The Rancher’s Runaway Bride (The Mountain Man’s Mail-Order Bride #4)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

C al

The first rumble of thunder shakes the windows just as I close the barn door for the night. Rain starts to pour in thick sheets, drumming against the roof as I stomp up the porch steps, boots caked in mud. Inside, the house is warm and quiet, the faint scent of dinner lingering in the air.

Layla is curled up on the couch, a book open in her lap, her face glowing in the soft light of the lamp. She looks up as I enter, her lips twitching into a teasing smile.

“Did you wrestle the mud outside, or are you just naturally that messy?”

I grunt, kicking off my boots and shaking out my jacket. “It’s called ranch work. You wouldn’t understand.”

Her laughter is soft, and it stirs something low in my chest. “Oh, I understand,” she says, tucking her feet beneath her. “I just prefer to observe it from the safety of a clean, dry house.”

The lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely, plunging the room into darkness. Layla gasps, the book tumbling to the floor.

“Well, that’s just perfect,” I mutter, striding into the kitchen to grab a flashlight. The beam cuts through the dark as I light a few candles, their warm glow softening the edges of the room.

Layla’s voice floats over to me, tinged with amusement. “Guess we’re roughing it now, huh, Cowboy?”

I set the candles on the coffee table and sink into the chair opposite her. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of caveman.”

“Aren’t you?” she teases, arching a brow. “I’ve seen how you growl when Carson doesn’t finish his chores.”

I smirk, leaning back in the chair. “And I’ve seen how you pout when there’s no hot water left.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s a playful glint there, a spark that’s been growing between us since the day she arrived. “That was one time, and it wasn’t pouting. It was… expressing dissatisfaction.”

“Uh-huh,” I drawl, letting the smirk stretch wider. “Keep telling yourself that, kitten.”

She sits up straighter, her arms crossing over her chest. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, and for a moment, the air between us shifts, the playful tension giving way to something heavier. Her lips part, but no retort comes.

Thunder rolls again, closer this time, and the fire crackles in the silence. She leans forward, the candlelight catching in her hair, making her look softer, almost fragile. But there’s a fire in her eyes that matches the storm outside, and it pulls me in like a magnet.

“You’re so sure of yourself,” she says, her voice lower now, almost a challenge.

I lean forward too, closing the distance between us. “I’m sure of a lot of things.”

“Like what?” she whispers, her breath catching as my eyes drop to her lips.

“Like how you drive me crazy,” I say, my voice rough. “Every damn day.”

Her breath hitches, and before I can second-guess myself, I close the gap, pressing my mouth to hers. It’s slow at first, testing, but the moment she kisses me back, the floodgates open. She tastes like warm honey, and I’m instantly addicted.

When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven. “Cal,” she starts, her voice barely audible.

But I can’t stop now. I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheek as I lean in again. “Tell me to stop,” I murmur against her lips.

She doesn’t. Instead, she kisses me, her hands tangling in my shirt as she pulls me closer. I lift her into my arms, the book forgotten on the floor as I carry her toward the bedroom. The storm rages outside, but all I can hear is the sound of her breathing, the way it hitches every time I press a kiss to her neck.

In the bedroom, the soft glow of the candlelight follows us. I set her down gently on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and for a moment, I hesitate.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice softer now.

She bites her lip, her cheeks turning pink. “I… I’ve never done this before.”

The confession hangs in the air, and something deep inside me shifts. “You’re a virgin?”

She nods, her eyes dropping to the bedspread. “My family… they were strict. I was supposed to save myself for marriage.”

I sit down beside her, taking her hand in mine. “Layla, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

She looks up at me, her eyes shining. “I want this, Cal. I want you.”

Her words hit me like a freight train, and I realize just how far gone I am for this woman. “I’ve never been with anyone either,” I admit, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

Her eyes widen. “Never?”

I shake my head. “The military… the ranch… I never had the time. And then Carson came along, and that became my whole life.”

She smiles softly, her hand brushing against my cheek. “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

I lean down, capturing her lips again, this time slower, more deliberate. I take my time, savoring every sigh, every shiver. The world outside disappears, leaving only the two of us in the glow of the candlelight.

The moment our eyes met, my world shifted and she became my center. My responsibility to safeguard. I could sense it, and I believe she could too, even though she was still inexperienced at twenty-two years old. I’m nearly a decade older than her, but none of that seems to matter when we’re together like this.

“Stay,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “Stay here with me. With Carson. Be ours.”

She looks up at me, her eyes glistening. “I already am.”

As the storm outside rages, I hold her close, my resolve solidifying. I’m going to protect this woman, love her, and give her the life she deserves.

She’s ours now, and I’ll never let her go.