Chapter Two
Reid
This is a mistake. I know it the second she steps off that bus, smiling like she just landed in a winter wonderland instead of a frozen patch of nowhere in the middle of February with a stranger she’s supposed to marry.
Sadie Winslow is trouble.
Not the kind that wrecks your truck or gets you into bar fights, but the kind that seeps in slow, all sunshine and warmth, melting down walls you spent years building.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this, but I made a promise. And Calloway men keep their damn promises.
The road winds higher up the mountain, the fresh snow soft under my tires. The heater hums, filling the truck with warmth, but I still feel cold. I chance a look at Sadie out of the corner of my eye.
She’s staring out the window, nose pressed to the glass like she’s seeing magic instead of a bunch of trees and rocks.
“Wow,” she breathes, eyes wide. “It’s like a painting.”
I grunt.
She turns to face me, undeterred. “So, do you like it up here? Living in the mountains, I mean.”
I keep my hands steady on the wheel. “It’s quiet.”
Her brow scrunches. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Instead of getting huffy, she laughs. Like I just told the funniest joke she’s ever heard.
“Okay, Grumpy McGrumpypants.” She crosses her arms and tilts her head at me. “I’ll crack you eventually.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel. No, you won’t.
We don’t talk much after that. It’s better this way. Less chance for her to start poking at things I don’t want poked at.
I let the silence settle, and for a while, it works.
But then she starts humming. It’s not a song I recognize. Just a happy, aimless kind of humming. Like she’s filling the space just because she can’t not fill it.
I exhale through my nose. “Do you always make this much noise?”
She grins. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”
Sweetheart.
Jesus.
I shift in my seat, staring harder at the road like it’s got the answers to all my problems.
A few minutes later, the cabin comes into view.
It’s nothing fancy. Just a solid A-frame tucked into the trees, smoke curling from the chimney, porch light glowing against the grey sky. It’s the kind of place built for solitude. For shutting out the world.
Sadie doesn’t belong here.
Not because she isn’t capable, but because someone like her shouldn’t be tucked away in the mountains with a man who doesn’t have a single romantic bone in his body.
She belongs in town, somewhere filled with light and laughter and people who talk just to hear themselves talk.
I pull up to the cabin, kill the engine, and hop out before she can start asking more questions. I grab her suitcase from the back and set it on the porch.
She climbs out of the truck and stands there for a second, taking it all in. Then she looks at me with something close to wonder.
“You built this,” she says.
It’s not a question.
I glance at the cabin, at the familiar lines of the roof, the porch I spent a whole summer working on, and the hand-carved beams inside that I ran my fingers over just this morning.
“Yeah.”
Sadie’s eyes soften. “It’s beautiful.”
Something twists in my chest, but I shove it down.
“Come on,” I mutter, stomping up the steps. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.”
She trails after me, her boots crunching in the snow.
Inside, the warmth wraps around us instantly, the scent of woodsmoke and cedar filling the space. I set her suitcase down near the stairs.
Sadie looks around, eyes bright. “Cozy.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I shrug off my coat and hang it by the door, watching as she steps deeper into the cabin, taking in every detail. The stone fireplace, the worn leather couch, the kitchen with its solid wood counters and sturdy cabinets.
She spins to face me, hands on her hips. “So, where do I sleep?”
I nod toward the stairs. “Bedroom’s up there. It’s yours.”
She blinks and for the first time I see a crack in her cheery demeanor. “Wait… you’re not sleeping up there?”
“No.”
She frowns. “But—”
“Sadie.” My voice is firm. “This is not that kind of arrangement.”
Her lips part, and something flickers across her face—something I can’t quite read. But then, just as fast, she plasters on a smile.
“Well, that’s very gentlemanly of you, Mr. Calloway.” She walks past me toward the stairs, suitcase in tow. Then she pauses on the first step and tosses me a look over her shoulder. “I like to sleep naked. It’s probably best we’re not sharing a bed anyway.”
And then she winks.
Actually fucking winks like she’s enjoying this.
I have a sinking feeling in my gut because I made a promise to take a wife. To keep things simple. But there is nothing simple about Sadie Winslow.