Connecting with the Mountain Man (Mail Order Bride)

Chapter 2

Silas

The first thing I notice when I walk into Eden’s bakery and coffee shop is the smell.

Burnt.

Like someone tried to set a loaf of bread on fire and then decided to douse it with coffee for good measure. Her shop is one of the most popular in Silvertown Hollow but let’s just say Eden loves experimenting and sometimes it just doesn’t work out.

The second thing I notice?

Eden Winters.

She’s standing behind the counter, arms crossed, mouth in that cute little pout she always does when she’s gearing up to take me down a peg or two. It’s unfair—how someone can look that sweet and dangerous at the same time.

The worst part? I like her best when she’s pissed at me. When her eyes spark like she’s trying to decide whether to kiss me or launch a muffin at my head.

Hell.

“Morning, Eden,” I drawl, stepping into the warm space, the bells over the door jingling as I cross the threshold. My boots thud against the wooden floor, and I take my sweet time strolling past the tables toward the counter.

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just narrows those big blue eyes at me, like I’m somehow to blame for the bakery crime scene happening in her kitchen.

Maybe I am.

“I thought you were off on some big fancy job,” she says, tucking a wild curl behind her ear. It slips loose instantly.

I grunt, leaning against the counter with my palms flat, dipping my head just enough to watch the blush creep up her neck. She’s always stuck somewhere between wanting to bite my head off and… something else. Something softer.

And damn if I don’t live for it.

“Thought I’d check in,” I say, scanning the bakery. “See if the place was still standing. Smells like you had a rough morning.”

Eden arches a brow, shifting her weight to one leg, hip jutting out just enough to make my brain glitch. “You’re just here to snoop. Admit it.”

“Perks of sharing the building.” I nod toward the hallway leading to the stairs—stairs that take me straight up to my office. “I like to make sure my investment isn’t burning to the ground.”

Her eyes narrow further. “Your ‘investment’ is fine, Matthews. Just a little… overdone batch.”

I sniff dramatically. “Smells like a whole bakery massacre to me.”

Her nostrils flare, and she fixes me with a glare that could melt steel.

“There’s a leak,” she snaps. “Under the sink. I called the maintenance line, but your receptionist said all your guys are out on other jobs.”

I straighten, rolling my shoulders. “They are. Busy day.”

Eden’s lips press into a thin line. “And what exactly do you do all day, Silas?”

Oh, she’s poking the bear now.

I let a slow smile curl up one side of my mouth. “Someone’s gotta run things. Can’t sign papers and do all the boring back-end stuff if I’m swinging hammer.”

She snorts, stepping around the counter and tugging her apron tighter around her waist. “Right. Must be exhausting. I bet your calluses are really something to behold.”

Her eyes flick to my hands. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

Neither does her tongue, the way it darts out to wet her lips. Damn, why can’t those lips be wet from my kisses. My cock stiffens in my pants.

“Why don’t I take a look?” I nod toward the kitchen. “Since I’m here. Unless you’d rather let it flood.”

She hesitates. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to find a way to tell me to shove it. But the leak’s winning.

“Fine,” she mutters, brushing past me.

Her shoulder grazes my arm, and I follow her, gaze dipping to the sway of her hips in those tight jeans.

She has no business wearing jeans like that around me.

Not if she wants me to keep my hands to myself. I wonder how her sexy ass would feel in my hands. Soft or firm. Either way it’s a great ass.

Hell.

The kitchen’s worse—smells like someone took a blow torch to a tray of pastries. Eden crouches by the sink, yanking the cabinet doors open.

Water’s pooled across the floorboards.

“See?” She stabs a finger at it. “Fix it.”

I grunt, grabbing a wrench from the toolbox I keep in the back office. I crouch under the sink, my shoulder brushing her knee.

She shifts, her leg pressing against my ribs, and I have to grit my teeth to stay focused on the damn pipe.

“Could’ve avoided this if you’d called sooner,” I say, tightening a bolt.

“I called as soon as I noticed it.”

“Sure,” I murmur. “But it’s been leaking for a while.”

She huffs. “Maybe focus on fixing it instead of lecturing me.”

I twist the wrench one last time, shutting off the water.

“There. It’s temporary,” I say, sitting back. “I’ll have to come back. To fix it completely, it needs a new part.”

Eden crosses her arms, mouth twisting. “And you sure it will hold, till you can come back to it? I need to use this faucet.”

I stand slowly, looming over her as she leans against the counter. Her eyes flick to mine, chin tilting defiantly.

“It would hold just fine if someone didn’t try to wash entire loaves of bread down the sink,” I say, crossing my arms.

Her brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I gesture toward the drain with the wrench. “What exactly were you doing in here, Eden? Baking a whole feast for the town and then shoving the leftovers down the pipes?”

