Made for the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Mail Order Bride)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Violet

Breathe in, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

"Violet, please say something."

In two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

"Vi, I'm sorry you're mad or freaked out or whatever this is. But we can't let you lose out on a guy like Brooks, who is clearly in love with you."

Naomi's logic cuts through my deep breathing, and I clench my teeth, trying to find my rhythm again.

"Naomi, this was a terrible idea." Rachel sounds horrified, but she was part of this ridiculous scheme, so I'm blocking her out too.

In two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

"Violet, people are staring. Please stop and talk to us," Jess whispers.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I yell. I don't care if people are staring, Jessica Taylor . You three crossed the line. How dare you!"

All three women across the table rear back like I’ve slapped them. I hardly recognize myself right now.

"Violet, I'm so sorry. We shouldn't have contacted him without your permission." Rachel is crying now.

I glare at her, even though I'm convinced she's not the mastermind of this debacle. Naomi's unhealthy obsession with The Parent Trap is written all over this. But Rachel still lied to me the entire drive up the mountain. The guilt in her eyes tells me she knew enough to give me a heads-up well in advance, so I'm furious with all of them right now.

"No. You shouldn't have," I say icily.

When my friends surprised me with an all-expenses paid weekend in the mountains to help me get over my heartbreak and lack of job prospects, I thought I’d hit the jackpot of besties. Instead, the conniving harpies contacted Brooks behind my back, pretending to be me. My Brooks. He’s booked a reservation at the Italian restaurant we’re currently in, and my "friends" decided to spring the news on me the second we sat down.

I want to run.

Naomi narrows her eyes at me, unswayed by my anger. "Vi, we're trying immersion therapy tonight. You’re a little broken, yes. But you can't ignore someone like Brooks and cry yourself to sleep every night, wishing you could take a chance." Her eyes soften as tears well in mine. "We're going to be here to help you explain yourself. If all four of us have dinner with him, maybe you'll be able to break past the frozen thing and be your incredible self."

"I am not bringing a harem of women to Brooks on our first date," I hiss.

Naomi looks at Jess and Rachel like she didn't consider how ridiculous this plan was.

"Vi—"

I raise my hand to stall Jess. "You three are leaving immediately." I stare at the plate in front of me. "You’re going back to the hotel and letting me handle this with Brooks by myself." I finally glance up, looking each of them in the eyes before shouting, "Immediately!"

Rachel jumps up, grabbing her purse and pulling a reluctant Naomi from her chair. "We'll see you back at the hotel, Vi."

"No, you will not. I'm getting my own room tonight." I glare at Rachel.

"Violet, you are not spending the little money you have left on your own room," Naomi protests.

I refuse to look at her. "Get out. Now!" I whisper-yell.

Jess grabs Naomi’s arm as Rachel shoves her from behind.

Once they’re gone, my anger turns to panic. Brooks is on his way here right now. I don't know what to do. I can't have him waiting for a date with me and not contact him. But I also CANNOT DO THIS.

Gulping short breaths, I decide to text him and explain what's going on. I'll apologize for getting his hopes up and beg him to give me more time to figure out how to talk to him in person.

Jumping up from the table, I grab my purse. The strap catches on the ornate curve of the chair and breaks, spilling the contents all over the floor. I drop to my hands and knees, shoving everything into my bag as I search frantically for my missing phone.

Where the fuck did it go?

"Violet?" A deep voice rumbles my name.

I close my eyes, realizing I've run out of time.

"Looking for this?"

Opening my eyes, I see my phone in a large male hand, the other poised to help me up. Even in my present state, I manage to place my hand in his and jump to a standing position.

Brooks must think I'm insane for not looking at him, but I know the second I lock eyes with him, it's over. I'm statue-Violet.

So, I take my time perusing the massive specimen of a man in front of me.

I lick my lips, eyeing the corded muscle snaking up his thick forearms. My chest heaves as I trail my eyes over his body. I blush as I glance at the front of his pants and over the waistband of his jeans to his fitted shirt. I purse my lips, imagining the abs behind the fabric as I continue up his body, gawking at his wide shoulders. Did he play football? Dear god. Did I fall in love with a Viking?

Finally, I look up into Brooks' warm, dark brown eyes and my brain malfunctions. I'm pretty sure my mouth drops open as I stare at the Adonis before me. His dark, windswept hair looks effortlessly sexy. His shoulders are massive. He told me he was over six feet tall, but he might as well be seven feet from where I'm standing. It's the first time I've ever felt tiny next to a man.

His smile lights a fire in my heart as he gazes at me with hungry eyes. He's staring back at me like he can't wait to rip my clothes off, and my body responds. My nipples tighten, and my breathing becomes ragged.

