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

1. Max

CHAPTER 1

MAX

M y phone buzzes, and I glance over to see Duke's name flashing across the screen. I'm not really in the mood to chat, but I know he's just checking in on me like the good friend and brother-in-law he is. I swipe to answer, plastering on a smile as he pops up on video.

“There he is,” he says, and I nearly roll my eyes at his scruffy beard, and that shaggy hair getting more unruly by the minute.

Pshh. Army guys.

“You need a haircut, brother,” I say, taking a sip of my beer. “Army sure let you slack off.”

Duke grins. “We were too busy swooping in to save your sorry Marine asses to worry about that high and tight bullshit.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “That’s the thanks we get for getting you all where you needed to be in the first place? Didn’t see any Army guys volunteering.”

Duke laughs, tapping his temple. “We ain’t stupid.”

“Why did I answer this call again?”

“Because I love ya, man…despite your lack of judgment when you signed up.” He gives me a smug smile. “And because I love your sister more than life itself.”

I groan. “Looks like the Army made you soft, too.”

“Nah, I’m afraid that’s all Ro,” he says, and gives me a wink.

He knows I’m thrilled he married my baby sister, Aurora. They’re perfect for one another. But ever since Duke swept Ro off her feet, I've been adrift, feeling like the third wheel in the happily-ever-after they've stumbled into.

I’d left the Marines about ten years ago to care for my teenage sister when our parents died in the car accident. Everything I did—starting my cleaning business and working non-stop, nose to the grindstone—I did for her. She’d been my responsibility. Mine to protect from this crazy world.

But since the wedding, things have been…different. Not bad, just different.

Duke’s taken over my former role…and I couldn’t be happier—even if it stings a little.

I’m not sure where I fit in anymore. Or who I’m supposed to be now.

And I never realized how lonely I’d be without my sister around.

“Why don't you come over for dinner tonight, Max?” Duke asks. “Ro’s cooking her famous pot roast. Have a drink, unwind... We worry about you, man. You work too hard.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass tonight. I'm good.”

“It's been weeks since we've seen you. I’ll drag you over here by your collar if I have to, you know.” Duke's eyes crinkle at the corners, but I know he's serious. He’s never been one to mince words, which is one of the reasons I like him so damn much.

Guilt pangs me, knowing they mean well. “I appreciate the invitation…and your concern, I do. And I'll make it up to you both soon, I promise. It's just... I need some time to figure some things out.”

Duke's eyes soften. “Hey, I get it. I know it's been an adjustment. But we love you, and we want you to be happy, too.”

“I know, and I'm trying,” I assure him, deciding to change the subject. “Besides, you two need your space, newlyweds and all that.”

“We'll always have room for you, Max,” he says earnestly. “You're more than just family. But I understand if you need some distance, at least for a little while.”

I manage a heartfelt smile. “Thanks. I'll reach out soon. Maybe you and I can hit the trails together next week?”

“You're on,” he says. “But, listen, if there's anything you wanna talk about…”

“I know, Duke,” I interrupt gently. “I’ll keep you posted.”

He nods. “All right then. Later, brother.”

We each salute and Duke disconnects the call. I'm left staring out the window at the sunset, weighing the pros and cons of grabbing another bottle of beer.

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. The cabin’s quiet around me, the only sound the occasional crackle of the fireplace I’d lit earlier. For some reason, chilly Montana nights like this make the loneliness feel heavier than others.

My computer pings, breaking the silence, and I glance over at my monitor. It’s an email notification from Mountain Mates—the dating app I’d impulse-joined last night in a moment of weakness. Or maybe it was something more like hope . But something about the site’s guarantee that they could find my perfect match with their innovative new software had me…intrigued. Hell, maybe I even wanted to prove them wrong.

I decide to grab that second beer. And chug it. For courage. Then I pull up my email.

Subject line: YOU HAVE A MATCH!

That’s an awful lot of enthusiasm.

We’ll see if it’s warranted.

I click on the profile, and suddenly, she’s there.

MsWrite28…

Her photo grabs me like a physical force, taking my breath away.

She’s beautiful. With long, wavy hair the red-gold color of the mountain sunset outside. Her eyes, a stormy gray, seem to look right through me. She’s almost ethereal, like a forest nymph or fairy.

“She's out of my league,” I mutter, feeling self-conscious of my rough, calloused hands, battle-scarred body, and aging, overworked joints and bones.

She looks younger than her stated age of twenty-eight, her features delicate and sweet. There’s a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and this tiny, mischievous smile playing on her lips. The kind of smile that makes a man want to know what it’s hiding.

I scan her profile, and my eyes linger on every word.

She’s an outdoor enthusiast, who particularly loves hiking and swimming. Loves brisk morning walks and cuddling at night by the fire. She’s looking for a partner to share in grand adventures and life’s simple joys—a man who’ll let her spread her wings and at the same time call her his own.

She’s perfect .

Everything I’ve asked for.

I’d say she’s a bot, something the website created on its own. But there’s something about her that feels genuine, authentic, and it draws me in like a magnet. I can picture her out here in the mountains, her hair catching the wind, her eyes lighting up when she talks about her passions. She’s the kind of woman who makes you want to listen, to hear more, to know her better.

But then doubt sets in. I tell myself I should swipe past, that I’m too old, too set in my ways, too… wrong for someone like her. What would a wide-eyed beauty like her want with a gruff ex-Marine like me? But the damned thing is, I can’t look away. There’s something about her that feels like home, like the missing piece I didn’t realize I was searching for so desperately.

I hover over the message button for what feels like an eternity.

Then I think about Duke and Ro and how they found each other, about how love doesn’t give a damn about timelines or expectations. It just happens.

Like it had with my parents.

So before overthinking can set in, I take a deep breath, and click the button.

Here goes nothing.