She pushes off the counter, stepping into my space without hesitation. That little fire in her eyes—God, I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.

“I’ll have you know,” she says, pointing a flour-dusted finger at my chest, “that sink was perfectly fine until your crew started messing around in here last week. I bet they knocked something loose.”

I arch a brow, letting her accusation hang for a second. “Oh, sure. Blame the professionals. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with whatever science experiment you were conducting in that oven this morning.”

Her mouth falls open, a scandalized little gasp slipping out. “I was trying a new cinnamon roll recipe!”

I grin, just to watch her glare sharpen. “Tastes better if you don’t set them on fire.”

Eden practically growls, smacking me lightly with a dish towel she snags off the counter. “I don’t come down to your office and criticize how you… you… I don’t know, staple things!”

I bark out a laugh. “I’d pay to see that.”

Her nostrils flare as she steps even closer, eyes locked on mine. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

I could say something. I could poke the lioness a little more just to see what happens.

But I don’t.

Because now that I’m this close, my gaze can’t help but drift lower—to the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her hips pressed up against the counter. The rise and fall of her chest under that snug, flour-dusted sweater.

Eden Winters is gorgeous. Always has been. But right now, with that spark in her eyes and that flush on her cheeks? Damn near breathtaking.

And dangerous.

Because this is Luke’s kid sister.

My best friend. My business partner. The man who’d absolutely throw me off a cliff if he caught me looking at her like this.

I drag my gaze away, wrenching my attention back to the sink like it personally offended me. “Luke know you’re wrecking the kitchen like this?”

Her lips purse, and she brushes past me, heading back to the front of the shop. “Luke’s not the boss of me.”

“Tell him that. I’ll wait.”

“Just fix the sink, Silas,” she calls over her shoulder. “Gosh you’re insufferable.”

“So are you.”

“Whatever, Silas.”

I watch her disappear into the other room, the sway of her hips doing absolutely nothing to help my current situation.

Hell.

I need to get out of here before I say or do something stupid.

Like pull her against the counter and find out how soft those curves really are. Give it to her so hard she won’t ever call me insufferable again. What am I even thinking?!

This is why I signed up for the mail order bride service. So I can get Eden Winters out of my head once and for all.

The front door swings shut behind me with a dull thud, the sound echoing in the quiet cabin. I drop my keys on the entryway table and scrub a hand over my face.

I shouldn't have stayed in the bakery as long as I did. Should've fixed the damn leak and left without poking the lioness. But Eden makes it too easy.

And I make it worse by enjoying it.

I head straight to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge to grab a beer. The cold bottle sweats in my palm as I lean back against the counter, staring out the window at the majestic Ravencliff mountains wrapped in twilight.

Even out here, miles away from town, I swear I can still smell her cinnamon rolls. Burnt edges and all.

I take a long pull of the beer, but it does nothing to cool the heat lingering in my chest.

That woman…

Luke’s sister.

I remind myself for the hundredth time today.

It’s a rule I’ve repeated so often it might as well be carved into the wood of this cabin.

But damn if it’s not getting harder to follow.

With a sigh, I push off the counter and wander over to the worn leather armchair in the living room. My laptop sits on the side table, the screen dark. I flick it open, cracking my neck as the glow fills the space.

Might as well distract myself.

A new message sits in my inbox— Mountain Mates Notification: You’ve received a message from SugarDust.

A grin tugs at my lips.

Now this is the kind of distraction I need.

I click into the message, leaning back in my chair.

SugarDust: Rough day? I’ve been baking to let off some steam. Figured I’d share a little piece of it with you.

There’s an attachment below—a photo loading painfully slow thanks to the spotty mountain Wi-Fi.

I take another sip of beer, watching the image unfold pixel by pixel.

First the edges of a countertop. Then a baking tray.

And finally—

Oh, hell no.

I sit up straight, eyes narrowing at the photo now fully loaded on my screen.

Blueberry scones.

Not just any blueberry scones—Eden’s blueberry scones.

I’d know those damn things anywhere.

The golden edges, the burst of berries leaking purple onto the parchment, and the faint sprinkle of sugar across the tops—exactly the way she always makes them.

I stare at the screen, barely breathing.

No.

No.

It can’t be.

I fumble with the cursor, clicking out of the photo as if the scones recognize me, too. But the message is still there, sitting in my inbox like a damn threat.

SugarDust.

Eden.

My mail order bride match… is Eden Winters.

I drop the beer onto the side table with a thunk and let my head fall back against the chair.

This—

This is a problem.

A big problem.

Because Eden doesn’t know it’s me. And if she ever finds out? Luke will kill me long before she has the chance. I exhale through my nose, dragging my hand down my face. The worst part?

Now that I know…

I can’t stop thinking about her.