I suddenly realize I'm still holding his hand, and I've smooshed myself against him, my breasts resting on his forearm. I jump back, but he refuses to let go of my arm.

He steps toward me, wrapping one arm around my lower back and pulling me into his embrace.

"Violet, you’re more beautiful than I could've imagined," Brooks murmurs in a deep baritone.

I melt into him as I miraculously manage to move my other hand to his back in an attempt at a squeeze. My heart races, my panties have never been this wet, and I swear I can feel the press of his hard cock against my stomach.

This is somewhat confirmed when he whispers into my ear with a low growl, "And I've imagined what you might look like every night since we started talking."

I close my eyes.

One option—and it's my favorite right now 'cause, oh my gawd, he's hot—is to drop to my knees in this restaurant and fill my mouth so he doesn't question why I won't talk.

Option two is to run, leaving this incredible man in my dust.

When the prospect of ending up in a jail cell due to public indecency doesn't factor into the decision, I know I've hit a total mental breakdown. That's what I'm having right now. It's a horrible nightmare where my dream man is handed to me on a silver platter, telling me I'm beautiful, and I can't say a word.

Brooks pulls away, grinning at me as I stare at him like a terrifying mime. "Violet? Are you okay?" He takes a small step back, still holding my hand. His smile wavers as he eyes me with confusion.

No! I'm a fucking gargoyle, Brooks.

I nod. And shake my head. Helpful, Violet. Well done, you.

Brooks shakes his head in confusion. "I...um." He licks his lips, looking sad. "Are you disappointed?"

My eyes widen in surprise, and I shake my head adamantly.

Brooks nods, still confused, but gives me a small smile.

My breathing increases until I'm on the verge of a panic attack. I reach for the chair beside me, and Brooks releases my hand, rushing behind me to push it in. I place my hands on either side of my plate, trying to catch my breath.

"Violet?" Brooks' warm hand is on my back, his mouth close to my ear. "Are you okay?"

I nod. And shake my head again. Because apparently, the only way I can get through this is by making it even more confusing.

"Is it better if I...I don't touch you?" Brooks asks. His warmth leaves me as he steps back.

I take a deep breath and nod miserably.

"Okay. I'll sit across from you."

He's so lovely. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I respond to this sexy, fuckable man? My Brooks.

I stare at the table, my heart rate slowing second by agonizing second. If I look at Brooks, I’ll start hyperventilating again. How long can he be expected to put up with this?

Lifting a shaking hand, I reach for my phone and type out a series of texts that have me choking down a sob.

I'm so sorry about this, Brooks. My friends set this up.

Without telling me.

I'm so sorry. I'm a mess.

I put my phone down as three pings sound on Brooks' phone. One after another. Putting both hands over my eyes, I wait for him to read my messages, unable to look at him.

"You didn't write me back," Brooks says slowly.

I shake my head, keeping my hands over my eyes.

"If you had no intention of ever meeting me, why did you keep talking to me?" Brooks asks, confusion and hurt thick in his voice.

My eyes snap to his. I want to cut out my own heart at hearing the pain in his voice. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. I don't know how to answer his question. How do I explain I desperately wish I was a different person, but I'm too terrified to make it happen in real life?

When I remain silent, Brooks clenches his jaw. He leans across the table, getting close to me. I stare at his lips, wondering if I could kiss him if I leaned forward.

" Mountain Mates is for finding a...partner," Brooks whispers in a low, growly tone that makes my belly flop and my panties wet.

"I-I know," I manage in a breathy whisper as I lean toward him.

I'm hypnotized by his stupidly handsome face. Except there’s nothing stupid about it. What would that face look like buried between my legs? I release a soft whimper.

Confusion flashes over Brooks’ face as he takes in my present state. His eyes darken as they dart to my lips. He leans forward slightly. I sink toward him like his distorted reflection in a mirror, only able to move when he moves. Slowly, he inches closer, like I'm a wounded cat he doesn't want to scare away. I’m pulled toward him, anticipation building as my heart thunders in my ears. My chest heaves with his proximity.

And that’s the precise moment the server returns to fill our water glasses. We both fall back in our chairs like a shot's been fired. Like we've been caught making out on my parent's couch with his hand up my shirt. I squeeze my thighs together.

The simultaneous need to run away from and to him will give me an aneurysm.

After the server leaves, Brooks grabs my hand across the table. "Violet, I don't understand. Help me understand, baby."

Tears prick my eyes, and I mouth, "I'm sorry."

Gathering my broken purse and pieces of my heart, I dart out the door.