Matched to the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Mail Order Bride)

Jamie

W ith a grin, I tuck my phone away as I see the bus at the end of the street. I have no fucking idea how I'm supposed to handle this situation, but at some point in the last few days since sending Ella a bus ticket, I decided to handle it the way I do everything else in my life.

With one hundred percent effort. No holding back.

It's a good thing we haven't had any major emergencies over the last few days because all of my thoughts have been completely occupied by Ella and what it will be like to see her in person. I feel like a teenager, spending all my time on my phone, either texting her or waiting for her responses.

Our messages have grown more intense and flirtier over the last few days, which has only made time slow to a crawl.

But now she's here.

The bus comes to a stop in front of the General Store where I've been waiting, leaning against the wall, letting snowflakes catch in my beard and dust the shoulders of my coat while I do my best to appear relaxed and calm even though my heart is thundering in my chest.

The door folds open in front of me, releasing a blast of warm air.

And there she is.

Ella.

She stands on the top step dressed in a ridiculous white puffy jacket and fur-lined boots that look better suited to the mall than the mountains, but none of that matters.

My gaze goes straight to her beautiful eyes. Uncertainty flashes there for just a second, but then I see when she sees me, and her face relaxes into a smile.

Fuck, she's more gorgeous in person.

Everything I've imagined during our late-night texts, every picture she's sent me, it all pales in comparison to the reality of Ella in front of me.

She's shorter than I expected, and something about her feels delicate, but strong at the same time.

Whatever it is, it pulls me toward her like a magnet.

She tugs her coat close around her and starts to descend the steps. When she gets to the bottom, her boot sinks into the snow, and for a moment, she stands with her mouth open a little like she can't believe I'm real.

"Ella." My voice is rough.

"Hi." Her lips part into a slight smile that makes my breath catch, and I can't wait a second longer.

I cross the distance between us with one long stride, my boots crunching in the snow. "You made it."

"I made it." Her voice trembles softly.

Already snowflakes cling to her lashes, her cheeks are pink from the sharp winter air.

She's perfect.

She's mine.

I don't stop to think.

I don't ask.

My large hands cup her soft cheeks, the chill of her skin shocking against the heat in my palms. A puff of air slips from her lips as I press mine to hers.

Her lips are cold at first but soft, and after a beat, she's kissing me back. Her small hands grip the front of my jacket, holding me to her. As if I'd let go.

The kiss feels like we've waited a lifetime for it.

Snow swirls around us, melting when it hits our skin. The world blurs away, leaving just Ella. The taste of her, the feel of her. The way she sighs into me like she's finally found home.

When I finally pull away, her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing unsteady. "Welcome home." My voice is low, rough with the promise of what's to come.

Her smile widens, but I don't miss the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes and the way she swallows hard, biting her bottom lip for just a second before she says, "It's really good to be here."