The Minx and the Mountain Man (Mountain Man Mail Order Bride)

Chapter One

Sadie

I press my forehead against the cold window of the bus, watching as the tiny mountain town of Pine Hollow unfolds like a winter dream with quaint storefronts adorned with hearts, chimneys puffing lazy streams of smoke into the frosty air, a towering evergreen in the town square twinkling with red and pink lights.

I should be delighted. A fresh start, a cozy town, a new life are exactly what I want. What I’ve chosen .

But my stomach is currently tangled in about seventeen knots because I am about to step off this bus and meet the man I’m supposed to marry.

A man I do not know.

A man who sent exactly three emails in response to my carefully crafted, heartfelt correspondence through the Mountain Mates Dating Service. Three emails, each more practical and businesslike than the last, lay out the terms of the arrangement in clipped sentences.

You need a place to go. I need a wife. We’ll keep it simple.

Oh, and my personal favorite:

This is a transaction, Miss Winslow. Not a romance.

So, naturally, I signed right up.

To be fair, my options were limited after exposing my former boss’s embezzlement scheme and subsequently being blacklisted from my entire industry. It turns out that people don’t like whistleblowers, no matter how many laws are being broken.

My boss had also been my landlord, so my lease was terminated. My bank account? Dismal. And my once-busy social calendar had been reduced to an endless string of Sorry, I just don’t want to get involved texts.

So here I am. A mail-order bride, pulling into a town that looks like it belongs in a Hallmark movie, about to meet a man who probably has never seen a Hallmark movie because they might make him feel something.

The bus shudders to a stop and the doors wheeze open, spilling a gust of icy air into the cabin.

“This is you,” the driver calls over his shoulder, giving me a once-over. “You sure about this, miss?”

No.

I paste on my best everything-is-going-to-be-amazing smile. “Absolutely!”

I haul my suitcase down the narrow aisle and step onto the snow-packed sidewalk. The cold is instant, slicing straight through my wool coat like it has a personal vendetta. I squeak out a little gasp, my breath puffing in front of me in a white cloud.

And then I see him.

Reid Calloway.

Leaning against an old blue pickup truck like he’s been here for years, arms crossed over a chest that is roughly the size of a barn door. His dark, thickly lined coat looks like it’s seen more than a few winters, and the beanie pulled low over his forehead does little to soften the storm brewing behind those icy blue eyes.

He is massive. Broad, tall, all rough-hewn edges and imposing presence. A full foot taller than me, at least, with shoulders so wide they could block out the sun.

Not that there is any sun at the moment.

The sky is the same gray as Reid’s mood.

His expression is unreadable—somewhere between deep irritation and outright regret. Like he was hoping I wouldn’t show up, and now that I have, he’s mentally revising his entire life plan.

I brighten my smile another few watts and stride forward, boots crunching in the packed snow. “Reid Calloway?”

His gaze flicks over me in one slow, assessing pass before landing back on my face. “Miss Winslow.”

That’s it. No hello. No handshake. Just my name, like I’m a minor inconvenience.

“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, extending my gloved hand. He looks at it like I just offered him a dead fish.

My fingers curl back into my palm. “Charming.”

He exhales sharply, letting me know he’s already exhausted by my presence. “It’s cold. Let’s go.”

I blink. “Wow. So romantic. You sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

His jaw tightens. “Didn’t sign up to be romantic.”

“No kidding,” I mutter under my breath.

Reid doesn’t even acknowledge the comment. Instead, he steps forward, grabs my suitcase, and hoists it into the back of his truck like it weighs nothing. He moves with an efficiency that suggests he’d like to get this over with as soon as possible.

I lift my chin. Fine . If he wants to be all gruff and growly, I can be even perkier. Sunshine and rainbows, baby.

I hop into the truck, sinking into the worn leather seat. The truck’s cabin is warm—woodsy and masculine, filled with the scent of pine, leather, and man. It makes me all tingly.

Reid slides into the driver’s seat, turns the key, and the truck rumbles to life.

I clasp my hands in my lap and beam at him. “So! What’s next? Do we go straight to the courthouse, or do you want to give me a tour first? Maybe a celebratory cup of cocoa? Ooh, do they have those giant marshmallows here?”

Reid grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “We’ll go to the house first.”

“Excellent. I can settle in before becoming Mrs. Calloway.” I flutter my lashes at him.

His fingers twitch. “It’s just a name.”

“Sure, but it’s a great name. It sounds very rugged. Like a cowboy or a lumberjack. Sadie Calloway. Maybe I should start chopping wood.”

He side-eyes me. “You ever chopped wood in your life?”

“No, but I’d look adorable doing it.”

Reid sighs like he’s regretting every choice that led him to this moment.

I bite back a grin.

We drive in silence for a few minutes, winding out of town and into the mountains. The road narrows, flanked by towering pines dusted in snow, their branches drooping under the weight of winter. The whole world feels hushed, blanketed in white.

And then, just when I think we’ll make it all the way up the mountain without him speaking again, Reid breaks the silence.

“This isn’t a love story.”

I turn to him. “Excuse me?”

“This arrangement,” he says, voice low and firm. “It’s not about romance. You needed a place to go. I needed a wife. That’s all this is.”

His words should sting, but I just tilt my head, studying him. The furrow between his brows. The tension in his jaw. The way he stares straight ahead, like looking at me for too long might set him on fire.

“Got it,” I say softly.

But what I don’t say is that Reid Calloway might think this isn’t a love story, but the way he isolates himself, the way he clenches his jaw like he’s bracing for something, the way his hands tighten on the wheel at the slightest hint of joy tells me that it could be. He’s a challenge, and I’ve never been one to give up easily.