Chapter 2
TWO
KNOX
My bride wobbles and nearly collapses at my feet.
Despite the distance I’d put between us, I reach for her to keep her upright. When she sways a little, I instinctively wrap an arm around her waist.
I try to ignore how nice her shapely hip feels against my palm. Or the way it sends my pulse—and my self-control—into a full-scale crisis.
Boone had told me she’d be beautiful. He hadn’t told me she’d be knock-me-out-of-my-senses gorgeous. I take the opportunity to look her over again.
With shimmery eyes that are a mix of sage and gold, full pink lips, and curves for days, she’s exactly the kind of woman who will turn heads. Even when she isn’t wearing a wedding dress. A dress that seems to hug all of her curves in exactly the right places.
Though it’s tempting to explore those curves, I keep my hand firmly planted in place. I don’t actually plan on marrying this woman. It would be wrong to start acting like it now.
Then there’s her hair. I’ve never considered myself a hair man. But the long, rich brown hair is swept up in a tight bun. My fingers itch to pull it loose and watch it cascade down over shoulders, like a waterfall flowing over a cliff’s edge.
Shaking my head, I clear my throat. “Are you okay, Erica?”
She blinks. “Erica?”
“That is your name, right?”
“I’m not Erica,” she says, her voice pinched. “I’m Quincy.”
“Oh. Quincy.” I frown. “I must have gotten the names mixed up.”
Not that you can blame me. It’s not every day a man’s friend signs him up for a mail-order bride like it’s a subscription box for a jam of the month club. And that said bride actually shows up. Wearing a damn wedding dress.
The woman—whoever she is—looks like she might faint again.
“Let’s get you out of here.” I’m not keeping her. But I can’t leave her here until the next flights depart in the morning. I tighten my grip on her and retrieve her roller bag with my other. “Do you have any more baggage?”
She shakes her head. “Only a lot of mistakes and regret.”
I raise a brow. That’s… unexpected. And—damn it all—intriguing.
I can’t explain why, but the second this woman ran into, something inside of me switched. My body is painfully aware of her every movement and sigh.
It’s probably just been too long since I had a woman. My buddy Boone had been right about that.
Navigating her through the exit, the cool Alaskan air hits us. Crisp and clean, I fill my lungs with the familiar scent of pine and freshness. There’s a hint of something else, something sweet.
No doubt it’s some of my bride’s perfume. Hell.
I lead Quincy to my own plane, a tiny two-seater that is mostly powered by duct tape. But the engine is in good condition, which is all that matters.
I open the door for her and she hesitates. “We’re flying again?”
“Unless you want to hike eighty miles in satin and heels.”
She flinches and I cringe inwardly. Damn. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh. It’s not her fault. She came here expecting to find a man who wanted to marry her.
Instead, she got me.
She sighs and accepts my offered hand to climb in. “Guess I already made one bad decision today. Why stop now?”
I wince. I really am making a muck of this.
Neither of us says anything besides a few lines about safety until we’re up in the air. I can’t help but send frequent glances her way. Which is no small feat since an old military injury left me with no vision in my right eye, and little hearing on that side to boot.
Quincy’s own attention is fully fixed on taking in the mountains and rivers below us. With every mile, her shoulders seem to loosen and her breathing relaxes.
I clear my throat yet again. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Knox. Knox Callahan.”
Her shoulders tense again. “Knox Callahan. The outdoor guide?”
My brow wrinkles slightly at that. Either she’s more stunned by my ogre-like self than I realized, or she thought I was someone else.
“That’s right,” I say. I keep my tone gentle, like I’m talking to a scared animal. “I’m an outdoor guide. I’m sure Boone told you.”
“Boone.”
“Yes, Boone.” Not for the first time, I wonder if she’s okay. The poor thing has seemed confused and unsteady this whole time.
I hope she didn’t get hurt on the trip here. I hope not. That would make my guilt at sending her away even worse.
The least I owe her is an explanation.
“I suppose I should explain why you’re here. Why I’m here.” She says nothing, but continues to stare wide-eyed out the front window. “My friends keep telling me I’m a hermit. Clearly I’m not one. I run a tour business. But they said I needed real company. Not just guests.”
