to the kitchen, surprised I’d woken before him. Weren’t mountain men supposed to be up at the crack of dawn? Last night’s dreams had certainly featured him chopping wood at sunrise, sweat glistening on those impressive muscles...

Focus, Samantha.

It didn’t take me long to discover he had no coffee maker. Just a beat up old percolator sitting on top of the stove. Thankfully, it was a gas stove, so I didn’t have to heat water in the fireplace to get my morning dose of caffeine. And there was running water. Not that I’d thought there wouldn’t be, but I was very grateful. The cabin wasn’t truly rustic, but it was… minimalistic?

His kitchen was impressively organized, so it didn’t take me long to find the coffee and savor the smell as it brewed. Deciding that a man like Logan had to fuel up first thing in the morning, I opened the fridge. Taking out bacon and eggs, I started breakfast. Deciding to impress him with my skills, I whipped up a batch of biscuits. The bacon was done and the biscuits browning when the front door opened.

I jumped at the sound. Had Logan lied? Did someone live with him?

Nope I discovered, peeking around the kitchen wall. It was Logan. Fresh from the great outdoors.

He strode in, his cheeks flushed from the cold, chest heaving slightly like he’d been running. His shoulders broad like the mountain where he lived. The man was built like a fantasy. I’d spent half the night remembering what he’d looked like when he’d answered the door.

“Oh,” I said. “Where did you come from?”

He hung his coat by the door. The sight of it next to mine caused more than a tiny flutter in my stomach. “From a cabbage patch according to my mother.”

My jaw almost dropped at his teasing. “I, uh. Well, I hope you learned more about the birds and bees since then.” Of course, my cheeks flushed a bright red at my words. My very brave words.

“What’s that I smell? Did you manage to make coffee?”

“Yes,” I said brightly. “Though I had to guess at the proportions since your coffee maker, well, is not a coffee maker.”

He frowned. “I like it—”

“—black as your scowl?”

“I do not scowl.” His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but I’d take it.

“No, and bears don’t like honey. Look,” I said, sliding a mug toward him. “We need to talk about this situation.”

“There is no situation.” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. Okay, so maybe I’d made it a little strong.

“Your brother signed you up for a mail-order bride app which matched you with me. He messaged me, pretending to be you. That’s definitely a situation.”

“One that’ll be resolved as soon as I can get hold of Ethan.”

“And until then?” I hopped onto one of his kitchen stools, trying not to feel hurt when he took a step back. “I could stay here. Just until we sort things out.”

His jaw tightened. “That won’t change my mind about wanting a mail-order bride.”

“No, but it’ll give me a chance to...” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding desperate.

“To what?”

“To convince you we could be good together.” The words came out before I could stop them. “Or at least to figure out my next move. I need a change of scenery, you know? A chance to decide what I want to do next in life. Can you understand that?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Yes. More than you know.”

“So you’ll let me stay?”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I held my breath. “Until I can talk to Ethan,” he finally said. “He owes you something for this mess.”

Meaning you don’t, I thought.

I took out the biscuits and placed them on the table. I realized having a conversation with Logan might be more difficult than I imagined. I hoped the food would feed the bear so to speak. I cracked four eggs in the bacon grease, then added another two. The man looked hungry. “Over easy?”

He nodded and took a biscuit from the cookie sheet. He didn’t bother with butter or the jar of jam I’d found in the refrigerator. He took a bite, chewed for a moment, then popped the other half into his mouth.

I almost let the eggs burn watching him.

“About the tours?” I tried to concentrate on the food, but it was difficult. He sat at the table, his broad shoulders encased in flannel and it felt like we’d done this a thousand times before.

“Yeah, I do them.”

“Do you have one coming up?”

“Got a group coming in today.”

“That’s great. Let me come along today. I’m great with people—which, no offense, might not be your strong suit.”

“I don’t have to be good with people. They’re here to learn how not to die.”

“Charming. Is that your marketing slogan?”

A grunt and another almost-smile. I smiled again, feeling like I was making progress.

Two hours later, I was regretting my brilliant idea. Turns out hiking up a mountain wasn’t quite like my occasional walks in the city park. Logan’s clients—a middle-aged couple from Texas—were surprisingly spry. Me? I was dying.

“Need a hand?” Logan’s voice came from behind me as I stared at a fallen log that was definitely too high to step over gracefully.

“Nope, I’ve got it.” I did not have it, but I felt like showing weakness was not a good idea.

I tried to swing my leg over and promptly lost my balance. Logan caught me against his chest, his hands steady on my waist. Heat bloomed everywhere we touched.

“You were saying?” His voice rumbled through me, and suddenly breathing was difficult for reasons that had nothing to do with the altitude.

“Just testing your reflexes.” I gave him my brightest smile. “They’re excellent, by the way.”

I gasped as he lifted me over the log. Of course, he stepped over it like he was stepping over a twig. He didn’t move on immediately. For a moment, we just stood there, too close, the mountain air crackling between us.

Then I did something stupid. Or brave. Sometimes, when I acted on impulse, I had a hard time telling the difference.

I kissed him.

It wasn’t a romance novel kiss—no fireworks or sparks or whatever. It was better. Real. His lips were warm and slightly cold, and he tasted like coffee and surprise. For one heartbeat, two, he was frozen. Then his hand slid into my hair, and oh. Oh.

His tongue found the seam of my lips and moved across it. I immediately opened for him—for the best first kiss of my entire life. Maybe, I thought hazily, my first last kiss. A girl could hope, I thought, clasping the front of his shirt with my hands. He wasn’t shy now that we were kissing, his mouth took mine with a hunger that matched the ache building between my thighs. That was the best and only way I could describe what was happening.

His tongue slid inside, seeking all the dark and warm places, stroking softly, but firmly. I’d been kissed before, but nothing like this. Nothing that made my body feel like it was melting from the inside out. Nothing that made my panties wet with just a kiss.

His hand tightened in my hair, guiding me, tilting my head to deepen the kiss and I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped me. God, if he could do this with just a kiss, what would it feel like if he really touched me?

He pulled back first, his eyes dark. “Why did you do that?”

“Just checking.”

“Checking what?”

“To see if we’re compatible.” I stepped back, my heart thundering.

“And?” His face was a mask, revealing nothing that he might be feeling.

“And what?”

“Are we?” He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

I fought the urge to answer him. To say, yes sir, we were indeed compatible. But then those same infuriating doubts I’d been fighting my entire life filled me once again. Maybe he didn’t think we were. Maybe he thought I was too forward, too talkative. Too curvy. Too, well everything. It wouldn’t be the first time a man would have accused me of being that.

Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence. “We should catch up with the others.”

But as he turned away, I caught a glimpse of his body. Of the ridge beneath his pants.

Yes, I thought, mentally hand-pumping my fist in the air. We definitely were.