Christmas With The Broken Mountain Man (Spice & Seduction)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

MASON

Icrumple the mailed confirmation in my fist and slam my laptop shut to hide duplicate email. Two weeks before Christmas, and my meddling sister thinks signing me up for a mail-order bride service is appropriate. Sealed, Signed, Delivered. Even the name sounds like a bad joke.

"We just want you to be happy, Mason," Kelsie had said when I confronted her last night. "You spend all your time fixing everyone else. When are you going to let someone fix you?"

I don't need fixing. I need my family to stop treating me like some broken toy they need to repair.

The winter wind howls outside my cabin, rattling the windows. Perfect weather to match my mood. I grab my coffee and move to my home office, ready to cancel this ridiculous matchmaking subscription before anyone gets notified.

My phone buzzes. Jax, right on cue.

"Tell me you're not actually going through with this," I say instead of hello.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Jax's deep laugh rumbles through the speaker. "Listen, before you cancel—”

"I'm canceling. This conversation is just a courtesy."

"Mason." His tone shifts, serious now. "You haven't dated since Sarah left. Three years of throwing yourself into work isn't healthy."

"Says the man who needed his fiancée to literally fall into his wilderness program before he'd consider dating again."

"Exactly my point. Sometimes the universe has better plans than we do."

I rub my temples. "I don't need the universe or my sister playing matchmaker. I'm a therapist, for Christ's sake. I know my own mind."

"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're hiding from life in that cabin."

"I work with trauma patients daily. That's hardly hiding."

"You help everyone else deal with their shit while ignoring your own. Classic therapist move."

I've had enough armchair psychology for one morning. "I'm hanging up now. And canceling this mail-order bride nonsense."

"Just promise me you'll at least meet her before—”

"Goodbye, Jax."

I end the call, tossing my phone onto the couch. My sister means well, but she doesn't understand. I spend my days piecing together shattered minds and broken hearts. The last thing I need is to invite someone else's chaos into my carefully ordered life.

Sarah taught me that lesson the hard way. Two years building a life together, then gone without warning, leaving nothing but a note: I can't be with someone who helps everyone but me.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Whisper Vale's most sought-after trauma specialist couldn't even save his own relationship.

I log into my email, hunting for the cancellation link, when a notification pops up. From Sealed, Signed, Delivered.

Your match is en route! Destiny Brooks will arrive at your residence today at approximately 2 PM.

What the actual fuck? Today? My heart rate spikes as I scramble to find a contact number. This can't be happening.

Three unanswered calls and two angry emails later, I give up. Their customer service is apparently as reliable as their business model is ethical. I glance at the clock: 1:30 PM.

Half an hour to prepare for a woman I never agreed to meet, who's expecting a relationship I have no intention of pursuing. Perfect.

I clean up the cabin in a frenzy, not because I plan to let her stay, but because I'm not a complete asshole. She'll be disappointed enough when I explain the situation without walking into a mess.

At exactly 2:03, a knock sounds at my door. Three soft raps that somehow manage to be both hesitant and determined. I take a deep breath, rehearsing my "I'm sorry but my sister made a mistake" speech one last time.

I swing the door open to find a petite woman with bright eyes and honey-blonde curls standing on my porch. She's bundled in a red coat that matches her mittens, a tin of cookies clutched in her hands. Her smile is sunshine breaking through storm clouds.

"Mason Walsh?" Her voice is warm caramel, smooth and sweet.

"Yes, and you must be—”

"Destiny Brooks." She extends the cookie tin. "I made these for you. Snickerdoodles. I hope you like cinnamon."

I take the tin automatically, trying not to stare at the dark purple bruise surrounding her right eye. She's attempted to cover it with makeup, but the swelling gives it away.

"Thank you, but there's been a misunderstanding. I didn't—”

"I know your sister signed you up." She laughs, the sound light and musical. "Mine was a dare from my roommate. Life's funny that way, isn't it?"

She shivers in the cold mountain air, and despite myself, I step aside to let her in. Just long enough to explain, I tell myself.

"How was your drive up from—” I realize I don't know where she's from.

"San Diego." She unwinds a sparkly green scarf from her neck. "Beautiful drive, actually. These mountains are magical in winter."

Her cheerfulness should be grating, but something about it feels genuine rather than forced. I smile before I can stop it.

"About that eye..." I begin, my therapist instincts kicking in.

Her hand flies to her face. "Oh, this silly thing? I was decorating my rental. Fell right off the ladder trying to hang garland. First day here and already making an impression, huh?"

She's lying. I've counseled enough abuse victims to recognize the signs. The slightly too-casual tone. The ready explanation. The self-deprecating joke to deflect concern.

I should still tell her to leave. This is exactly the kind of complicated situation I don't need in my life.

Instead, I hear myself asking, "Coffee? You must be cold after your drive."

"I'd love some." Her smile brightens, and something shifts in my chest, a disruption to the careful order I've maintained since Sarah left.

As I lead her into the kitchen, I notice her taking in my cabin, the minimal Christmas decorations, the bookshelves lining the walls, the conspicuous absence of personal photos. Her gaze is curious but not judgmental.

"I love your place. It's so peaceful."

"Thanks. It's nothing special."

"Are you kidding? This view alone is worth a million bucks." She gestures to the window overlooking the valley. "And all these books! I bet you're super smart."

I hand her a mug of coffee. "I'm a therapist. Reading comes with the territory."

"A therapist?" Her eyes widen with interest. "That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"The way you looked at my eye. Like you could see right through my bullshit story."

My coffee stops halfway to my lips. Most people don't call themselves out like that.

She sighs, deflating slightly. "Look, I didn't come here to dump my problems on you. I came because I needed a fresh start, and this arrangement seemed perfect. No messy dating, just two adults agreeing to build something practical together."

"Ms. Brooks—”

"Destiny, please."

"Destiny." I set my mug down. "I need to be clear. My sister signed me up for this service without my consent. I was in the process of canceling when you arrived."

Her face falls for just a moment before she rallies. "I understand. This is pretty unconventional. But maybe..." She takes a deep breath. "Maybe we could just get to know each other? No pressure, no expectations. Just two people spending some time together during the holidays."

I should say no. I should explain that I'm not interested in a relationship, mail-order or otherwise. I should tell her there are plenty of decent hotels in Whisper Vale where she can stay until she figures out her next move.

But those eyes, one surrounded by that unmistakable bruise, look at me with such hope and determination that I find myself nodding.

"There's a guest room upstairs. You can stay until after Christmas, give yourself time to make proper arrangements."

Her smile is like watching the sun rise. "Thank you, Mason. I promise I won't be any trouble."

Something tells me that's a promise neither of us will keep.