Still more silence. The longer she goes without speaking, the more I feel the need to fill the silence.
“So they took it upon themselves to sign me up for a mail-order bride service.”
Her brows rise, but she doesn’t speak.
“I didn’t ask for it,” I add. “Didn’t even think you’d show. I was planning to tell you to turn right back around. But then you walked into me, and…”
My voice trails off, and I mutter an expletive under my breath. “You’re welcome to stay for a few days, if you like. And I’ll pay for your flight home.”
She turns her head slightly, eyes searching mine like she’s trying to figure out the catch. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t trust me either.
“Actually the timing of your coming here is kind of fitting.” I glance at the altimeter to keep from looking at her. “If you’d come a day later, I wouldn’t have been able to meet you. I was supposed to be leading a honeymoon excursion this week. Private flights, tours through the mountains, a glamping setup. You know, the works. But the groom called a few hours ago and cancelled everything.”
“Let me guess,” she says, her voice soft. “The bride ran off before the ceremony this morning, for seemingly no reason, and left the groom high and dry.”
I glance at her, startled. “Yeah. How did you?—?”
“It was me. I’m the runaway bride.”
“Well?” Boone prompts when I answer his call a few hours later.
“You realize I’m going to murder you,” I practically growl into the phone.
“Oh, come on.”
“Maybe I won’t murder you, but I’m at least going to kick your ass.”
“She can’t be that bad.”
Glancing over my left shoulder, I watch as Quincy strolls around the great room in my cabin, studying every knot on the wall like it’s a damn museum exhibit. She’s dressed more casually now in a pair of sweats that are every bit as enticing as the gown she wore earlier. Maybe even more.
A bird chirps out the window, and her bright eyes flicker to it. A slow grin spreads across her lips, lighting up her whole face.
My heart skips a beat, and I swallow hard. “You have no idea.”
“Are you saying she’s hot?” Boone laughs.
“I’m saying she’s not even my mail-order bride. She’s a bride who left her real groom at the fucking altar this morning.”
There’s a long pause. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.” I clench my jaw, but I’m still unable to tear my gaze from her. “She ran out on her wedding. Hopped an early flight for their honeymoon. Now, she’s in Alaska still wearing her damn wedding dress.”
Well, not any more. She had that short wardrobe change.
“You’re joking.”
If only. “In my stupidity, I thought she was the bride you ordered for me. I didn’t even know who she really was until we were halfway to my place.”
Boone bursts into laughter, which only stokes my irritation. “Oh my god. That’s better than anything I could’ve planned.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
I grit my teeth. “She has nowhere to go, Boone. You put me in a position I didn’t ask for. I never would have been at the damn airport if you hadn’t told me some poor woman was flying here.”
Oh God. “The other bride. I didn’t wait to see–”
“Don’t worry about the other bride. Just put all your energy into enjoying the happy little accident that landed in your lap. A bride on the rebound. You’re totally going to get laid.”
I hang up before I say something even more incriminating for when I murder him.
When I turn back around, Quincy’s crouched by the fireplace, tracing the grain in the wood frame.
“You built this?” she asks.
“I did.”
“And the rest of the place?”
I nod.
“It’s beautiful. Everything is. And it’s so… strong and comforting. It reminds me of you.”
I blink. No one has ever described me—or anything I’ve made—like that.
I clear my throat. “If you want to stay here for a while, you can. Until you figure out your next move. There's not much room.”
“But it’s better than nothing. Heck, it’s probably even better than the honeymoon accommodation's my ex had in mind.” She stands slowly, brushes off her hands, and meets my gaze. “Thanks, Knox. I... I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.”
As she reaches her full height, the top of her head barely reaching the bottom of my chin, I’m once again keenly aware of how soft and sweet she looks. Good enough to eat.
My dick twitches, and I turn suddenly on my heel before she can catch a glimpse of the tent I’m pitching in my jeans.
I must be an idiot. Or, I’m a glutton for punishment. That can be the only explanation for why I’ve opened my home up to this stranger.
A stranger who tempts me more than anyone else ever has before.