Mountain Man’s Mail Order Challenge (Wildwood Valley Brides #4)

1. Collin

COLLIN

R outine. That’s what life was all about.

Every morning, I woke up just before sunrise, made a cup of coffee, and hit the trail that started in my backyard—a trail that led to a creek with a breathtaking view of the mountains up ahead.

But this morning, something was different. I’d barely taken my first breath of fresh air when I heard it—a whooping sound, coming from the trees.

I’d heard a lot of strange sounds in my time living alone in the mountains. Owls hooting, birds chirping, branches breaking. But a whooping sound? No, I hadn’t heard that since boot camp, when the instructor was getting us all riled up for drills.

I stopped on my porch and stared straight ahead, then took another sip of coffee, as though that might help it make sense.

I’d probably just imagined it. It was a little earlier than sunrise, after all.

I wasn’t going to let a strange sound scare me from taking my morning walk.

In fact, I could hear my late mom’s voice in my head as I stood there.

“Man up. Get out there.”

I’d been only six years old when she first said that to me, but it stayed with me through a lot of adversities. No way was I letting it get in the way now.

I took a deep breath, manned up, and started walking.

I was halfway down the trail when I heard it again. Yes, it was definitely a whoop. And it sounded human. It sounded female. That made even less sense than it being some wild animal. This town had very few women, and none I could think of who hung out way up here in the mountains.

“Hello?” I called out.

Silence. I didn’t stop walking. In fact, I picked up my pace, tumbler—lidded and insulated—in my right hand and phone in my back pocket, ready if I needed to call for backup.

As I neared the clearing, I realized my heart was racing, adrenaline pumping. Yes, there was comfort in routine, but I did miss the thrill of a special mission. The silence up ahead was unsettling, to say the least. The strange whoops had at least served as a guiding light.

As soon as I stepped into the clearing, I saw her.

There was no missing her, halfway up the cliff.

Tanned, generous thighs threatening to burst the seams of her super-tight hiking shorts.

Strong arms and shoulders accentuated by a bright pink tank top.

A long, blonde ponytail hanging from the back of what looked like a baseball cap.

“This is private property,” I said.

That was true, but it wasn’t my property.

It belonged to a man on my logging crew.

He bought all this to get away from people, only to find himself annoyed when developers started building cabins all along his property line, as close as they could get without going over.

He was an ass, though, so I didn’t feel sorry for him.

My words didn’t stop the curvy mountain climber ahead. At least she’d been on her way down when I spotted her.

It took a couple of awkward minutes as I stood, sipping coffee and admiring that rounded ass, but finally, she was down. She turned, slapped her hands together, and looked directly at me. It took everything in me not to check out her front side the same way I’d ogled her backside.

“You must be Collin,” she said.

With that, she leaned over and picked up a generous-sized sports drink. I assumed it had been there all along. I hadn’t even noticed it. She uncapped it and took a big swig, then lowered it.

I stared at her. She knew my name. How did she know my name? Maybe she’d looked me up. She was trespassing on the property behind mine, after all. But that didn’t explain why she’d be here in the first place.

“Hold on a second,” she said.

Capping the bottle, she headed over to a grouping of trees nearby. She disappeared behind a couple of big tree trunks, then emerged with a gigantic duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“I didn’t want to get you up early by knocking on your door,” she said, “so I thought I’d kill a little time back here and check things out. Luckily, I had my hiking shorts in my bag.”

She was walking toward me as she spoke. With each step, I got a better look at her.

Holy fuck, she was gorgeous. I couldn’t take my eyes off that face. And that was saying a lot since that body gave a man plenty to look at.

She stopped a few feet from me, tipped her head, and gave me a once-over like I was the one trespassing. “You always glare at people before sunrise, or is that a special treat for me?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“You were halfway up a cliff.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I thought you might need help.”

She grinned. “Did I look like I needed help?”

“No,” I reluctantly admitted. “You looked like you’ve done that before.”

“Good eye.” She planted her hands on her hips, her water bottle tucked under one arm. “I’ve been climbing since I was thirteen. Started out at indoor gyms, then moved to bouldering, trad, alpine—whatever I could get my hands on.”

“Thirteen? You grow up around here?”

“Just about. I’m from Kingsport. Thirty minutes that way.” She gestured over the ridge. “Been climbing these mountains since I got my license. I knew every trail in the county by the time I was sixteen.”

That explained the confidence. The grace. The legs.

Jesus.

I tried not to stare again, but it was no use. She was flushed and radiant, like she’d just stepped out of an adventure film. Not the kind of woman I expected to see at the ass-crack of dawn on a quiet mountain trail—especially not one right behind my cabin.

“So, what brings you to this particular patch of land?” I asked.

She looked me dead in the eye and said, “I heard it had a nice view.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You always go climbing at sunrise?”

“Only when I can’t sleep. Or when I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?”

She nodded, then dropped her duffel bag at her feet. “Well, yeah. First impressions matter, right?”

I stared at her. “First impressions of who?”

She smiled, sweet as honey. “You.”

My stomach tensed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, taking a deep breath, “I figured I’d meet you bright and early, and I didn’t want to show up half-asleep. I thought I’d loosen up and clear my head. I was going to knock on your door in an hour or two. Hope I’m not too early.”

I blinked. “Hold on. Meet me ?”

She nodded.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said lightly. “I know your name, your cabin location, and that you served with some of the guys on the logging crew here. I know you take your coffee black, hate having neighbors, and told Bobbi you didn’t want a wife.”

Something cold trickled through me. “Bobbi.”

She smiled.

“You’re not—” I started but couldn’t quite finish it.

She held out her hand, all polite and formal. “Hi, Collin. I’m your fiancée.”